Several important things:

First. The inspiration to write this one-shot jumped on me while I was reading "A Solitary Man" — one of the stories by amazing dark_tides, posted on AO3, which I highly recommend to you guys! However, the two stories have but one thing in common, and only very generally. What that thing is you'd have to find out by yourselves! XD

Yes, I do know that this 'one-shot' has two parts, but it was not meant to be, really, honest. It just sort of happend, practically against my will, so deal with it.

Second. Dark_tides very kindly agreed to beta-read this story. Thank you, my friend, from the bottom of my heart! You're incredible as always! ❤️

Third. I stole Hermione from my other story, so nothing about her background is explained here, but in the context of this particular plot line it's not important. If you're curious about what the hell happened to her — you're welcome to read "Please", if not, this story is a definite stand-alone, so you aren't really missing anything. The only reason I did the — shall we say — borrowing, lol, is to save myself time. Although there is a great number of teacher/student (apprentice/mentor or any other type) Snamione fics where she's barely of age and worries about her exams and whatnot that I absolutely love ("A Solitary Man" included), the aged up trope is my personal preference, so I usually choose to write them this way. Consider it a quirk, lol.

This is not exactly a romance, so if you're expecting confessions/kisses or any other instances of brain-mushing, tooth-rotting head-over-heels fluffiness, you're welcome to check my other stories, lol, as nothing of the sort is on the offer here. The rating is purely for language. Somebody should fetch soap, because, really, Severus… There's no need to be so crude. Ugh. Why do I bother…

Just imagine his face if he heard me say that… poor dear, lol.


Two halves…


When Severus was young and arguably foolish, he found hope. Aged five, despite the life his family led, despite every possible evidence to the contrary, when his mother mentioned to him the concept of soulmates that ruled the wizarding society, his stupid heart ignited with hope of one day meeting someone who would see him, hold him, want him, accept him — nose, rags, and all.

When Lily swept into his miserable world with her bright smiles and eyes burning with life, light, and promises of a better future, that hope, intensifying itself tenfold, narrowed down to a single point — her. He was willing to put up with all the pain and all the misery that seemed to follow him wherever he went because he was damn sure that they were soulmates, and as soon as they both turned seventeen, he would have it — his desperate wish. Even when everything crashed around him at the end of fifth year with one awful word, his (at that point undeniably) foolish heart still clung to that hope. After all, all he needed to do for the bond to manifest was hold her hand for a moment. It wasn't the only method (one needed to lay their palm on the bare skin of their potential partner), but it was a universally used one: easy, proper, and approved by all. Surely she'd forgive him when they were bonded, for her own sake if nothing else. The possibility of Lily being someone else's soulmate didn't even occur to him at first… And when later it did, it was quickly shut down as too painful to even consider.

Naturally, throughout all her remaining years of life, he never got the chance to even come close enough to try his theory out. It was a pity, he thought as he lay at the foot of a large cliff the night she died, gazing at the starry sky and feeling the longstanding hope that sustained him for a decade and a half gradually diminish, until the gentle wind that played with a few strands of his hair and softly caressed his skin snuffed it out completely.

Since that day, Severus chose to embrace the reality of his life, forget this whole foolishness about happiness and concentrate on fulfilling his duties, which he had in abundance. This year in particular was exceptionally bad with this entire mess with Draco and Dumbledore. As time went on, he thought more and more of his impending task that loomed over him as a dark cloud and wished only for someone to kill him, preferably before the planned murder, so he wouldn't have to suffer the inevitable consequences. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to cope this time, nor that he would even want to.

Meanwhile, it was already December. End-of-term exams were due to start next week, so he had all his classes doing some form of mock duelling as a revision. His back was killing him (the Dark Lord's displeasure was never a thing to quickly forget), further worsening his already pretty black mood, as he strode between the pairs of sixth-years, holding a shield around himself. The imbeciles were slowly making progress, some more than others, but the overall level of skill was depressingly abysmal nonetheless. What was Dumbledore thinking, allowing the situation to become this bad? One would've thought that being on the verge of a new war as they were for years, training children to defend themselves properly was paramount. Potter of all people should have begun training in all possible ways of combat starting first thing the day after his sorting. Was Albus trying to get the brat killed after all?

The boy was duelling with Granger for once — or trying more like — and by the look of things, she was becoming increasingly more bored by the minute, as she waited for her largely inept friend to manage to cast at least something at her — they were doing it non-verbally.

It wasn't all that surprising that the bloody annoying cheat was the first of her classmates who got the hang of the silent casting. The fact that Potter, with all his talent in Defence (which Severus admitted, albeit grudgingly and only to himself) wasn't hot on her heels, however, was. Through sheer stubbornness, if nothing else — the illusive art of concentration was forever escaping the arrogant dunderhead. Such a pity.

The two students circled one another in their corner of the classroom, from time to time throwing spells at each other, seemingly not paying any attention to their surroundings. A potentially deadly mistake, that. Severus leisurely strolled to the Granger girl as she was closer to him than Potter at the moment, intending to hiss something menacing at her which was bound to scare her and show the importance of Moody's infamous constant bloody vigilance. He was already right behind her when one of his especially moronic Slytherins with a clear death wish decided to test the gravity and fell, flailing his arms around. Severus found himself being pushed on the back, just as Granger — who apparently was keeping track of her surroundings, after all — instantly pivoted at the noise. Momentum propelled him right at her, but he managed not to lose his footing completely, grabbing her left wrist and right forearm when she just as automatically attempted to catch him.

His mind exploded with blinding white light, making all his memories and emotions swirl in a mad tornado in front of his eyes. His Occlumency shields vanished in a blink, and Severus nearly had a panic attack right then and there, but at that moment Granger's wide eyes rolled back into her head and she crashed onto the floor in a boneless heap, nearly dragging him with her, which distracted him.

As Severus let go of her, the world snapped back into focus. He heard Potter and Weasley shouting Granger's name, the blasted clumsy oaf behind him was stuttering some sort of apology, the rest of the students froze in anticipation of an imminent explosion, ready to bolt. His right wrist started itching as if he put a very thin bracelet of white-hot metal on it.

What the hell now?! Did some idiot manage to land a curse on him?

And then suddenly his thoughts came to a screeching halt. A burning "band" around the wrist, a flashing whirlwind of memories… He touched her… He touched her sodding skin.

Holy fuck!

No…

It could not be. It just couldn't. Not her.

"Potter," he hissed. "Get her to the hospital wing. The rest of you, out. Out! Out!" he snapped.

Nobody needed to be told twice.

The classroom was empty in a blink of an eye, but Severus still stood where he was, staring at the floor. He was completely numb.

He found his soulmate.

Lily was never meant to be his…

What?

No, surely it was all just a bad dream. A particularly vivid one, but a dream nonetheless. It wasn't possible.

Hermione Granger could not be his soulmate.

What would he even do with her? Homework? She was his goddamn student.

Not that it was the first time it ever happened in this school, of course. Once a century or two there was a soulmate couple who were a professor and student. Once upon a time it even happened to a headmistress. It was a shock to absolutely everyone, most of all to the poor unsuspecting seventeen-year-old muggleborn boy who she accidentally touched and bonded.

His situation was shocking, but surely not that much. He wasn't ninety-something at the very least…

Not that it would help him, of course. It was Hermione bloody Granger — a beautiful (not that he cared about such things where his students were concerned, but nonetheles — it's a fact), young, smart, and clearly capable witch who in normal circumstances would never even notice his sorry existence. Not to mention a small issue of him spending years belittling and insulting her and her friends on a regular basis…

Severus sat down heavily on his desk chair in his office and rubbed his face. Long-buried hope burned anew despite his best efforts to shut it down, bringing a whole new world of pain with it. How pathetic he was… He did not even want her. At least not her specifically — half an hour ago, she annoyed him to no end. And look at him now… Getting hysterical as a typical hormonal schoolboy, because some girl noticed him, and it's the end of the world now.

SHMOLDY'S SLIMY SNOT!

Why the fuck was he so slow today…

She did indeed notice him… She knew him now. With that one touch, every little feeling, every thought, every image that he had now and ever remembered himself having were projected into her mind to be absorbed as her own. Severus had no idea how exactly that worked, but he read enough books on the subject back in the day to be certain that it did without fail. That's why his Occlumency shields crumbled. That's why he had trouble constructing them back.

A wave of white-hot humiliation burned through him, followed closely by the absolute, mind-shutting rage. How dare she! Severus jumped up, upending his desk. All its contents clattered to the floor with a satisfyingly loud crush. He just stood there for a moment, panting, staring at the mess, until a sudden realisation that there was a good chance that she still continued sensing his emotions and maybe even hear thoughts, and always will, struck him. Only instead of anger, this new thought caused fear.

Because no one was allowed to get this close.

Because he would never have a shred of privacy again.

Because he was far from a good man, and there will always be a witness to it.

Because he brought death to the Potter's doorstep, making her best friend an orphan.

Because with that one incredibly foolish action he also doomed the boy himself.

Because all the depravities that a Death Eater from the inner circle was required to participate in were out on display.

Because all the depravities that he himself has been subjected to over the years were out in the open now too.

Because he was about to kill the bearer of the fucking light, and deep down some small part of him knew for sure that he'd have no problem with casting the killing curse, for he truly hated the old man since that night back in his own sixth year.

Because surely she would hate him for it with the rest of the wizarding Britain.

Because she would no doubt tell everything she just learned to her little friends, and they would mock him, and he would see it in their eyes every fucking day.

Because no matter how much she knew about him — or precisely because of that — she won't ever want him, just like every other blasted person on this godforsaken planet.

And because… just fucking because.

Severus felt his vision getting blurred as he struggled to draw breath and collapsed to the floor. He was having a panic attack for the first time in decades.

Several minutes later, when he more or less regained control of his body, he got up, looking around. The office looked like a troll stomped through it, but Severus did not give a damn. With one more deep calming breath, he turned on his heels and went to his quarters through a hidden door, going straight for his liquor stash. He won't be summoned today — he rarely was these last months because the majority of the Dark Lord's attention was still on his new boy-toy. He felt pity for Draco, but couldn't exactly do anything about it, could he? His own audience was a couple of days ago, which meant he was safe for another month or maybe more. So firewhiskey it was… Severus opened a bottle, sank into his favourite armchair and took a swig, staring into an empty hearth.

Would she feel drunk too if he went on a bender?

He'd very much like to share the hangover, he thought, smirking and taking another swig.

At some point later someone came into his office, triggering his wards, and even knocked on his door, but Severus ignored it. He was too far gone to care. At some point he remembered that he was supposed to have two more classes that day after the sixth-years, but that thought came and went without having any effect whatsoever. He was too busy wallowing in his misery.

Severus woke up on the floor with an empty bottle laying near the armchair and a half-empty one right beside him. The strong smell of booze hit his nostrils, and he realised he must've spilled most of it onto himself. Nausea hit him next, and Severus gingerly tried to get up. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, his hip also hurt for some reason, and the first thought he had was of how much he hoped that Granger also felt like total crap right about now. The next was shame — it wasn't her fault after all, even he wasn't that much of a bastard to believe otherwise.

Severus slowly walked to the bathroom without turning on the lights. He made himself throw up, took a Hangover relief and a long shower afterwards. And then, as it wasn't even four in the morning, he decided to take a stroll around the grounds to further clear his head. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, something needed to be done — he should at the very least speak to the girl to try to ensure her silence. He needed to think it all through very carefully, what better time than while she's asleep?

It was still dark when he ventured outside, although the first signs of the rising sun were starting to show. With not a soul in sight, Severus slowly went towards the Black lake, wrapping his arms around his middle to keep warm. Stars shone brightly, and their light reflected on the fresh blue-ish snow. The near silence was soothing. It engulfed him whole, promising a much-needed time of rest. The general peacefulness of the moment rubbed off on him soon, and he was finally able to take a proverbial breath from the constant nagging worries. He felt tired. Too tired to move, in fact. Thankfully, Severus found himself not far from his once favourite place — there was a large old tree near the shoreline, whose roots were thick and conveniently stuck out of the ground in a couple of places. It was a relatively comfortable place to sit for a few hours, and it was mostly obscured from view from the castle. He cleared the snow from the highest one and sat down, leaning back against the tree trunk, and looked at the rapidly lightening sky.

He'd find her today after classes. He'd find her, and he'd explain to her why she must keep everything to herself, making damn sure to act nice and friendly, or as nice and friendly as he could anyway. Too much depended on it… The whole of Dumbledore's plan, whatever the hell it was, depended on it. Yes… The war was much more important than his useless feelings, he'll just have to grin and bear it, as usual.

He sighed. Life was not fair, it was made clear to him as soon as he was out of his nappies, but knowing it never made it any less painful.

No matter…

Now calm enough, Severus sat up straighter and began a long-familiar process of putting all his shields back into their places. It took him some time, but eventually he was able to block every unwanted feeling out. If only it also blocked it all in her mind, it would've been perfect.

Severus flicked his wand to cast Tempus, when his gut twisted with a strange sensation. It instantly made him uneasy and alert. He threw careful glances around, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, when his eyes landed on her.

Hermione Granger strolled towards him as if she owned the damn place. The less was the distance between them, the more clearly he saw her unworried face. She wasn't wearing her school uniform — he could see blue jeans under her winter cloak — it made him suspicious of her purpose.

Yesterday's fears reared their heads behind his shields, although his face remained impassive. He didn't get up, didn't move at all, just watched her with the outward calmness, however, a muscle under his right knee kept twitching almost in time with the crunches of her steps from the sheer tension he felt.

Not saying a word, Granger approached and sat down on her heels in front of him to be relatively on the same level. Ignoring the cold, wet snow that instantly started seeping into her clothes, she looked at him with a curious expression that forced Severus to work twice as hard to maintain his equilibrium. Silence stretched painfully. Both kept still, so still that they looked like a couple of statues, until Granger apparently found what she was looking for and made up her mind. She slowly rose to a kneeling position to get even closer, tentatively reaching out her hand towards him.

"Your secrets are safe with me," she whispered, "can I count on you to keep mine?"

Severus' eyes widened, his heart started hammering in his chest, but he still didn't move. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. After an abominably long few seconds, her small palm gently cupped his cheek, and the world exploded for the second time in as many days in a blinding flash of white light.