"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Hermione's father roared leaning over his desk. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! YOU NEARLY WERE KILLED! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

I see you've calmed down, Hermione thought trying-and failing- not to shrink against the wall. The man's tantrums still instilled her with fear, but they also now annoyed her. She had no clue what to do here. If she laid into her lie he would know, he always knew. But if she told him the truth, she would get an earful about how pathetic she was, and the boys...she wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't seek some kind of retribution. Though when he was this angry, he might believe anything she told him. He seemed more than satisfied to believe he'd raised an idiot. She wondered if Hiro and Kaori were subject to such fits. She waited for him to finish. The worry that crossed his face last night...maybe she deserved this...

"AND TO TOP IT OFF LYING TO BOTH THE HEAD OF YOUR HOUSE AND ME! AND FOR WHAT?! THOSE IDIOTS?! THEY WERE PROBABLY LOOKING FOR TROUBLE LIKE THAT NIGHT IN THE TROPHY HALL! OF COURSE I FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THAT!"

Shit! That did surprise Hermione. How could he? But she hadn't told a soul. Had he been observing her mad comb through of books in the library to find out what the cerebus was guarding? Did someone catch sight of them that night? Did he catch sight of her observing the door from time to time? Honestly, she'd been so focused on Hiro and school that she hadn't spent half the time she should have on it. Then she remembered. Peeves saw them. Information he might have happily dropped to get out of trouble. If not that, she knew Severus Snape had his ways. He always had his finger on the pulse and Hermione equally envied him, admired him and hated him for it.

"Shit, Hermione!" he breathed rubbing his temples, still supporting his weight on his other hand. "Why, why does this keep happening?" he collapsed into his chair a moment later.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked rushing to his side. Seeing his leg stuck out in front of him as if he couldn't fully move it Hermione swore in Elvish. "What happened?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Not all of us are gifted with blind, stupid luck when faced with a monster!"

The troll did that to him? How'd he get away from it? No, she shouldn't have asked that. It was unfair, Hermione would have been far worse off if it wasn't for her 'blind stupid luck' and they both knew it. She still couldn't believe how she froze to the sight of the troll. Neville might have had doubts that he brave enough to be in Gryffindor, but Hermione knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she said touching his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I said I was fine," he said, his voice more even. "But I suppose I could tell you that a thousand times and you would still worry," he sighed placing a hand on the top of her head.

"You know me too well," she shrugged. "If you tell me you're fine, I'll believe you."

"Just please tell me this wasn't some astronomically stupid idea to get the others to like you."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. And if you're at all worried you gave me an astronomically stupid idea, I found out something very important about myself that would render that impossible."

"Oh?"

"I'm a bloody coward," she shrugged.

"My life would be a hell of a lot easier if that were true, love."

Coward? How he wished that were true. He never did get the truth from her, but he wasn't going to without twisting her little arm. Their little meeting ended with her losing four until eight o'clock every week day and Saturday afternoons until June to a task of his choosing. Perhaps it was harsh, but if she did go after the bloody thing, she could have died. And if he were honest, it kept her the hell away from Quirrell. There wasn't a soul that would believe Quirrell threatened her. Why didn't he just slip vereserum in his goblet and end the whole charade? He would confess to everything...unless he thought to defend against it.

"Until June?" McGonagall scoffed. "That seems a bit harsh."

"She might have died," he reminded her. "And so might have those boys in your charge. You know, the children you rewarded for risking their lives."

"What I do with students in my house is my business, Severus," McGonagall said. "The only reason you have a say with your daughter is because she is just that, your daughter."

"And as a parent I can tell you that the Weasleys and Dursleys would be horrified!" If I remember Petunia correctly, she would probably be upset the boy didn't get himself killed, but I know I'm right about the Weasleys.

"Do you think the girl would be so desperate to get up close and personal with every novelty under the sun if you had let her breathe a little as a child?" McGonagall asked pointedly.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" he snapped.

"Must you two bicker like children every meal?" Dumbledore chuckled. "We have plenty enough to watch over. But you two do keep things interesting. If we seem over involved, Severus, it's only because it takes a village...or a school in our case. Many of us have become attached."

"Attached enough to keep her from killing herself?" he scoffed. "I should have home-schooled her."

"You'd still have to let go someday," Dumbledore whispered knowingly.

He looked out to see Hermione rising and leaving the morning meal early again. But this time the seven around her seemed at ease. The youngest Weasley said something and Hermione laughed with a shrug and-winked! Maybe she was just being cheeky. That had to be it. She was a baby, far too young for such nonsense. And how old were you when you were infatuated with your little redheaded friend?

"Would it kill her to have one female friend?" he grumbled to Dumbledore.

"She might meet one if you give her her afternoons back," Dumbledore whispered back.

Boys it was then. He wasn't budging. Anything that made it harder to keep his eye on Hermione made it easier for Quirrell to make good on his threat. They could talk all they wanted about giving Hermione room to breathe, but at least she was breathing.

"Can you remember anything about it?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Hermione, it was wrapped in parcel paper," he said. "Sorry."

"What about the day?" she asked. "Harry, anything might be helpful."

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron groaned. "You're like a dog with a bone!"

"Well, you did say I was a bitch!" Hermione smirked.

The three were huddled around a table in the Gryffindor common room after Hermione helped them with their homework. Usually Harry would still be at practice, but thankfully rain made them come in early. Hermione could pry now. Harry had information she didn't. She wanted to share, but Harry and Ron hadn't put much thought into it. Harry and Ron laughed at her for pointing out Quirrell's frequent appearances by the forbidden corridor, but she snapped at them for indicating her father was milling about the forbidden corridor that night.

"Is it at all possible he was looking for his missing child?" she laid into them. "Or maybe he also wanted to lure the thing in and lock an unsuspecting victim in there with it!"

"Hermione," Ron went pink behind the ears. "We just... of the two who is more likely to do it? Quirrell's a bloody coward."

"And Snape's my father," she hissed. "Look unless I'm faced with unequivocal proof, I refuse to believe he is out to stab Dumbledore in the back. Dumbledore is close enough to my father he referred to himself as 'uncle' until my father told him to stop."

"You sure that didn't mean he liked you?" Harry asked. "I mean, Dumbledore has a soft spot for young kids."

"And a girl raised like you were?" Ron offered. "You said it yourself. They pity you."

"Ron!" Hermione huffed. "There's simply no proof he did it." She decided to keep his injured leg to herself. "Just tell me everything that happened when you went to Diagon Alley."

Harry disclosed everything, the trip to the Underground with Hagrid, the Leaky Cauldron, meeting Quirrell there, emptying volt 317, and he described the parcel as a small, rough shaped, single item. Something that could fit in someone's palm. She imagined it was a magical artifact of immense power. 317-wasn't that the vault broken into during the summer? The same day it had been emptied?

"Ha!" Hermione snapped her fingers. "Quirrell was coincidentally there the day it went the vault was broken into? There's the proof, boys!"

"Your father really has you brainwashed, doesn't he?" Ron groaned. "Or are you still upset about the kitten comment?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't like the pointed look the two men exchanged when they caught up to McGonagall. It simply didn't sit right with her. The two would have been close together to catch up at the same time, meaning Quirrell was also there. Harry and Ron also explained the first week of school being rescued by Quirrell after a couple of wrong turns. And now he was at the Leaky Cauldron when the vault was broken into? The evidence was circumstantial, but mounting. But Dad's leg, what if the cerebus did it? I just assumed it was the troll. Putting her money on Quirrell was more for her own sake than suspicion. True, there were things she didn't like, but he was the only other candidate. And it just couldn't be her father. She'd sooner blame Libby...Libby...she might know! After three months of not seeing her at all, she didn't want to call out of the blue to see if she could defy rules and spy on a professor.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Hagrid has invited us over after the match. You can ask him anything then."

"I'll have to write Hagrid an apology," Hermione sighed. "I have detention every Saturday afternoon and evening until June."

"Till June? His own daughter?" Ron scoffed. "Merlin, maybe you should have told him we accidentally locked you in there with the thing!"

"Better me in detention than you two dead," Hermione sang. "I promised Fred and George I would teach them certain phrases in Japanese. You two wanna join? Sharing a secret language might be fun..."

"We can barely do our homework!" Ron moaned.

"Yare Yare!" she rolled her eyes.

"You have thirty seconds to chose a partner," Severus groaned. "Two months in and if this continues to waste class time I will assign partners nobody will be happy with. THIRTY! TWENTY-NINE!"

Not to his surprise, Hermione and the Parkinson girl paired together and the Longbottom boy was now the one everyone sought to avoid. After time was up he and the Crabbe boy were the last two standing. He wasn't sure which of the two would be doing more damage, but his attention turned to the girls whispering back and forth to each other before, to Parkinson's dismay, the two boys took the table beside them. Had Hermione finally found her ability to advocate to her friends for what she wanted? Parkinson glared at her and Hermione shrank with an awkward smile, almost hiding behind her text book.

Those girls were such opposites; how the hell did they decide to pair-up? After wishing she'd talk to another girl her age he didn't like that he disapproved, and had to pretend he didn't, but he wished she had met someone nicer. "Settle down, girls."

"Yessir," they both said turning their attention to him.

"To continue with our work in health and mood elixirs," he typically would stalk the room, but with his leg he stayed seated. "We'll be making a anti-solmulant called Sanguine Solution. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?"

Not a single hand hit the air. Malfoy looked pensive, as if trying to recall, perhaps he would answer, Parkinson looked at Hermione, who tried shrinking from sight. He suspected she knew, but as always wanted to evade attention. He didn't get it, it seemed like she was always looking for approval, but when she got the chance to earn it, she shrank away. Others were similarly either disinterested or confounded. Potter and Weasley were exchanging whispers.

"Not a single one of you? This is a disappointment," he mused. "Five seconds or I'm choosing someone at random. Five," he looked around. "Four," still nothing. "Three," nothing. "Two...POTTER!"

"Sure, random," he heard the boy grumble to Weasley.

"What happened to one?" Weasley whispered back.

"Yare Yare," Hermione groaned hitting her head to the desk.

"Swearing in another language is still swearing!" he snapped. "ten points! I swear it's been the same conversation since you were four!"

He ignored the sniggering as he turned back to Potter. "Since it's clear you have no clue what the Sanguine Solution does, care to hazard a guess?"

"Erm," he looked around. "Sanguine is Latin for blood, right? So, replenish lost blood?"

"Wrong," he sighed. "Sanguine might mean 'blood' in Latin, but in English-which I do believe is your native language, yes?-a sanguine character is someone who is full of energy, for better or worse."

"English is my native language, sir," Harry said. "I might not have known archaic descriptions like 'sanguine' but I do know the meaning of the word 'random'."

Some of the Gryffindor boys laughed at Potter's excuse for a joke. He noticed Finnegan winking at him before Hermione muttered something in exasperation-Elvish, he thought.

"The Sanguine Solution keeps one awake by increasing blood-flow to the brain and blocking sleep inducing chemicals from parts of the brain. That'll be another fifteen points, ten for Potter's cheek," he sighed. "And a further five for the multi-lingual swearing. Honestly, you speak four languages and that's the best you can do with it?"

"Sorry, sir," she muttered.

"You'll find everything you need on page 435," he called over the laughing class. "You all have twenty minutes. Start now!"

The pairs worked to varying degrees of success, he turned his attention to the girls, he often saw Parkinson grab a tool, Hermione would consult her notes in response and hand her a different tool. Hermione was not only doing her own portion of work, but she was more or less coaching Parkinson in everything, and shooting a nod or a head shake Longbottom's way when she noticed him point to ingredient jars. The book is right in front of you!

"TIME!" he shouted.

Malfoy and Goyle's potion came along at the expected speed. It's colour not quite the crimson it should be, but that would take more time than they had. He examined it before scoring it 10/10 on his clipboard, saying a few words and awarding a point for well done work. He moved to less impressive specimens, but still on the right track, each scoring at least a seven before he reached Hermione's and Parkinson's.

"Would you girls care to explain how it finished brewing so fast?" he asked.

The potion bubbled a deep crimson, with the correct viscosity, what he was looking at was a completed Sanguine Solution. Had they the full hour to brew it, this would have been perfect. He saw Parkinson beam before Hermione elbowed her. Hermione took his meaning, and after the elbow to the arm, Parkinson's smile faded and the girls exchanged a worried glance.

"I'm waiting," he said.

Hermione swallowed and began speaking very quietly, and very fast. "We (this time Parkinson's elbow nudged Hermione's arm)-erm-I thought with the time limit part of the challenge was to get it finished. When we reviewed the chemical, alchemical and mystical properties of the ingredients, it didn't look like there'd be a poor interaction if we used tools that let let the juices and other properties out faster. It was my idea, erm, Pansy wanted to just follow the instructions."

That girl was completely on board until she thought it was wrong. Stop lying! Though, Hermione had figured out something that Severus himself hadn't until his third year. "You girls did demonstrate a very thorough understanding of the subject matter. Knowing how the properties of your tools and your ingredients interact as a whole, and the risk of a poor reaction when expedited is incredibly advanced."

Parkinson's grin reappeared and Hermione sighed in relief.

"However," he continued and watched Hermione recoil. "Neither of you girls have the background or practical experience to be making such calls. Not as first years, and no matter how intimate your knowledge of the properties, you're bound to neglect how dangerous one mistake can be without such experience. You girls will receive a perfect score, but I will be deducting a point from each of your houses. Honestly, I expected you to know better."

He moved to the bright red solution simmering in Longbottom's cauldron. "Scarlet? I think I see exactly where you went wrong. You didn't get a certain someone's attention when figuring out how much taurine and ironroot to add. Stay after class, Longbottom," he turned to Hermione. "You too. It appears we need to have a talk about cheating and its place at Hogwarts."

Severus progressed to Potter and Weasley and begrudgingly gave them a 9/10, as they had nearly gotten almost everything rest of the cauldrons were mediocre to passing and he simply couldn't wait till the holidays. He dismissed the class five minutes early and leaned against his desk not looking forward to the conversation.

Longbottom now pink-faced trembled as he inched closer to Hermione, who hung her tiny head solemnly and once again dug her fingernails into the back of her hand. Hermione mouthed an unconvincing 'it's fine' as the boy drew even closer. As if he was trying to hide behind a girl half his size. Was that all she was to him?

"She is the last person you want to be hiding behind right now, boy!" he snarled.

"Does he look like he's hiding behind me?" Hermione sighed. "I don't understand how you think we cheated."

"It certainly looks like he's trying," Severus seethed. "As to how you cheated, you gave the boy answers at every turn."

"But it was open book!" Hermione cried. "And we were working in pairs," her voice evened as she sighed. "Neville didn't do anything wrong, sir."

"It was open book," he conceded. "But that was not what he consulted, and yes, you were working in pairs, but I believe you were paired with Miss Parkinson and he was paired with Mr. Crabbe. Am I wrong?"

"No, sir," she sighed. "But you don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly, Hermione!" he snapped. "Pity has always been your undoing! You look at him and think 'oh, that poor boy' and there's nothing you won't do. You're pathetically naive!"

"But Neville wasn't-" she began.

"Hermione, please just shut up!" he shouted. "And you!" he seethed. "Have you anything to say for yourself, Longbottom? Or did you simply plan on having her defend you?"

"I-I-I, erm," Longbottom choked. "I, erm, didn't know it was cheating, sir."

"Allow me to educate you, Longbottom," he sneered. "When you are being spoonfed the answers from someone you are not partnered with, it is cheating. Now get the hell out of my sight!"

Neville obeyed with a speed he had not expected someone with his frame to muster, and Hermione turned away too.

"Not you," he snapped. "It seems we're overdue for a little heart-to-heart. Sit down."

Hermione obliged digging her nails back into her hands and biting her lip.

"I know you feel bad for the boy," he said sitting across from her. "But I won't be accepting that as an excuse in the future. Do you think a quivering voice and bumbling nature prevent them from being manipulative?"

"This isn't just about Neville, is it?" Hermione asked in a low voice with narrowed eyes.

Naive, not stupid. I'll give her that, he placed a hand on her head. "Not entirely, no," he admitted. "Though I do feel the need to tell you not to let his mewling guilt you into doing his work for him. I know how desperately you want to feel needed, but I highly recommend you start setting boundaries now. Before the consequences of not doing so become too serious."

"I don't think he's looking to weaponize my pity," Hermione said. "Nor do I think he'll ever plan to. He's just not like that, Dad."

"I hope you're right," he sighed. "Now, you haven't been bothered lately, have you?"

"I'm sorry?" she raised a curious eyebrow.

She'd know what I meant if Quirrell had been prowling around her...maybe he has no intention of making good on his threat. He wondered how to warn her, but knew she felt sorry for the man. Longbottom might have been clueless, but Quirrell did weaponize pity, and he did it well enough he wasn't sure anyone would believe him responsible if anything happened to her. Nothing is going to happen to you.

"Quirrell, I can't give you the details," he told her under his breath. "I wish I could. But you need to stay as far away from him as possible. I don't buy his little quivering coward act, and no matter how much you pity him, you shouldn't either."

"Is this about Hallowe'en?" Hermione whispered. "Ohmigod! Did Quirrell do that to your leg?"

So close, yet so far, he thought. So she put together there was a conflict between them on Hallowe'en. Perhaps she could handle...no! The more she knew the more danger she was in. He would just have to keep an eye on her. "All you need to know is that I suspect he's involved in something very dangerous, and you might get dragged into it if you're not very careful."

"I'll keep my distance," she said, but he could see something churning behind her eyes. "But-"

"Promise me, Hermione!" he insisted.

"I promise," she placed a hand on his arm. "You'll be okay, though, won't you?"

"Of course I will, love," he lied. "Now, I want you to find me as soon as he spot him lurking around you, understood?"

"I love Sundays," Hermione sighed happily.

All three of them sat on a fountain huddled for warmth with Hermione's blue-bell flame sitting at the small of Harry's back so all three could ward off the cold. The slow burning, fuelless flame was a point of pride for Hermione. She'd been working on it since summer. Now she could jar and summon it easily. The beauty was that it burnt hot enough for warmth, but not hot enough to really be dangerous.

"Freedom is lovely," Harry mused pointing up into the clear sky. "I know it's been a while, Hermione, and don't look directly at it, but that yellow ball in the sky is what we call 'the sun'."

"Oh, the sun," Hermione said the words slowly. "Yes, I've read about that. Though isn't it supposed to be warm?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "I've never felt so lied to!"

The three of them burst into laughter before returning to Quidditch through the Ages. Hermione would have to return it soon, but she was happy it gave Harry a small sense of relief. She didn't want to admit her father was right, but from what she was reading, Quidditch seemed awful. How could something be both so dull and dangerous? She once again turned her thoughts to how to tell them that her father told her to stay away from Quirrell.

"What do we have here?"

"Gah!" Hermione jumped kneeing the book cover and steadying herself before she had the chance to knock over the jar.

"Must you always do that, little girl?" her father gave an exasperated sigh and placed a hand on her head. "And what do you have there, Potter?"

"A library book?" Harry replied.

"Sorry, Potter," he held out his hand. He did not look sorry. "Library books aren't allowed outside the school. Give it here."

To Hermione's surprise he only gave a resigned sigh before handing over the book.

"You should know better, dear," he turned his gaze to her before lowering his voice and speaking in French. "I know first and second years are supposed to spend certain hours outside, but no one enforces them. You should be somewhere where you can be easily found. Penses avant faire, ma fille."

"Oui," she nodded.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"Oh, he was just threatening to let slip to the entire class that I was afraid of Mrs. Norris until I was six if I continue teaching Fred and George Japanese." Hermione shrugged hoping she was convincing.

"I'm afraid of Mrs. Norris now," Ron scoffed. "No one would blame you."

"I bet he made that rule up," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"I wish," Hermione said. "It's one of those rules no one but Madam Pince cares about. So teachers selectively enforce it."

"What do you think happened to his leg?" Harry asked as he eyed her father limping away.

Hermione bit her lip and gulped. She didn't have a story yet! How the hell could she not have a cover story?

"Dunno," Ron scoffed. "But I hope it's really hurting him."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "He's still a humanbeing, and my fucking father!"

"Sorry, Hermione," Ron said sheepishly.

"It's fine," she said. "Sorry for snapping. I'm not angry...just..." she sighed. "Disappointed."

"You sure sounded angry," Ron grumbled.

"He didn't tell you what happened did he?" Harry asked changing the subject.

Not in so many words.

Hermi-chan!

It's been a couple weeks, is everything alright? Mid-terms and pre-holiday exams must be underway. I imagine those are stressful. You told me once my letters were the highlight of your week. Yours are the highlight of mine. This is my first year boarding, and with everyone so busy, even in the clubs, I feel so alone. Please, write me back.

Love,

Hiro-kun.

That was the single shortest letter Hiro had ever sent her. When was the last time she wrote him. It had been weeks. Hermione had been so preoccupied after Hallowe'en that she had stopped writing. In the past three weeks, she'd written him once. Had she forgotten that he was just as loney as she had been? This was so unfair. Splitting her time between Harry, Ron, Fred and George, as well as the assorted unending tasks with her father. Every other moment was spent studying. But Hiro needed her, and she had all but vanished when things in her life got complicated. Was she a shitty friend?

Hiro-kun,

I am so sorry! I am quite busy, but it's no excuse!

How much should she tell him? It would be wonderful to have someone to confide in, but would it put him in danger too? All the way in Japan she doubted it, but what if her owl was intercepted? What did that mean for them? No, she had to keep it to herself.

I suppose I was waiting for something interesting to happen to tell you. Nothing keeps happening. I'm sorry to leave you feeling so lonely. That was never my intent. Please, tell me everything and I promise I'll reply.

Love,

Hermi-chan

Hermione left the girls' dormitory to run to the owlery and send off her letter when she was cut off .

"Hey, Hermione!" George waved her over to the table.

"I thought she'd been spirited away!" Fred teased.

"Just busy with studying," Hermione shrugged with a weak smile. "Don't feel too neglected, I just got a letter-full from Hiro."

"If you're neglecting him you must be busy!" George laughed.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "I have to send this off, but let's play exploding snap when I get back. Promise."

"Archimedes!" Hermione groaned at the owl overhead as she crossed the third floor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Distracted by the owl tailing her she kept looking back. Hermione instantly regretted it as she bumped into some one. "Shit! Sorry!"

"Language, Hermione Elizabeth," her father groaned. "And are you honestly still wondering around alone?"

"Just sending a letter off before curfew and going back, nothing to worry about," she said. I might have had a witness handy had you not scared off Neville. The poor boy's terrified to come within a metre radius of me! So thanks for that!

"You do realize you could have simply given the letter to me to send off? We do have an owl."

"You have an owl, Dad," Hermione sighed. "I'm not interested in being treated differently than other students. Is it just Archimedes you have stalking me or did you get the house-elves in on it too?"

"The idea crossed my mind," he seethed before switching to French. "Have you any idea how dangerous it is for you to be milling about right now?"

Hermione whistled and Archimedes flew to her. She gave the owl the letter while maintaining eye-contact with her father. "There," she seethed in kind. "I'll do as you please if I can lose the nanny-owl."

"Getting upset with me does not change the reality of the situation, Hermione," he hissed. "You will just have to trust that I know best."

"I'm not upset," she sighed rubbing her temples. "Just-"

"Disappointed?" he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "You'll be even more disappointed if you don't start listening to me!"

He's worried, don't get angry, just breathe. "Understood, sir," she sighed. "I'll be heading back now," her eyes dropped to his leg. "Maybe take your own advice, be careful."

"Hermione," he whispered. "Restes ici," he switched back to English. "If you're passing pass. Anything we have to say to each other is none of your business."

"S-s-sorry," Quirrell squeaked. "I-I was simply p-p-passing and d-d-didn't w-w-want t-t-to i-in-trude."

"Keep walking then," he snarled before wrapping an arm around Hermione.

Keep him away from that corridor! "Actually, Professor," Hermione said. "Fred Weasley was looking for you. Seemed to think it was important. I imagine he'll be waiting either at the staffroom or your office, sir."

"Oh, erm, o-of c-c-course, d-d-dear," Quirell huffed before skittering toward the stairs.

"You made that up, didn't you?" her father muttered in her ear.

"Lie to a teacher, me?" Hermione asked innocently, voice still low. "Maybe I did, but it keeps him the hell away from the forbidden corridor now, doesn't it?"

"Come along, you are going to tell me everything you know!"

"This Nancy Drew nonsense stops now!" Severus hissed. "Did nearly getting killed by the troll not provide enough excitement for you?!"

"You told me to keep my distance, and I'm keeping it," Hermione sighed. "I'm not actively looking for trouble. I simply noticed Quirrell's fascination with the forbidden corridor, and put two and two together at after you both exchanged looks like you wanted to kill each other on Hallowe'en. Then you told me to look out for him. Just because I know that he's after whatever artifact you lot are guarding doesn't mean I'm looking to confront him on the matter."

Hermione couldn't seem to decide whether she was nervous or angry as she told him about the mounting evidence against Quirrell, and how she found it. She wasn't lying, but he couldn't help but feel that she omitted details. From what she said, it seemed like she alone noticed these things and pieced them together. However, she had mentioned that the proverbial nail in the coffin came from Potter off-handedly mentioning that he'd met Quirrell in Diagon Alley the day Gringott's was broken into.

"He mentioned it when the article came out," she gave another exasperated sigh. "It links it all together quite nicely," she mused. "But I know there isn't a soul who would believe me, so you can put any worries of me running my mouth off to rest."

"Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape!" he snapped. "Don't you dare speak to me like that again! What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Erm, sorry, sir, " she said, her usual demeanor returning. "I'm not looking to get myself or anyone else in danger. I'll keep my distance from him. Knowing that he's after the artifact doesn't change that."

"And your little re-direct?" he asked. "Did you not think Quirrell would piece together you lied to him?"

"You would have done the same, Dad," she explained.

Indeed, he was about to do something similar if he noticed Quirrell heading toward the forbidden corridor. She was right, but Quirrell would hesitate in going after him, Hermione was a child, and already drawing too much attention her way. He wished he was more certain of his suspicions earlier. He could have sent her to another school, explained that he didn't trust himself to keep professional with his own daughter, that could have easily gotten her accepted elsewhere. Quirrell might have died back on Hallowe'en if Severus didn't try to stop him. He wished he'd simply looked for Hermione and left Quirrell to his fate. So many mistakes, and all of them put Hermione in harm's way. How could he make it right?

"Yes, Hermione," he said. "I, as an adult and fully-trained wizard, would have lured him away. And I would have used something less transparent than your little lie! Have you any idea how much danger you've put yourself in?"

Hermione dug her nails into the back of her hand once more as she stared at her feet. Ten years and she was still as helpless as she'd been the day he brought her to the school. How could he be so reckless as to let Quirrell know he was on to his little act? 'I'm a bloody coward'! You have no idea how I wish that were the case. Oh, baby girl, I am so sorry!

"Hermione," he said resting his hand on her head. "I don't want to find you anywhere alone. If you are not with me or in class you should be safely tucked away in Gryffindor tower. And if I hear about another nightly exploration, I am pulling you out of classes and tutoring you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yessir,"she nodded carefully.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted to a distant corner of the floor and he knew that she was mulling something over in her little head. The girl always did love a puzzle, something literal danger should have deterred her from. How he longed for a time when she would seek refuge behind his knees, had this all happened then he wouldn't have to contend with her to keep her safe. She then shut her eyes, something she did when she suspected he was on to her, and he again remembered the curse of having a clever child. Hermione was clever enough to piece together Quirrell's guilt, but not wise enough to let it alone. His worst fears had come to fruition and he worried she wouldn't live to see her twelfth birthday.

"Whatever you're thinking of," he said lifting her chin. "Leave it be. You're just going to have to trust that I know best."

"Whatever the artifact is," Hermione whispered. "It has to be incredibly important, something that could do some very serious damage...isn't it wrong for me to ignore it?"

"You did not just say that!" Severus hissed.

"Well, isn't it?"

"Who else knows?" he asked, slowly reaching for his wand. She's observant, don't let on...

"No one, sir," she whispered eyes scanning the room. "Is someone listening in?"

Damn it, he was spotted. Severus threw his arms around her, wand in hand. Her tiny body tensed with suspicion, and he had only once had been so disgusted with himself. His throat tightened and with a shaking hand he brought his wand to his daughter's head.

"Dad..." Hermione's voice cracked and she looked up him, betrayed, tears filling her large brown eyes.

"Obliviate," he whispered, his own voice cracking.

Hermione fell unconscious in his arms and he had to stop himself from crying as well. When she woke, she would have no clue of Quirrell's treachery, she wouldn't remember an artifact being kept in vault 317, or the fact that it was moved to the school. With more details he could have been more thorough, but he hadn't planned to wipe her memory, and with her insistence, he had to act now. The only problem was that she didn't know to avoid Quirrell, but he had ways to deal with that. She'd remember being told not to go anywhere outside of class or detention and the threat to pull her from classes. That should have served as a good enough deterrent.

I'm sorry, love, he thought picking her up gently. But there is nothing I will stop at to keep you safe.