Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
Lights In, Lights Out

When Tisha entered the Great Hall the next morning, it was already after the rush minutes. She was glad, because the lack of sleep made her head spin a little and a full hall would make the matter even worse.

To her disappointment, Snape wasn't at the table and when she questioned Hooch about him, she learnt he hadn't appeared. Worried again - after all, he might have started another experiment after she had left - she ate as much as she could, excused herself and headed to the dungeons again.

Students that were already standing in front of the Potions classroom glanced at her as she briefly paused at the office door. Tisha lightly knocked and entered. The office was empty, but Snape looked out of his laboratory.

"Do you not know you should wait before... ah, that's you."

"You weren't at the..." Tisha started while Snape was already back in the laboratory. "... breakfast." She followed him, looking around curiously. The table was clean, no ingredients in sight, and Snape was inspecting his cauldron minutely, tapping his wand against it occassionally.

"It's always better to check the equipment once again in the morning," Snape commented in a lecturing tone. He put the wand away. "Coffee?" he asked briefly before pushing past Tisha in the office. Befuddled, Tisha followed, uttering an unnecessary, "Yes, please," to the wizard who was already pouring two cups of steaming coffee.

"How is your forearm today?" Snape asked pleasantly as soon as Tisha accepted a cup and sat down on an uncomfortable chair.

"It didn't fall off," she replied coolly. She felt confused, but not confused enough to forget what had happened to her forearm during the night.

"That would be an interesting development. Does it itch?" Snape's eyes glistened eagerly and Tisha frowned.

"I didn't come down here for a check-up!" She put down the cup and stood up again.

"Then why did you come?" Snape asked as if it was the most normal thing in the universe to be unexpectedly cursed by a colleague in order to act as a guinea pig for said colleague and then willingly participate in any follow-up of the experiment.

Furious, Tisha mustered all Malfoy dignity she possesed and left without another word. Snape peeked into her cup; she had barely touched her coffee. He could not figure her out. Whatever he did, she didn't like it. And he had been so polite.

Tisha left the door to the class opened while she was unpacking a crate with Muggle tools on her desk. Draco and Neville arrived together five minutes before the class was supposed to start and peeked inside.

"Come on in," Tisha called. The boys entered and examined the contents of the table with badly concealed curiosity. Tisha smiled.

"Do you know any of these?" she asked. They looked over the table again.

"This one is used in kitchen," Draco pointed at a cheese grater.

"Right. Have any idea what for?" Tisha picked the grater up and handed it to Draco. He accepted the tool and turned it over, obviously uncertain about its function.

"I got an owl from the Ministry," he said. "There's a problem with the manor. I think Hermione used this when making a salad of some kind."

"That's possible. And I was at the Ministry yesterday. You'll have to wait it out."

"Which of the many salads was that?" Neville queried, taking the grater from Draco.

"Oh, the one with tomatoes and that white stuff on in. I think."

"That was cheese. She grated cheese on this thing."

"That's why it's called a grater," Tisha explained and handed them a hammer. "Any particular reason why she didn't use a charm instead?"

"We were hiding in a Muggle settlement temporarily. So no magic at all, for safety reasons," Neville answered. "A hammer! I hit a Death Eater over a head with one. Hermione told me I hammered him nice." Neville chuckled, but Draco adopted a closed expression.

"He wasn't a Death Eater," he said quietly, remembering Goyle's face the last time he had seen it - watching as a pair of Death Eaters had dragged Draco before the Dark Lord to be tortured and killed. There had been a mix of morbid fascination and fear in Goyle's eyes, fascination by seeing someone being killed, and fear because Goyle must have realised by then he could follow Draco anytime should he fail in following Voldemort. Goyle disappeared after the war. Whether he had been killed somewhere and never recognised or whether he had used the opportunity to leave and start anew, Draco didn't know - nor care.

Tisha gripped Draco's elbow to get him out of the memories. He met her worried eyes.

"He never took the mark. Would have made a lousy Death Eater, anyway," he said harshly to cover his emotions. Neville cleared his throat and shuffled.

"Try this one," Tisha offered him a screwdriver.

"I jammed one of these through Vin... someone's hand," Draco faintly attempted to sound indifferent. At Tisha's alarmed look, he added, "It was on the same occassion. Using magic could attract more Death Eaters, so we did our best with Muggle tools."

"What did Hermione say?"

"That I screwed him up." Tisha sniggered.

"Okay, you have some very particular associations with common Muggle tools. Do you have any idea how Muggles use them to do any work?"

On his way from lunch, Snape noticed three students standing close to each other in a corner and decided to find out what they were up to. Drawing closer, he recognised Brocks and Jorkins practically gaping at an older student, Mendacius Thorton, who was showing them a cheap trick with a little illusion. He had a magical flame closed in a jar and by casting a Wingardium Leviosa, he made it disappear - or at least he pretended he was doing that. In fact, he was casting the levitation spell on a small piece of an invisible fabric inside the glass jar, and the fabric was what covered the flame. It wouldn't be an invisible fabric of high quality, Snape mused, rather a quite easily accessible low-quality thing that could be detected by an O.W.L. level student without difficulty.

"Wow, see, it completely disappears!" Brocks breathed out and asked Thorton to try again. Jorkins seemed to be awed as well. Snape curled his lip. Thorton shared a lot with the Weasley twins, he knew; a mischievious soul, restlessness and bad school reports; but he lacked both their skills and potential. Personally, Snape never really liked the twins, but he knew their achievements, or at least some of them, were admirable. This didn't apply to Thorton, who was just annoying, and Snape stopped right behind him.

"It does not disappear, Mr. Brocks," he said and let his annoyance show. Thorton jumped. "It is merely hidden from your sight." That said, Snape pulled his wand and guessing the spell used to make the fabric invisible, cast a counter-spell. The fabric appeared inside the jar and, nudged just a little, slipped from the magical flame. Jorkins let out a little laugh. Brocks, if possible, looked even more awed, and in his current state resembled a house-elf - small, bouncing and with huge eyes. He was only missing a pair of flapping ears.

Thorton paled when the feared Potions Master turned to him. He was a fourth year, old enough to remember Snape in his worst - all student myths included - and without even trying, Snape could see his latest misbehavings running through his mind.

"Mr. Thorton, I believe you are aware of the fact that magic is prohibited in the corridors. The rule is repeated to the students every single September, isn't it?" Thorton nodded. "That's ten points from Gryffindor for breaking the rules and another ten for lying to your schoolmates," Snape added, enjoying the fear he caused to the student. "There is a very good reason for Professors to be appointed to broaden the students' knowledge. Be so kind and leave education to those who have the necessary skills and attitude." Thorton nodded again, scrambled to get his things together and left the place as quickly as possible. Snape considered taking away points for running in the corridors as well, but decided against it - it was never as satisfactory if the students in question didn't hear him saying the magical words.

Jorkins and Brocks were openly staring at him. Brocks opened his mouth to say something, but Snape interrupted him.

"Don't you two have a class right now?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back. Jorkins nodded, grabbed Brocks by the arm and pulled him away.

"But he's totally cool!" he heard Brocks saying before the two rounded a corner. He sighed. Of course, they were Muggleborns - they would be impressed by anything magical for years.

"Ten points for lying to students. I had a teacher like that one year," Robert rambled on as they took their places in the Charms classroom. "He had to quit because he got cancer." Robert frowned at the memory.

"Hush, Flitwick's here," Elizabeth whispered. Robert didn't look too enthusiastic. From their first lesson and from the textbook he had gotten the impression that Charms weren't half as interesting as Potions. And as difficult. It was just repeating some words and some waving with the wand. Sure, there was some magic involved, but wasn't that in anything in the castle? He perked up a little when he realised they would be learning the same spell Thorton had just shown them.

He and Elizabeth got a feather to exercise on. Elizabeth tried the first, but didn't manage to get the feather to move. Robert, in his turn, succesfully made the feather jump in the air. He was so surprised he lost concentration and the feather fell back down. On his second try, however, the feather floated for several seconds.

"Excellent! Marvellous! Very good!" Professor Flitwick overflowed with praise and even clapped his hands happily. "Miss Jorkins?" Elizabeth concentrated and the feather twitched a little. Professor Flitwick encouraged her to keep practicing and continued his journey around the classroom, advising here and praising there.

"I tell you, Snape is the best teacher ever!" Robert whispered happilly when Elizabeth handed him the feather. The girl didn't reply. Quietly, she thought Flitwick did a far better job as a teacher than Snape and she was uncertain about the do-not-lie-to-schoolmates thing. Something about Snape's eyes made her uneasy, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. So she let Robert prattle on through the Charms, practised the levitation charm and thought about horses and fields in the shorter and shorter periods during which Robert levitated the feather to let it fall without any interest.

By the end of the lesson, Professor Flitwick approached them again and asked them to show him what they had learnt.

"You should work on the control, Mr. Brocks. That's very nice, Miss Jorkins, very nice indeed," he commented. Elizabeth had just managed - for the first time - to levitate the feather for ten seconds and then gently put it back on the table. "You should practise the movement, both of you."

"What do we have now?" Robert asked.

"History." Elizabeth carefully packed the feather among her quills so that it wouldn't break.

"Fine!" After their first lesson Robert proclaimed History boring, but he soon realised he could use the time to study a subject he was really interested in - Potions. "I've borrowed an amazing book from library. Want to see?"

"No. Someone should pay attention during the class." Elizabeth didn't like History much herself, the lecture was extremely dull, but she hoped with time they would come across some crucial points of wizarding history and the subject would overrule the teacher's voice.

Draco and Hermione cheered as they bottled the last of the herbal tea they were supposed to test. They still had two hours to write the report before they were due for Transfiguration, and then another half an hour between lessons - plenty of time!

Hermione started running a magic-detecting spell over each of the bottles while Draco hovered his quill over parchment, waiting for her to dictate the results. The young witch, however, didn't say anything, only slightly frowned and started again, trying with another spell.

"Problem?" Draco asked, dropped the quill and stood up to have a look himself.

"They are all magical."

"Cool!"

"But they shouldn't - according to Madam Chamomille, at least half of those herbs are not magically potent enough to allow that!" Hermione wildly gestured over the old book she had been using as a reference, their working place, left-over herbs and the bottled concoctions.

"But we were careful enough," Draco opposed. "We used a wooden spoon to stir and even lit the fire with matches and never used our wands until now!" Hermione reread the instructions, then opened another book to look up more information.

"Oh," she moaned unhappilly.

"What?"

"We used our hands."

"What?!" Draco peeked over her shoulder, but couldn't find the reference at first. The book discussed general rules of brewing a potion. Hermione pointed to a small notion at a side of the page.

"Magical energy can be lost if a Squib or a Muggle handles the raw ingredients," Hermione read out loudly. It took Draco a while to make the mental sommersault and realise how exactly that related to their problem. "We would need to shield ourselves from the herbs to make sure our energy doesn't add to their natural potentials."

"Like, wearing gloves?" Draco suggested, picking up a pair of dragon-hide gloves.

"Yes, but those are designed to be used while brewing. They will convey the energy, not filter it." Hermione bit her lower lip. "I could try to find something, but we would need more time..." Draco drew the book closer and read the chapter, as if changing the person reading the words could alter their meaning.

"Hey... listen! This used to be an issue in shops where Squibs worked until safe containers for the goods became widely used."

"At least there was some effort to employ Squibs," Hermione answered absent-mindedly. She was reading another book. Draco's face lit up.

"Start the fire, we will need some boiling water," he said playfully. Hermione stared at him. "I have come to a solution!" Draco added mysteriously and shot out of the room.

Hermione considered contacting Madam Pomfrey, but then decided to take a chance while there was a chance. If they failed, there would be enough time to walk Draco to the Hospital Wing later... preferably at the time the Potions were supposed to start. She lit the fire under the cauldron with still warm water and put aside the books.

Ten minutes later, just as the water reached the boiling point, Draco returned with Tisha.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, then turned red as she realised Draco had truly come to the solution, and a very smart one.

Ginny decided not to go and see Blaise again that night. Sneaking out of the castle on a daily basis could easily become obvious to someone with watchful eyes. The girls from her year were already aware of something going on, there was no need to give them more clues. They wouldn't tell on her - no doubt - but they would talk sooner or later to someone who would talk to someone else, and before she would know it, the whole school would be whispering about her. Too much bother, too much trouble. She could escape the depressive thoughts by endorsing herself in her studies.

She picked up her Defense textbook to reread the assigned chapter. They weren't given homework as such, but Moody hinted there was more to the text than what met the eye. Probably a reference to something they should be aware of. He would most likely tell them the next time, but if she could get some extra credit for figuring it out herself, chapter two, here she came!

"You just don't like him!" she heard suddenly. She looked up. Little Robert had jumped to his feet and was glaring at Elizabeth angrily.

"I just can't trust him," Elizabeth hissed in response. Robert shook his head and stormed out of the common room. Elizabeth sighed and picked up the book Robert had been reading; Ginny noticed the word potions in the title. She looked aside. She didn't like Snape - and she thought no-one did - but she understood he had been crucial to their victory. He had saved Draco, helped Blaise getting away from his pro-Voldemort family, allowed Harry and his friends in the Death Eater's headquarters. Rationally, Ginny even knew it had been a sacrifice from his to kill Dumbledore; he had lost his only friend, the only wizard who had truly trusted him. She hadn't accepted that fully, and she might never manage, but she knew it hadn't been his own choice.

All in all, she felt she owed a lot to Snape. She turned to Elizabeth, caught her eye and patted the couch beside herself. The girl obediently sat down at her side.

"Snape's a sore, lonely, miserable man," Ginny said without any kind of prelude. "He likes to take away points for literally nothing, as often as he can get away with it. He barely ever praises anybody, except for... well he probably doesn't favourise Slytherins as much as he used to any more. But," Ginny said pointedly, "he's the best potion-brewer that walks this Earth, and I'm glad he's here this year, because he will force me to pass the N.E.W.T. even against my own will, if necessary. I couldn't dream of a better teacher."

"He's insincere," Elizabeth murmured, watching her hands.

"He's distrusting. You just can't read in his face."

"I bet no-one can."

"Good," Ginny concluded, imagining Voldemort sifting through Snape's carefully guarded mind. "It saved all of our lives in the war." Elizabeth's eyes grew wide.

"What war?" she asked.

"A wizarding war that ended this summer. If we had lost, the world would have changed and even the Muggles would have suffered. There was a dark wizard who wanted to rule to world," Ginny added when Elizabeth didn't seem to be convinced. "Snape acted as a spy for our side." She felt uncomfortable talking about that with a strange little girl. Elizabeth, however, wasn't content with this reply.

"Was it dangerous?"

"My... friend and two of my brothers were killed in the war," Ginny shot and felt her throat tightening. She needed out and headed for the door, hearing Elizabeth's faint, "Sorry!" from distance, nearly running all the way to the nearest staircase.

She realised she was going to the secret tunnel to Hogsmeade again. She should really break that habit; running to Blaise like a little girl whenever she felt down. She found a quiet corner and pulled out the map to look for Robert. There was no dot with his name on the map and Ginny remembered it might mean he was in the Room of Requirements. She could go and try to get in. Or at least wait for the boy and walk him back to the tower once he left. Something to kill the time, calm herself down and mull over... third-level defensive spells, right.

Right.

Snape watched his students file into the classroom and slightly frowned when Tisha came in as the last one.

"Don't mind me. I'm here just to run a little experiment." So she came up with some kind of a retribution. As long as it didn't interfere with the lesson, she could stay, he decided.

Neville handed him a thick roll of parchment. Draco and Hermione put a tray with labeled jars on their table and each placed a roll of parchment next to it, too. Hermione's was over the limit at first sight.

Snape examined the jars. They were sorted by the remaining magical energy, and as far as Snape could tell simply by that, they were sorted correctly. He ran a magic-detecting charm over some of them, with desirable effect in each case.

"What way of shielding your magic did you use?" he asked calmly. The tools that would allow them to do that were available, but usually not at short notice.

"You expected us to fail," Hermione shot, clearly disgusted.

"That was not my question, Miss Granger," Snape retorted, now truly curious. Obviously, they owed their good result to good luck, otherwise the young witch would be happy to have figured it out.

"We asked Tisha to handle the ingredients," Draco said lazily. Snape turned to face the woman in question. She smiled pleasantly. Snape frowned at her. She wasn't supposed to advise his students.

"Just for the record, it was Draco's idea," she added as if she could read his mind. Which she still couldn't.

"I read about it in a book," Draco explained unnecessarilly. Snape realised the two Malfoys were having an excellent time. It didn't make him feel any better.

"Very well. I'll take your essays." He collected the parchments and shot a venomous glare at Tisha, who chuckled and slipped out of the classroom.

Annoyed by the stubborn Room of Requirements, Ginny muttered a word that would make her mother send her to bed without dinner if she heard it. As she turned to leave, she heard voices approaching. She walked up and down, trying to find out which direction the voices came from, wishing for a place where she could hide.

A door appeared on the wall. Not hesitating any longer, she entered and quietly closed the door behind herself. With an ear pressed to the door, she waited until the voices of three or four students discussing fashion passed and died out.

"How did you get in here?" Ginny turned around. Robert had created a small room packed with crates, boxes, trunks and shelves full of various objects, all of it covered in dust, very much like the attic in the Burrow.

"I just wanted to be alone. Are you alright?" Robert shrugged and sat down on a large wooden crate, his back turned to Ginny. Ginny stepped closer, but didn't sit down or touch the boy.

"Lizzy thinks Snape is mean." Robert paused, waiting for Ginny to say something, but she wasn't sure she wanted to break to Robert that Snape was, in fact, very mean. "But he's so nice. He let me cut frogs and bats in detention." Ginny felt sick just thinking about gutting frogs and bats. Obviously, Robert liked it. "We had an argument." Robert looked down and uneasily shifted.

"That happens sometimes between friends." Ginny finally moved and sat down on the trunk.

"I don't know. I don't have any friends." Head hung, shoulders slumped, the boy made a pitiable appearance.

"And what about Elizabeth?" Ginny asked and rubbed his upper arm. Robert looked at her, eyes huge.

"Lizzy is my friend?" The amazed expression in the huge eyes made Ginny smile.

"Of course she is." Robert jumped up and starting circling the small room, mumbling to himself.

"I should apologise," he concluded in the end. He stopped and bent down to pick up a book that hadn't been lying on the floor before. Ginny peeked over his shoulder. It seemed to be a story about a boy and a horse, as the illustration on the cover suggested.

"That looks like a perfect gift for the occassion."

"But can I take it from here?" Robert flipped the book open.

"Sure. Go ahead, the sooner the better." Ginny practically pushed the boy out of the Room of Requirements and sighed in relief.

At least she didn't have to defend Snape this time.

She sat down in a comfortable chair under a lamp and started reading a Defense book she found on the table.

Annoyed and restless, Snape decided to seek peace in the only place that had satisfied his need in this regard lately: the statue of Harry Potter on the Hogwarts grounds. He swept through the corridors and the Entrance Hall, unbothered by anybody - it was, after all, nearing a curfew and most students were already in their respective common rooms - and descended into the garden that had been stretched and cultivated to accomodate the statue.

The pathways curved among thick bushes and slowly led him to the lake. Snape felt calmness settling into his soul already. Here, in the absolute solitude, he could contemplate his mistakes and regain his composure for the days or weeks of tedious students-overlooking that was to come.

Only he wasn't alone.

As he came closer to the statue, he noticed sobbing. He stopped before he could be seen and with impatience and annoyance watched a crunched figure on the ground before the statue. There wasn't much light, but the hair was unmistakable; it was Hermione Granger who had taken his favourite spot.

Briefly, he thought about joining her - surely his presence would evict her? But maybe she wouldn't even notice him. She was so lost in her grief. Snape watched her shaking shoulders for a minute, but when she showed no sign of calming down, he turned away from the statue and headed in the opposite direction. The pathway led him a little up, then curved back to the lake and finally left the garden. It copied the banks of the lake and mounted a little on the other side. On a good spot, Snape stopped and cast a nightvision charm on his eyes. At distance, he could see the statue now and also the sitting Hermione Granger, gazing up at the statue of her dead friend. A little adjustment to the spell could enable Snape to see her face clearly, but halfway through casting the spell Snape changed his mind and dropped the nightvision.

She could still be crying, after all.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my husband, who died unexpectedly on Friday 20th March 2009. Your light has not gone away, love; it is merely hidden from my eyes.