Author's Note

I finally have a beta to catch my spelling and/or grammar errors. Thank you, hpfanfictionreader! You're wonderful :)

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 12: Taboo

"What are you doing here?" The clipped question had Hermione's head whipping up to see the new arrival. Snape swept in, robes billowing about his legs like giant bat wings as his long strides carried him swiftly to his desk. Immediately, he rounded it, bracing his hands on the surface as he faced her.

It was almost like he was using it as a barrier, but more likely, the manoeuvre was to project an air of power and authority. This was his new domain, after all. And she'd invaded it.

"Do you ever get tired of asking me that?" she inquired, trying to appear nonplussed.

"I will…when you stop appearing where I am without an invitation," he snapped, scowling darkly at her impertinence.

"Then extend me one," she suggested, shrugging and looking back at the book she'd been reading – not that she could still process the words, it was more to give the appearance of being unaffected. It was all she could do not to laugh when he huffed.

Hermione continued to ignore him, though she could tell he was staring at her expectantly.

"Anyone could have walked in to discover you," he finally stated, offering that as reasoning for his annoyance. Privately, she thought he'd seek any excuse available to be in a foul mood. It was simply his way.

"Because you have so many visitors knocking down your door?" It was a bit of a low blow considering the obvious animosity permeating the castle, but then she'd not expected such a cool greeting.

The day she'd arrived, he'd not treated her like a nuisance. His reaction to her now was noticeably more hostile, and she couldn't help feeling the slightest bit offended.

"Explain yourself. Surely Potter hasn't injured himself yet again," he demanded, crossing his arms. The rigid stance practically screamed that his patience was at an end.

She didn't bother reminding him it had been Ron injured, not Harry. He was perfectly aware, she knew. He was just being ornery because he could.

So, rolling her eyes, she answered, not really having a reason to keep it to herself beyond enjoying poking at him. Something about having seen him come undone and laugh without reservation made him infinitely less formidable. Slightly indignant, she explained, "I was researching in the library and a third year nearly sat on me. It was difficult enough trying to read under the cloak, but now I have to be on the lookout lest I be used as a chair."

"So you've taken it upon yourself to make use of my office rather than join your friends?"

To be fair, it was a valid question. It wasn't as though he'd invited her to make use of his office or given any indication that she would be welcome, but it was the first place she'd thought of to go and be undisturbed. "I can't concentrate with them talking constantly," she admitted frankly, figuring honesty would help her cause.

Plus, she was utterly sick of fighting with Harry. He'd been in Voldemort's head again that morning. She simply didn't understand why he wouldn't acknowledge how dangerous that was! Voldemort could have reversed the connection, discovering they were at Hogwarts or hunting the Horcruxes! Why did he want to experience the monster's horrible thoughts? It didn't make any sense, and he blatantly refused to take her warnings seriously or try to do Occlumency to prevent it from happening. It was positively infuriating!

"So you're here to bother me instead?"

"That's the idea," she countered, offering an unconcerned smile.

Snape looked uncertain about how to take the teasing jest. It almost made her feel bad for the man. He was clearly stressed and unused to easy banter. But maybe that just meant he could use a distraction as well. Not to mention a bit of practice conversing with someone that didn't outright hate him.

"I also need someone to bounce ideas off," she added, thinking of the list of questions she had piling up after spending hours debating with Harry and Ron about the Horcruxes.

"Finally figured out Potter and Weasley are useless idiots, have you?" he retorted, posture relaxing a fraction in the first hint that he wasn't quite as opposed to her invasion of his space as he'd first indicated.

"Yes, well, I have questions –"

"When don't you?"

"Hmph," she huffed, willing herself to let the taunt go and not take offence. Snape was about as cuddly and approachable as a porcupine. "As I was saying, I have questions that you're in a better position to answer."

"This should be interesting," he drawled, settling in behind the desk.

Hermione took that as an invitation, asking, "Which Death Eater does You-Know-Who–"

"I didn't think you'd been in contact with anyone since coming here," he interrupted, a crease wrinkling his brow.

"I haven't," she denied, shaking her head, confused.

"Then how did you learn of the taboo?"

"What taboo?" she asked, disliking not having enough information to follow the conversation properly. It left her on uneven footing, and with Snape, that was never a good position to be in.

"There's a taboo on the Dark Lord's name. It's how he's tracking Potter's followers. Kingsley was nearly caught yesterday," Snape informed her brusquely. Part of Hermione wanted to seize on the news, anxious for updates about the Order and outside world, but given the way Snape's obsidian eyes were currently penetrating her, she figured it would be better to stay on point.

"I didn't know. I just remembered you…requesting I not say it," she informed him, skirting the fact it had been more of an order with a healthy dose of intimidation to ensure it stuck.

A taboo? On a name? It was absurd, but apparently effective. Only those closest to Harry and Dumbledore had ever been brave, or brash, enough to use Voldemort's name aloud.

For once, Ron's paranoia had actually paid off and benefited them. His superstitions might very well have saved them these last few months. If nothing else, it'd meant they weren't suddenly attacked while preparing to infiltrate the Ministry.

"I'm surprised you listened," Snape said dryly, disdain or disbelief colouring his words with a heavy paintbrush.

"I've always listened to you," Hermione insisted quietly.

It was true. She'd always treated everything her teachers had said with the gravity and reverence their positions deserved – with the notable exceptions of Trelawney and Umbridge. But then there was no reason to heed the words of obvious frauds. Unlike Snape. He was extremely knowledgeable, and she valued all she could learn from him. Always had, and likely always would. It was part of why she was currently making camp in his office. Among other reasons that she refused to dwell on.

A strained silence descended, and Hermione was at a loss for how to dispel it. Snape was clearly unused to the respect she was indicating she had for his previous position. Possibly because she was a Gryffindor, though it could also have been because they'd blurred the lines between them.

She searched their previous conversation for anything to use to break the awkwardness, finally settling for grasping at the familiarity he'd displayed when saying Kingsley's name, sensing it went beyond serving in the Order together.

"Did you go to school with Kingsley?"

"He was two years ahead of me. Head Boy in his day as well. Always very fair…even to the Slytherins – probably because he was a Ravenclaw."

Hermione noticed how he emphasised that last bit. It was true that Slytherins were often blamed for everything. That was their reputation, earned with ample evidence, yes. But maybe they wouldn't be so prone to making bad decisions if people didn't automatically expect them to turn out evil. It was something to consider at the very least.

"He was very close to the Longbottoms. I believe that was Dumbledore's motivation for including him in the Order this time," Snape continued, the shadows clouding his face like an oncoming storm.

"I'd forgotten Neville's parents were Aurors," Hermione said quietly, recalling that heartbreaking meeting at St. Mungo's. Poor Neville.

Kingsley must have been completing his third year of training when they'd begun their first year. They'd worked together to track down Voldemort's followers after the war…before the three Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr got to them, at least. Had Snape been one of those followers? Was that part of why he disliked Neville so much? It would explain a great deal. Snape was certainly well known for his ability to hold a grudge.

"Until they weren't," Snape intoned flatly.

"I've met them," she admitted, wondering if he'd share anything about them as he had Kingsley. Even if she had just stumbled onto the reason he bullied Neville, she still wondered what he remembered of the young couple. There were few in a position to know what they used to be like. She knew from her time with Harry how desperate he was for any tidbit he could learn, the only means he had to know them. Neville was likely the same, despite having his Gran. That woman didn't strike Hermione as once to share common anecdotes, so much as boast over-inflated accomplishments.

Snape didn't. Instead, he relayed a different, darker prediction. One she was certain he was correct about. "They won't be the only ones in such a state by the end of this."

"It's not that much different from the Muggleborns the Ministry is arresting," Hermione acknowledged.

Snape visibly tensed, his fingers clenching around a quill on his desk hard enough to snap it. Was he expecting her to ask about the Hogwarts students? Possibly even condemn him for not protecting them? She wasn't. She'd already figured that out for herself. No, she was more concerned with her own role in this war.

"When we got the Horcrux. There were Muggleborns awaiting trial. I left them there," she confessed, bracing herself and ploughing ahead, needing to have someone who might understand hear about what she'd done. So far neither she nor Ron had been able to bring themselves to tell Harry. They both knew he'd not have left the others. He'd have risked everything for them. But then, Harry was the best of them. It was the reason he inspired so much loyalty in those around him. "Ron insisted we go – because of the locket, but also so they wouldn't catch me. I wanted to get all of the ones there out, but Ron wouldn't let us wait. He protected me over them…and I let him."

"Possibly the first intelligent thing the prat has ever done." Hermione grit her teeth at the insult, figuring it was a habit for him to be a bastard when it came to her friends. Besides, defending Ron wasn't foremost in her mind.

"I can't stop thinking about it," she admitted, seeking advice. If anyone had experience learning to live with regret and the hardships of war, it was Snape.

The nightmares had started up after that first night they'd stayed in the castle. People screamed, begging for help as she turned her back. Then came the blood. It marked her, an indelible reminder of her guilt for all the world to see. Each night she'd woken, having to double and triple check that her hands weren't truly stained crimson.

"Try harder," he remarked snidely. Hermione couldn't stop herself from glaring at him, but he merely raised a brow in challenge. It was bloody infuriating! It made her want to hit something.

Yet she was still more angry with herself than anything else.

Hermione looked around the room, unable to meet his knowing gaze. Snape possessed the unique ability to see straight into the very depths of her soul. Without words, he apparently could read her better than her two closest friends.

As she searched for a distraction, it suddenly occurred to her what was different about this visit. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not one portrait had spoken or whispered since she'd arrived. For once it actually felt as though they were having a private conversation.

In fact, as she took in the various headmasters and headmistresses mounted on the wall, every one was either missing or feigning sleep. And a lot were currently missing. Most, in fact. How peculiar. Somehow it made it easier to confide in Snape. Especially when she saw that he was still waiting for her response.

"I see their faces when I close my eyes. Every single time. I've not slept the night through since it happened. I keep wondering if I will ever manage again, or if I even deserve to." The words were ragged, shaken from a part of her that had never seen the light of day or crossed her lips. But she said them now. "I keep wishing I'd done something different. But wishes change nothing. They don't serve a purpose beyond fueling guilt."

"Dwelling will get you nowhere – trust me," Snape replied gravely, not dismissing her confession as he once might have.

Probably because he was doing the same. They were both powerless and hated it. Hermione could easily picture the similarities between them. Life was a series of choices, and each of them was doing their best to make the least objectionable one. But it didn't mean the consequences weren't adding up.

"Do what you must to get through the coming months or years with the least collateral damage. It's the most you can hope for." It was honest advice, and probably for the best as far as her mental state went.

But that was the problem.

Abruptly, Hermione was spitting mad at the entire situation. It sizzled around her like electricity intent on making her frizzy curls stand on end. She had probably been angry all along, but now all of that pent up rage was boiling over.

"It's so easy for You-Know-Who's followers to blame and hate Muggleborns. You're a half-blood. I remember. Your Muggle blood comes from your father. Do you hate him?"

"Yes," Snape spat, nostrils flaring and face reddening as he answered.

For the first time, Hermione felt uneasy. That wasn't the answer she'd expected to hear. Her mouth went dry as she recalled just how much power this man possessed. The venom as he'd spoken…it was alarming.

But no. Snape wasn't like that. He didn't hate her because of her blood. He wasn't Malfoy. Right?

Just because he freely admitted he hated his father didn't necessarily mean he hated him because of his ancestry. There were probably other reasons. There must be. But he'd never welcome her prying – that much was amply apparent.

"You've never been particularly outspoken against Muggleborns," she dared to say, seeking confirmation in a roundabout way.

"I learned my lesson long ago," he said distantly, hand fiddling with something on the desk that she couldn't make out. The broken pieces of the quill he'd snapped? No. She could see those clearly.

Wait, lesson? What lesson had that been? Hermione frowned, her inherent tenacity demanding she push despite all reason and logic where Snape was concerned. She wanted to get a deeper sense of the man.

"Because teaching allowed you to see firsthand how ridiculous and untrue the prejudices were?"

"I was already aware by the time I began teaching," he said stiffly, glaring at her for poking and prodding in a personal area she had no business venturing.

Not wanting to be cast from the office, Hermione relented, sighing and changing the subject. Not that the new topic would be particularly welcome either, but it was one she needed to know about. Another motivation for reading here rather than with Harry and Ron.

"I've seen a number of injured students on my way to and from the library over the last few days. What's happening around here?"

It took some time before Snape answered, and he only did after turning to stare out the window. "Much in the same vein as you saw at the Ministry."

"Which translates to what – specifically?" she persisted, refusing to let the matter drop as he so obviously wished she would.

"The Carrows are teaching students the Dark Arts. Any who refuse to practise them have the spells practised on them," he said bluntly, finally meeting her stunned gaze.

"You're serious," Hermione gasped.

Snape gestured towards a stack of three books on the table Hermione had ignored in favour of her own research. Now she picked up the top one, The Dark Arts: Curses and Jinxes.

"The new textbooks," he said brusquely, lips turning down in disgust.

Flipping through the pages, she saw a number of rather graphic spells described. She stared helplessly at a picture of a wizard with his eyes bursting and blood spraying, feeling her stomach turn unpleasantly at the sight.

The students were actually learning these? And using them against each other? No. That couldn't be true. Hermione's head jerked up, a denial dying on her lips as she saw the undisguised truth.

No wonder Snape was struggling. He'd barely been Headmaster for a month, and already everything Hogwarts stood for was in jeopardy. This was going to be his legacy.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

No one would know about how he'd helped her create the potion necessary to destroy Voldemort. And even if they did, it'd just play right into the depravity occurring under his reign – sleeping with a very young, though legal, virgin for the sake of collecting a potion ingredient.

His face was completely, utterly blank as he continued, adding, "Fortunately, the majority of students are incapable of truly utilising the spells, and most cannot cause permanent damage."

Well that was something at least. Except….

"Most?"

He inclined his head, then brought a hand to his temple, betraying a headache. It was probably recurring at this point. "For now, there are physical means of inflicting similar damage, though the longer this continues, the more the fear and animosity will grow, fueling the students' ability to properly perform the spells."

At least it explained why only the first year Muggleborns had been imprisoned. She'd wondered. The other years had demonstrated a verified magical ability. Now they were being conditioned, brainwashed. Taught and threatened into following Voldemort's twisted ideals and vicious, depraved practices. Their morales twisted and perverse from an impressionable age.

What would happen to those that proved incapable of performing the spells? Would more Muggleborn students be arrested come end-of-term?

"How long did it take you to learn?"

"My situation was different than most here."

Hermione didn't bother questioning him further regarding that little tidbit. He'd never reveal more, she could tell. Besides, she could guess at the source. The Marauders. His childhood. Given what she already knew, and Mrs. Dursley's oblique reference, it wasn't difficult to figure out. So instead, she pressed, "How long?"

"I was sufficiently motivated by the end of my first year here. If the students here begin practising in earnest, this war will not go our way," he warned seriously.

How many would turn to Voldemort when that happened? Fear of ending up in Azkaban could be a powerful motivator, as she'd seen for herself. It looked like the time left on the clock had just became finite, and it was much less than any of them had anticipated.

"Is Potter aware that his friends are being particularly stubborn?" Snape asked, the question interrupting her mental mapping of a theoretical timeline.

A lump formed in her throat. She'd been worried about the students incapable of performing the spells. She should have also considered what would happen to those who refused outright. Snape had already mentioned them, but now that he'd referenced her friends, she knew they'd never go along with the new regime. They'd resist, and suffer as a result.

"No. I've insisted he stay in the Room of Requirement, but he's already going stir crazy. I'm not sure how much longer he'll be willing to wait if I can't come up with a lead for us soon," Hermione admitted wearily.

Four days. They'd only been at the castle for four days, and already Harry was itching to do what they all knew he shouldn't. Hermione didn't want to go, especially after tonight – she'd needed the affirmation – but there was no way Harry would continue sitting in a room so close to the people he cared about, particularly if he discovered the news she'd just learned.

Part of her had hoped yesterday would help, but their failure to locate a Horcrux when they'd snuck out to search where the orphanage had once stood only made things worse. The building had been torn down years ago, and nothing to hint at magic remained. Harry had been surly afterwards, saying he'd known there wouldn't be one there. You-Know-Who picked places of importance and significance to him, not locations he loathed and wished to erase.

Problem was, they didn't know where those places might be. And Harry just kept suggesting the places important to him – not Voldemort.

"If we all had the luxury of doing as we pleased," Snape sneered petulantly. Hermione sighed, annoyed that he was behaving more like her friends than a fully grown wizard at the moment. Honestly!

"Well –"

Snape held up a hand, halting her mid set-down as he seemed to consider something.

"Perhaps you can use the situation here to keep him occupied," he said slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of risking him behaving as he usually does and running headlong into danger to visit his friends, bring his friends to him," Snape explained, displaying more interest than he had since arriving.

"As a common room?" Hermione asked uncertainly. She didn't like the idea of exposing Harry to potential threats. What if someone turned on them as Marietta Edgecombe had?

"As a refugee for those being targeted by the Carrows," Snape clarified, raising a brow. Understanding dawned. This was as much for him as it was Harry. He was desperate for a way to protect his students, and this was the answer he'd been looking for.

Snape's expression turned beseeching, and Hermione was helpless to refuse outright. Still, she felt it necessary to warn, "They'll band together, and if Harry knows how bad it is, he'll start up the D.A. again."

"We're at war. If your little friends intend to keep standing against the Death Eaters hurting students, then they should be properly prepared to fight," he said, warming to the idea.

Muttering sounded at that, and they both glanced at the meagre audience no longer pretending to sleep as the few Heads in the room watched from their stationary positions on the back wall. A curtain seemed to fall over Snape as he recalled that his every action was being judged – if not by Voldemort, then the students, staff, or his predecessors. It was an impossible position.

Wishing to relieve him of some of his burden, she plainly said, "You blame yourself. But you can't stop them, or they'd suspect your true loyalties."

His jaw clenched a second before he turned it around on her, disliking what he likely considered to be her pity. "No more than you could have saved those Muggleborns at the Ministry."

"I suppose," Hermione allowed, sensing the new comradery that had developed between them was at an end.

"You think too much, and unfortunately they are not original thoughts." A coldness accompanied the assessment. Try as she might, she couldn't completely shrug off the hurt it caused.

Yes. It was definitely over. Snape was her ally, true, but not her friend. She'd do well to remember that moving forward.

"So you've said," she replied stiffly, determined not to let him see how affected she was by the cut.

A disapproving cough sounded, and she didn't need to look to know it'd come from Dumbledore. Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. The sound probably reminded him that the man had forced Snape to compromise his morals before the latest events had even started at Hogwarts.

"If you insist upon remaining, then I demand you read in silence. I have enough to do without having to entertain you as well."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but abruptly closed it. This wasn't the time to push. He'd already been more open and understanding with her than she had any right to expect. More than that, he'd allowed her to remain – so long as she didn't keep pestering him. It was an infinitely better alternative to rehashing the same debate with the boys.

It wasn't until much later, when she was slowly making her way back to the Room of Requirement, that she realised she'd never actually asked Snape the question that had started them talking – Who among the Death Eater was close enough to Voldemort that he'd entrust them with safeguarding a Horcrux?

Only Snape was in a position to help with that sort of information – that was part of her reasoning for wanting to be in the castle while helping Harry. They needed someone on the inside.

He'd not exactly forbidden her from returning to his office. Once she sorted out the issue with the students and let them in on the secret, she'd try again.