"I've received official word from the Minister. This whole episode has been classified as a level B secret, not to be updated in the public record for fifty years. All of us involved will have to sign non-disclosure affirmations." McGonagall peers over her glasses and across her desk to Snape. She looks exhausted and old and he feels guilty and ashamed for the trouble he has caused.

"What about the boy, what's his name, Arbuckle Puddlefoot?" He says the name as if it tastes dirty in his mouth. Hufflepuffs, he thinks to himself with a snort.

McGonagall lifts her eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Since when do you care?"

"Just tell me you're not going to let them modify the boy's memory!" He snaps.

McGonagall sighs. "They wanted to. I had to threaten to go public with the whole thing to prevent that."

Snape's shoulders sag with relief. "Good, then."

"Are you going to be able to leave our favorite student alone once she leaves Hogwarts?" McGonagall abruptly changes the subject.

"That will be entirely up to her. But, no, I expect not."

McGonagall frowns deeply, disapproval reflected in her demeanor from the pointed tip of her crooked hat down to the toes of her dainty leather boots. "Why can't you just tell her you don't want her and send her on her way? She'd get over you eventually. You aren't the only brilliant man in the world, you know. You're just the first for her."

Snape pulls a deep breath in through his abnormally large nostrils. She's not wrong, he reminds himself, and she thinks she is trying to protect Hermione. And she's loved Hermione longer and better than I have.

"First of all," Snape says softly, keeping his voice neutral, "Miss Granger called in my life debt shortly after we started working together. She made me vow to never knowingly or willingly lie to her."

McGonagall is stunned. She just stares at Snape for a few breaths. He looks at her impassively, giving her time to process the implications.

"Did she hold your oath fulfilled after you made the promise?"

"Yes," says Snape, glad McGonagall isn't slipping.

"So it was the making of the promise that fulfilled the debt, telling the truth to her now has nothing to do with it." McGonagall is thoughtful now, her thin lips slightly pursed, eyes narrowed. "Do you think she realizes this?"

"I do," says Snape. "She has obviously spent a fair bit of time researching life debts. The practice of formally invoking one is fairly outdated. In this day and age of the Wizarding world we see them play out passively. Such as it did between Potter the younger and Pettigrew."

"So why would Hermione force you to make an unenforceable promise and then release you from the debt to her? It makes no sense."

"I can't know for sure," muses Snape, "She was masking her thoughts by the time this played out. But I think the imbalance of power upset her. She was worried that the only reason I was giving her extra instruction was because I felt some sort of obligation to her. But Miss Granger was already developing a sharp intuition when it came to me. For practical purposes, the promise is binding. I can't lie to her."

"Still," says McGonagall. "There's a thousand leagues between not lying and telling whole truth. You can still free her from this… entanglement."

"I could," Snape agrees. "But really, is an 'entanglement' with me so awful for her? I know I don't deserve her. But I can give her what she deserves.

"Miss Granger is traumatized. Her trauma has unleashed considerable darkness within her. I know you've seen it. Who better than I to teach her how to take control of it and not let it destroy her- or worse- destroy those she loves? If you could feel what I felt from her in the infirmary, the guilt over threatening you-"

"Oh, really Severus it wasn't that bad. You've said far worse to me. And I forgave you."

"She isn't guilty because she said it, Headmistress. She's guilty because she meant it." Snape pauses to let this sink in. All the light seems to go out of McGonagall as the revelation hits her.

He continues, "Miss Granger has a long road ahead of her. She is going to have to take responsibility for the darkness that takes ahold of her and keep it firmly and utterly in check for the rest of her life."

McGonagall nods softly, eyes glistening a bit.

Snape continues gently. "Is the thought really so repugnant to you? Me, being the first of what will probably be many brilliant men and women in her life? I fully intend to help her become independent and self sufficient. I will encourage her to seek out knowledge wherever she can find it. I will never hold her back from achieving greatness. And when she grows out of me I will let her go."

McGonagall sits in silent capitulation. Then, "You'll have to leave the school."

"Are you firing me, Headmistress?" Snape asks with an ironic smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes," she says, reaching into a drawer in her desk. "Shall we drink to it?"

Snape nods. "I did intend on leaving, Headmistress. The school and the country if I can convince her."

McGonagall pours the drinks. "Now," she says after they raise their glasses to one another, "Help me compose a letter to Horace."

Snape sets himself to the task with goodwill.