Bound to Him

by georgesgurl117

At the behest of Lord Voldemort, Severus Snape is forced to commit a deplorable act against one who should have been under his protection. Bound by Dark Magic, he and Hermione Granger must learn to trust one another and themselves as they work together to thwart the dark plots surrounding them.

55. Pitfalls

A/N: As always, thank you for your patience and continued reviews.

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Bound to Him

Chapter 55

As she stepped into the Gryffindor common room after her shift in the infirmary on Wednesday night, Hermione rubbed tension out of her neck.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry called out from his seat near the fire, "are you busy?"

Yawning slightly, she shook her head. "Not at the exact moment, no."

"Can I ask you a Potions question?"

The witch raised one eyebrow as she stepped toward his chair. "Really? I mean, your essay isn't even due for another fortnight."

Her friend shrugged. "I know, but I thought I might start it before the last minute."

Hermione glanced around at the rest of the room before focusing again on him. "Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

With a small laugh, he leaned over and pulled a scroll out of his bag. "I think you could ask Snape the same question."

"Professor Snape," she corrected automatically, taking the parchment when he offered it to her and studying it for a long moment. "What am I supposed to be seeing? That he gave you an 'A'? I would have given you the same – I mean, you did only use one source and half of your citations are missing."

"Yeah, I know – he wrote that on there, but you're missing the point. Hermione, he gave me an 'A'," he emphasized, leaning forward. "He passed me on an essay."

"Barely," she shrugged.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "You don't get it. This doesn't happen very often. I don't think he's given me a passing grade on an essay since… I dunno, second year? Maybe once or twice in third year. But since then - not even when you helped me with them."

"You mean 'did them for you'. Perhaps he knew you finally did your own work this time," the girl suggested, handing it back to him.

"I've been doing my own essays the entire year, though," he pointed out. "This is the first 'A'. This is like a monumental occasion for me."

Hermione snorted softly and donned a small smirk as she watched him carefully stow the essay away. "Are you going to frame it?"

"Seriously considering it," the boy replied with a laugh. "Do you think he'd sign it? Just so I could prove it was him?"

"Well, you could always go and ask," she teased, crossing her arms.

Harry grimaced. "He might take it back. I better not risk it."

"Good idea," the witch nodded. Leaning against the wing of his armchair, she peered over his shoulder at the open book on his lap. "So what was your question?"

"Well, you saw the assignment, right?" he stated, pulling out his notepad. "To pick a desired outcome and…"

"Theorize a possible list of ingredients that could be used in a potion to accomplish that goal," Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'm actually a bit disappointed that I don't have time enough to work on that one."

"You would be," the wizard sighed. "Anyway, I was thinking about something that would…erm… shield or protect someone from the effects of dark magic – like the Cruciatus, or something."

"Well, that's certainly… an impressive task," she finished weakly.

He gave a nod and shifted in his seat. "I remembered your essay from the beginning of the year – you know, the –"

"Yes, I remember."

"Anyway," said Harry, "You said that the intended potion was directed somehow to the nervous system, and I was curious how that worked – how you can direct effects to a particular part of the body."

"You know, this is a question that Professor Snape would be better able to answer," she murmured, scratching her head.

"Hermione," he stated pointedly. "I would like to get another passing grade. He won't do that if I ask him for help."

"You don't know that," the girl argued. "He might see that you're not as arrogant as he seems to think you are."

He shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Fine, I tried," she whispered, perching on the arm of the chair. Clearing her throat, she carefully explained what she had discovered from her previous readings over the years and then mentioned a number of references that might help him more than she could.

"Thanks," Harry smiled as he finished scribbling down his notes. "I don't suppose I should cite you as a source."

Hermione snickered as she stood. "No. Though, he'll probably assume it anyway, so you had better support all of that with actual work."

"Do you think you could, erm, show me how to correctly cite something?" he asked sheepishly.

She laughed slightly at his blush and then nodded. "When you get to that point – yes, I can help you with that. But for now, I'm going to bed."

"Mmmkay," he mumbled, looking back at his notes. "Hey, erm, Hermione –"

"Yes?" she replied, turning back to him.

"Did you think any more about lessons?" the boy asked, gesturing at the sign-up sheet behind him. "Tomorrow's the deadline since they start next Saturday."

Her shoulders drooped slightly and she ran her hands through her hair. "Harry, I just don't think I want to right now."

"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, pushing his Potions materials onto the floor. After glancing around at the other occupants of the room, he quickly pulled out his wand and cast a Muffliato. "Hermione, you know what we're going up against."

"I know."

"Being able to apparate would be really helpful, don't you think?" he pressed.

Hermione pinched her eyes shut for a moment and then stepped in front of him and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. "It would, yes, but –"

"So let me pay for –"

"Harry, listen to me," she snapped. "I'm trying to tell you something important. I've been studying up on Apparition because I know it's useful, but there are some things you should know about its regulation."

The wizard narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, underage magic isn't the only thing the Ministry keeps tabs on," she whispered quickly, though she knew no one would be able to hear her even if she had shouted it. "When you get your Apparition License, they can track you if they so choose."

"What?" he gasped.

Hermione nodded. "I found it in the Magicks of the Ministry, which explains a majority of what they do. I even asked Professor Snape about it, and he said it was true."

"But… why would they do that?"

"Why wouldn't they? You remember Umbridge," she countered. "Professor Snape said that was why the Order chose to move you on broom last summer because it would have been obvious that it was you if someone disapparated from your aunt's house and they then could have traced your destination. They wouldn't have been able to see the building, of course, since it's secret-kept, but they would know where it was."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, rubbing his neck. "So, that's why you're not doing lessons?"

"Right. Since I'm already of age, I'd have to take the test at the end of the lessons to get my license."

"Well, couldn't you just opt out of the test?"

Hermione fixed him with a trying look. "Because that wouldn't be suspicious."

Harry gave a grimace of agreement and ran both hands through his unruly hair. "So should I not do them as well?"

"No, you should," she stated. "You'll still be underage until the end of July, so you can't take the test in May even if you wanted to. They're already tracing you because you haven't reached your majority, so they don't need to license you yet. You can learn how to do it now, but then when you turn seventeen – just don't let anyone take you to get tested."

"Well, what about you? How will you learn?"

The witch shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'll work it out."

Her friend eyed her curiously and then shrugged. "Okay. Wait – what about Ron? I know the two of you aren't on good terms right now, but he's still our friend and he should know."

"You're right," she sighed. "He'll be seventeen in March, so he'll have to take the test at the end."

"You should tell hi –"

"No, you should tell him," the girl argued. "He'll listen to you more than he would me."

"Hermione, you need to talk to Ron."

Groaning loudly, she rose to her feet and scowled at him. "Fine, but if it goes poorly – it's on your head."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she followed Dean into the Great Hall. Tightening her grip on the strap of her bag, she took in a deep breath and glanced down the length of the Gryffindor table to where Harry was sitting across from Ron. Harry was still adamant that she needed to be the one to explain her concerns to Ron, which meant that it had to be done today. She meant to confront him at breakfast, but when she had seen the glare Lavender cast in her direction, she had retreated to safety beside Ginny.

At the moment, however, Lavender was nowhere to be seen. Now or never, I guess.

Walking up to the redhead, she squared her shoulders and then cleared her throat loudly. "Ron, can I talk to you for a moment?"

When the boy unabashedly ignored her, Harry gave her an apologetic look. Rolling her eyes, the witch sat in the open seat beside him. "Ron, I need to talk to you."

Harry sighed loudly and set down his fork. "Ron, come on."

"Fine," he snapped, turning to glare in her direction. "What do you want?"

Hermione flinched at the hostility in his tone and took in a calming breath. "Erm, well… Harry and I were talking last night about the apparition lessons and we wanted to include you in –"

"Oh, you did, did you?" he hissed.

"Yes –"

"Well, don't bother!" Throwing his fork against the plate with a loud clatter, he pushed out of his seat. "Thanks to you, McGonagall sent a letter to Mum and Dad about my behavior."

"I didn't do any –"

"Mum said they were so disappointed with me that they refused to send the money for lessons, and have forbidden me from taking them!" Ron shouted, ignoring her protest. "So thank you so bloody much, Hermione! I hope you're pleased with yourself!"

With that, he stormed away from the table and out of the Great Hall.

Hermione stared after him in shock for a minute before risking a glance in Harry's direction.

"You alright?" he asked.

Feeling a dozen sets of eyes on her, she nodded slowly.

The boy cleared his throat and offered her a small smile. "Well, I suppose there is a silver lining at – "

"Oh, shut up, Harry," she growled, standing up from the bench. She closed her eyes briefly when he apologized, and then mumbled, "I'll see you in Transfiguration."

Adjusting her bag, she pinched her lips tightly together as she rushed away from the Gryffindor table, narrowly avoiding a collision with Parvati and Lavender. When the latter mumbled an insult beneath her breath, the brunette simply pushed past her and exited the Great Hall. Determined to get as far as possible before breaking down in tears, she rushed up the nearest staircase and blindly hurried down the corridor. As she turned the corner, she collided with a solid mass.

"Miss Granger," Snape stated coldly before glancing about and ascertaining that there was no one else in the vicinity.

"Sorry," she mumbled, moving around him. Before she could leave, however, he grabbed hold of her arm.

"What is it?"

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing."

Not wishing to risk being come upon by another student or member of staff while speaking with her, he sighed and pulled her into the nearest empty classroom. After warding the door shut, he looked down at her rigid form. "It clearly isn't 'nothing', so what is wrong?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

The wizard stared impatiently at the girl before touching her shoulder. When she immediately pulled away, he sighed quietly. "Hermione."

Unable to hold the tears back any longer, the witch dropped her book bag and covered her face with both of her hands. "He hates me."

"What?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who?"

"I didn't want him to hate me," she whimpered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I did everything I could not to hurt him, but it doesn't matter – he hates me all the same, and I didn't mean to do anything! I didn't do anything! All I did was stupidly open a door because it never crossed my mind that he would be… doing that."

The man grimaced, realizing that the youngest Weasley boy was at fault. He remembered her confession about the ginger wizard that she had made months before, and he vividly recalled Minerva's angry mutterings the week before regarding the latest disturbance in Gryffindor Tower. He had not known, however, that Hermione had been the one to walk in on it.

He rubbed his temples briefly before dropping his hand and clearing his throat. "I highly doubt that he actually hates you."

"How do you know that?" she moaned, looking up at him.

"Because he is a Weasley," Snape stated. "They may be quick to temper and to judge, but they do tend to eventually come to their senses. And unless you're a Malfoy, they also tend to be rather forgiving."

"But I didn't do anything to him!" Hermione snapped. "I didn't tell a soul what he was doing – he's the one who shouted it to the whole common room! It isn't my fault that he got in trouble for something he shouldn't have been doing in the first place! So what the hell does he have to forgive me for? For risking my own standing as a Prefect to make sure he got on the Quidditch team? For setting him up with that cow of a girlfriend even though I knew she would make it a point to wave it in my face for however long it lasts? And Merlin knows he certainly wouldn't have been getting sucked off in the dormitory if I hadn't pushed Lavender at him!"

The wizard visibly winced at the imagery accompanying the statement and then scowled at the ceiling. "I didn't say that you had done anything wrong, Hermione. I only meant that if doesn't figure that out, he is still likely to forgive any perceived wrong-doings."

"Oh, because that makes it so much better!" she hissed, glaring at him. "Thank you so much for clearing that up."

Severus blew out a stabilizing breath as he considered how to defuse the situation. When the Dark Lord got in a snit, he would kowtow profusely and take a few rounds of the Cruciatus in order to smooth over any feathers he may have inadvertently ruffled. Unforgiveables aside, he figured that dealing with a hormonally-charged teenaged girl could not be that far off of the mark.

"Forgive me, Hermione," he said softly, "I did not wish to upset you. I only wanted to assure you that your friendship with Mr. Weasley is likely not as broken as you think it to be, and that if you are patient with him, it will hopefully right itself. I apologize for anything I said that was inappropriate – it was not my place to do so."

The witch stared at him with a conflicted expression on her face. "Are you going to leave now?"

"If that is what you want," he replied calmly, folding his arms across his stomach as he leaned against a desk. "I had not figured that you were quite done shouting at me, however."

"I'm not shouting at you!" she yelled.

The man donned a neutral expression and dipped his head. "My apologies. I must have been mistaken."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and glared at the wall for a minute before spinning back to face him. "Why do I have to be the one to be patient? He doesn't have to deal with half of what I have to!"

And whenever possible to do safely – a bit of flattery and finger-pointing can go a long way. He cleared his throat and tilted his head. "Because you are far stronger and more stable than Weasley could ever hope to be. Teenaged boys in general are prone to excitement, and he in particular possesses neither the intellect nor the personal control that you often display."

As her anger quickly deflated, the girl dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes. Her voice was barely audible when she whispered, "But what if you're wrong?"

Letting out a small sigh, Snape pushed away from the table and moved to her side. Her eyes immediately locked onto his face when he raised her chin with one hand. "Because if he cares for you even a fraction of the extent you previously suspected – even if only as a friend –he will be back with his tail between his legs."

"How do you know?"

He pursed his lips together and briefly glanced at the wall behind her. "You'll just have to trust me on that."

After a moment of silence, she nodded slowly and then slipped her arms around his torso. Burying her face in his robes, she murmured a small word of gratitude.

Giving a nod, he held her for a few minutes before patting her on the shoulder. "Are you planning on eating lunch?"

"I'm not hungry right now," the witch said as she shook her head and stepped away from him. "I was just going to go to Transfiguration early and catch up on some of my reading for Madam Pomfrey."

"Alright," he responded hesitantly. "I do expect you to eat at supper, however. You did not manage more than a few bites of porridge this morning. You promised me that you would eat regularly this term."

"I know," she sighed, tugging her book bag over her shoulder. "I was just nervous about talking to Ron about Apparition lessons because I knew it would go about as well as it did."

"What about the lessons?" he queried, eyeing her carefully.

Grimacing slightly, Hermione explained everything she had discussed with Harry the night before. "Was that alright?"

Severus raised one eyebrow in amusement. "Of course it was. You simultaneously erased any suspicion he could have had regarding yourself while heightening his ability to sense conspiracy outside of the confines of Slytherin House. He needs to remember that the Ministry cannot be trusted."

The girl nodded before smirking a moment later. "Though I should give you fair warning – you've managed to do something for Harry that I've never managed."

"Oh, do tell," he sneered, crossing his arms.

"Not only has he started working on his Potions essay ahead of time, he's actually excited to do it – research and all."

The professor narrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "Why?"

"Now who's sensing conspiracy?" Hermione laughed, blushing slightly when he only stared at her. "Well, he seems to like the idea of the essay you set, but I think the fact that you passed him on the last one had a lot to do with it."

"Perhaps if he took more care with his assignments, he would obtain passing grades with more frequency," he countered moodily, moving toward the door.

The witch rolled her eyes as she followed him. "You do realize that he only regularly fails assignments in your class, right? And did you know that he outright refuses to ask you for help because he thinks you'll hold it against him? I didn't realize it until last night, but, despite the fact that he so blatantly dislikes you, he still values your opinion."

Pausing with one hand on the doorknob, he huffed loudly before glancing back at her. "And why would he do that?"

Hermione shrugged as she adjusted her bag. "Perhaps because he knows that you and I are friends. Or maybe because it's starting to sink in that you do risk your life for the Order every day and that you did actually help save our lives at the Ministry. Or maybe he hopes that one day you'll stop seeing him as his father. I don't know why exactly it is that he does, but at the moment, I don't think it matters all that much."

As he stared at her in shock, she smiled lightly and stepped past him to the door. "Oh, and he is really trying on this particular essay and he explicitly told me that he would like to pass again –"

"And he set you to the task of convincing me to do so?" he interrupted.

"No," she frowned. "He only told me that because he thinks you'll automatically fail him if he comes to you to ask a question on potion development. What I was going to say was that he is making the effort in your class, so it would be nice if you would actually mark him fairly. If you're just going to keep failing him because of who he is, then why would he ever take more care with his assignments?"

She turned to leave and as she opened the door, he coughed lightly and then called out to her. "We'll meet in the Room of Requirement for your lesson this evening."

Hermione gave one quick nod before slipping into the corridor, leaving him to stare at the door in uncomfortable thought. The Dark Lord may physically tear into him from time to time, but he had never used guilt as a means of forcing him to re-examine his life. That particular form of torture was eerily reminiscent of the Albus Dumbledore school of thought.

Severus inhaled deeply as he suddenly realized that he was more preoccupied about avoiding her disapproval than either of his masters'.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Hermione raised an eyebrow in surprise as the door to the Room of Requirement appeared immediately upon her approach. She was quite a bit earlier than usual since she only had to travel the length of a few corridors instead of several floors, and she was somewhat surprised that Snape had arrived even earlier than that. She had seen him leave early from supper, and she wondered if he had started preparing for their session then. If he had, she had a feeling she would be rather intimidated by what she might find beyond the door.

Taking in a steadying breath, she glanced around at the empty hallway and then reached for the ornate knob. An unpleasant feeling settled into her gut, and her eyes instinctually closed as she pushed open the door and slipped into the room.

"You're early," Severus commented, causing her to open her eyes.

"Didn't have far to walk," she murmured as she glanced about in uncertainty. The room had become a large chamber that had to be nearly four stories tall. There were large mats covering the floor, and behind the wizard was a platform as tall as he was. "Erm, what exactly are we doing?"

"You may not always be able to travel by apparition – whether it be because of wards, injury, or possible tracing – and going by foot may not be fast enough," he lectured as she hesitantly moved toward him. "Therefore, I think it necessary that we tackle that fear of flying of yours."

Her face visibly paled as she glanced back and forth between him and the platform. "No."

"No?" he repeated, raising both eyebrows.

"I can't do this," she shook her head. "I'm not ready to do this."

"Which is precisely the reason we are here," the man argued.

Hermione bit down on her lip and shook her head. "You can't just spring this on me – I need time to prepare. Do you know how long it took to psyche myself up enough to make it through Madam Hooch's class?"

"Granger," he snapped, folding his arms. "If you're attempting to flee an attack, do you think your pursuers are just going to sit down and wait until you've calmed yourself down? If you haven't learned it by now, the Dark Lord's followers are not nearly that polite."

A small smirk quirked at her lips though she continued to eye the platform with trepidation.

"We are here for that preparation," Snape continued. "We will go through the paces now so that your focus will be where it should be if ever you are put in that position. I do not expect you to be comfortable with it after the conclusion of the evening, but over a series of sessions, you will face and eventually conquer your fear. Understood?"

Swallowing heavily, she nodded and absentmindedly began fiddling with her amethyst pendant. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Tonight, we're going to begin with the most important lesson in flying."

"Commanding the broom?" the Gryffindor asked, remembering the dismal performance that had been their first flying lesson.

He shook his head and donned a mischievous grin. "Falling."

"Oh god," she whimpered, wrapping her arms about her waist. "Madam Hooch doesn't start that way."

"That's because the majority of her students were raised in the magical world," the wizard responded. "They've generally learned at an early age that in some manner they can catch themselves if they fall – within reason, of course. A fair number of Muggleborn students have also experienced that by sheer chance. I do not see you, however, falling out of trees or off of playground equipment."

Hermione shook her head. She had fallen off of her bike or out of bed, but that had been about the extent of it. There had not been any weird uncles like Neville's to drop her out a window.

"Thus," he commented, gesturing toward the platform, "you learn now."

"From that height?" she gulped.

Snape snorted under his breath. "Granger, six feet will not kill you."

"It could," she protested.

"You have my word," he responded. "I will not allow you to injure anything vital."

"Okay," the witch whispered shakily as she approached the ladder on the side. She bit down on her lip as she began to climb and could not help but remember the day her father had tried to coax her up the tallest water slide at the swimming pool when she was six years old. It had ended with her in tears and him having to climb up to rescue her as dozens of impatient children waited in the hot sun for their turn.

Pulling herself to her feet on top of the sturdy platform, she swallowed nervously and looked down at the cushioned floor. Normally, this height would not affect her, but knowing that she was going to have to fall from it was far more daunting. "I think I'm going to vomit."

Severus shook his head as he stared up at her. "Might I then suggest aiming for up there. It would not be very pleasant to then fall in it."

"Shut it," she snapped. "You were the one who wanted me to eat supper. I told you that I very purposely did not eat before flying class."

"Granger, if you cannot do it on your own, I will push you," he sighed.

"No!" the girl squealed, holding up a finger in warning. She then tightened her fists as she asked, "Forward or backward?"

"Whichever you prefer."

Her eyes narrowed. "Well, I would prefer neither. So I just fall?"

"You just fall."

Taking in a deep breath, she talked herself into it for several minutes. "Come on, Granger – you were going to drop yourself out of a tower, for Merlin's sake. You can do this now."

The Slytherin knew well enough to keep his mouth shut as he overheard her chastising herself. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on her form, making certain that he would be ready to slow her fall when she finally did manage it.

Realizing that she simply could not do it face first, Hermione carefully turned around and then closed her eyes. Before she could change her mind, she stepped quickly back to the edge of the platform and leaned backwards. Her heart seemed to stop for a second as she felt herself falling and she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a hard impact. Almost immediately, a warm tingling erupted across her body, and when she landed on the floor as gently as if she had simply lain down of her own accord, her eyes flew open in surprise. "Did you do that?"

Snape nodded as he stepped forward and extended his hand to her. "Eventually, it will be up to you to slow your fall – but at the moment, you need to overcome the initial fear."

"Easier said than done," she groaned as he pulled her to her feet.

He tipped his head. "Which is why we shall keep going."

Hermione grimaced, but shuffled back to the ladder when he pointed to it. For nearly half an hour, they repeated the same practice – she would drop off the edge of the platform with ever-decreasing hesitance, and he would quickly slow her momentum as she fell.

On her twelfth climb of the ladder, the witch found herself barely concerned about the upcoming fall. She knew that she was going to be alright – Severus would magically catch her and the landing would not hurt. Confidently, she walked to the edge of the platform, spun around, and fell backwards. There was a slight twitch in her stomach still, but she did not let that bother her as she felt tingling emanate from her fingertips and spread throughout her body. It seemed somewhat weaker this time, but at the same time, felt more secure.

After she hit the ground with slightly more force than on her previous falls, she narrowed her eyes in confusion and then pushed herself into a seated position. "Did you use a different spell that time?"

"No," he replied, leaning back in a chair that the Room had provided him some time before. A smirk graced his lips as he watched her haul herself to her feet. "In fact, I didn't do anything that time."

"What?" she squawked, looking to him in shock. "What do you mean?"

"That was entirely your own magic," he smiled, gesturing at her.

The girl shook her head. "But I didn't…"

"You've finally convinced yourself that falling wasn't dangerous – that you would land safely," Severus explained. "And your magic ensured that it would happen."

"Really?" she gasped, staring down at her hands in disbelief. "That's amazing."

"Congratulations," he remarked. "You now know what most two-year-old purebloods do."

Hermione scowled as she dropped her arms to her sides. "Gee, thanks."

"I did not mean it as an insult," the man responded, sitting forward. "I apologize that it sounded as such. I assure you that I did not know this at that age."

She took in a deep breath. "When did you, then?"

"I believe I was eight or nine."

"Your mother taught you?"

Snape shook his head as he rose from the chair. "I doubt it ever crossed her mind that I would have to be taught something as instinctual as that. No, I learned the hard way while clearing a dead bird out of the gutter. My fa – er, someone knocked over the ladder I was standing on."

"On purpose?" she gasped; her anger towards him forgotten.

He shifted uncomfortably and pointed back to the platform. "We're wasting time."

Blowing out a deep breath, she accepted the change in topic. "What are we…"

Her voice trailed off into a panicked expression when she looked over to see that the raised area she was to fall from had increased significantly in height.

"You've conquered six feet," he replied. "Now we strive for twelve."

"Oh, I really, really dislike you right now."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

"Well, how long is this going to take?" Minerva asked as she led him into her office and closed the door. "I have a meeting with the Head Boy and Girl at ten-thirty."

"How lovely of you to squeeze this in," Snape sneered, nudging one of the armchairs with his foot. "I appreciate how you've made this a priority."

"Oh, simmer down," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "It isn't my fault that Albus saw fit to keep us so long, and you're the one who picked a time without consulting my schedule. And with all of the reading you expect me to manage, I've had to put my marking aside for the time being, which doesn't bode well for the rest of my weekend. I am making this a priority, but I cannot afford to make it my only prerogative."

The wizard sighed deeply but gave a nod and gestured to a chair.

"Are you going to sit as well, or are you going to continue looming?" she asked after having settled into her seat. When he offered no response, she frowned and snapped toward the other armchair. "Sit."

Severus begrudgingly took a seat and then crossed one leg over the other. "And what have you learned?"

The woman raised one eyebrow. "You're harassing me about my not having enough time for this, and you're going to waste part of the hour with a literature review?"

"I need to ascertain that you've actually done your reading," he countered grumpily.

"Well, why don't you just use Legilimency and figure it out yourself," McGonagall smirked. When he scowled in response and withdrew his wand, she cleared her throat and held up a finger in warning. "Before we begin, however, I want ground rules established."

The Slytherin huffed and then shook his hand impatiently. "Go on."

"First and foremost," she lectured, "if I tell you to stop, you do it immediately –"

"Fine."

"—Secondly, if you raise your voice at me or threaten me in any regard, you will leave this office with an alteration to your physical appearance that is representative of the level of your transgression –"

"Oh, sodding hell."

" – and thirdly, you will keep the scope of your digging limited to topics with which you are already familiar."

"It does not exactly work like that," Snape exhaled.

"Well, make it work like that," Minerva suggested, folding her arms.

He opened his mouth to continue arguing, but changed his mind and rolled his eyes instead. "I will try. Anything else your majesty requires?"

"No, that should – oh," she paused momentarily, touching the back of her head. "If you do happen to come across anything embarrassing, I demand no judgment on your part."

Severus lifted one eyebrow and quirked his lips. "And I thought Albus and the Dark Lord were challenging to appease."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Hermione blew out a long breath and pinched her eyes shut for a moment. Upon reopening them, she shook her head and closed the book she had been reading. Tossing aside From Brooms to Carpets: The Majestic Art of Flight, she remembered the odd look that Madam Pince had given her upon signing out the book generally only read by first-year Muggleborns.

Not that it helped anyway. The young witch had practically memorized the book her first year, and rereading it now had not revealed any new insight. She was just going to have to rely upon Snape to coach her through it.

Glancing about her empty room, she remembered that Ginny had left to meet Dean for an afternoon stroll – and likely snog – on the snowy grounds, and that Mattie had disappeared with a few other seventh-years nearly an hour before.

No one here to see me looking stupid, then. Hermione bit her lip briefly before pushing up from where she had been lying on her stomach on her bed. Rising to her feet, she slipped out her wand and silently cast a cushioning charm upon the floor. She closed her eyes and, after mentally assuring herself that she could catch herself, fell backwards off of the bed.

A small giggle escaped her lips as she floated gently to the floor, and a minute later found her repeating the process. After several rounds, the girl continued lying on the rug and stared up at the ceiling. It was a rush; she could admit that now. There was a certain high accompanying the act of pushing past her fear and falling – safely, of course – through the air. Granted, her bed was only a meager two-and-a-half feet from the top of the mattress to the floor.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glanced curiously about the space. A small grin crossed her face as she eyed her desk, and after taking a brief moment to clear away her homework and textbooks, she climbed on top of it. For a quarter of an hour, she practiced falling from the slightly-increased height. When she had grown bored with that accomplishment, she considered how to engineer a higher drop.

Well, you could just go to the Room of Requirement. Hermione snorted under her breath as she lifted her chair onto her desktop. Where's the fun in that? Wait, this is fun? Who am I?

Casting a temporary sticking charm to ensure that the chair would not move, she stepped onto her bed, then onto her desk, and finally onto the seat of the wooden chair. There was not much room to turn about on the seat, so she had to focus intently on her balance. Oh, this is stupid, Granger.

Well, you've already come this far – you might as well follow through once. Taking in a steadying breath, she concentrated on catching herself and then began shifting her weight in preparation for the fall.

"Oi, Granger!"

The sudden shout from across the room caused the brunette to startle and lose her balance. Toppling over, she plummeted to the floor, banging her elbow hard against the corner of the desk and landing awkwardly on her ankle. Fortunately, the cushioning charm on the floor was enough to save her from any further injury.

"Are you alright?" Mattie asked, rushing over to her in concern.

Blinking away the tears that had formed in response to her pain and embarrassment, she nodded.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing?"

Hermione covered her face with the hand of her uninjured arm and groaned. She knew the pureblood witch would never understand. "Falling."

"Well, you've certainly accomplished that, haven't you?" Mattie scoffed, shaking her head and stepping away from the other girl. "You have officially lost your head, Grange. Seriously, woman."

With a small whimper, the younger witch pulled herself to her feet. She grimaced slightly upon stepping with her twisted ankle, but ignored the pain long enough to set her desk back to rights. Not trusting herself to repair any possible damage to her joints after only having read through the spells, Hermione held her head high as she limped toward the staircase and left her roommate behind to laugh hysterically in her absence.

"Should've gone to the Room of Requirement," she grumbled, scowling at the ground as she made her way to the infirmary. "So stupid."

By the time she reached the ground floor, the witch had successfully shrugged off the concern of a number of her fellow students. She was only grateful that none of them had been privy to the scene that Mathina had been, and that she knew the elder girl was not likely to gossip about it.

"Miss Granger."

Crud. Taking in a deep breath, she turned around to see Severus eyeing her carefully from the staircase. His gaze fixed on her carefully cradled elbow before flicking to the ankle she was currently favoring. "Yes, Professor?"

"Is there someone in need of a detention?"

Hermione winced, ducking her head as she shook it. Her cheeks felt hot with shame. "No, I just… fell."

"You fell?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes at the insinuation.

She nodded weakly. "I was distracted when I fell."

"I see," Snape frowned, crossing his arms. "Perhaps it would be wise not to attempt whatever it was you were doing if you cannot give it the proper attention it requires."

"Yes, sir," she murmured upon seeing a number of Hufflepuff students walking past. With a glimmer of a smile, she turned on her heel and continued toward the Hospital Wing.

'Hermione, what is it exactly you were doing?'

Of course he won't let it go, she sighed, nudging open the door. 'I was practicing.'

There was a moment of silence while she thought about her foolish attempt, and she wondered briefly if he had cancelled the connection already.

'No. I was merely enjoying the imagery.'

'Oh, stop. It isn't funny.'

"Oh, Hermione," Poppy called, stepping out from her office. "I wasn't expecting you until after supper."

'Are you seriously injured?'

'I don't think so. I only want Madam Pomfrey to check to be sure.'

'Then I find it funny.'

The girl muttered spitefully under her breath.

"Is something the matter?" the matron nurse asked as she conducted a visual assessment of her apprentice.

Hermione nodded slightly and extended her injured arm. "I fell."

"Oh dear," the mediwitch cooed, casting a diagnostic spell. "You should be more careful."

'And pay attention.'

She rolled her eyes slightly and nodded when Poppy glanced at her. "I know."

"Well, no real damage done," the woman smiled, "except perhaps to your pride. Of course, you'll likely need to put a spot of bruise paste on that elbow when you come down for your shift this evening, but your ankle should be alright in a moment or two."

'I told you that six feet would not kill you.'

'Would you stop?' She groaned softly. 'And it was only five feet!'

"Oh, don't fret," Pomfrey smiled, patting her shoulder. "And I'll make sure to start training you on the diagnostic charms soon. Then you won't have to come all the way down here unless you absolutely need to."

'That may be useful if you continue to display such reckless behavior. Have Potter and Weasley finally rubbed off on you?'

Determined to ignore his teasing, Hermione fought off a smirk and cleared her throat. "And what shall I be working on tonight?"

"Well, I've gone through a few more doses of the Blood-Replenishing Potion since we last inventoried thanks to Quidditch practices starting up again, and I have an inkling that we'll need some extra on hand. I never like to let that get much lower than full stock because there isn't time to brew it when you need it the most."

The girl nodded in understanding and then shifted nervously. "I've never brewed that before."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be fine. I have Professor Snape's personal instructions for you to follow." At seeing the continued hesitance on the young witch's face, Poppy took in a slow breath. "Miss Granger, if you're worried about him stopping by to check up on you, I will not leave him alone with you unless you are entirely comfortable with it."

"Oh," Hermione murmured in vague confusion. 'That's not why I'm worried, you know.'

'You would prefer it if I did stop by,' he surmised.

'At least until I know I can do it.'

'Very well. I shall be there.'

'Thank you.'

"There's a girl," Pomfrey smiled, noticing the sudden relief on Hermione's face. "Now, go enjoy the remainder of your afternoon. I have a feeling it will be a long night."

"Alright, I will see you in a few hours," the young witch replied, turning away. 'Severus?'

'Yes?'

'Why won't she let you be alone with me?'

A moment passed before his response came. 'She treated you that night. She knows that I… hurt you.'

'Oh.' Hermione frowned as she pulled open the infirmary door and briefly glanced back at the nurse before slipping out into the corridor. It was obvious that the witch would have known something since she had been the one to treat her so many months before, and it was not as if Severus could have covered up anything. It was not exactly possible to point the finger elsewhere when he had signed his own work. 'Does she know that you were the one who –'

'She never asked, but I never denied it.'

'You could have.' When he made no immediate response, she paused on the landing of the staircase and looked out the window. 'I could tell her that it was someone else –'

'It does not matter, so please let it be.'

'It matters to me!' The witch pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat in the window sill. 'I don't want her thinking that it was something you chose to do.'

Hermione had nearly a minute to herself to consider just how much she detested the idea of him being thought a monster before he finally spoke again.

'Poppy knows the nature of my assignment for the Order and has treated a portion of my bumps and bruises for twenty-five years. She doesn't ask me questions because seventeen years ago, I told her that even if I were allowed to tell her what had happened, I would not want her to know. I am certain that she knows – or at least suspects – what monstrosities I am capable of performing, but considering she still fusses over my injuries when I let her see them, I believe she knows that they are never my choice. She understands that there are certain… obligations that come with my position.'

The girl shifted uncomfortably as she listened and then rubbed the back of her neck. Not knowing quite what to say, she turned back to look out the window at the falling snow. A short while later, she crossed her arms and wondered if he still had yet to close the connection.

'I will leave you be.'

'Wait!'

'Yes?'

Hermione bit down on her lip. 'Speaking of obligations… next week won't be ideal.'

She could practically hear him grimacing from wherever it was in the castle he had gone.

'Then we shall meet when you have completed your shift in the infirmary tonight.'

Nodding gently, the girl pushed out of the window alcove and continued up the staircase.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

With a soft sigh, Severus set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. Though he had spent half an hour at the staff table, his plate was still nearly full, but he truly had no appetite for it. Sometime after he had silenced the connection with Hermione earlier that afternoon, a slight gnawing feeling had settled into his gut and it had only strengthened since. Of course it did make him feel odd to know that the girl was so concerned with how others viewed him, but he did not believe that was entirely to blame for his current level of uneasiness.

Something was brewing, and it could not be anything good.

His eyes locked onto Hermione as she said goodbye to her friends and left the Hall in the direction of the infirmary. He watched a handful of other students migrating away from the Gryffindor table before swinging his gaze back to those of his own House. While a number of the students were chatting jovially amongst each other, Draco was noticeably subdued as he pushed peas around his plate.

For the past week, Severus had been watching the Malfoy heir with greater scrutiny than he had previously. Whatever it was that the boy had been assigned to do, he appeared to be failing miserably and was undeniably scared. Snape had witnessed his eyes drifting in Hermione's direction several times, and it was clear that the suspicion was gradually morphing into curiosity.

In spite of his impatient desire to know what they were up against, however, the Potions Master knew it could not be rushed. Draco had to come to them on his own time. If he were pressured too soon, it would only spook him further and make a second attempt that much harder.

When a group of sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins began moving away from the table, the young Malfoy quietly slipped out of his seat and followed them out of the room.

A throat clearing drew his attention back to the Head Table. Glancing across the empty seat between them to Lupin, he raised one eyebrow.

Regrettably, the werewolf took that as an invitation to slip into the seat beside him. "I was just curious…"

"Yes?" he snapped, folding his arms. "I haven't got all night to spend on your curiosity."

Remus grimaced slightly and glanced about him before proceeding. "How are your private lessons coming along?"

Severus tightened his mouth as he rolled his shoulders. "Well, she hasn't yet asked to be excused from them."

"Ah, well that's… good," the greying wizard mumbled, trying to ignore the dig against him. After a moment, he scratched his head. "I was also wondering, erm…"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Snape groaned. "Spit it out."

"Would it be possible for me to sit in on a lesson or two?"

The spy let out a loud sigh and glared at the tabletop.

"Purely out of professional curiosity," Remus clarified, leaning onto his elbow. "With how Hermione and Neville have both responded to your teaching, I thought perhaps I could learn something myself."

Scraping the edge of the table with his fingernail, Severus gradually shrugged. "I shall ask Miss Granger when I evaluate her Hospital brewing this evening if she would be amenable to that."

"Thank you, Severus."

The dark-haired man grunted as he rose from his seat. "I cannot imagine she'll be too chuffed to hear that she'll have to spend the entire lesson with her knickers on."

As the Defense instructor gave a whimpering laugh, Snape stepped down from the dais and strode toward the exit. Between Hermione's still somewhat distant behavior, Draco's dangerous uncertainty, Lupin's need to stick his nose where it didn't belong, and Dumbledore's secretly imminent demise, it was nigh impossible to determine just which twig was threatening to snap first.

Upon reaching the staircase descending into the dungeons, however, a familiar burn erupted across his left forearm.

And there it is.

Momentarily closing his eyes in despair, the wizard spun on his heel and quickly moved toward the large doors of the Entrance Hall. Without pausing in his stride, he silently cast warming and impermeability charms upon his teaching robes before pushing out into the crisp, night air.