Hello you beautiful readers! Thank you again for the follows/favourites/reviews, plus the inspirational cookies ^.^ This chapter is a little longer, hope you like it! Also, I've noticed that from here the timeline kinda wavers a bit but don't worry, all the key parts are still well intact!

So you know those days where you just have an insane burst of inspiration? That has basically been me this weekend! I now have a much better roadmap of how I want the story to go, and I'm furiously writing to get as much onto paper before the next chapter upload. I can't wait for you all to read it.

As always, none of this is owned by me, etc etc.


If Hermione had found requesting extra lessons from Snape uncomfortable, she found it paled in comparison to the ordeal of telling Harry and Ron about them.

"That greasy dungeon bat?!" Ron hollered almost incoherently. "'Mione do you have a death wish?!" Upon learning of her new schedule, Ron had practically fallen out of his chair in the common room, and was now stomping around the place like a wild elephant. "Of all the teachers in the entire castle, you picked that malicious git to get one-on-one time with?"

"Ron you make it sound like I'm trying to.. To cozy up to Professor Snape! That's complete nonsense and you know it." Despite Hermione's well-meaning attempts to calm Ron down, he was refusing to listen to her.

"Well who else did you think was going to teach you? Filch? If it's just you.. And Snape.. In a classroom by yourselves for hours on end, what else do you call it?!"

"TUTORING! Ronald." She jumped slightly at her sudden outburst, unaware that her temper had been slowly rising during the exchange. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, before looking back to Ron. "Obviously I knew it would be Professor Snape teaching me Ronald, I'm not stupid.." Ron gawked at her, as if she had just turned into a blast-ended skrewt. "My point is, regardless of who teaches it I want to learn more about that area of potion making. If it means having to sit in the same room as Professor Snape for an extra two hours a week then fine. This is going to really help me decide what to do after I leave Hogwarts!" Hermione's cheeks were flaring, and her breath was starting to hitch in her throat.

"It's just mental, Mione! You still have two years left here, you haven't even taken your OWLs yet. You're always prepared ahead of time but two years? That's insane. It just feels, well, out of the blue." Ron had stopped his pacing by now, and had sunken down onto a pouf in front of the fire.

"Just because you don't like to plan ahead, Ron. I've been debating what I want to do for quite a while now. If anything, with everything that's happened to us over the last few years, is it so hard to believe that I might want something normal to focus on? Something to remind myself that I'm still just a teenager? I'm sorry Ron, but this has been on my mind ever since the end of last year, and now with us starting our OWL year I thought it would be as good a time as ever to get stuck in."

"..Sure." Hermione and Ron both turned their heads to see Harry sitting away from them, staring haphazardly into the fire. Was he always there? Now that she thought about it, she hadn't even noticed him sit down, she'd been so tangled up in trying to calm down Ron. A pang of guilt hit her chest, once again she had let Harry fade into the background, left to wallow in his own thoughts.

"What's that supposed to mean, Harry?" A new emotion had hit her, fear. Rational thought was telling her that this was just him lashing out, but a tiny sensation at the back of her mind begged: Did he know?

"Don't you think this is all a bit convenient Ron?" He glanced at his friend, still staring wide-eyed at both of them. "Ever since the term started Hermione you've been distant and uninterested. During summer you didn't bother to write, to fill me in on anything that happened, didn't even bother to tell me that you got to lord it up at Grimmauld Place while I had to rot at the Dursleys."

"Harry that's insane! You know full well that all of those things happened under Dumbledore's explicit orders! Besides, Ron did the exact same things!"

"And now when we're finally back here and together again, at a point where you could perhaps try and make it up to me, LIKE RON HAS, all you want to do is study or go to the library. You've turned down every offer of hanging out we've given you, and now you're filling your already packed timetable with 'extra lessons'. It's obvious to anyone with half a brain, if you don't want to be around me and Ron then just tell us." Hermione's jaw dropped, a small whimper escaped her lips. She stared at Harry, wide-eyed, not quite believing what he had just said.

"Harry… that's.. That's just not-"

"SURE HERMIONE!" He got to his feet, hands balled into fists, glaring at her. "Sure. Take your extra lessons. Spend your time with teachers over us. Go off and do whatever you want, I couldn't care less!" And with that, he stormed off up the stairs and into the boys dormitory, almost knocking over a couple of the younger students in the process. The common room was eerily silent, all eyes shifting away from the freshly slammed door to the bushy-haired girl in front of the fire. Hermione sat, eyes still wide, still processing what had just happened. She didn't notice the other students looking at her. She barely heard Ron speaking. The familiar sting of tears had started to appear.

"Jeez Hermione, there was no need for that.. You know he's having a rough time of it lately. Honestly, could you stop thinking about yourself for a bit?" With that, Ron hurried up the stairs after his friend, calling after him as he went. She sat, her eyes boring a hole in the wall, staring at nothing in particular. She was torn between the need to protect her friend, the job she had supposedly signed herself up to do, and the need to validate her own feelings of hurt. Why wasn't she allowed to have both? The stinging in her eyes got worse and she found herself blinking rapidly, allowing the tears to fall.


The rest of the week seemed to both pass in an instant and an eternity, as Hermione raced to bury herself in work to avoid the realization of her newfound loneliness. Harry and Ron were both still mad at her. Ron appeared to be doing it just to save face, and she wasn't sure which hurt more. Hermione had always been very aware of her exceptionally small friend circle. She supposed that being annoyingly studious with no real interests outside of her schoolwork and books had a lot to do with it. Her slow uptake and at times plain ignorance in certain aspects of wizarding culture was definitely another factor. She was beyond grateful that she had been sorted into an accepting house such as Gryffindor and not somewhere like Slytherin, but even here there were some students who would use her blood status as a reason not to engage in conversation. Perhaps in another circumstance she might reach out and make an effort, but with the amount of work she had piled onto her plate she had decided that finding another friend group was too far down the priority list. Occasionally she would hang out with Neville, or Luna, but most of the time she would do what she always did - buckle down and occupy her time with studying. She had completed her potions essay on moonstone, and was quite pleased with it. She had spent more time than usual researching the potential restorative qualities of the rare ingredient, and hoped that Professor Snape would take this as a sign that she was serious about learning everything she could. Once she had finished up the smaller assignments for other classes, she had thrown herself into studying the method for brewing Pepper-Up. Although on inspection it was a fairly basic recipe, she had still taken copious notes. At first she had thought to bring them with her for reference, but on further reflection she decided that playing down the 'insufferable know-it-all' personality was the better option. Besides, she wouldn't be brewing the potion blind, the instructions were bound to be left for her. As a compromise, she had revised those notes over and over, until she had them practically memorized. The continued revision had calmed her mind somewhat, and she felt much more ready for her lesson.

She found herself anxious all over again as, at 6.45 sharp on Friday evening, she timidly approached the door of the potions classroom. It was very rare that she found herself down in the dungeons at this time, except for the occasional adventure with Harry and Ron to pilfer ingredients from the storerooms. Her heart ached as she thought about the two boys, and how she wouldn't have someone to chat about her lesson with afterwards. Taking a deep breath, she knocked - what she thought was confidently - on the large oak door, and waited a moment before the familiar cold voice stated "Enter" from within. Attempting to prolong that false feeling of confidence, she strode into the classroom and greeted her professor, a thin smile playing on her face.

"Good evening Professor." Professor Snape was seated at his desk, a seemingly endless pile of parchment in front of him. He didn't look up when she entered, nor did he seem to acknowledge her presence. Looking around somewhat awkwardly, she spied a cauldron towards the back of the room that she assumed was for her lesson, and headed over to start her work. Setting her bag down by the desk, she looked around at him once more, smiling again. "Thank you again for allowing this, sir. I've completed quite a bit of research on the potion, as you requested."

"You have been in this room for all of 30 seconds and have already broken one of your guarantees. I was to expect no chatter from you unless to question an instruction or request assistance, was I not?" The sneering tone practically dripped off his voice, as he gestured vaguely towards the cauldron and the board next to it which displayed her instructions in his familiar spiky scrawl. "You will find all you need on the board, I'm sure you know the way to the store cupboards by now.." His lip curled and his focus shifted back to the stack of papers on his desk.

Hermione went to retaliate but stopped before she was chastised again.

"I won't speak unless I need you to confirm the potion is correct, or if I don't understand an instruction."

She did remember vowing not to speak when she'd made her plea for the extra tuition. Internally grumbling to herself, she wished she hadn't said it. Regardless of who was giving her these lessons, it would have been nice to engage in polite conversation throughout. Nevertheless, she needed to show she was a girl of her word, so instead she scanned the blackboard and took note of the ingredients, glad that what she had researched seemed to be matching up with what was written. She scurried over to gather what she needed from the store cupboard, feeling oddly at home surrounded by the rows of ingredients. Her comfort was short-lived however, and as she made her way back to the desk she found she was still struggling to calm her nerves. In too much of a rush to get back to her desk she felt her feet stumble over themselves and started to trip. Her arms fumbled with the mass of bicorn horn she was holding, and panic gripped her as she realized she was about to damage Hogwarts property for the first time. And then, she wasn't falling anymore. She was suspended at a 90 degree angle, the bicorn horn still gripped firmly in her arms. From the corner of her eye, she saw her professor with his wand pointed directly at her, and realized she was being levitated. As she slowly corrected herself and found her feet, she flushed a bright red colour. Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Granger, it would be far more beneficial for both of us if you were able to relax during these.. Lessons. You will find you absorb information easier and I won't have to worry about my classroom being blown to pieces. Although I appreciate your commitment to finishing as quickly as possible, I also value the contents of my cupboards far too much to have you tripping over yourself in a rush to leave." After a moment's silence, he heard a quiet sigh from where Hermione had been floating, and then the delicate clink of vials being placed onto the oak desk. Her footwork seemed to slow as well, and satisfied, Snape went back to grading. With a smirk, he muttered in a low voice, just loud enough for her to hear. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am unaccustomed to hexing and cursing students as I see fit. Although, best keep that to yourself." He couldn't see it, but Hermione grinned.

Hermione was caught in a mixture of excitement and discomfort. She had used Pepper-Up plenty of times, especially during her third year where it felt like she was on her feet for days at a time. However, she had never brewed the potion and despite its minimal ingredients, it required a complex series of stirs and difficult timings. She had already read up on these, obviously, but putting them into practice was another matter entirely. Thinking of how best to go about it, she cast a quick tempus charm and set it to begin a countdown once the last of the mandrake root was added, so that she could concentrate on the number of stirs she needed to complete before adding the final dash of crushed bicorn horn. She loved this part of potions, being able to put theory into practice to see how it all really worked.

She was incredibly grateful for the knowledge being imparted on her in these sessions, although she didn't exactly love the company. It couldn't be helped, she mused, she supposed she should take the good with the bad. Not that Professor Snape was bad of course, just not the most exhilarating brewing partner. She silently hoped that after brewing like this for a while, he would thaw just a bit. Not to the extreme of being her friend, what a ridiculous thought, but someone she didn't need to stay silent around for fear of being scolded like a petulant child. Thinking about her current circle of friends, she sighed wistfully. Actually, would it be so bad if she should develop a friendship with her professor? Lord knows having someone that talked to her just now would be a godsend. Furrowing her brow, her thoughts jumped back to the present and to the potion in front of her. Hermione, she thought grumpily, you are supposed to be proving how adept you are at brewing, now is not the time to sit there feeling sorry for yourself. You especially shouldn't be sitting here wishing that you could sit around and chat with your cold, unforgiving potions professor.

Checking the tempus charm, she now had a 15 minute wait before the final set of stirs would happen. Stretching out her back, she sat back down onto the bench and fetched her book bag. Grabbing one of her new transfiguration textbooks, she crossed her legs underneath her and set about devouring the information within. At first she was unsure if she'd be able to concentrate, the air still seemed tense even after Snape's neutral reassurance. However, the combined sound of her potion simmering away and the familiar scratching of a quill from Snape's desk made for surprisingly peaceful background noise, and soon Hermione was engrossed in her reading.

Snape was immeasurably uncomfortable. The only times he had permitted having a student working in his classroom outside of teaching hours was during detentions, and so the atmosphere was always swayed in his favour. The students arrived fearful, left relieved, and were usually too afraid to do anything other than follow his exact instructions. This left him free to continue his work as if they weren't even in the room, content that his presence was enough to keep them in line. This situation, however, was different. Although it was clear that Miss Granger was nervous, she wasn't afraid. She still seemed to be comfortable in this setting, which put Snape on the back foot. It meant that he wasn't in control, something he was very much not used to. He had half a mind to let her fall, just so that he could chastise her and put the control back in his hands, but didn't. He wasn't sure why, but part of him wanted her to enjoy these lessons. Perhaps it had been what Dumbledore had said, he wanted her to have the freedom to plan, to look forward. When was the last time he had been able to do the same? He huffed silently to himself, and picked up another paper. You're thinking far too much into this, he thought.

Before Hermione knew it, the small trilling of her tempus charm had begun and she hurriedly put away her book, before grabbing her wand to commence the last stir. The potion had turned the required hazel brown, and she finished by casting a basic counter-curse, to imbue it with the desired cold-fighting effects. Grabbing vials from the desk, she bottled the completed brew and strode over to Snape's desk, who still appeared to be ignoring her. She fidgeted slightly, not knowing how to get his attention. In the end, she settled with a rather pathetic cough.

"Sir, the completed potion, for you to inspect." Snape cast a quick glance at the vial, and returned to his work.

"Satisfactory. You may go."

"Sir? Don't you want to check? You haven't even opened-" Snape put his quill down on her side of the desk, and turned the giant stack of papers around to face her.

"Strange, Miss Granger. I had sworn I was the Professor and Potions Master at this school but it seems I was mistaken, for if I were I would surely be able to determine that the frankly childsplay recipe you have just completed is adequate enough to send to the hospital wing without needing to waste time testing it myself." Hermione bit her lip, and started to speak, but Snape continued talking as if she weren't in the room. "Thank goodness you chose to enlighten me with such information, now that I think about it, I don't believe I'm qualified enough to even grade these pathetic excuses for OWL level assignments, therefore I'll let you do the honours, seeing as you seem so dubious of my credentials."

Hermione looked at her feet, her face a bright crimson and her eyes stinging. She spoke, but it was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, would you care to repeat that Miss Granger?"

"I.. I said I was sorry, sir." Her voice trembled. "I didn't mean to insult your intelligence.. I should trust your judgement.. That's what I'm here for, after all."

Snape glared at her for what felt like an eternity, watching as she blushed and fidgeted like a scared child. He exhaled heavily through his nose and turned the papers back to face him. "Pepper-Up is distinguishable primarily by its silky hazelnut colour. Anything other than that colour and it would be a failure. I have brewed more Pepper-Up than I care to count, more than enough to know the correct shade of brown when I see it. It would do you well to remember who, out of the two of us, has the experience here. Now, get out."

Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and a small gasp escaped alongside it. The familiar drawl of her potions professor was still there, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was.. Understanding? It wasn't that Snape was disinclined to teach his students, in fact he had always been incredibly good at making sure the information sunk in. But it was always done with disinterest, there was a clear disconnect. Now, it was clear that he was angry but the tone of his voice was much softer. Like he wanted her to grasp it for her sake, not his. Either way, she certainly wouldn't need to be told again, so she nodded and headed back to the bench to grab her things, before hurrying towards the door.

"Miss Granger?" Snape called over to her as she was leaving. She turned to look at him, although his head was still buried in parchment. "Same time next week. We'll be brewing Anti-Paralysis." Hermione smiled to herself.

"I can't wait, sir."

As the door shut behind her, Snape rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The power balance had bothered him more than he had first assumed. It was very rare for Snape to not have complete control over a situation and it was obvious that if these lessons were to continue, that control would need to be relinquished. He had felt the smallest twinge of guilt as he berated her for her presumptuous attitude, and thought for a second that he had perhaps taken it too far. He couldn't deny, however, that his words had had the desired effect, and in that second he could feel the power turn back in his favour. Even if he had felt the urge to properly explain his reasoning, she would still have understood who was in charge. All was right within the classroom walls once more.


The following Monday, Hermione found herself huddled in front of the common room fire, waiting for Harry to come back from detention with Professor Umbridge. She realized she had lost track of how long she had waited, although when Harry slowly stepped through the painting, she found her legs were numb when she went to stand. She smiled as Harry approached, but his face was dark. He didn't meet her eyes.

"So… how was it Harry?" She laughed nervously. "Something monotonous, I bet?" Harry didn't answer, he didn't need to. When he looked at Hermione she thought he might have been about to be sick, although he didn't meet her eyes.

Hermione thought back to that afternoon. Their new DADA classes were… well, pointless really. As much as she relished theory, even she could see that Professor Umbridge was just there to stop them using their wands. Especially considering the theory they learned didn't have anything to do with magic! She didn't really understand why, but she knew it was deliberate. Seeing Harry stand up against the odious pink woman had filled her with pride at the time, but in retrospect she wished he hadn't. She also, albeit with a pang of guilt, was relieved that she hadn't also stepped forward to argue that afternoon.

Harry stopped for a moment, looked as though he was about to speak, then mumbled "It was fine" and continued towards the dorm. Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Well that's pretty vague. What does fine mean? What did she get you to do?" She leaned out to catch his arm, but Harry pulled away and kept walking.

"Just.. lines." The last word was barely more than a whisper. Hermione felt her heart start to beat faster, something was seriously wrong here.

"Just lines? Huh.. you don't look like it was just lines."

"How would you know what that looks like? You barely pay attention to us anymore as it is." Harry kept his gaze and voice low, a mixture of anger and unease lacing his voice. Hermione shrunk back slightly at the accusation, hurt.

"Harry please.. I know you're suffering, I know this last year has been horrendous but please don't shut me out! I just want to help." She looked at him, pleading. She wanted her friend back. She wanted to have part of her life that was still normal, as she got the quickening feeling that there wouldn't be much of that soon. She saw as Harry sagged slightly, and turned to her, gingerly lifting the sleeve of his jumper. Her eyes widened. There, in a combination of fresh and drying blood, were the clear words 'I must not tell lies'.

"Harry! I- What-" Harry shook his head. Hermione went to him, reaching again for his arm. This time, he let her keep her grip.

"I'm not sure.. I was writing the lines on parchment but they appeared on my hand.." He twitched a smile. "Bloody hurts though."

"Harry, you need to tell Professor McGonagall. This is.. Well this is nothing short of abuse! She's scarring pupils for goodness sake! She can't get away with doing this!" Harry shook his head again, the same melancholy smile across his lips.

"No!" Harry scanned the common room to see if anyone was listening, but thankfully it was practically empty with most of the students having retired for the night. "And keep your voice down. We can't go to her, I don't want to go to any of the other staff. It would just make things harder for them in the long run. You're forgetting, Umbridge is a key player in the Ministry, Hermione. I reckon she can do almost anything she likes and they won't so much as bat an eyelid." Harry broke free once more and headed up the stairs towards the dormitory. Stopping half way, he turned to her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I've been.. A bit rubbish lately. It would be good to hang out though, even for a little while? Just in the common room, like old times?" He continued to the top of the stairs. "Thanks.. For staying up." He smiled at her, a guilty smile, before disappearing through the door.

Hermione returned to the chair, her mind racing. If that insane Umbridge woman was prepared to use scarification as a means of punishment, just how untouchable did she think she was? More troubling was the question of how much further she would go. If physically harming students was the first step.. She shuddered thinking about it. Harry had explicitly said not to go to the teachers, but who else could help? Dumbledore, she thought, no, the Ministry were probably looking for any excuse to weaken his position in the school, and what better than if he were to confront their puppet about abusing children? That would definitely make things harder for the other teachers. So not her Head of House, not the Headmaster. An idea began to form in her head. Someone impartial perhaps? Someone not overly fond of Harry but still willing to do their duty as a teacher. She smirked, a certain professor with a cold, unforgiving scowl and an intimidating presence might be just the ticket. She supposed she might need to break her guarantees once more.