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Chapter Text

“That is correct. Five points to Gryffindor for that, Miss Granger.”

For a moment, Hermione thought that she was still delirious from the firewhisky the twins had smuggled into the castle to celebrate her birthday. Did Professor Snape seriously just award her house points?

She glanced to the side where Harry sat with an equally dumbfounded look. In the four years before, Snape had rarely acknowledged her existence. Even if she gave lengthy answers, he’d only nod or insult her for taking up too much time.

Now, suddenly, in year five, he changed his tune?

“Stop staring, Hermione,” Harry whispered from her side. “He’ll just end up deducting points again if you keep frowning at him like that. Take the win.”

She shook herself out of her stupor and turned to him. “But isn’t it strange? Why would he do that?”

“Beats me.” Harry shrugged.

They were barely two weeks into the term, and already, Hermione felt like her whole world had flipped on its head. Of course, knowing that Voldemort was back from the dead added a great deal to that feeling, but if she were honest, she always knew that would happen.

From the very first year she attended Hogwarts and befriended Ron and Harry, all signs pointed clearly to Voldemort’s desperate attempts to crawl back to the living. For a powerful wizard like him, it was a question of when, not if it would happen.

She could stomach that. She could prepare for that.

But Professor Snape suddenly praising her in the form of house points? She licked her lips. And why did his voice sound so silky smooth when he said that? Was it just her teenage hormones being wild now that she turned sixteen?

She crinkled her nose and continued to study him surreptitiously while she listened to his lecture. Now that she thought about it, he did look different this year; his hair was longer, but better maintained. Once, on the first weekend back, she even saw him with it tied back. She had to suppress a giggle at the memory.

Somehow, the longer hair accentuated his big nose in a way that made it appear almost aristocratic. Where his pale skin before always seemed a bit sickly, she now found it elegant. Matching his deep, smooth voice.

She swallowed. No. Absolutely not. She was not one of those silly school girls that had a crush on a teacher. She learned that lesson with Lockhart. No older man deserved her attention like that. Especially not Professor Snape, after all his years of cruelty.

Still. She should make a note about his strange behaviour and keep an eye out for any more weird occurrences. These were dark times and one could never be vigilant enough.

~*~

Severus Snape stood in front of the mirror and stared into his own eyes. He always hated looking at himself, but these days, he couldn’t stop doing it.

Something was…wrong.

Of course, everything was wrong, seeing as the Dark Lord had finally returned.

Albus hadn’t waited one second. First, he had forced Severus to shake Sirius Black’s hand – as if that could erase years of torment – and then he had asked him to resume his old role.

Become a Death Eater once more.

That day, he had thought he was going to his own death. A part of him almost welcomed it. Anything was better than to suffer the judgement of ignorant people like Molly Weasley or the continued insults from Black. His life held little meaning anyway. Harry Potter turned out to be a lot like his father, and nothing like Lily.

But he did as he was commanded, and kept his promise to Albus to seek out the Dark Lord.

What had followed were hours of torture. He hadn’t begged, hadn’t pleaded, he simply endured. Each time the Cruciatus stopped, he thought he would never recover. Each time it resumed, he experienced a new height of pain.

And then, something broke.

That had to be it. The prolonged Cruciatus had to have broken something within him. Why else did he suddenly experience blackouts and memory loss? Why else did he suddenly feel like a bystander in his own body, watching himself do and say things that he would never have before?

Why, for example, had he awarded Hermione Granger house points?

He had one simple rule: Gryffindor students only deserved house points when they did something truly outstanding in his class. Otherwise, they already got enough points blasted up their asses by every other professor. Especially the Granger girl, whom everyone else fawned over.

But as he listened to her lengthy explanation, something within him stirred. He always thought she simply repeated the textbooks verbatim. He was sure that used to be the case. But today, she used her own words and came out better for it. It was clear, easily understood by even the dullest student, and delivered with an eagerness that spoke of true interest in Potions brewing.

He had wanted to reward that, and so he had.

Her stupefied look afterwards instantly made him regret that decision. Even he failed to understand why he felt the urge to acknowledge her answer. After more than four years, it had become so easy for him to brush her achievements aside. It was second nature, something he didn’t even think about anymore.

The mirror held no answer for him, only offered more questions.

So, why didn’t he recognise the face reflected back at him? Those were his eyes, his prominent nose, his lank hair. Yet it didn’t feel like it was him.

Everything was off.

He had tried to talk to Albus about it. Right after he returned from his fist meeting with the Dark Lord, he had voiced his concerns. And again today. But what did the stubborn old fool say?

“I don’t see why you’re worried, Severus.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Isn’t it time you finally recognised that Miss Granger does in fact possess a sharp mind?”

Severus had walked up and down in agitation as he related what had happened during the lesson, but that carefree response stopped him in his tracks. “You are not listening to me. It’s not about whether Granger is intelligent or not. This is not something I would do.”

Albus simply folded his hands over his stomach and smiled. “Yet you did.”

“That’s exactly what I’m concerned about!” He couldn’t believe that this usually observant man was so flippant. “When I say that this is not something I would do, I mean the present. Right now. I did it despite not wanting to do it. I told you! Something is wrong. The Crutiatus did something.”

The headmaster let out a deep sigh. “Drop it, Severus. You know as well as I do that we have bigger concerns than whether or not you award house points to Miss Granger. If you hate it so much, don’t do it again.”

He wanted to scream, but the look in Albus’ eyes told him that the topic was over, as far as the headmaster was concerned. He schooled his features back into the unaffected mask he usually wore and slipped back into the chair.

Albus inclined his head. “Thank you. Now. The Order needs to know everything the Dark Lord is planning. You will continue to report to me, but it is vital that you debrief them as well. There will be a monthly meeting for all of us at Grimmauld Place. I expect you to come prepared.”

“Of course.” He nodded along, suddenly very aware that is role was clearly defined.

“Your insights are invaluable to us, Severus,” the headmaster said emphatically. “We all know the great sacrifices you take on to spy on the Death Eaters.”

He stared back at Albus stoically. The message was clear. Not he was invaluable, only the information he delivered. Even after all these years, even after protecting Potter from his own stupidity again and again, the headmaster could not forgive him for his original sin. For ever being tempted to join Voldemort.

Now that he remembered that conversation, he wanted to vomit. That famed wizard, his confidant, and the undeniably beloved headmaster had so little interest in him that he didn’t take the time to question the change.

It didn’t matter to him, Severus surmised.

Albus Dumbledore abhorred him and only saw him as a pawn to use.

Concern for his wellbeing had no space here.

With a growl, he turned around and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey from the shelf. The whole summer, he had denied himself the pleasure of an alcohol-induced blackout, but today, he felt powerless against the pull. It was easier to just forget who he was, why he existed, and simply dull the pain.

~*~

Voldemort snorted as he watched Snape take three deep gulps from the bottle. The man had a death wish and no idea how close he came to that wish being fulfilled.

When he first returned to corporeal form, he had felt nothing but triumph. Wormtail did his part and Harry Potter was trapped. What could a fourteen-year-old schoolboy do to survive a duel to the death with him?

But once again, Voldemort had stumbled over the consequences of his inferior upbringing and lack of information. Wormtail should have informed him the boy possessed a wand with the same phoenix feather core as his own. Perhaps he would have researched that matter further. Perhaps, if he had grown up in a pureblooded family, he would have known about the dual-cores already. As it were, he had no idea that there was a phenomenon known as Priori Incantatem that would trigger on its own and thwart his plans.

The boy escaped again, living against all odds.

Then, he had noticed that his new body was more fragile than he thought possible. He easily bruised, his skin tended to split open with the lightest pressure, and he could feel his organs breaking down–slow and sluggish. He was on borrowed time, thanks to Wormtail’s mediocre ritual.

When Severus returned to him far too late after he summoned him, he’d almost killed the wizard. It was clear he only returned under Dumbledore’s orders. His Occlumency shields were impressive, but even the strongest mind broke under continuous torture. His mind unfolded–peeled apart–while Severus was barely conscious.

What he found inside was more enlightening than he had dared hope. Harry Potter was no mere schoolboy. No, he had the insight of a Weasley spawn at his side, someone who didn’t even realise how deep his own knowledge about the magical world went.

And then there was the mudblood.

When she lacked in innate knowledge, she made up for in relentless study. He could sense Snape’s irritation with the girl through his memories. To Severus, she was an annoyance, a know-it-all that couldn’t keep her hand down in class.

To Voldemort, Potter’s luck suddenly made a lot more sense.

It was Hermione Granger who’d realised his treasured beast in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk. It was Hermione Granger who’d figured out Lupin was a werewolf. It was Hermione Granger who’d stuck by Potter’s side when everyone else ridiculed him.

She was now sixteen years old and it was clear nobody realised the potential of her sharp mind. Not even Severus, who’d long suffered through being underestimated during his own time at Hogwarts. To him, the girl was just a friend of Potter, not even his best friend, and nothing more.

She had to feel the injustice in that. Nobody who was so obsessed with perfectionism would be content with existing in the shadow of someone else. She simply needed a nudge. Encouragement. Someone to guide her in the right direction.

She was young and a mudblood and so very inexperienced in the ways of the magical world. It would be deliciously easy to corrupt her. Once she understood that true power was only found on the side of the Death Eaters, she would become the perfect pawn to bring down Harry Potter.

It was when he left Snape’s mind again that Voldemort noticed a perk to his useless body. Where once he struggled to penetrate another’s mind, it was now as easy as breathing. He felt a connection to Snape’s inner world even after he stopped forcing Legilimency onto him.

Curious, he had watched Severus regain consciousness again. He remained in his mind with just a small tendril connecting them, and the other wizard never even noticed. Snape returned to Hogwarts, where Voldemort watched him report to Dumbledore, reciting the atrocities Voldemort had inflicted upon him, and then collapsed onto his bed.

And even when Voldemort had returned to full strength several days later inside of Snape’s body, he never noticed his presence. Even when he took over and guided Severus’ hand or his tongue or his eyes, the potion’s master simply frowned and fretted, but he never truly questioned it, passing it off as a side effect of the Cruciatus.

It was because of their connection that Voldemort decided to let him live. Even when Severus reported back to Dumbledore, his usefulness far outweighed his betrayal. He was a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix, which gained him access to information Voldemort would have never been privy to before.

Still, it was only when he allowed himself some fun and made Severus award house points to the mudblood, that he realised Snape’s full potential. The girl had frowned and shot him a suspicious look, but there had been a gleam in her eyes that spoke a very different language.

This girl was starved for praise by her least favourite professor. And the delectable little blush on her cheeks hinted at something even more devastating. The beginnings of a silly little schoolgirl crush. It would be so easy to lure her in, to control her, and then unleash her on Voldemort’s enemies as the weapon he knew she could be.

Voldemort would clean up Snape’s appearance with the barest direction within his mind, bend his actions more favourably towards her during class, and then Hermione Granger would not be able to resist Professor Snape.

He had the charm of the Dark Lord on his side, after all.

Chapter Text

That mudblood was both more brilliant and more daft than Voldemort could have imagined. Her stupidity was likely due to her youth and not having lived much life beyond the castle walls. But her mind already showed a vicious streak that he didn’t expect from someone like her. In Snape’s memories, she appeared to be a model student, an unsufferable know-it-all—but she was, first and foremost, a stickler for the rules.

One perusal through Snape’s mind showed Voldemort that it was her idea to create an illegal study group after Umbridge’s appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. That was clever. It was also her idea to hold the inaugural meeting in the Hog’s Head, a location that several of his Death Eaters haunted during the day. That was … not as clever.

But it allowed him a glimpse into her mind outside of Severus’s memories. Unbeknownst to her, Rosier managed a look at the parchment she used to collect the signatures of the students who wanted to participate.

The jinx on the parchment was a work of beauty. Once triggered, it would have devastating effects on the offending student without causing physical harm, and yet, in a very Slytherin fashion, the effects would be impossible to reverse. When Voldemort considered her spell work, he wasn’t even sure he would be able to counter it. It was insidious and thorough and very clearly beyond anything a mudblood in her fifth year at Hogwarts should be capable of.

His eyes wandered to Severus, who was still kneeling in front of him, looking as empty as ever. The man was clearly clouded by his own judgement when it came to the mudblood. Otherwise, it was impossible for him to have missed an asset like Hermione Granger.

Voldemort reclined into the huge armchair Lucius summoned from the house-elves as soon as he declared his intentions to utilise the ball room as his own command room. It was fabricked in dark emerald velvet that contrasted his body—round and comfortable where he was hard edges and sharp angles. He especially enjoyed how unnerved every single one of his Death Eaters was the first time they stepped in front of him in the chair.

They had forgotten the power he held while disembodied and had filled their heads with legends far from reality.

“Tell me about the mudblood,” he ordered Severus with a low hiss.

Snape finally lifted his eyes from his place on the floor, pointed knees grating against the dark parquet floor. Voldemort watched him shift uncomfortably and relished it. “My lord?”

“Potter’s mudblood,” he snapped.

His face remained unmoved, but Voldemort could feel confusion gathering within the wizard’s mind. “She’s a good student, but vexing. She’s with Potter most of the time, but other than that, I couldn’t say she’s anything remarkable other than having excellent recall.”

He actually believed his own words. Voldemort shook his head. Even clever Severus was blind. “What’s her status within the Order?”

Another round of confusion washed through him, and this time, there was the slightest frown between Snape’s brows. “She has no status. She’s a child, so she is not part of it.”

“A child, you say. She is sixteen and according to you, she is a good student. The Potters were only a year older when they became founding members of the first iteration of the Order. Why is she different?”

“Potter and Weasley aren’t members either, my lord.”

Voldemort tapped one long finger against his lips. That was true. He would have expected everyone to be eager to have Potter as an official Order member. But he could also see someone like Molly Weasley forbidding it, caring mother figure that she was. And if he wasn’t a member, his friends obviously couldn’t be either.

They didn’t know what they were missing.

“Keep an eye on her,” he told Severus. “That study group they founded was her idea. I wouldn’t want this to go unnoticed by us.”

Snape dipped his head. “As you wish, my lord.”

Of course, he would keep an eye on her himself. But he couldn’t be with Severus at all times. Having him track her, whether his mind was his own or not, would prove useful.

He got the feeling that there was little time before the Order of the Phoenix realised her potential and recruited her. He needed to get ahead of that and make her his before that happened.

Even if she didn’t know it was the Dark Lord guiding her actions.

~*~

Something had definitely changed in Professor Snape. After awarding her house points for the first time after her birthday, he just kept doing it. Whenever she gave a correct answer that was more than just a sentence, he would reward her for it. Only one or two points at a time, but it was enough.

It didn’t help that his eyes were on her even before she could raise her hand to answer. Or that he would inspect her potion more thoroughly than the others, only to compliment her on it. The first time he stood so closely behind her that she could feel his body heat, it left her drenched in sweat so badly she had to go change her blouse afterwards.

And it was not just fear that caused her anxiety whenever he was close.

Suddenly, his praise was within her grasp. She worried about disappointing him regularly, where before, she never cared about it at all. Only Professor McGonagall could make her feel that way, and she always attributed it to the fact that she was the head of house.

Hermione had no other choice but to confront a very sad truth: she lived for the praise of the people she looked up to.

And unfortunately, Professor Snape now was one of them.

She cursed as she stared down at the crumpled parchment that held her latest Potions essay. It was written last minute, in the dead of night, because she spent the whole week trying to figure out how to make the stupid D.A. galleons operate correctly. She knew there was a way to modify the Protean charm to work as a mass communication device. It just didn’t work quite right…yet.

And now, she dreaded the end of class knowing she would have to submit a subpar essay to Professor Snape.

“Blimey, Hermione, you’re going to rip that parchment apart if you keep gripping it like that.” Ron gently placed one hand over hers.

She let out a deep sigh. Even oblivious Ron could see her anxiety. This did not bode well.

“Seriously, why do you even care? It’s just one essay that might be an E instead of an O. It’s not the end of the world.”

She put down the parchment and buried her hands in her skirt instead. “I know. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but … it just feels like he finally sees me as every other professor does, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

Harry leaned forward on the other side of her table. “I’ll never understand how you can see Snape as just a professor. He’s a bloody Death Eater, regardless of what Dumbledore says.”

“That’s Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore for you, Harry,” she snapped.

“Yeah, yeah.”

The sound of a closing book signalled the end of the class. As everyone else hurried to submit their essays to the teacher’s desk, Hermione found herself idling. Harry and Ron fled as fast as they could, not caring that she wasn’t with them.

Only when the last student left did she find it in herself to approach Snape’s desk, where he sat, eyes cast downwards on the book he just closed. She took a deep breath and put down her parchment on top of the others. It was done. She should leave now.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

Damn. Of course, he wouldn’t let her strange behaviour go unnoticed. Blushing from head to toe, she steeled herself and looked at him. “I wanted to apologise in advance. My essay is not up to my usual standard.”

He raised a single eyebrow as he folded his hands and rested his chin on them. There was no malice in his gaze, as she was used to in previous years, but a subtle mockery that only heightened her embarrassment.

And made her angry. She swallowed against the knot in her throat and explained, “I got stuck on another project this week, so my research was not sufficient for your essay.”

“And what project was that?”

She blinked. She didn’t expect him to inquire further, just assumed he would ridicule her for her lack of time management, then send her away. A new idea formed in her mind. Before she could talk herself out of it, she gripped the straps of her school bag tighter and resolved to be honest.

“I was studying the Protean Charm as a means of communication through… objects. I believe it can be used to that effect, but the Gal–” She cleared her throat. “The objects don’t react like I want them to.”

There, it was out. Nobody knew what she was working on, but perhaps Professor Snape could point her in the right direction. She held her breath and focused on his eyes while she awaited his answer.

He blinked once, twice, and then, from one moment to the next, something within him shifted. Hermione took an involuntary step back. His eyes. His eyes were definitely different. They were still dark and bottomless, still sat under the same strong eyebrows, still carried dark lines underneath them, but she would swear he looked like a completely different person.

“The Protean Charm, mh, Miss Granger?” Even his voice was different. No, that was not it. It was the same voice, but silky and smooth in a way she’d never heard before.

Goosebumps erupted all over her body. Something inside her screamed danger, but a bigger part wanted to step closer. Caught in the middle, she remained rooted to the spot.

“It’s advanced magic. N.E.W.T. level, and you haven’t even taken your O.W.L.s yet.” He rose from his chair and spread both hands on the wooden surface of his desk. Even though he leaned down, she felt like he was towering over her. “Tell me. What do you really need this for?”

She licked her lips. She really shouldn’t tell him. It was a secret, especially from professors. Umbridge was already onto them and had forbidden the formation of student groups in retaliation. It was why she felt the need to create this in the first place.

But Snape was part of the Order. Harry told her Sirius was proud of them for creating a study group. Why should Snape be different? If any professor would understand, it was him.

“I was looking ... for a way to call all members of my … study group together. Using galleons enchanted with a Protean Charm.”

For a long moment, he stared at her with an unreadable expression. She almost feared he was going to deduct house points or give her detention for breaking school rules. But then, a wicked smile formed on his lips that made her heart skip a beat.

She’d never seen Professor Snape smile before. He looked so very much unlike himself, not just in his eyes, but his whole face. She licked her lips again and willed the blush creeping to her cheeks back down. She would not develop a crush on another professor. Definitely not.

“I think I can help with that.”

Excitement shot through her. She didn’t know what she expected when she admitted to her struggles, but an outright offer of help? That was beyond anything she could have hoped for.

“Really, sir?” Her heart quickened as he neared.

“Really, Miss Granger.” He still smiled. “It will need time, though. You already understand how complex the charm is.”

She leant forward eagerly. “No problem, sir. I’ll happily dedicate as much time to this as needed. Just tell me where to start!”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you understand my meaning. We will need time to work on this together. Outside classes.” He put his hand on top of the stack of parchments, tipping one finger onto the headline of her own essay. “You said this was dreadful? I suggest four hours of detention would be an appropriate punishment for your lack of time management, what do you think, Miss Granger?”

She blanched. She had never received a D before. But he was offering his help even though he had nothing to gain from it. Taking a failing grade for her essay was a small price to pay for that.

“Yes.”

He cocked his head. “Yes, what?”

She shivered. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” That was a purr. There was no other way to describe how his voice just sounded. “I will see you on Thursday evening after dinner.”

She nodded hastily. “Yes, sir.”

“Give me just one second.”

Hermione felt rooted to the spot. Why did his voice make her shiver? She was mortified and sure her face was the same colour as Ron’s hair, but Snape continued on as though nothing had happened. He simply sat down and pulled out a quill. She watched him very quickly grade her essay, plastering it with nasty remarks on almost every line.

But she didn’t even feel embarrassed about the looming grade. All she could think about was the heated tingle she felt low in her belly when he said ‘good girl’. It was wrong. It was so, so wrong. Not only that she reacted that way, but that he even said those words. That was not normal for a professor, was it?

He had definitely changed over the summer holidays.

“Here.” He held out the parchment dripping in red scrawls. “Take it with you and look properly ashamed for the next couple of days. Can you do that, Miss Granger?”

She nodded.

“Use your words, witch.”

“Yes, sir.” Oh god, why did that sound so inappropriate to her own ears?

He smiled again and relaxed back into his chair. With a wave of his hand, he signalled that she was dismissed. Clutching the parchment to her chest, she hurried to the back of the classroom.

She was almost out of the door when his voice stopped her in her tracks again.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, his smile morphing into a wicked, dark grin. “The Dark Lord used the Protean Charm to create the Dark Mark. An inspired choice of spell, Miss Granger. I congratulate you.”

Her knees almost gave out under her.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape stood atop the Astronomy tower and watched the first snow fall of the year. For once, the air was still, and the receding light of the day felt like a welcome embrace. Like it was calling him to go down with it.

It was not the first time he stood here and contemplated death.

The past few weeks were a strange blur of moments, interspersed with blackouts and fits of memory loss. He could no longer deny that the prolonged Cruciatus curse had broken something inside of him.

Albus, of course, would hear none of it. Instead, the Headmaster praised Snape for finally getting over his prejudice and helping the mudblood girl with her project. That this was exactly what he was talking about, the headmaster did not want to hear. In his eyes, this was personal growth instead of a sign that Severus was no longer fully in control of his senses.

Four weeks in a row, she’d shown up in his classroom after dinner, strangely excited for detention. He barely remembered the supposedly dreadful essay she had written or the bratty remarks that got her in trouble with him. Yet, once he invited her in, the whole world around him began to shift.

Sometimes, he only regained awareness after she left. Sometimes, he watched as he instructed her, taught her, engaged with her as if he were watching from afar, unable to control the actions of his body. It was those moments that made him feel especially sick. When his voice sounded like velvet and when his words teased—and she never reproached him for it.

Instead, she blushed and bit her lip, but continued to talk about whatever she was studying. As though he wasn’t flirting with her.

The worst part was he couldn’t stop himself. Even after detention ended, he felt a strange connection to her. When she raised her hand during class, he was no longer annoyed. He found himself intrigued, surprised by her intelligence again and again.

She was sixteen and his student, and it was all completely inappropriate.

But whenever he resolved to ignore her again, treat her like he did the four years before, the Dark Lord’s remarks sounded in his head, ‘Keep an eye on her.’

He knew where this would lead. She was bright and happy and had her whole life before her. Her years at Potter’s side had matured her before her age, but still, she was just an innocent young woman. If he continued on, she would all too soon become disillusioned with this life. She didn’t deserve that.

So, Snape decided that the best thing he could do for the girl would be to throw himself from this tower.

It would free him from this cursed life and ensure that Granger never learned of his inappropriate thoughts. She would be saved from him. And he from himself.

As he peered forward over the lip of the turret, Lily appeared in his mind’s eye. Beautiful and young as ever. He sighed watching her as she shot him a disappointed look. He owed it to her to protect the boy. As much as he loathed that Potter turned out so much like James, he was still her son. The very last thing of her remaining on this earth. He had stopped loving her many years ago, but she would forever remain the only woman who ever showed him genuine warmth. For that, he was eternally grateful.

For that, he would turn around and descend the same steps he came here on.

~*~

Hermione was sure that everybody could read her thoughts. She always blushed when she lied and she knew she was just burning red.

She was supposed to be skiing with her parents right now. Instead, she had taken the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place to spend the holidays with the Order. She told a surprised Molly that she couldn’t very well go away skiing when Arthur was still recovering from the vicious snake attack.

In truth, she was here because she heard just the day before that Professor Dumbledore had ordered Snape to spend Christmas here as well. The whole Order would come together, discussing the attack and the plans for the next few months, so he was expected to be here as well.

Despite her struggles, she fell for a teacher again. The same silly crush as she had back in year two.

But how could she not fall for him? He helped her with the Protean Charm, which enabled her and the rest of the D.A. to still practice Defence Against the Dark Arts despite all of Umbridge’s schemes. He’d done her a favour and wanted nothing in return. During those detentions, he had been strict with her, pushing her to solve every problem herself. But he never gave up on her. He asked the right questions and when she finally got it, he smiled and called her good girl again.

She could see it in his eyes. He knew. It was like for the first time, someone actually saw her. He knew she could solve this on her own, she just needed a little guidance. He trusted her mind in a way nobody else did before. And his eyes told her that he was pleased to find her intelligent.

Sometimes, his expression turned hungry when he thought she wasn’t looking. Like he wanted to open her up and pick apart her brain because he wanted to see it all. It made her clench her thighs and stifle moans she didn’t fully understand. He had never even touched her and all she could think about were his eyes and his nose and his hands.

Completely inappropriate, stupid schoolgirl crush.

With a firm shake of her head, she unpacked the last of her books and then exited her room. It was time to face the family, even though she dreaded their nosey questions.

Strong arms suddenly circled her waist and pulled her against a broad chest. “I’m so happy you’re here, Mione!”

She giggled and batted Ron against the shoulder. “Let go of me, Ronald, you know I hate it when you pick me up.”

He gripped her harder and pulled her so far up her feet left the floor. “But how else can I show off my awesome Quidditch muscles?”

She squealed, but didn’t actually struggle against him. This friendly familiarity was another reason why she wanted to be here. Crush aside, Ron was still the one she wanted to date. She shot him a fake glare when he sat her back down, but otherwise kept on smiling.

A soft click from the other end of the corridor disrupted her happy moment. Her head whipped around. There stood Severus Snape, his face completely motionless, but she could feel his disapproval from afar. All happiness instantly evaporated. She had made a fool of herself and he of all people was there to witness it. He said nothing, didn’t even raise an eyebrow, and just stalked down the stairs leading to the ground floor.

“I cannot believe Dumbledore is making us all suffer through his presence,” Ron hissed in low tones. “It’s Christmas. We should be merry and celebrate. Instead, that greasy git stalks this house as though he belongs here.”

She flushed hot red at his words, keenly aware that Professor Snape was still in listening distance. She shushed Ron a little harsher than necessary and then quickly descended down the stairs as well.

It was still early in the evening, the dinner not quite ready yet, but the house was buzzing with all the people in it. Despite its dreary interior, the Weasleys had spent a lot of effort to make it homely and warm for the holiday season. She allowed every brother to pull her into a tight hug—even Charlie, who usually was never at home—and then went over to Arthur Weasley to inquire after his health. He looked pale, but at least he was in good spirits.

She could feel Molly’s eyes on her and before the overly excited mum had any chance to enlist her as kitchen helper, she fled into the comparative safety of the library.

“Of course, Hermione Granger would prefer the company of books to people.” The dry voice greeted her as soon as she closed the door behind her.

Wide eyed, she stared at Snape who appeared to also have sought out the library as a respite from all the excitement outside. She licked her lips. “Good evening, professor.”

He only nodded before he returned to the book in his lap, sinking deeper into the armchair he inhabited. Hermione frowned. Over the weeks she had spent in detention, she thought that he had moved past his dislike of her for good. This, on the other hand, felt very much like before.

She straightened her back and decided to ignore him. It was her crush that made her overthink everything. He was just a teacher forced into a situation where he had to mingle with his students in his private life. Of course, he would be surly.

She picked out a book that sounded interesting—Ten ways to use charms to counter curses—and plopped down on the armchair opposite from Snape. He didn’t even look at her as she did, just turned the page and continued reading.

She forced her mind away from him and onto the book. If she could lose herself between the pages, she would be more than grateful for the distraction. And it also never hurt to learn more about charms.

She lasted five minutes before the memory of Ron carrying her in his arms assaulted her. She blushed again, bit her lips, and shook her head. This was the absolute last thing she wanted to think about right now. The embarrassment was too fresh.

“Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice startled her out of her misery. “While your presence is, in fact, slightly less objectionable than that of every other body in this house, if you cannot keep your emotions on the inside, I would be very grateful if you could remove yourself from the library.”

His words were cutting and his tone dry. Exactly what she would have expected from Professor Snape a year ago. She huffed in annoyance. “I apologise, sir. I didn’t know you were this easily disturbed.”

“That is because you don’t know me.”

Her mouth fell open. That hurt. Of course, she was under no delusion that she knew anything about him. But the way he said it. She could hear the derision in his voice. He could as well have slapped her. For the first time since she entered the library, she dared to truly look at him.

He sat in his armchair, eyes fixed on her, the face as carefully blank as ever. But the longer she looked, the more she realised that he did not look like the professor she had spent several hours of detention with. This Snape looked tired and closed off and at least mildly annoyed. He looked like the Snape of the last four years.

She licked her lips. Something was definitely off. How could one and the same person look so different from one day to the next? His hair was still long and smooth, his skin still healthier than ever before, his whole face had this strange attractiveness that she first noticed at the start of the term. And yet, he looked like someone else entirely.

Perhaps, for whatever reason, he wanted to keep this other side of him, the one who actually delighted in teaching her, private, locked away. Perhaps he regretted ever showing her even a modicum of kindness.

“Miss Granger.” Again, he interrupted her spinning thoughts. “I apologise. My words were unnecessarily harsh.”

She watched his eyes closely. There was no change in them. This was still the surly version of the professor. But at least, he didn’t sound angry anymore.

“I prefer reading alone,” he continued. “While, again, your presence isn’t disturbing my concentration quite so much, I can still hear every sigh and every wriggle and every cracked joint. It is distracting.”

That sounded surprisingly honest. She licked her lips and nodded. “I understand. And I’m sorry. I just … I kind of feel embarrassed that you saw me like that earlier with Ron and I know that’s stupid, but I can’t help it. It just felt like that you treated me like an adult the past few weeks and I felt like now you see me as just a stupid child again, like Ron.”

He stared blankly at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her breath hitched. “Earlier, in the corridor. Ron was just joking around and picking me up. It was childish and stupid and–”

“Miss Granger,” he interrupted her. “Nothing of the sort happened.”

She wanted to just disappear into the cushions of her armchair. Of course, that scene meant so little to him that he already forgot about it again. It was just her and her stupid crush that made such a big deal out of it.

And why, oh why, did she have to reveal to him how much his opinion mattered to her? If he didn’t suspect her feelings before, he would definitely do so now. She groaned and shut her book quickly. He was right. She would get no reading done and just squirm the entire time. It was better she left him alone.

She quickly discarded the book and exited the library again. Once outside, she felt like she could finally breathe again. Snape’s presence was just too much.

But now that she calmed down, she couldn’t help but find it strange. He hadn’t said anything in the corridor, and his face had appeared cool, but she could have sworn she saw a flash of something in his eyes. It was that tiny moment that made her feel so embarrassed and angry with herself.

Professor Snape’s words in the library made no sense, yet they had sounded so convincing. As though he truly didn’t remember anything remarkable happen.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to remember what exactly it was she saw in that moment.

But before she got anywhere, Ginny’s voice rang out, calling her to dinner. With a shrug, she pushed it aside and decided to keep her distance from Snape for the rest of the holidays. As much as she yearned for his company, this version of Snape could only hurt her.

Chapter Text

It was funny, really, watching Severus try to teach Potter Occlumency, completely unaware that his own mind had been breached. He was cruel and unyielding in the treatment of the boy. Voldemort almost pitied him. It was clear that Severus took out all his resentment of the father on the son.

And Potter didn’t even know about that.

He chuckled. Perhaps he should interfere at some point. Help poor Harry out a little and give him some insight into the head of his hated Potions professor. Severus would love that, he was sure. Finally revealing to the boy what a bastard his father was. Finally getting that pity he longed for so obviously.

For now, though, he watched with amusement how little Potter progressed. Dumbledore was right to fear the connection he could have with the Chosen One. He didn’t yet understand why it was so easy to penetrate his mind, but it was. Just as Potter easily slipped into his own. Which was a bigger problem.

But one that still could easily be turned to his advantage. Severus would never succeed in teaching this hopeless boy Occlumency. Everyone around him thought Potter was a powerful wizard, capable of doing anything. But in truth, it was all his mudblood friend. She whispered solutions into his ear where nobody saw it. Without her, he had no chance of mastering anything.

And even if he could learn Occlumency, a Dark Lord in the head of the teacher would prove difficult to overcome.

As much as he hated his current body, Voldemort enjoyed all the fun this new life offered him.

~*~

Three times Hermione had to return to the damn door before she found the courage to knock. She knew it was outrageous for her to even try this, but she had to.

When Harry came back from the Occlumency lessons late at night the day before, he had looked a mess. Snape very obviously was not a good teacher in this instance, and Harry was sure that he enjoyed torturing him. She was glad that she knew some healing spells, as that at least relieved the headache he felt after the lesson.

The newspaper the next morning almost made her forget about that. Claiming the front page and most of the pages inside, the Daily Prophet reported that ten Death Eaters escaped Azkaban. Freed by notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. Harry of course was distraught and angry at the lies, but Hermione didn’t know what he expected. The ministry had very clearly shown their stance on the so-called rumours that the Dark Lord was back.

What she was much more interested in was who these wizards and witches were. She knew too little about the world, and nobody among the students was old enough to remember the first Wizarding War. If she wanted to protect Harry from these Death Eaters, she needed information.

And if someone had that, it was Snape.

It just made sense to ask him. She wanted to bring up Harry’s struggle with Occlumency anyway, so she could combine it with questions about the escapees. Snape was the logical choice to go to.

With a huff, she finally raised her hand to knock.

Before her knuckles even touched the wood, the door swung open. A very displeased Severus Snape stared down at her. “What?”

She instinctively took a step back. “I’m sorry, sir, I know it’s after dinner and all, but I had some questions.”

He scowled at her. “That’s what class is for.”

She shook her head, now more determined than ever to at least try. “No, not those kinds. It’s about … well, about this.” She held up the newspaper.

His eyes flickered over the article announcing the escape of the Death Eaters. She could see his mouth set into a harsh line and readied herself for a rejection.

But then, the corners of his mouth softened. He blinked and looked at her and for a moment, she felt like she stood in the summer sun in France. He took her in, really looked at her, and then he smiled and nodded. “Come in.”

A little too eager, she stepped through the door. To her surprise, he didn’t lead her to his desk, but instead opened up another door at the far side that led to a staircase. Blood rushed into her cheeks. Was he taking her to his private quarters?

She had no chance to really think about that. At the top of the stairs, he ushered her through another door that revealed a very dark, very elegant sitting room. A comfortable couch and armchair stood in front of a fire place while the middle of the room was taken up by a massive oaken desk with one chair in front and one behind it. The walls of the room were lined top to bottom with books. Only candles provided light.

She swallowed and stared up at him with big eyes. He smirked in response. “Don’t be alarmed, Miss Granger. I assume the questions you will be asking are of a more confidential nature. As I am disinclined to be overheard by other students, a little bit of privacy was in order.”

In the presence of this Snape, she had a hard time keeping up her focus. All she wanted to do was stare at him and bathe in his smile. It wasn’t even a very friendly smile. If anything, it was devious and arrogant. But it made her feel as though he could see to the bottom of her soul, and she welcomed that.

With shaky legs, she sat down on the one chair while he took the other one. She placed the newspaper onto the desk. “The Death Eaters that escaped today. I want to know who they are. I know everyone is losing their minds over it, but I feel like they’re missing the point. They escaped because Vol–” She stumbled over the name, still not able to say it without a shudder. “Because Voldemort wanted them to. And I am sure every single one of them has it out for Harry. I need to know who they are so I can protect him.”

His eyes flashed as she said the name out loud, and she wasn’t sure whether he approved or not. But if he minded, he didn’t say so. Instead, he opened up the newspaper to the page showing a moving, raging portrait of each Death Eater.

“Every single one of these is dangerous, but I want you to focus on these four.” He tapped the pictures of a woman and three men.

“This here is Antonin Dolohov. While he is a practitioner of the Dark Arts, his claim to fame is as a curse breaker. His family is originally from Russia and they are known for their invention of some very dark curses. Nobody knows as much about curses as he does.” He looked straight at her. “If you ever find yourself at the wrong end of his wand, you should not try to duel him. He is quick and the complexity of his curses is not something you can block with a simple Protego.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in all that he said. His words were clear and concise, delivering the information without hesitation. She was grateful for that. It dispelled some of her discomfort at finding herself in his quarters.

“Next is Rabastan Lestrange. He was one of the youngest Death Eater during the First Wizarding War. He was only eighteen when he was put into Azkaban. He was always extremely quick with his spells, which made him dangerous. But what you should really worry about is the question what it does to someone if he is imprisoned at such a young age and subjected to the torment of Dementors for almost half his life.” His eyes glimmered in the flickering candle light, shining with an emotion she could not quite place. “I don’t believe much of his sanity is left now.”

She crossed her legs in an attempt to alleviate the anxiety she felt. “I cannot believe that the ministry put a young man into Azkaban. The whole prison should be abolished in its current form. It’s inhumane.”

“I agree.” To her surprise, Snape didn’t continue his explanations after that. Instead, he studied her with an intensity that made her shiver.

“What?”

“You should know that it was the Dark Lord’s goal to ban the use of Dementors for correction purposes.” His tone was flat and devoid of any emotion as he said that, but she caught the eager gleam in his eyes.

“That cannot possibly be true,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Why?” She threw her hands in the air. “Our current ministry is fine using them, so why would Voldemort of all people be against it? Even Dumbledore allowed them around Hogwarts during our third year. Everyone is fine using them, and you’re telling me, the Death Eaters don’t want them?”

He pushed the newspaper aside and leaned far over the desk, staring right into her eyes. “What is your actual problem with this?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t noticed that she too had leaned so far forwarded in all her indignation, and now his face was way too close to hers. But she also felt like she couldn’t lean back because that would be admitting that she felt this closeness was inappropriate.

Which it was, but only because her thoughts were inappropriate.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then met his gaze again. “It just feels wrong that someone like Voldemort, who very obviously wants to destroy the world, would find issue with Dementors, when even the good guys don’t.”

He scoffed, but still didn’t pull away. “Miss Granger. If you truly wish to survive this war, you should stop thinking in absolutes like this. Nobody wants to destroy the world, even the Dark Lord is not that crazy. There would be nothing and no one left to rule if he did. People are complex, even if you see them only as monsters. That our headmaster or the minister don’t have an issue with Dementors should tell you that. Those are your so-called good guys, and still, they don’t only do good things. In the same vein, the ones you would call bad guys don’t always only do bad things.”

“Are you sure you’re no longer a Death Eater?” The question was out before she could stop herself.

Shocked by her own intrusive thoughts, she threw herself back into her chair and clasped her hands over her mouth. This was all kinds of wrong.

“Not a totally surprising question.” Snape’s voice reached out to her, bathed her in a warm embraced that pulled her in again. He sounded not in the least bit offended. If anything, his grin only widened.

“I am here to help you understand those you see as enemies. The truth of the world is that sometimes, we agree with our enemies.” He cocked his head. “To be against something just to spite someone you hate is immature and very dangerous. And you are not immature, are you, Miss Granger?”

She shook her head, breathlessly.

“Use your words.”

“No, sir. I’m not immature.”

“Good girl.”

There it was again. That tiny little phrase that hit her like a truck every time. With his eyes staring into her soul, his lips still twisted into an almost evil grin, it took everything in her not to moan in response. For the first time, she yearned for him to touch her. She felt so empty and she just knew, his fingers could make it right.

His grin widened almost imperceptibly, just as his expression grew hungry. But before she had any mind left to process it, he returned to a polite smile and put his hand on the newspaper again.

The moment was over and Hermione was thankful for it. She knew she was still blushing, but Snape did not acknowledge it, so she would keep her insane thoughts to herself.

“This here is the older brother to Rabastan, Rodolphus Lestrange. Out of the three wizards, he might be the most dangerous because he is unpredictable. Purely driven by his emotions, and with lots of power to back it up. His spells aren’t sophisticated like Dolohov’s, but if he decides you need to die, he will stop at nothing to kill you.”

She simply nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. She felt hot and weak at the same time and she just knew, if she said something now, he would be able to hear her breathless state of mind.

“Lastly, the witch. Bellatrix Lestrange. Wife to Rodolphus. She is a Black, a sister of Narcissa Malfoy, which makes her Draco’s aunt. The most noble and ancient House of Black is known for their especially narrow views on the purity of blood. That of course only means that no other family is as inbred as they are.” He chuckled, but quickly continued his explanation. “Bellatrix was insane even before Azkaban, and I doubt the prison did anything for her mind. Loyalty among Death Eaters is a fragile thing, as they all want to sit on top and thus hate each other equally. But Bellatrix.” His voice turned almost soft. “I don’t think she wants anything else than to please the Dark Lord. She will do anything for him. Anything. I doubt she would hesitate to kill her own sister or husband if he demanded it.”

Hermione shuddered. When she first saw the picture of that woman, she had thought how very much alike they looked. But then the witch in the image moved and any notion of similarities went out the window. Her eyes spoke of a madness that far exceeded Hermione’s understanding.

“She sees herself as the number two, only second to the Dark Lord. And most Death Eaters recognise that as true. She holds immense power, and probably will resume to her former station now that she escaped.”

“Do you think…” Hermione stopped and coughed, desperate to clear the thickness out of her voice. “Are they a thing? Voldemort and … her?”

For a split second, his eyes widened in true shock. Then he laughed, a loud, roaring laugh, and Hermione realised that she had never before heard Severus Snape actually laugh. A chuckle here, a scoff there, for sure. But true amusement? She didn’t know he was capable of it.

It made her smile, even though the topic was morbid.

“No,” he finally replied after calming down, “I doubt it very much. She might want to slip into his bed, but the Dark Lord is not someone who would be interested.”

She nodded along. “Yeah, that makes sense. I have a hard time imagining him even being interested in that. It would be far too human.”

To her surprise, any smile vanished from his face. His dark eyes glowered at her. “Again, Miss Granger. Do not presume to know the Dark Lord. If you think him not human, you will misjudge him. And that could be dangerous.”

She shrank into her chair. “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry, sir.”

“As long as you understand.” He folded the newspaper back up and slid it over to her. “Now, was there anything else you wanted to know?”

There was. Hermione distinctly remembered that she had two reasons for coming here. But right in this moment, confronted with all the intensity of his gaze, she found it hard to remember anything. Perhaps she should better return to the Gryffindor dormitories.

“Oh!” She suddenly remembered. “Right. Harry. I’m sorry again, sir, I really am, but … do you think you could … would it be possible to be … a bit more patient with Harry? During your Occlumency lessons, I mean.”

He groaned. “He was instructed not to tell anyone.”

She simply shrugged. “Everyone knows, if you tell Harry something, Ron and I will know it as well. Also, you dodged the question.”

“Well spotted, Miss Granger. But I fear I have to disappoint you. Potter has no time for patient methods. If you want to see him succeed, encourage him to focus his mind at all times.” He smirked at her. “Reading a book for one hour uninterrupted every day would already be a great improvement.”

He sounded almost conspiratorial as he told her that. It made her heart flutter and she instantly let it go. If Snape deemed his methods right, they were right.

“Now, I think I’ve kept you long enough.” He rose from his chair. “You should return to your dormitory.”

She scrambled up and nodded eagerly. “Of course, sir. Thank you so much for taking the time to help me out once more. I truly appreciate it.”

He guided her back down the staircase and into his classroom. There, he stopped her and stepped closer than ever before. For a moment, his eyes roamed over her, sweeping up and down the length of her body, as though he was drinking in every part of her. She could feel her cheeks grow hot again.

“It would be best to keep this between us, Miss Granger.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Try not to share this with your friends, however much you think they should share in all your knowledge. And please, if you can, don’t mention it to me either. I risked more than you know already.”

Her mouth went dry. “Of course. I can keep quiet, no problem. This never happened anyway, so what is there to talk about?”

“You’re being a very good girl. Thank you, Miss Granger. Good night.”

She watched breathlessly as he turned and stalked back up to his rooms. She had learned so much in just half an hour, but more than anything, her heart was beating fast because finally, finally she had the Professor Snape back that she thought she discovered before Christmas.

Chapter Text

“This is your writing, is it not?”

Hermione’s heart was beating fast as she looked up at Snape. He was holding the paper with the list of names on it and Dumbledore’s Army written on top. His gaze was as blank as ever, but his hand holding her shoulder gripped her with a strength that betrayed his agitation.

She nodded weakly. She had just listened from afar as Harry was confronted about this piece of parchment, and realised to her horror that Professor Dumbledore was intentionally taking the fall for something he didn’t even know about. Now, the headmaster was gone and she just knew that the ministry would make Umbridge take his place.

At least she got another secret meeting with Snape out of the whole disaster.

“And it is your enchantment?”

She blanched. Marietta Edgecombe had been covered in hideous pustules and zits, just as intended. But it was a rather dark piece of magic. Even Professor Snape would probably not let that go so easily.

“It is,” she whispered.

He put the parchment away and pulled her deeper into the shadow of the alcove. “You are not in trouble, Miss Granger. I just want to advise you not to use this type of magic. Dark curses have a way of backfiring, sometimes long after the spell was cast. The power they give you, it might feel good, but it is a slippery slope.”

She held his blank stare for a long time. This was the cold, cruel side of Professor Snape talking to her, not the surprisingly open Snape that she had gotten to see this year. It surprised her that he warned her while keeping up his detachment.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she explained, “I just felt like we needed some sort of protection for our group. So that we at least know if someone snitched. I’m not usually using magic like this.”

He nodded, but still didn’t let her go. His hand pressed her against the cool stone wall while he stared down to the floor. She licked her lips and dropped her eyes as well. She couldn’t help herself. Having Professor Snape this close, hidden away from other people, him pressing her against the wall, it brought all sorts of inappropriate thoughts into her mind.

She knew it was silly, but she wished he would kiss her right now. She wanted her first kiss be with him. As angular as his face was, she was sure his lips would be so soft.

He finally looked back up and her breath hitched. The receding light of the setting sun made his eyes glitter in a way that should not be allowed. She could feel his gaze with every fibre of her being.

“I am not saying what you did was wrong.” He sounded softer now, just as his hand no longer seemed punishing. Rather, she felt like he held her intentionally, as though he couldn’t help himself but touch her. “You are right, of course. You needed something to keep everyone in line. Just know that not everyone will agree with you on this. Many people, especially among the Order, consider the use of darker magic to be bad in itself.”

“Then they are stupid,” she interjected before she caught herself. Blushing, she looked away. “Sorry, sir.”

His other hand gently moved down her cheek and turned her head back again. His eyes shone with pride. “No need to apologise, Miss Granger. I agree with you. Wars are not won with good intentions and courage alone. Someone needs to be ready to get their hands dirty. Unfortunately, that always comes with a lot of judgement from everyone else.”

She was mesmerised by the gravelly tone of his voice. Like he told her something he would never share with anyone else. Like he let her see into a part of himself that he usually kept hidden away. Like he trusted her.

Breathless, she knotted her fingers into each other. “Yes. I know that. I hate breaking the rules, but sometimes …”

“Sometimes rules are designed to keep us quiet and obedient,” he finished her sentence.

She nodded, unable to speak. Snape simply returned her look, holding her captive with the slightest hint of a smile. There was an understanding between them now, something beyond just being teacher and student. He recognised her worth and saw that she was more mature than her friends, maybe even than most of the Order. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but she knew he thought like that.

He let go of her shoulder and carefully put his hands left and right of her head. The air turned suddenly thick around them as the shadows grew. Was he closer now? Did he tilt his head? She felt the urge to close her eyes and lean into him, but she forced herself to stay alert.

“Miss Granger.” His voice was almost silent. “You should keep these thoughts to yourself. Don’t share them with anyone else. Be wary of your friends and the Order. It would be a shame if this would drive a wedge between you and them. And if you ever feel the need to do something like enchant a parchment with a dark curse again.” He leaned down until his lips were almost touching her ear. “Come to me. I’ll help you.”

She bit her lip and nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

She could feel the heat through his dark robes, he was so close. She just needed to turn her head a little bit and she would be able to press her lips to his cheek. He still hovered over her, his nose almost buried in her neck, his hands caging her in. She heard what he said loud and clear, but all her thoughts were focused on her one desperate wish.

She wanted to kiss him.

Then, he exhaled, his breath feathering over her neck, and stepped back, dropping his hands. Her heart throbbed with disappointment, even though she knew that he would never allow for anything to happen between them. He was too honourable and probably didn’t even think of her like that.

“If you want to speak to me about similar matters, please seek me out after dinner. During the day, during class, we cannot be seen together.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, professor. You already told me. I’ll be good and pretend like nothing ever happened.”

He smiled brightly and for a second, she thought that he would call her a good girl again. But then he just nodded and turned away, leaving her alone in the now completely dark alcove of the corridor.

“Keep it together,” she admonished herself.

Her silly little crush was just a one-sided fantasy. She knew that. He was her professor and he would never see any student that way. He would probably be horrified if he knew what she dreamed about deep at night.

But that wouldn’t stop her from dreaming.

***

The very next morning, all of Hermione’s excitement went out the window. She had stolen a quick, furtive glance at Professor Snape during breakfast, but instantly regretted it. His face looked thunderous. She had to look away quickly again, as his glare turned towards the Gryffindor table repeatedly. Only, he wasn’t looking at her, but at Harry.

“They really made that hag headmaster,” Ginny grumbled next to her as she read through the announcement letter every seat held this morning.

“We need the DA now more than ever, but I don’t know where we can meet now that she knows about the Room of Requirements,” Ron mumbled around a huge piece of toast in his mouth.

To Hermione’s surprise, Harry didn’t say anything to that. She narrowed her eyes. He looked pale and very obviously avoided looking at the teacher’s table. Something had happened between him and Professor Snape, she was sure of it.

On their way to herbology, she pulled him aside. “Spill it, Harry.”

He almost stumbled over his own feet. “Wh–what?”

“You said yesterday that Professor Snape felt like you no longer needed Occlumency lessons, so he let you go early. But the way he glared at you just now and your very obvious nervousness tells me that was a lie. So. What’s really going on?”

He shot her a dark look. “You always go on and on about Snape. Ever since he started awarding you house points, you always take his side.”

A knot formed in her stomach. Professor Snape had been very clear that nobody could know about their private conversations, so she was stepping on very thin ice here. “Professor Snape is the best asset the Order has at the moment. If you ruined your Occlumency lessons with your usual stupidity, everyone will suffer. You know you cannot allow Voldemort into your head.”

“Well, then, maybe he should grow up!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry’s mouth was pressed into a hard line and for a moment, Hermione thought that the angry side of Harry that had dominated the first half of the school year was back again. But then he let out a deep, exhausted sigh and stopped walking.

“Okay, so, I messed up,” he admitted. “Snape always stores his memories away in a Pensieve before the lessons and I got lucky today that he left me alone in his office with the Pensieve not locked away. So I … took a look.”

Her heart nearly stopped. Harry of all people saw Professor Snape’s memories? What if he saw them together? With her thoughts racing, she urged him on. “Was it bad?”

His shoulders sagged down. “He … he was bullied at school. By my father. And Sirius and Remus.”

Her relief that Harry didn’t mention her was short lived. “Bullied?”

Harry rubbed his neck. “Yeah. It looked really bad. And I think … I think he might have been in love with my mother.”

“In love?” Hermione could barely speak.

She knew she had no right to him, but she couldn’t help it. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been emptied over her head. He had been in love with Lily Potter, the woman that everyone in the Order talked so highly of. Perfect, beautiful Lily.

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged helplessly. “I think they were friends at the very least. But there was this one memory … they were bullying him really badly and she saw it and told them to stop. She was really angry with them. They actually stopped, but Snape didn’t like that. He … he called her a mudblood.”

Another hit. A mudblood. She of course knew that Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater before he turned spy for the Order. That’s why he was even able to spy in the first place. But that had been theoretical. Just an abstract concept. Hearing that he actually thought of witches like her as mudbloods hurt. It hurt so much.

“Anyway. Snape caught me and told me to never come back. And that I am not allowed to tell anyone.”

She struggled for a long moment to find her footing again. She couldn’t let Harry see how much that revelation affected her. She motioned him to continue their way to herbology.

“He has every right to be angry with you, Harry,” she told him in her best know-it-all voice. “You know that was wrong.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t!” Harry barked out. “But those are all old memories. Shouldn’t he be the mature one here and let it go? Dumbledore trusted him to teach me and now he won’t because of something that happened years ago!”

“No, it is because of something that happened yesterday. You broke his trust.” She sighed and shook her head. As much as she could understand why Professor Snape was angry with Harry, she couldn’t deny that stopping the lessons altogether was not the right move.

“I’ll talk to him.” She gave Harry a tight smile.

“You? Why do you think he’d listen to you?”

“I think he would listen to you as well, if you could stop being an arse for one second. He is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He knows how important it is that you master Occlumency. Especially now that Professor Dumbledore is gone and we’re even more vulnerable than before. It is too risky to leave you unprotected, even though what you did was inexcusable.”

She could see that Harry wanted to say something back, but then he too shook his head. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I guess I was a bit happy to be done with it, you know? Occlumency sucks.”

Hermione saw Professor Sprout walk over to their assigned greenhouse and picked up the pace. Despite everything, she didn’t want to be late.

“I hate the thought that my dad did something like that.”

“I understand that part,” she mused. “I can’t really believe it either. Remus just doesn’t seem like the type. Though I have to admit, Sirius does have a streak in him that reminds me of the twins. To them, it probably was just harmless pranks.”

“But it wasn’t,” Harry insisted. “I know what bullying is like. Pranks are fun for everyone. Bullying isn’t fun.”

She shot him a sympathetic glance. “Why don’t you write Sirius and ask about it? He was there after all, and I think he would be honest with you.”

Harry nodded along, but she could see that he wasn’t convinced. Professor Sprout started the class before he had the chance to reply, and Hermione was grateful for it. As much as this whole revelation was about Harry, she struggled to let go of her own feelings.

She was unfair and stupid and probably read way too much into something that happened before she was even born. She had promised Professor Snape that she wasn’t immature after Christmas. He praised her for it. Just yesterday, he implied that he saw her as more of an adult than most members of the Order.

She balled her fists. What she felt right now, this hurt and confusion, was just the emotional reactions of a teenager. Her crush was one-sided anyway. As a mature woman, she would not let Harry’s mother or Professor Snape’s past comments affect her actions. No. She would keep this new knowledge to herself and not burden the professor with her hormonal overreactions.

She focused her eyes on Professor Sprout again. She was in class and it was important to pay attention right now. Everything else didn’t matter.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t stop looking at her. How did this problem get worse and worse when he spent so much effort keeping her at arm’s length? Just last week, he had very explicitly told her how little he approved of her use of dark magic to enchant the sign-up parchment for their supposed study group.

The conversation was a little fuzzy in his mind, as many things were since the summer, but he left her with the distinct impression that she understood his meaning. So why did he now suddenly struggle to keep his eyes away from her?

It almost felt like there was a connection to her. If he was the sentimental type, he would describe it as a bond.

But there wasn’t. Because she was his student, someone he was trusted with, and she was Potter’s best friend on top of that. Whatever he felt, he needed to make sure it died before it grew arms and legs and dragged him down to hell.

He ignored her during class, despite her best efforts to wave her hand through the air whenever he asked a question. Of course, that had never discouraged her before and it didn’t today. It only made it obvious to everyone what he was doing.

With a snarl, he closed his book and dismissed the class early.

He probably should have seen it coming that Hermione Granger would stay back. He was tempted to just leave her and flee to his private quarters, but that would have been utterly ridiculous. She probably just wanted to ask some inane question about the homework assignment anyway.

“I’m sorry, Professor Snape,” she started and he instantly saw that this would not be about homework. “I know you told me not to approach you during the day, but I told Harry I’d talk to you and it would seem strange if I did that after dinner.”

He frowned. He couldn’t recall ever forbidding her from talking to him, but he had obviously done so. He should congratulate his earlier self. He had noticed that she never asked questions after class anymore, but thought nothing of it.

“Save the excuse and spit it out,” he grunted.

She paled a little, but continued on. “I heard from Harry that you ended the Occlumency lessons. I think I–”

“That is not up for discussion,” Snape snarled. Of course, the boy had talked. How could he have ever expected Potter to keep a secret if he thought it right to dig through another person’s Pensieve?

“I understand, truly, I do, sir. I just think that Harry still needs it. We all need it.”

She seemed to shrink under his glare, but didn’t run away. He curled his lips into a cruel smile. “Of course, Hermione Granger thinks she has all the answers and thus, the whole world should bend to her will. How ignorant of me to have a different opinion. Tell me, Miss Granger, did you enjoy the tales Potter told you about the exploits of his father? I bet you found them just riveting.”

She gasped, but then her eyes settled into a cold determination that he had never seen on her before. “He told me nothing of the sort. I only know that he looked into your Pensieve and believe me, I scolded him for it. That was stupid and wrong and very childish. I would expect you to give him detention every day for the rest of the year.” She stepped closer to him and poked one finger into his chest. “What I didn’t expect was that you would forsake him so easily. Professor Dumbledore has made it very clear to Harry how important it is that he learns to close his mind. If he thinks it’s important, it should be all our priorities. What you are doing is just as childish. Harry needs you, professor.”

He could feel his blood run cold. She talked to him in such a familiar fashion and professed her opinion so confidently, he wanted to deny every single word that she said. She had no idea how deep the wound left by James Potter truly was, and she talked about it as though she held all the wisdom in the world.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly downcast and her posture no longer full of confidence. “You have every right to stop the Occlumency lessons. I just fear for our future. Harry hasn’t talked about this to Professor Dumbledore or even Sirius, but he still dreams of Voldemort regularly. I just have this … sense of impending doom. As though it is only a matter of time until Voldemort finds a way to exploit this strange connection. Harry really, desperately needs you, sir. Please.”

Something within him came alive at her quiet plea. Severus swallowed. Hermione Granger stood before him, vulnerable, honest, contrite, and asked him for help. And instead of relenting and admitting that yes, Harry Potter really did need Occlumency lessons, he wanted to grab her and push her down and make her beg for something else entirely.

He involuntarily took a step back. He could feel it growing within him, this urge to hurt her.

He closed his eyes and erected his own Occlumency shields. Only when he was sure that he no longer felt anything did he dare to open his eyes again.

She was still there, waiting patiently for his answer. Ignorant to the danger she had just narrowly escape.

“Tell Potter to come to my classroom after dinner. If he manages a sufficient apology, I might be convinced to continue.”

Granger beamed at him. Her whole face lit up with a grateful smile that he did not deserve. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I will make sure he knows how to apologise properly, I promise! I’ll make him grovel in front of you! He deserves a little humiliation after all.”

Humiliation. Even through his shields, his treacherous mind conjured up images of her humiliation. His hand moved on its own, reaching out towards her, ready to grab her and throw her to the ground.

He gasped and turned away. “You may leave now, Miss Granger.”

She thanked him again, but then her soft footsteps told him that she finally exited the classroom. Only when he was sure that she was well out of reach did he let go of his Occlumency shields. A faint echo of the urge made him tremble, but he no longer felt out of control.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he balled his hands into fists.

He had avoided it so far but he knew, he could not let this go on for much longer. Whatever was wrong with him, it now threatened the well-being of a student. As much as he feared her judgement, he needed to ask Poppy for help.

If someone could figure out what was wrong with his mind, it was her.

~*~

For all his cleverness, Severus Snape was truly desperate to be blind. Voldemort couldn’t help the smug grin as he entered his head again. Of course, the school nurse couldn’t find anything wrong with his head. As easy as it was for Voldemort to slip in, as quickly he could leave again. Once Severus formed the decision to seek help, he left him alone.

Two weeks and three examinations later, and Severus was convinced that he was the problem. He turned a blind eye to what should have been glaringly obvious. That the urge to take Hermione Granger was not his own.

Though, it had only taken the smallest of nudges to make him lose all sense. Maybe Severus did feel something for the mudblood.

No matter. Things had progressed smoothly in the ministry while he played with his new toy. The minister for magic was as useless as ever, and Dolores Umbridge, that uptight little toad, was primed to throw her lot with the Death Eaters. Once the public was ready to acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord, his victory would be swift.

Before he could show himself though, he first had to secure that unfortunate prophecy. He never gave much stock to divination, but he knew that true prophecies were not to be trifled with. He needed to know what it said, but he had no way to access the ministry without risking exposure.

Good thing that Potter was still as hopeless as ever at Occlumency. If anything, the lessons with Severus made it worse. He now thought he could keep others out of his head, even though their connection was still strong. It would be easy to plant a false vision.

But first, he needed to play with Hermione Granger a bit more. The school year would be ending soon, and once she was outside of Hogwarts, she would be outside his reach until she returned to school. He needed her utterly in love with Severus so she wouldn’t revert back to her old, innocent self over the summer weeks.

He approached the witch while she was sitting near the Great Lake, all alone, nose buried in a textbook. The setting sun bathed her in a reddish golden light that made her look almost ethereal. Voldemort smiled to himself. She was pretty enough; it would be delicious when he finally got to take away the last bit of her innocence.

“You shouldn’t be out on the grounds alone, Miss Granger.”

She almost dropped her book as her head whipped around. “Professor Snape!”

He inclined his head in greeting and sat down on the sun-dried grass next to her. The blush that instantly spread over her cheeks was a most welcome sight.

“Why are you alone?” He didn’t look at her as he asked that, and gave his voice a bored tone. This witch needed to feel like she was the one pushing the relationship, he knew that.

“With the O.W.L.s looming for us and N.E.W.T.s for others, the library is a bit too loud this time of year. And I like the sun.”

He hummed. “That explains why you’re outside, but not why you’re alone.”

“Well, okay, point taken.” She clearly scrambled for some excuse, but then she huffed and put the book away, turning her body fully to him. “If you must know, it’s because Harry and Ron are both insufferable. Ron can’t stop talking about the match against Ravenclaw and how he won us the Quidditch Cup with his great plays. And Harry has been off since …” She stopped in the middle of the sentenced and flushed even deeper red.

Voldemort chuckled silently. It was very obvious that Potter had shared the contents of the Pensieve with the witch, even though Severus chose to believe her when she denied it. He inched closer and arranged his face into a warm smile.

“It’s okay, Miss Granger. I know he told you, even though you lied about it.”

“Of course, you knew,” she muttered to herself before she dared to look at him again. “Well, if it’s out in the open anyway … Harry actually really took that to heart. And I don’t think Sirius and Remus helped when he talked to them about it. They pretend like they were little kids, even though they were as old as we are now.”

He deliberately splayed one hand on the grass right next to her thigh as he pretended to shift his weight. He could see her eyes flick downwards for just a breath, before she stared back into his eyes very intently.

“Potter still believes that good people only do good,” he explained very slowly. “If someone does something bad, to him, that is a bad person. That is why he has such a hard time with a memory that has nothing to do with him.”

She grinned half-heartedly. “You know him surprisingly well even though you hate him.”

If only she knew how well he understood the boy. “I spent the past months invading his brain, Miss Granger. I would be a very poor Legilimens if I didn’t know him well after that.”

This time, she actually laughed. “That is a surprisingly obvious answer.”

“I’m sorry your friends are giving you a hard time,” he whispered quietly after some minutes had passed. “They are all dunderheads in my eyes. Any student under seventeen is a headache.”

She cocked her head. “Even I?”

He held her gaze, putting all the warmth he could muster into his eyes. Then, ever so slowly, he closed a little bit more of the distance between them. He could hear her breath hitch. See her pupils dilate. Feel her body heat up. She didn’t move at all, but the yearning was all over her.

“You will always be different, Miss Granger,” he purred. “Your sharp mind, your willingness to dive into the Dark Arts, your emotional maturity. It makes you special, even if no one else can see it.”

She made a choking sound and he was very sure that she just swallowed a moan. She was ready for him, a blushing apple, begging to be plucked. He licked his lips and relished the way her eyes tracked the movement.

Then, he got up and settled Snape’s face into a carefully crafted mask of discomfort. He stayed like that for a moment while he listened to Hermione’s heavy breathing. When he felt that enough time had passed, he looked back down at her.

“Good luck with your O.W.L.s, Miss Granger. I cannot wait to see what you accomplish next year.”

He almost growled at the sharp little gasp that came from her. She would turn seventeen at the start of the next year, he knew it, she knew it, and he knew that she knew that he knew it. He wanted to devour her right then and there, eager little witch, but it was not the time.

Nor the body.

He inclined his head once more before he turned around and slowly walked back to the castle.

The whole way along the lake, he could feel her eyes burn into his back.

Chapter Text

“Voldemort’s got Sirius.”

Hermione gasped. She had feared the worst when Harry pulled Ron and her into an empty class room, but this was worse than she expected.

“How do you know that?” Ron asked, sounding just as shocked as she felt.

“Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam.”

All the blood drained from her face. If that was true, they were in deep trouble. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. “But where? And how did you see it?”

“I dunno how. But I know exactly where. There’s a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they’re at the end of row ninety-seven. He’s trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there.” Harry’s voice grew panicked. “He’s torturing him. Says he’ll end by killing him!”

Before Hermione could interject, he grabbed both their hands. “How’re we going to get there?”

She gently pulled her hand away from him. “Harry, please take a moment to breathe. Think this through. Does it really make sense that Voldemort has Sirius? How would that have even happened?”

“Sirius might have cracked and just wanted some fresh air,” Ron suggested weakly. “You know how he hates that he can’t leave the house.”

“Exactly!” Harry eagerly agreed. “If Voldemort had someone stationed outside, just waiting to grab whoever left, he could have easily snatched him.”

Hermione nervously ran her hands through her hair. If both Ron and Harry agreed, there was little she could do, she knew that. But she had to try. “And if this is all a ploy to get you to the Department of Mysteries?”

“Then I don’t care!” Harry roared. “He’s got Sirius and I need to help him!”

“That’s not what I meant. What if he doesn’t have Sirius? What if this vision is not real?”

“She got a point, mate.”

“You don’t get it!” Harry was shaking in anger. “These are not just dreams! What do you think all the Occlumency was for? You even convinced Snape to continue! Why do you think Dumbledore wanted to prevent me from seeing these things? Because they are real, Hermione. Sirius is trapped, I’ve seen it. Voldemort’s got him and no one else knows, and that means no one else can save him. If you don’t want to help, fine, but I’m going!”

The door to the classroom opened and revealed Ginny, who looked very anxious, and Luna, who looked as serene as ever. Hermione cursed under her breath. The more people Harry pulled into this, the more likely he was going to do something stupid.

Ron and Harry explained to the other two girls what had happened, while Hermione feverishly thought through the whole issue. The more she mulled it over in her head, the more convinced she was that this was in fact a trap by Voldemort, and that Sirius was completely fine.

“Okay, look, Harry,” she hesitantly said, “If Sirius is in danger, we need to act. But please, let us first check whether he’s at Grimmauld Place. If he is there, we know that this is a trap.”

“We’re wasting time!” Harry shot back.

The other three agreed with her and to Hermione’s relief, Harry finally relented. They quickly decided to use Umbridge’s fireplace to connect with Grimmauld Place. Harry would sneak in using his cloak, while the rest staged distractions and guarded the office.

“What are you doing?” Ron shouted to her as she split up from the group.

“I’ll check on something else. We don’t all need to go. I’ll meet you at Umbridge’s office in fifteen minutes, I promise!”

Before anyone else could protest, she sprinted in the opposite direction, down the stairs, to the dungeon. Professor McGonagall had been transferred to St Mungo’s this morning after taking four Stunning Spells to the chest trying to protect Hagrid from Umbridge and her goons. With the headmaster gone, that left only one person in the castle who could help.

Though she would have went to him anyway.

Breathing heavily, she knocked on his door. It took only a couple of seconds until a thunderous looking Snape opened. “What?”

She slipped into his office despite his best efforts to keep her out. “We need your help, sir. Harry believes that Voldemort has taken Sirius to the Department of Mysteries and is about to kill him. A vision he had.”

His eyes narrowed. “A vision?”

“Yes, yes. I don’t believe it’s real. It just screams trap to me and we both know that he’s still rubbish at Occlumency. But he won’t listen. Do you have any way of contacting Sirius? I just need some proof that he’s alright!”

He stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes giving nothing away. Then he gave a short nod. “Okay. Please step outside for a moment, Miss Granger.”

“Why?”

He glared at her. “Because I ask you to.”

She hastily followed his command, even though she didn’t understand it. Outside the door, she held her breath and strained her ears to listen to whatever he was doing inside. She was sure he heard him murmur “Expecto Patronum” but whatever he said afterwards was too quiet. With a heavily beating heart, she wondered why Snape didn’t want her to see his Patronus.

The door opened again, and this time, he motioned her to enter. Then, he closed the door behind them and pressed her against the wood. His eyes were dark pools of concern.

“I know that nothing you or I can say would dissuade Potter from going to Black. He’s too stubborn and blind for that. My Patronus will probably not return in time before he gets impatient.” His hands left her shoulders and balled into fists next to her head. “But I implore you, do not go with him. If this is a trap, you will be in more danger than anyone else.”

“Because I’m a mudblood,” she whispered, unable to breathe.

“Yes.” He didn’t correct her on the word. “You have a good heart and want to protect him. But whatever this is, it will not end well for you.”

She should be worried about Harry. She should run back to him right now and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Instead, her mind was caught on that one word, and how Professor Snape didn’t even flinch or mind her using it. The pain in her chest had nothing to do with her sprint down the stairs.

But he cared for her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t warn her like that. She could read it in his eyes. This was her open, honest Snape who allowed her to actually see behind his cold mask.

“I need to go,” she pressed out through gritted teeth.

He didn’t move away instantly. Instead, his hands uncurled again and slid down the length of her arms. She shivered involuntarily, caught in how intimate it felt. His hands were warm and firm, gliding over her blouse with an insistent touch. Like he wanted to pull her close. Like he wanted to rip the fabric away.

Then, he sighed and stepped away. “Just think about what I said. Good luck, Miss Granger.”

When she turned around, she missed the triumphant smirk on his lips.

***

Going back up the stairs, all the way to Umbridge’s office, took Hermione longer than she would have wished. But when she rounded the corner to the corridor, she realised that it was a good thing she lost so much time on the way.

The door stood wide open, and all her friends, including, for some reason, Neville, were held at wand point by the inquisitorial squad while Umbridge slapped Harry across the face.

They had obviously been caught.

Cursing, she ducked back around the corner and cowered down. She had to free them, but what could she even do against so many of them? She risked another glance towards the office. Umbridge stood in the middle of the room, speaking down to Harry. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini held Ginny, Luna, Ron, and Neville in their arms, wands pressed against their throats.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was not impossible. She had the surprise on her side, and she knew that none of the Slytherins were very quick with their magic. The bigger issue was that she didn’t want anyone to know what she was about to do. She had to be subtle, otherwise Harry and Ron would be very mad at her.

With her heartbeat rushing loudly in her ears, she slowly stood up and peered around the corner. The scene was still the same.

She could do this. She had to do this.

Hermione lifted her wand and pointed it at Umbridge. “Imperio.”

She let all her willpower flow into the spell, forcing it to hit. It only took one blink, then she felt the connection to Umbridge’s mind. The witch noticed it instantly and struggled to shake her off, but Hermione didn’t let go. Bit by bit, she subdued the other woman’s mind.

When she was done, only a second had passed, though it felt to her like she had struggled for ages.

“Let’s try something else, then, shall we?” Umbridge’s high pitched voice rang out. “Squad, release them. You all, line up in front of the door. Malfoy, if anyone tries running, you’re allowed to use any force necessary to stop them.”

She listened as several pairs of feet shuffled through the office. When everything went quiet again, she dared another glance. Everything looked exactly as she hoped. Malfoy and his friends stood on one side of the huge desk, directly in front of the windows, while her friends stood on the far opposite side at the door. They almost blocked the view through the door, allowing her to come out of hiding.

Trembling, she let go of her Imperius and instead channelled all her power into the next curse.

“Confringo!”

She watched with bated breath as the fiery curse barrelled towards the door, slipping just between Neville’s and Luna’s head, and then exploded in a hot ball right inside the office. Harry, who stood furthest inside the room, was thrown back and took everyone else with him. They fell onto each other, cursing and screaming, but it was nothing compared to the impact it had on the Slytherins.

Hermione didn’t wait a second. She sprinted towards them and helped them onto their feet. Ron stared at her wide-eyed, but said nothing as they all scrambled away. Behind them, Malfoy cried out in pain as flames licked on his legs. Umbridge, who had stood in the middle of the room, where the curse hit, lay on the floor and didn’t move.

She swallowed and pushed that thought out of her mind. None of them deserved any better. They would delight in torture any day, and Umbridge had not hesitated to hurt even first year students. If that curse killed her, it was only fair.

Coughing and limping, they tumbled down the stairs until they felt safe to stop and rest in an empty classroom. Hermione instantly was on Harry, who seemed the most hurt. She could see him bleeding from a wound on his forehead, and she was sure that a few of his hairs were burnt. But other than that, nothing serious seemed to have happened to any of them.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Ron exclaimed after he was able to breathe again. “Scary, really, but brilliant.”

“Thank you, Hermione. I don’t know how we could’ve gotten out of there.” Harry sagged down on a chair and let her heal his wound.

“It was a helpful coincidence that Professor Umbridge ordered us out of the way right before your curse hit,” Luna said serenely.

Hermione blanched and looked around, but nobody seemed to think it suspicious. She shook her head. Of course, her friends would never expect her to use an Unforgivable. They were all too good to even consider it.

“Did you have any luck with Grimmauld Place?”

Harry balled his fists. “No. Only Kreacher was there and he said Sirius wasn’t home. He didn’t say it explicitly, but I think he knows Sirius is at the ministry.”

“Shit,” she hissed. She still couldn’t believe this was real, but she knew, with this information, there was no stopping Harry from going after Sirius.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go get him!” It was Neville of all people who said that.

Everyone nodded eagerly, despite Harry’s protest that they shouldn’t risk their lives for him. Hermione sat there and listened to the argument, caught up in what Professor Snape had said to her and what she knew was right.

None of the five would ever understand what it meant to be a muggleborn in this society. They only saw the danger that they might get hurt, but Hermione just knew, if a Death Eater saw her, he would try to kill her. Professor Snape was very much right with warning her.

But she knew she couldn’t let them go alone. They needed someone that was ready to do anything to help them escape if things went south. And she couldn’t bear the thought that Harry or Ron would think of her as a coward.

So, against her better judgement, she found herself riding invisible Thestrals next to them, dreading the trap they were all just about to walk into.

Chapter Text

She should have listened to Snape.

That thought dominated her brain as she raced through the many shelves, Harry and Neville closely behind her. Where Ron, Ginny, and Luna were, she did not know. She just prayed they were still unharmed.

It was a trap. Of course it was, but Harry had been too stubborn to admit it, even when Sirius was nowhere to be found. Instead, he had to follow his curiosity and grab that stupid glass ball—the prophecy about him and Voldemort.

They didn’t stand a chance when the Death Eaters fell upon them.

As much as Harry trained them all, Hermione realised that she never actually fought for her life before. The adrenaline coursing through her veins, the constant running, the darkness of the department, it all made her mind go fuzzy. How was she to think of a plan when all she felt was utter terror.

Several Death Eaters in their black robes were behind them, throwing curses at them that so far missed. She didn’t know most of them, but one face among them stood out clearly.

Antonin Dolohov.

Professor Snape’s warnings were still clear in her head. If she ever faced him, she should not even try a Protego. She should not try to fight him. She could only run.

Worst of all, the mad Bellatrix Lestrange had instantly recognised her as a mudblood.

“Harry, the door!” Hermione yelled. Just a few metres ahead, a door led out of this maze of shelves.

He reached it first, turning the handle and almost stumbling as it swung open without resistance. She raced through and once Neville was in as well, they shut the door quickly.

“Colloportus,” Harry shouted. The door locked with a strange squelching sound and a second later, they could hear three bodies crash into it on the other side.

“That won’t hold them for long,” she wheezed as she held her stinging side.

“There’s another door here!” Neville called out.

Harry tried it and to their relief, it also opened. Before she followed the two boys, Hermione risked a look back over her shoulders. Just in that moment, the other door exploded into a thousand tiny splinters.

Dolohov stared at her from the other end of the room. She saw his wand slash through the air and just knew that she was doomed.

“Silencio,” she screamed, desperately hoping that it would stop whatever curse he sent against her.

The next moment, purple flames burst forth from her chest. She couldn’t even cry out before she hit the floor. The magic of the curse ate into her flesh, ripped her open, gnawing and slashing and growing. She saw Dolohov close the distance, just as she saw Harry grab Neville and run.

Everything hurt but the only sound that left her lips was a muted groan.

The Death Eater’s eyes were murderous as he kneeled down and hovered over her. The Silencing Charm still affected him, but she didn’t need to hear his words to know what he wanted to say. His hand grabbed her blouse and shredded it, leaving her exposed to his hungry eyes.

“Incarcerous!”

Out of nowhere, another voice rang out, deep and domineering. She would know it anywhere.

A mass of black robes pulled her up and into strong arms. “Miss Granger!”

He came. Even though he hated Harry, even though he thought of her as a mudblood, he was here. Rescuing her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before everything went black.

~*~

Severus Snape stood next to the hospital bed stoically. Poppy was working on the superficial wounds Dolohov’s curse had left, but he knew, the medi-witch was out of her depth. This curse was too dark, too obscure for her to know how to fix it.

Still, he watched and waited. Once she left, he would be able to get to work. Nobody could know that he was healing Miss Granger. It would only raise questions among the uninitiated staff, and would certainly get back to the Dark Lord. He couldn’t risk that.

Finally, Poppy stowed away her wand. “That’s all I can do for her. I don’t know what dark magic this is, Severus. I can only hope what I did was enough.”

She patted his arm and then left him alone with her. He waited until her footsteps died away before he drew his wand.

The purple tendrils had already penetrated deep into the flesh of her chest. He closed his eyes and reached out with his own magic. Dolohov’s spellwork felt alien to him, unnatural. As he went about to contain the purple, he realised with a shudder that he did not actually know how to heal this. He could only stop the spread.

The skin between her breasts was ripped open and still oozing something that was not quite pus. The flesh looked almost burned. He didn’t dare to imagine the pain she felt when the curse hit her. He did what he could, but finally had to relent that he was unable to cure her. With a silent curse, he sank down onto a chair.

A part of him felt guilty. As though it was his responsibility to keep Miss Granger safe. That was nonsense, of course, but he couldn’t shake the terrible nausea that assaulted him whenever he remembered how he found her.

Dolohov crawling over her, his eyes lecherous, her clothes torn. Nobody should ever experience that.

Least of all an innocent witch like her.

Something deep within him throbbed and he could feel his mind start to grow fuzzy. He knew this feeling all too well by now. This urge to do something he wouldn’t normally do.

He tried to fight it, but he was powerless. He blinked and suddenly stood right next to her again. His hand moved, reaching out to her, until it was splayed just under her heart, barely not grazing her naked breasts. He could feel the heated, torn flesh under his fingertips.

With his next breath, magic surged through him and into her body. From somewhere that was not him, healing energy washed over Miss Granger’s unconscious body. It pulsed and throbbed, weaving around the purple, dispelling it. For every millimetre the magic conquered from the purple, the curse clawed back at him. He could feel it flow into him, as though seeking a new target.

He gritted his teeth and allowed the hated fuzziness to take over completely. For the first time, he did not fight it.

Half an hour later, he collapsed. His chest collided with the mattress, his hand still between her breasts, and the world grew dark around him.

~*~

Healing Hermione had temporarily taken his mind off the colossal fuck up that was the mission in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort still couldn’t understand how Lucius managed to let the prophecy slip through his fingers. How several of his trusted Death Eaters were bested by children and then fell to the Order.

He never intended to go out himself. But when Bella reported that Dumbledore appeared on the scene, he knew he had no other choice.

With a curse, he smashed the cup he was holding to the ground. Narcissa right next to him shook, but wisely kept quiet. What her husband did the night before was inexcusable.

Several of his Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban and a Minister for Magic that announced the return of the Dark Lord before it was time. That was all this cursed night amounted to. Everything he had planned, all the little cogs he had silently set in motion in the ministry, it was all for nothing now.

Harry Potter still lived and the full contents of the prophecy were still unknown.

“When your son returns from school, we will have a word,” he hissed to the Malfoy woman. “If his father can’t execute the tasks I give him, the son will have to step up. Make sure he knows failure is not an option.”

Narcissa bowed her head, trembling hands clasped together. “Of course, my lord.”

He stormed out of the hall and back to the master bedroom he had claimed for himself. What he needed now was time. Time to adjust his plans, time to examine the damage.

As he stood alone in his room, eyes closed, naked feet buried in the soft carpet, a vision flashed through his mind. Hermione Granger, telling Severus all the secrets nobody else could coax out of Potter. Hermione Granger, studying the Dark Arts under her Potions professor, more and more enthralled by the power they gave her.

Hermione Granger, realising that Dumbledore was just a scheming old fool who did not care for anyone but himself. How she could drip poison into Potter’s ears. How she could alienate him from the Order, make him feel alone and weak.

Hermione Granger, seeing him, Lord Voldemort, for the first time and not recoiling in disgust, but rather welcoming his touch. Opening herself to him. Offering her innocence until he split her open and filled her up.

He rolled his wand between his fingers. Hermione Granger was a variable that he had not fully explored yet. It was more a fun game he played, something to amuse himself with and to torture Severus. But now, with everything in shambles, perhaps it was time to actually use her.

He should thank Antonin once he was out of Azkaban. First, he would of course punish him for even entertaining the thought of taking what was rightfully the Dark Lord’s. But thanks to his creative curse, Hermione Granger would need to spend the summer at Hogwarts. In close proximity of Severus.

She would be all alone, anxious and in pain. Severus would take such good care of her.

~*~

Unbearable heat throbbed in her lungs. Hermione wanted to scream, but her throat felt raw and swollen, muffling any sound. She swallowed thickly, trying to banish the strange dryness in her mouth. Even her tongue felt like carpet.

It took her almost more strength than she had to open her eyes. Bright daylight greeted her and made her wince in pain, but she forced herself to keep the eyes open. Slowly, she recognised the pale linen of the curtains that enclosed every bed in the hospital wing.

The events from before she lost consciousness rushed back to her. Panicked, she tried to sit up, but the muscles in her upper body refused to cooperate. The groaned softly. Somehow, she felt like a heavy weight pressed her down onto the mattress.

Her eyes travelled further down—and with a jerk, she noticed the huge hand splayed between her breasts, right where it hurt the most. Her breath hitched.

Severus Snape sat in a chair next to her bed, his hand resting on her body. He was fast asleep, but the hand provided a warmth and safety that transcended even his consciousness.

Hermione was sure that he did not know where his hand was, or what the tips of his fingers almost touched. Despite her pain, despite her worry for her friends, she couldn’t help the blush that spread from her cheeks down her neck all the way to her décolleté. She had dreamed of his touch for so long.

She must have made a noise, because suddenly, he was awake and staring at her with those dark, unyielding eyes. For several heartbeats, they both just gazed at each other. Then, just as suddenly, he seemed to become aware of where his hand was resting.

He jerked it away and got up from the chair. “I apologise, Miss Granger. I must have lost consciousness while healing you.”

She almost told him that she didn’t mind, but swallowed that inappropriate comment before it left her lips. She opened her mouth to thank him, but instead of words, she only managed a pitiful croak.

“Of course, your throat must hurt. The curse has attacked everything in your chest and travelled upwards before you were brought here.” He looked around until he found a glass of water on the little table next to her bed. “You should try and drink, even if it is just a small sip.”

Hermione looked up at him as he stood there with the glass in his hand. She couldn’t sit up to drink, and she had no way of telling him. Embarrassment coursed through her as she helplessly tried to communicate through her eyes that she would need his support to sit up. He just glared at her with one eyebrow raised, obviously getting impatient.

“Well, sit up,” he barked.

Before she could die of mortification, the curtain was drawn and Madame Pomfrey came into view.

“Ah, Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise to see you awake.” She looked at Professor Snape who still held the glass. “And what a surprise to see you still here, Severus. Give me the glass, Miss Granger will need a little assistance if she wants to drink.”

She resolutely pushed the wizard out of the way and grabbed Hermione with practised hands. Once she was carefully settled into a sitting position, Madame Pomfrey slowly tipped the glass to her lips and allowed Hermione two sips before putting it away again.

“We need to go slow,” she explained patiently. “The damage to your body was extensive. We don’t want you to overexert yourself. I will make sure you get all the hydration and nutrients you need for healing, you just make sure you rest, okay, deary? I am sorry to say that you will need to stay here for some weeks. We have already sent an owl to your parents to let them know about it.”

Hermione nodded. She was glad to hear that her parents weren’t kept in the dark, but if she was honest, a completely different question was foremost in her mind. The swallowed again and worked her jaw until she finally managed a quiet whisper. “Harry?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, my dear,” Madame Pomfrey quickly said, “everyone else is quite okay. I was able to treat them overnight, so they’re no longer here.”

From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Professor Snape look away. His mouth was set in a thin line and she just knew that something had to have happened that the medi-witch didn’t know about. At least none of the others were hurt. That was the most important thing.

“Come, Severus, let’s give Miss Granger some time to rest.” She gave him a soft push. “You know I need you to stock up some of the potions. She will need a lot of assistance for the long road to recovery.”

He shot her an unreadable look. “I’ll be back later, Miss Granger. I know you have questions, but those must wait until you have rested a bit more.”

She didn’t want him to go. He was the anchor right now, with Harry and Ron missing, he was all she had to hold on to. Where were they, anyway? If it was Harry lying in bed right now, she would rush to his side first thing in the morning. It was morning, right?

Her hand twitched as she tried to reach out to him, but he had already turned his back to her. Frustrated, she closed her eyes. Tears welled up within her, but the pain that shot through her eyes and throat in response quelled them instantly.

She listened to the two pairs of footsteps die away until she was all alone again.

Only the pain remained.