A deep breath, she tested the wards. They were strong and would most likely blast her back if she pushed any further. He'd definitely changed the composition since her second year. It had been foolish of her to think he wouldn't have. She didn't even know if he had what she was looking for…he probably did. In his private stores, that lay somewhere through the student storage.
She could just ask him for it. Maybe with all the time they've spent together since the end of the war she'd earned some good grace from him. She'd certainly softened up on him…well again. Things had been rocky with the boys since she'd decided to come back to Hogwarts. Ron was heartbroken that she didn't return his feelings. Harry warred with all aftermath of the war. He seemed to hate Snape a lot less but there was a stony air that came from her best friend any time he was in the Potions Master's presence. He never told her what was in the memories Professor Snape had given him but it was enough that Harry was able to get the man cleared of all charges.
The professor had changed too, he seemed to still favor his Slytherins but he didn't seem so hellbent on ruining every other house's chance at the Cup as he used to be.
"Miss Granger…" his baritone chilled her spine as she turned from the ingredient storage she had been debating on breaking into.
"Good evening, Sir," she replied weakly.
"I really had hoped that since you'd shaken imbecile one and two that I'd find you breaking school rules far less. A pipe dream, I suppose. Now, more than ever, I'm sure you were the brains behind every misguided delinquency that you and your friends ever found yourselves in. What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Granger?"
Professor Snape stood with his usual guard, hands clasped behind his back. Waiting for her explanation.
"Dusk Rose," she spoke out, barely above a whisper.
His expression shifted, a darkness bled through. A darkness she hadn't seen since the acquittal.
Severus' stomach dropped. There was only one reason anyone would seek out that ingredient. And suddenly he could see much of his younger self in the witch standing guiltily before him. He too has sought out comfort from the words of the dead.
"Why in seven hells would you be skulking around for that?" His question was just as quiet.
She felt the burning surge behind her eyes. No. She couldn't cry here. Hermione fought every urge in her, screaming to leave and kept her feet firmly planted in the classroom.
"Please, sir. I need it. I wouldn't be here otherwise," eyes glistening heavily in the torchlight, "I have to know why."
She could feel her chest beginning to cave in.
The Professor watched her, she was shaking, labored breathing. He could tell she was on the edge of collapse.
"Hermione…" his voice softened, as he stepped closer, "The answers you're looking for….can't be found with the dead."
Much to his surprise, the lion burst forth from the girl as if it had been woken from its deepest slumber.
"I HAVE TO KNOW WHY. WHY WOULD HE DO THIS TO US! TO HARRY?! IT'S ALL SO WRONG!"
The young woman's shouts echoed and bounced around the dungeon walls as she unleashed everything.
Severus was stunned. He'd never been in Granger's presence for one of her infamous tirades. Though, he was suddenly understanding of why Potter and Weasley had a fearful respect for her. The burst of magic that had wafted from her made him glad the Potions classroom was warded.
"Speaking to a madman's shadow won't give you any sort of closure. The Dark Lord is gone and he best left to his grave. His reasons won't be anything you haven't heard before," Severus offered, trying to assuage the storm of a witch before him.
"Voldemort?! You think I want to talk to him? Tom-Fucking-Riddle can stay silent. I know his bigotry and hatred were the fuel on his Fiend Fyre. No. I want to talk to Dumbledore."
For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Severus found himself stunned. He couldn't have seen that coming from a wand's length away.
"Dumbledore…he…he led us into this war. He prepared Harry like a suckling pig to be served at Tom Riddle's feet. We were children and he all but outwardly encouraged us to participate. And with not a goddamn clue of how to finish it. We spent months starving, freezing, and running trying to find those bloody Horcruxes and that old fool just kept with his vague little game instead of giving us anything useful before his perfectly orchestrated death. If anything, he's just as much to blame as Voldemort is. And I want to know why."
Though her volume had decreased, the fire was still blazing. Severus was known to stoke a fire, he had no idea how to put one out.
"It won't do you any good, Hermione," he said, dropping his arms to his sides and leaning against one of the workbenches. His voice was solemn but still soft. He looked at her for the first time as what she truly was. A force to be reckoned with.
She shifted to look at him, the full ferocity of her gaze bearing down on him now.
"How can you possibly know that? How can you know what will give me the closure of dealing with being battle hardened before I even graduate?" she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly.
`Severus was impressed, though he'd never admit it if asked. She'd always been more timid with him, she'd never set a toe out of line in his class…except for when she was stealing for her friends. But here she was, cursing up a storm, shouting at him. It would have been amusing in any other circumstance.
"You seem to forget that I spent the last twenty years under Albus Dumbledore's manipulations and ambiguous explanations. Even if I allowed you to brew that potion and allowed you to speak with him, he wouldn't give you anything more than he did me. What you need is to face the trauma of what you've been forced to live through. So you can, in fact, live through it"
"Oh that's rich, coming from you," as soon as the words left her mouth, the witch's hands shot up to cover it. As if it would take the words back.
Severus gave a small sound of amusement.
"I've carried a great deal of anger and resentment on my sleeves for more years than I care to say. I alienated myself, cloaked my emotions in humor and bullying school children. Namely the child of the only person that had ever extended a hand of friendship to me. I know a great deal about what it can mean to hold on to something rather than find a way to release it."
"A-and…how did you do it, Sir….release it?" she asked, stepping to leaning against the bench across from him.
There was an air of relief in the Potions Master.
"Come, Miss Granger," he said standing, motioning towards a door that appeared next to the ingredient storage. He heard her following, her shoes tapping on the stone floor behind him.
They entered a warm sitting room, the table in front of the sofa was laden with a tea service. It was clear that someone had already been drinking mid-evening tea when they'd suddenly stepped away.
"I'm sorry for trying to break into your stores…" she said from behind him.
"Again…" he said, turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow.
This elicited a blush and another guilty look at her shoes.
"Your past misdeeds no longer interest me, Miss Granger," he said, motioning to the sofa as he vanished the tea service. This conversation called for something stronger. Taking a stride towards the fireplace, he conjured a small cauldron and put it over the fire. Almost immediately the scent began to waft.
"Mulled wine?" she asked, her brow furrowed.
"I think we could both use something to soften the edge. It's the only thing I like about this time of year." he said, leaning against the mantle.
"Are you suggesting that I turn to drinking my problems away?" she asked, the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth.
Severus had to take a breath in to stop himself from tearing into her. He knew she was only trying to lighten the mood, she didn't seem to know anything about his past. Silently, he thanked Potter for keeping his mouth shut.
"Not in the slightest," he gave a slight shake of his head, "Though, I do expect this to stay between us. Eighth year or not, you're still a student. But you're deflecting. Why haven't you gone to Potter or either of your Weasley friends with any of this?"
There was another flare in her eyes at being caught trying to evade him.
"Everything has really just been kind of shit since the war ended," she exhaled and took in a large breath, "Ron won't speak to me, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys are still trying to mourn their losses. Harry's been trying to sort through the fact that he died and came back. Trying to figure out if he really wants to become an auror or if it's just some idealized version of himself he had. Not to mention all of his complicated feelings about you. My friends are to the brim with their own problems, bigger ones than I have on my plate. It would be silly to burden them with something so trivial."
There was deafening silence following everything that had just tumbled forth. She hadn't talked to anyone? At all?
"Loathe that I am to admit it, Potter managed to select his friends well. Both yourself and Ronald have traits that Potter Senior's friends compassion and kindness, specifically" Severus said, trying and failing not to curl his lip, "And even at his worst, I'm sure Weasley would want to know if you were in crisis. What about your parents?"
He'd turned to take the cauldron from the fire when he heard a huff from behind him.
"They're not exactly happy with me right now, sir. That's part of why I'm not going home for Christmas. I Obliviated them and shipped them off to Australia before I went on the run. When I recovered their memories and explained everything…they were rather upset. I haven't been disowned, it's just very tense in the Granger household," the witch replied, shoulders sagging. She'd removed her outer robe to reveal muggle clothes beneath.
The Potions Master was surprised, yet again. Hermione Granger, the golden girl had used unsanctioned memory charms on muggles. And, it seemed, she was secluding herself. Belittling her own pain and suffering to that of the people she fought alongside in the war.
"Well then I suppose my suggestion is invalid here. After my recovery and trial, Minerva was who reminded me of the man I was before. I owe my sanity to that blasted witch and her meddling," Severus replied, handing one of the goblets he'd ladled out to the Gryffindor.
For the first time, Severus saw a real smile spread across Hermione's lips. He liked how refreshing it felt to see. His eyes lingered on her lips for just a split second.
"I have to ask, did you really change the tartan throw rug in her office to green and silver the first year Slytherin won the Cup after you started teaching?" Hermione asked, taking the first sip of her wine.
"I'll allow you this derailment because it is some of my finest spellwork. That wasn't all I did, I also charmed her mirror to flash the final point totals every time she looked into it. She was supremely put off because she couldn't undo the mirror for almost a year," he smirked at his own cleverness.
Minerva had always been on his side, in his corner. Even after he'd killed Dumbledore, she never fully accepted that everything was as it seemed. She'd nearly torn his office apart when he'd arrived to take the Headmaster position. Minerva was wise to the way of Albus Dumbledore. He remembered how she'd given the old coot the cold shoulder after she'd found out what had happened in the Shrieking Shack in his fifth year. Despite all her blustering, Severus hadn't given anything up. But she knew.
Her smile had faded, she was looking into the fireplace with a far off look on her face.
"Perhaps we should start with that glamour you keep so painstakingly intact," he said motioning to the arm she had resting between them on the sofa, "Malfoy Manor?"
She flinched when he said it.
"May I see it?" he said, holding out his hand, slender fingers extended. She'd torn her gaze from the fire and was looking at him as if she might turn him to stone. There was a coldness there that he'd only ever seen in the mirror.
"Hermione…" he said quietly. When had he started using her name?
The coldness tapered slightly but she didn't move. With a hard swallow, Severus unbuttoned his outer coat, revealing his white dress shirt and silk waistcoat underneath. She was watching his every move, he could have sworn she was holding her breath. Silently he rolled up both of his sleeves, unbuttoned his collar and removed his black ascot.
Shining in the firelight were the numerous scars he bore, the freshest being the angry skin on his neck, still pink and puckered and not quite healed. His left forearm was a raw red where the Dark Mark had previously writhed, now a burn in the same shape as the tattoo that previously resided there. There were older faded scars all along both of his arms, faint white lines skimmed his wrists, just below the heel of his hands.
"Hiding them doesn't make them go away. You won't ever forget what it felt like. It'll always be there, burned into your memories," as he spoke, he turned his arms round to show every line that marred his pale flesh, "But with time…and help it'll be easier to live with them."
Her large brown eyes were wide as she took it all in. She reached a hesitant hand out, looking to him for a stop that did not come. He gave a slight nod and her small hands clasped around one of his as the other examined the roadmap of his double life. She traced line after line, pausing at the ones on his wrists…realization consuming her. Slowly, she removed her hands and rolled up the sleeve of her own left arm. A whispered incantation and the wound was revealed.
A flash of anger rippled through him. He only knew that she'd been tortured. Knew that Bellatrix had used her cursed knives on the young witch. Severus did not know just how she'd been marked. Hermione extended her arm toward him and the angry letters glistened in the light.
"I…I tried everything I could to treat it. Dittany helps when it gets irritated, but whatever dark magic those knives were infused with…it doesn't like to let go," she whispered, her voice steady.
Moving closer to her on the sofa, he rested her arm across his lap. He laid his dark mark burned arm next to it.
"Those knives were a gift from the Dark Lord when she was marked. It hasn't healed because it's not meant to. Once Potter defeated the Dark Lord, the mark disappeared but left this as a reminder. It feels like a fresh burn at all times. Without any testing, I can extrapolate that Bellatrix's knives had the same curse that was inlaid into the Dark Mark," he explained, looking at their arms next to each other.
She was looking down at their arms, "Sir…"
"I think, for tonight, Severus would be acceptable," he intruded. If he was going to help her with something so delicate, it didn't seem right to keep the formalities, especially since he'd already apparently done away with it himself.
"Severus," she said looking him in the eye now, "You don't have to answer…but I've wondered…why you joined…them?"
His jaw tensed but he didn't recoil, the last thing he wanted was to scare her off when she was finally opening up.
"I was young…angry. Before I started school, I was always an odd child. We were poor and I wasn't well liked by other children. I thought I'd fit in at Hogwarts. Sadly, that wasn't the case either. I was gifted with the Dark Arts, thanks to my mother's lineage, and my talent with Potions caught the eye of the burgeoning Death Eaters. The Dark Lord wasn't always so outward about his true plans. He was very seductive and made a lot of promises that he kept. He offered me something I'd never had before," he paused, having only told Minerva these things, it was difficult, "Acceptance. He paid for my Mastery and told me how I'd be rewarded if I only did what he asked."
"It's funny, s-Severus. I never would have guessed we had so much in common," she was smiling again, more reserved than before, "Before Hogwarts, I was picked on, bullied. They made fun of my hair…my teeth. When Professor McGonagall showed up at our doorstep, I had all these dreams that I'd finally be where I belonged. But, as you know, I've never quite fit in here either. Even with Harry and Ron, I had to lie to get their approval and friendship in the beginning."
"You lied about the Troll in the bathroom? I am shocked," he said, looking at her with mock disapproval, "You were a dreadful liar, you would have made a dreadful spy."
"I'm the Brightest Witch of my age, not the sneakiest," she said, a small chuckle ringing out.
She'd reached for her wine and taken another sip. Her cheeks were growing more rosey in the firelight. He found his eyes drawn to her lips again, as she pulled the bottom one between her teeth. She was looking at him, all coldness was gone, replaced with an incredible amount of warmth. Severus felt like he should end this now and send her back to her rooms, all alarms were telling him to. These days, he tended to silence his alarms. Hermione Granger wasn't an over eager people pleaser anymore. She was a woman and he was becoming painfully aware of it.
Somehow she'd gotten even closer to him, there was no space left between them on the sofa. Their marred arms were now pressed together. The silence stretched, not awkward, comfortable.
"I have a proposal for you," she offered after a moment. Severus set his goblet down, finishing his own wine.
"I'm listening," he said, trying to focus anywhere but her mouth.
"We have these," she said motioning to their twin injuries, "I'd like to see if there's a cure…or some kind of treatment for them. Salves, Potions, Poultices. There has to be something that hasn't been tried or invented. These types of injuries weren't exactly common before the war. It makes sense that the treatment hasn't been developed yet. Think of the people we could help."
Severus considered her words for a moment. There was an excitement in her that had been missing since she returned to the school. The kind fervor that the other professors expressed concern over having been absent. The idea had merit, she wasn't wrong about lack of experience with these types of injuries.
"It's true that many of the curses that were used were newly developed. The Dark Lord constantly had Dolohov working on something new and more disturbing than the previous. Lucky he was finished off before he completed the new and improved Cruciatus he was testing," he ran a finger over his lips, catching Hermione watching him intently, "I have one condition."
She licked her lips, eyes drifting up to meet his, "Anything."
"No more trying to break my wards. With the work we'll be doing, you'll be added to them," he said, regaining some of his infamous severity, "I am trusting that you won't run off to summon Albus Dumbledore's corpse for midnight tea if you have unrestricted access to high-end Potions reagents."
"Using my pain…the things I've been through to help others heal theirs is the best way I can think of to help me regain some control. I think I've been warring with myself. Trying to reconcile the Hermione Granger that wanted to get all her NEWTs and save houselves with this version," she was gripping his hand now, tightly as she tumbled through her words, "This version of me that's seen war, felt real pain."
