It's a Christmas Miracle!

Hi hi hi! It's been a while. Lots of things have been in the way - namely my health, my studies, my own horrific procrastination. It's frustrating when you really want to write the end of a story but you know you need to write the middle bit first, can definitely bring on a heavy dose of writers' block! But! The last few weeks I've started to chip away at this again, I'm busy trying to get the next few chapters out of my skull and onto the page, so updates will still be a little sporadic but I thought this would be a lovely Christmas present for you all!

Also, we're starting to get into the *slightly* more juicy stuff. Like, miniscule amounts of juice, but the relationship is starting to grow and that's SO EXCITING to write! Gosh I really hope you still enjoy it, please leave a review, follow, fave, all that amazing stuff and I'll see you in (what is hopefully a much better) 2021! Much love!


As with any other educational feat, Hermione passed her apparition exam with flying colours. It had been a proverbial walk in the park, and although she knew that she wouldn't be marked down for making a noise as she apparated, she made sure to be as silent as possible, just for practice. The instructor had even been so kind as to comment on her 'finesse' which had elicited a quickly hidden giggle from her. When she arrived back at the castle both Dumbledore and Professor Snape - the only ones aware of her latest educational escapade - had been there to greet her; Dumbledore with the same twinkling smile on his face and Snape with his carefully crafted mask of indifference. She noted that there wasn't any negativity in his body language, instead he was perfectly neutral - a change she was yet to fully get used to.

"My dear! My sincerest congratulations!" The headmaster clasped his hands together with enthusiasm. "But now, the real work can begin." And begin it had. After a nerve-biting Occlumency session with the older wizard himself, Dumbledore had declared Hermione adequately able to house whatever secrets they would need her to, and so she was officially allowed to start gathering information. Hermione thought she'd never been so busy in her life, but the thrill that accompanied her running duties more than made up for the exhaustion she felt afterwards. Dumbledore had given her specific instructions on how to behave in her new role. She was to wear non-descript black robes, nothing that would be distinguishable in a crowd. She was to glamour herself extensively, any trace of Hermione Granger must be gone before she stepped outside of the Hogwarts gates. He'd also shown her a basic spell to alter her voice, which now sounded much older and slightly deeper. It would be remarkably difficult to tell it was her without removing her glamours - something she knew none of the Order members would be tempted to do. Well, maybe Mundungus, but Snape had already warned her about him and she was prepared with a small arsenal of jinxes in case he tried anything funny.

Dumbledore had been insistent that Professor Snape accompany her to the school gates on her first outing. As she'd hurried down the stairs towards the main entrance, she could see him already waiting for her, arms folded and with an incredibly bored look on his face. She'd given him a brief smile, but it had been met with nothing more than a long sigh before Snape had turned on his heels and set off for the gates, making her jog to keep up.

"Dumbledore didn't need to have you accompany me, sir. I'm sure I'm more than capable of finding the gates by myself." Snape kept his eyes forward, never slowing his pace.

"And how do you suspect you will get back into the school, Miss Granger, once you are finished with your little task?" Hermione blushed, she hadn't thought of that. But then that would mean the Professor would need to wait for her to return!

"Sir! You can't possibly be expected to hang around and wait for me! You must have other duties to attend to!" He looked at her then, something between a grimace and a smirk on his face.

"Apparently this has been pushed to the top of my to-do list. After all, we can't have our newest Order member fending for herself already." Seeing her pained expression, he sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Miss Granger, I am more than capable of hanging around waiting, don't you worry."

She had felt stupid even mentioning it. Of course he wouldn't have wanted to wait, of course Dumbledore would have forced him to, of course he'd be well versed in keeping lookout for the Order. Instead of pushing further, she had simply nodded to him once he opened the gates, and calming the last of her nerves, quietly apparated away. The encounter itself had been incredibly straight forward. After wandering - but trying not to look suspicious - for a time, she'd found a cloaked Tonks, who after eyeing her with caution had detailed a string of Death Eater sightings, and a possible raid location that she'd picked up from on overheard conversation near Knockturn Alley. Once the information had been relayed, she'd given Hermione one final visual dressing down and apparated away, leaving Hermione alone again to quickly organise her thoughts. She'd made sure to catalogue everything she'd been told, wishing she'd had the opportunity to thank Tonks for the information, and pulling her cloak around her, visualized the gates of Hogwarts before disappearing with a tiny pop. When she reappeared, she could see Snape through the gates, lounging by a tree, his arms tightly folded. She wasn't sure how long she'd been, but she'd hoped too much time hadn't passed. It seemed awfully boring to just wait around in the middle of the night. Snape had noticed her almost immediately, and not bothering to move from his lounging spot, waved his wand causing the Hogwarts gates to swing open for her. She hurried through the wards and flashed him a regretful smile.

"I hope I wasn't too long, Professor. It was much harder to navigate the town at night, but I tried to be as quick as I could. Thank you for waiting for me."

Snape had looked at her oddly, gratitude and boredom and confusion in his eyes. For a long moment he just looked at her, and then without warning turned away and strode towards the castle. "It is of no consequence Miss Granger, I shall take you to the Headmaster." He called out after her. She had to sprint to catch up to him, hastily cancelling her glamours as she stepped in line. Snape glanced down at her before fixing his eyes firmly on the castle in the distance.

"If my waiting impressed you, you should see me use a wand." He'd said it quietly, as if he was testing the waters. Hermione was too astounded at the idea that her Professor had just attempted to joke with her, that she failed to miss the small smirk that played at the edge of his mouth.

"Do you know they let me use spells now?" Hermione let out a snort and with a muffled 'Oh shut up' the pair fell into a comfortable silence as they wandered up the path in the dark.

That was the routine that her and her Professor had managed to fall into. She'd meet with Order members once a week, always with Professor Snape waiting for her at the main entrance and again at the gates. The conversation was kept to an easy minimum, and she didn't mind it. After his shy attempt at humour on her first assignment, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that neither needed to start conversation but it was welcomed all the same. Professor Snape had even appeared to make a habit of not making snide comments about her new role. Had it been anyone else, she'd think they enjoyed each others' company. It also made the conversations with Dumbledore that followed quite boring in comparison. So far there hadn't been any pressing information to divulge, and the easy task of reciting Death Eater activity didn't exactly give her the thrill she had half hoped for. In a strange way, the most enjoyable part of her assignments was the walk to and from the gates. The Occlumency lessons were also going extremely well, and she found herself counting down the hours during the day if she knew she had a lesson that evening. It wasn't only that she was excelling in the subject - she had managed to keep him out of her mind for much longer periods and even trick him into accepting a false memory on one occasion - but the cosy chats by the fireplace, the biscuits and tea, and the strangely honest way that he spoke to her during that time was a breath of fresh air. It was a wonderful feeling, being able to launch into an academic topic and knowing that she would get an intelligent answer from him. God she hoped that once her lessons were complete, he wouldn't be adverse to continuing those chats.


It had been little over a month into her new undercover role and Hermione was sat cross-legged in bed, an Arithmancy tome open in front of her and a mug of tea rapidly cooling on the nightstand. It was well into the middle of the night, she could hear the soft snores coming from some of her roommates' beds, but she had wanted to finish the chapter she was on and so had closed the curtains around her before warding them so as not to disturb anyone else. Honestly she'd spent more time thinking about her late night walks and chastising herself for the mortifying fuzziness that had settled in her stomach than actually studying. Truth be told she was exhausted, but it was rare to have a moment of peace to herself and even though Arithmancy was one of the more tedious subjects that Hogwarts offered, it still posed enough of a challenge that she was determined to get through her reading even if it took all night. As she poured over the various formulaic spells and the theory behind them, a small light seemed to shimmer into view by her bedside. Stifling a yelp, she grabbed her wand and trained it on the light source, but as she did she furrowed her brow. It had an odd sort of shape, was that a deer? It kept breaking up and reforming, as though it was a struggle to just exist. As she tried to make out what she was seeing, a voice began to crackle through it, barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened as she realised that this must be a patronus, albeit a poorly summoned one. Craning to hear what was being said, she could just make out "Hogwarts Gates. Quickly." before the hazy silhouette puttered out. Fear gripped her as she realised who was speaking, there could be no mistaking the low rumble of Professor Snape's voice, however broken and rough the message had sounded. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed her outer robe and shoved her feet into a pair of slippers, transfiguring them into basic pumps that she could run in. Disillusioning herself, she hurried out of the dorm, down through the common room and out into the castle. Why on earth had he contacted her? Surely if he was in trouble, Professor Dumbledore would be much more adept at helping him, even Madame Pomfrey would be a better bet than a teenage girl. Shaking her head, she continued to run. It didn't matter, he'd reached out for her and so she would help. Whatever that entailed.

It was cold outside the castle walls. The outer robe she'd hastily grabbed helped fend off some of the chill but she could still see her breath in front of her face as she ran. Suddenly she was regretting her hasty exit and her failure to dress in something thicker than a pair of pyjamas and a cloak. It felt as though she had been running for ages, distinctly aware of just how far away the castle gates actually were. What if he was too badly hurt? What if she was too late? Why couldn't her stupid legs just go faster?! As the large imposing gates of Hogwarts began to loom ahead of her, she desperately scanned the area for any sign of her Professor. After a moment, she spotted him, sitting propped against the familiar tree that he had grown accustomed to waiting by when she was out on a mission. His eyes were closed and his head bowed, and fear gripped her once more.

"Professor?" She called out as she hurried towards him, trying to assess what damage there might be. There was clear bruising and several cuts on his face, but the darkness and his heavy cloak obscured anything else. Cursing under her breath, she approached with some measure of caution and knelt down next to him. "Professor, please." Receiving no acknowledgment, a horrifying thought crossed her mind. Quickly, she moved around to face him, and gently - albeit nervously - placed a hand on his chest. She must only have kept it there for 4 or 5 seconds but it felt like minutes before she felt the unmistakable, if not shaky, rise of his chest. Pulling her hand away quickly she thought for a moment before summoning all the authority and misplaced bravery she had.

"Severus!" She thought she'd managed to sound somewhat stern, but the dark chuckle that escaped her companion's lips told her otherwise.

"I don't recall us being on... such familiar terms, Miss Granger." His voice was as rough as it had been in the patronus message, and it sounded as if he had just run a mile.

"At least you answered." She replied bitterly, wrapping her arms around herself to stave off the cold that was trying to settle in. "We need to get you to the castle, Dumbledore can-"

"The Headmaster.. Is the least of my worries.. This evening. What I need is.. My quarters."

"Well then, how about Madame Pomfrey? She's a much more experienced healer than I-"

"No!" He bellowed, his chest rapidly rising and falling from the exertion. Snape finally raised his head, and she could see more injuries to the top part of his face. She could also see from the murky black of his eyes that he was likely Occluding heavily. She worried at her lip, he was clearly injured if he felt the need to summon her down here in the middle of the night, but he had no interest in seeing Dumbledore or Madame Pomfrey. Was he just going to ignore the fact that he was in pain?

"Well, how do you suppose we get you back? It's quite a long walk and I'm sorry but I'm not sure my arms can carry you." She hoped the feeble attempt at humour was appreciated, given the difficult situation. Slowly, but with clear determination, Snape pushed himself to his feet. Wobbling slightly at the sudden return of sensation to his legs, he put out a hand to steady himself against the tree trunk, and was surprised to feel the appearance of Hermione's small form underneath his other arm, propping him up further. "It's either this or I levitate you, sir. I'm not sure about you, but this would probably cause the least amount of harm to your.. Pride.." Snape grunted in response. She was right, of course. If anyone were to see him being levitated up to the castle he was sure he wouldn't hear the end of it for the rest of the year. Being propped up by the small witch was still uncomfortable, but the lesser of two evils. Seeing no outward refusal, she rolled her shoulders back and took a breath. "If you're ready, sir?" Snape could only nod, his head had started to pound furiously and he wanted nothing more than to sit back down and close his eyes.

The two cut an unusual figure as they slowly hobbled up the path. The younger witch not only had to keep his weight over her shoulders, but had to walk twice as fast just to keep pace with the potions master, even in his injured state. Unlike their previous walks, there was an uneasy aura around them this time. It was clear to Snape that Miss Granger wanted to check he was okay, wanted to reassure him, to mother him, but it appeared for the time being she had opted to remain silent. Thank Merlin, he thought, for in his current state he didn't know if he would be able to calm her fears. He was decidedly not fine, he thought. His Occlumency shields were holding for the time being, but he could feel the plethora of wounds on his upper body starting to throb and burn, and he hoped that he was not bleeding enough to stain the path as they went. Although, with the current state of his mind, he found it hard to care.

"I still think calling for Dumbledore would have been a better idea," Hermione mumbled as they walked. "He's at least your height." Despite himself, Snape smiled inwardly at that. In truth he wasn't sure why he'd sent the shaky doe her way. Perhaps it was the opportunity to finally not have to include the meddling old wizard in his affairs, or the opportunity to feel like he could cope on his own. Well, obviously not quite on his own, but it was better than the usual. Or perhaps this was just his subconscious' cruel way of highlighting the amount of time he was starting to spend with the witch. And he wasn't even about to start diving into why his patronus had looked the way it did. Had he been in a fit state to do anything himself, he would have sent her away as soon as they'd reached the front doors with some biting remark and a cold stare. As it happened, he was resigned to let her lead him through the quiet castle with minimal grumbling. It was at times like this where he resented himself for staying so deep inside the castle, as it felt like an eternity had passed between arriving at the gates and finally making it to the heavy door that held his office. He made to pull away from her but, much to his annoyance, the witch did not budge.

"Don't be ridiculous. You can barely stand as it is, now let's get you inside sir." Hermione summoned more of that famed Gryffindor courage - a tank she was more than sure was empty by now - and pushed open the door for them. If she was being honest, she wasn't quite sure what the plan of action was once she got him to his quarters. She knew she would need to obtain a report for Dumbledore, and she knew whatever wounds Snape was housing would need to be seen to. Whether or not she'd be permitted to do either of those things was a different matter. Nevertheless, she continued to make her way through the office with the wizard, and when they arrived at the smaller door signalling his quarters, she cleared her throat awkwardly. Snape sighed, closing his eyes.

"Granger.. you may leave. I am more than.. capable of getting from here to my bed... thank you." Hermione flushed.

"Be that as it may, Professor, as an Order member I still have certain duties to complete. You're injured and you have a report to give. Now I can deal with the Headmaster for you, but you appear to be bleeding and that won't be fixed by simply 'going to bed'." The Professor's grumble reverberated through her, and for a minute she thought he might try to hex her just to get away. However, after a moment, she could feel the magical energy his wards gave off rippling, and the small door swung open for them.

Snape's quarters were honestly nothing like she'd imagined. Of course, what she had imagined was ridiculous - something dingy, dark, foreboding. Something to match his gloomy demeanour, she thought. However, since she'd started working with him last year, the idea hadn't come back up and thinking about the man she knew now, she realised this was miles off. In fact, Snape's quarters were very much like his office in a way. The room was decorated in shades of deep green, but one had to strain to notice as the majority of the walls were lined with thick mahogany bookshelves. The sparse furniture - a high back chair, writing desk, and long padded couch framed a mahogany fireplace. The fire had already been lit, likely before the Professor had left for the evening, but the mantelpiece was practically bare save for an old clock steadily ticking away. Glancing over to it she blanched at the time, it was nearly 2am. As she helped the potions master over to the chair, she almost failed to notice the one black item within the room - a luxurious onyx rug that Hermione briefly wished she could stand barefoot on. The thought was expelled from her head as quickly as it entered, when she was able to finally look at her Professor. Her assessment of his facial wounds had been accurate, but now that she had visible light to work with she could see that there were bloodstains on the front of his robes. Looking to her own shoulder, she realised she was also sporting his blood. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath as she knew what needed to be done.

"Sir, I promise as soon as I have what I need for the Headmaster I'll leave, but before I can get that we need to see to your wounds." She could see his face contort into a scowl. "I know it's not the best situation, but if you refuse to see Madame Pomfrey then it's the only one. And the less time you spend complaining about it, the quicker I can be out of your hair and you can rest." Snape bowed his head, his sweat-drenched hair falling back in front of his face. For a moment Hermione thought he had fallen unconscious once more but before she could check, he whispered.

"Do what you must."

Taking another deep breath, Hermione steadied her nerves.

"I need to remove your outer robes sir.." She willed herself not to blush. "Are all your injuries contained to your.. Upper body?" She could see his breath hitch at the question, but sighed and nodded all the same. "Well then, I'll also need to remove your shirt, sir. I promise you, none of this will leave the room." He nodded once more and sat forward to help her with the task. She quickly worked to shed his travelling cloak and outer robes, leaving what should have been a crisp white shirt on his person. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself not to gasp. The shirt was almost completely red, with darker patches smeared across the front. Before she removed the garment, she took a moment to think what she would need to heal him.

"Potions, sir?" It took him a second to understand the question, but he took a steady breath and leaned his head to the side.

"Bathroom. Through those doors.. To the left." She hurried away, pausing briefly as she went through the door to find that she arrived in his bedroom. A tiny voice in her head told her to look around, but she shooed it away and moved to the bathroom door. Walking into the room, she quickly glanced around before her eyes landed on the cabinet above the sink. How very muggle, she thought briefly. Opening it, she grabbed dittany, blood-replenisher, murtlap essence, bruise paste and some standard pain-relief potions she could spot. Praying it would be enough, she cradled the vials and sprinted back through to the living room. Snape's head was still bowed, his breathing was still ragged. She fought down the panic that threatened to rise and instead set the vials on the couch before turning back to face her haggard charge. Willing her hands not shake, she tentatively began to unbutton the shirt that served as the last line of defence between Hermione and his modesty. As she moved down the line, her eyes flicked up to her Professor's face and she gave a shaky smile. "Promise I won't ogle you, sir." Her attempt at light-hearted conversation was met with a blank stare however, as it appeared the wizard had retreated fully behind his shields. Furrowing her brow she continued to undo the shirt buttons, and when the last one was finally free she carefully peeled back the fabric and pushed it back down his arms. She was careful not to remove it completely, to give the man as much privacy as she could. She was also very wary of exposing his dark mark, something she assumed he would not want her to see. Instead, she gripped his bare shoulder and guided him back against the chair. His skin is soft, the tiny voice whispered. Shaking her head, she grabbed the vials and set to work. A pain relief potion was administered first, although she doubted it would take much of the edge off. Cleaning the wounds was fairly easy, but there were many. Some of them hideously deep. Biting her lip, she steadied her wand hand and began to slowly knit the gashes back together, applying generous amounts of dittany as she went. When the most egregious of wounds had been dealt with, she grabbed a blood-replenisher and encouraged the Professor to drink it down. As he did, she continued working over his chest, closing up his wounds and covering them with dittany and murtlap essence. When she was finally done, she looked at the clock again - nearly an hour had passed since they had arrived. Stifling a yawn, she stretched out her back and picked up the bruise paste. Scooping a small amount onto her fingers, she moved towards the back of the chair and, with the other hand nervously holding his chin up, started to gently apply the salve to the quickly-forming bluish purple welts. At first Snape jerked his head away, but as the paste began to work he once again relaxed. She noticed his breathing had started to even out too, and the movements of his chest weren't anywhere near as jagged. Sighing in relief, she cleared away the empty vials and collapsed down onto the sofa. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and let sleep take her, but she knew the job was only half done. Rubbing her eyes and stretching out her arms and back once more, she leaned forward.

"Professor. If it's alright with you, I'd like to take that report for the Headmaster now. I promise you as soon as I'm done you can go and rest, but we need to get this out of the way first."

Snape shook his head, his eyes still closed and his head still resting against the back of the chair.

"Sir, please. It needs to be done. Otherwise Dumbledore will just want to come down here himself. Surely this is better than that?" Again, Snape shook his head. She could see his hands were balled into fists. It wasn't until now that she noticed they were trembling. Sighing, and rubbing her hands roughly over her face, she sat back. The man was as stubborn as he always was, even when he was battered and bruised. Before she realised it, an idea had popped into her head.

"Perhaps you should just show me sir."

Snape's eyes opened at that, staring intently at her. She could see the question lingering there, even if he didn't voice it.

"I know the spell. You would only let me see what I need to, nothing more. I promise I won't pry, I won't attempt to look further. It would be easier than you having to tell me, especially when you're so worn down. Plus, it would be easier for me to gather what information I need if I can see it in real time."

The silence was palatable, save for the soft crackling of the fire. She was almost too nervous to breathe, she knew what she was asking. Professor Snape, the most private man she'd ever met, would probably never let anyone except Dumbledore - and obviously, Voldemort - into his head. And yet, here was one of his students asking for the same privilege. A student that had spent the last 5 years annoying him, been overbearing and incessant in her questioning, who had forced him into using his precious spare time to train her and provide her with the closest thing to therapy she'd ever received. There was no way he'd ever consent to-

"Very well."