Blank Slate

by Auror Borealis

Chapter 1

They found Severus Snape in the morning, lying in front of the gates to 
the school. He was bruised everywhere, and dried blood matted his skin, 
hair and clothes. His robes were torn and his wand was gone. He was 
breathing, but only just; they were reluctant to move him, for fear that 
it might jar loose that last bit of life to which he clung. Carefully, as 
slowly as barely contained panic would allow, they got him to the hospital 
wing.

Madam Pomfrey worked over him for ten hours before collapsing on the bed 
next to his. He was clean, his bruises and abrasions were healed, and his 
breathing and heartbeat were strong. He still did not wake. For three 
days, he lay somewhere between sleep and death.

"He can never go again," said Dumbledore for perhaps the twentieth time. 
The old wizard's grief was palpable. He knew, they all knew, that each 
time Severus answered the summons, he faced this - or worse. Looking at 
him when they'd found him, it had been hard to imagine worse. But he could 
have been killed, or far, far worse, subjected to a Kiss by a Dementor 
tame to Voldemort's hand.

Until he awoke, they would not know how much he had been harmed. 
Grievously, that was obvious, although most of the physical wounds had 
been healed. He had sustained not one but two blows to the head that left 
him badly concussed, and though Pomfrey had done her best with those, 
there was a limited amount that even magic could do for such injuries. But 
Cruciatus could destroy the mind, if it was applied for long enough. No 
one doubted he had been subjected to that curse at least once during that 
last night with the Dark Lord. The fact that he had been left at Hogwarts' 
gates, alive, hinted that should he live, they could not expect to find 
him intact.

The students were told only that Professor Snape was indisposed, and 
needed time and quiet to recover. But the worry on the faces of the 
teachers was infectious. Even the pupils with whom the Potions Master did 
not get on, which was most of them, fretted at the lack of news about 
Snape's condition. Whispers about 'You-Know-Who' flew around the 
corridors.

At dinner on the fourth day after Snape was found, Professor Dumbledore 
announced that he was largely recovered from his visible wounds, and was 
awake and talking. The Great Hall filled with applause, most of it coming 
from the Slytherin table, but there was relief in the other three houses 
as well. A Snape who was sacked, who decided he'd rather teach elsewhere, 
who gave up teaching altogether to become a lion tamer in a Muggle circus, 
these were things the students could accept with equanimity. The notion of 
a Snape tortured and suffering the aftereffects, which was the most 
prominent theory, was less palatable. Dumbledore went on to say that the 
professor was not quite himself yet, and that other teachers would 
continue to divide the Potions class schedule between themselves for the 
immediate future. What he did not tell the school was that Snape could not 
resume teaching the Potions classes because his knowledge of that subject, 
and of a great many other things, was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"How are you feeling, Severus?" Dumbledore took the chair next to Snape's 
bed and smiled reassuringly.

"I feel very well, Headmaster, thank you."

"Do you remember me yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Dumbledore sighed. Since Snape awakened for the first time the night 
before, and it became clear that there were enormous gaps in his memory, 
the Headmaster had watched closely for signs that some of those lost 
memories were returning. So far Snape had had no trouble retaining new 
memories, such as his reintroductions to the other staff. But the old 
memories showed no sign of resurfacing.

Remus Lupin sat on Snape's other side, a chessboard on the bed between 
them. Severus had retained his knowledge of chess, and his skill at the 
game. Lupin was about to lose his queen, and would be checkmated in six 
moves. Snape could play chess, he could still read and write, his 
knowledge of English had not suffered. But any memories of who he was, and 
any memories relating to the fact that he was a wizard, remained elusive. 
It had come as a shock to find that Snape had no knowledge whatsoever of 
the wizarding world.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"He's awake, Albus!" Madam Pomfrey's head told him from his fireplace. He 
had come right away at the news.

"Severus, my dear boy," the older wizard said, a tear falling down his 
cheek, "I feared we'd truly lost you this time."

The man in the bed regarded him blankly. "I'm sorry. Are we acquainted?"

Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore helplessly from across the bed. They had 
discussed the possibility, even the likelihood of some memory loss. The 
injuries had been extensive, after all. But this was a very nasty shock 
indeed.

"Do you know where you are, Severus?"

"No, I haven't the faintest idea, sorry." Snape broke into a wide grin. 
"But I say... have you seen these paintings? They move."

"Yes, they move," Dumbledore said slowly. Why would Severus point out such 
a thing? "Severus, do you know what happened to your wand?"

"Severus is a rather forbidding name, isn't it? Do they call me anything 
else?"

"The students call you Professor Snape." He didn't think it would be 
helpful to mention what else the students called him.

"Snape? Worse and worse." Severus snorted with mirth. "But I'm a 
professor, eh? Just what do I teach?"

Dumbledore sat down. He looked at Pomfrey again, a question in his eyes. 
She understood, and shook her head. She had told him nothing.

"Your name is Severus Snape. You teach Potions here. You are in the 
hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Snape looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Not me, my boy, thought 
Dumbledore. I'm hoping that yours is not indeed lost, only temporarily 
misplaced.

"And the wand you asked me about - a magic wand, of course?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Snape threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. "I don't know where I 
truly am, but I intend to find out this moment." He strode towards the 
door. It was locked, and he slid back the bolt. As he reached for the 
doorknob, the old man behind him said something in what sounded like 
Latin. The bolt slid home again. Snape jumped back and looked around. The 
old man had a wooden stick out, pointed at the door.

"The lock obviously has a remote button. It could be in that stick, for 
all I know."

Dumbledore pointed the wand at the rumpled bed. A few words, and it was 
replaced by very large, unmistakable water buffalo. Madam Pomfrey squeaked 
with indignation, and Dumbledore transfigured it back into a bed. Snape 
put his hand against the door for support.

"I trust you don't believe that I somehow did that by pushing a button 
somewhere? Now if you would just get back in bed, Severus, I will tell you 
anything that you wish to know."

The shaken man walked hesitantly back to the bed, his eyes wary. "Put that 
thing away, if you don't mind."

The Headmaster pocketed his wand. "Of course. Severus, four days ago, you 
were attacked..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 2

"Severus, it's good to see you up and about!"

"Snape, you're looking well. Will we see you at dinner tonight, then?"

"H-h-hello, Professor Snape!"

"Professor, all of us in Slytherin are really glad to have you back."

All of these people seemed to know him. Some of the adults were friendlier 
than others; most of the children actually seemed afraid of him. That was 
an uncomfortable thought. Although given what I've been seeing in the 
mirror, I guess that's no surprise. I was a bit frightened myself.

The man who'd been playing chess with him for the last few days, Remus 
Lupin, had offered to take him on a tour of the school. It was still 
difficult to believe in all the magic stuff, but there was no denying it 
was an amazing place. They'd gone from the Astronomy Tower down to the 
dungeons, and almost everywhere in between, and still Lupin assured him 
that he hadn't seen a fraction of it.

The dungeons added to the disturbing image of himself that was being 
slowly built up. He was a wizard, that much seemed inescapable. He had 
once done magic; very well, by all accounts. He had no rivals when it came 
to Potions making. Was that anything like chemistry, he wondered. He had 
no close friends, and he was not popular among the students. That red 
haired kid in the house with the lion mascot - Gryffindor? They had such 
funny names for stuff around here - seemed to regard him as the 
Antichrist's evil twin. The black-haired kid with the glasses and that 
awful scar on his forehead didn't like him much better. The girl they hung 
around with was more pleasant, but definitely still distant. And the 
children in Slytherin (that sounds rather Freudian, he thought) seemed 
more intent upon sucking up to him than anything. He didn't get the idea 
that even they genuinely liked him. He'd have to ask the Headmaster about 
it, and hope for a straight answer.

He hadn't gotten off to a very good start with Professor Dumbledore, but 
the man seemed to be a forgiving sort. And he'd had to take back 
everything he'd said about the old man's avant garde attire when he'd 
gotten a look at his own wardrobe. Going for some sort of Goth grunge god 
look, Sev? he asked himself. A dash of Fleetwood Mac, with a little bit of 
Cotton Mather thrown in for irony's sake.

He was beginning to accept the fact that he did belong here, and that his 
memory was playing hide-and-seek with him and winning. Shouldn't at least 
some of it feel familiar, though? And what kind of prick was I - am I - to 
make these children hate me so much? They seem like nice enough kids; I 
must have gotten along with some of them. Didn't I? It really didn't look 
like it.

He felt a headache start in his temples, and move swiftly around to lodge 
itself painfully just above his neck. Remus showed him how to find his own 
rooms, and after looking around in alarm for a few minutes at some of the 
creepiest surroundings he'd ever seen, he doused the candles and sank down 
on to the bed, grateful that it was more comfortable than it looked. He 
fell asleep thinking about the dichotomy between the old fashioned 
atmosphere of Hogwarts, and the amazing things that these people could do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"So you see no sign of his memory returning?"

"No, Headmaster. And I'm not sure that's the worst of it."

"What do you mean, Remus?"

"The memories that he still has - I'm don't think they're entirely his 
own."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 3

Severus found that he had, for the most part, the run of Hogwarts, and 
explored it with great interest. He had tea with that large fellow, 
Hagrid, in his cabin near the Forbidden Forest. The man had actually 
hatched a dragon egg once, and admitted openly that he was half Giant. It 
had been a fascinating afternoon. Lupin seemed very willing to keep him 
company as much as he liked, but he was busy with his own classes, and his 
portion of the divided Potions duties. Severus had asked to observe a 
Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and was treated to a lecture on 
vampires that had him wondering if he'd ever be able to sleep again. One 
day after lunch in the Great Hall, with its amazing view of the sky where 
a ceiling ought to be, he discovered the library, and began spending a 
great deal of his time there. A volume entitled "Quidditch Through The 
Ages" had him spellbound, so to speak, and he couldn't wait to witness an 
actual game. He was reading "Hogwarts: A History" when Hermione Granger 
entered, and set her bag down at another table.

They made eye contact, and he smiled. She looked behind her quickly, then 
returned the smile with a wary expression. Professor Lupin had told her, 
Ron, and Harry more than most of the Hogwarts students knew about the 
changes they could expect to see in Professor Snape, at least temporarily, 
but anything hinting of friendliness from him was still bewildering. She 
saw the name on the cover of his book, and her eyes widened. Her smile 
became more relaxed, and after a moment's consideration, she joined him.

"I thought I was the only one who ever read that," she greeted him.

"I've been reading about the Goblin Wars," said Snape, hoping to engage 
her interest so she wouldn't flee, as so many other students did when he 
tried to talk to them. "It seems odd that after all that, they'd be 
running the wizards' bank."

"Goblins aren't the most pleasant creatures, but they're not stupid, and 
they know that their own best interests lie in maintaining good relations 
with wizards. As long as that holds true, it's safe enough to deal with 
them. If we ever cease to be useful to them, however..." She broke off as 
she realized that it sounded as though she was lecturing him on the 
subject.

"If it's not too forward to ask, how are you feeling, Professor?" She 
looked as though she expected to have her head bitten off.

"I feel fine, Miss Granger. Just a bit lost, still." He was pleased to see 
her expression soften at this admission. He was determined to get at least 
one student over this fear of him, and she seemed like a good candidate.

Slowly, as though she didn't want to frighten him, she placed a hand over 
his, which rested on the table.

"It must be dreadful - not being able to remember things about yourself." 
Her voice vibrated with sympathy. She really was a tender-hearted girl, he 
thought.

He gave a rueful chuckle. "With the way everyone reacts to me, I'm not 
sure it's not a blessing."

She looked uncomfortable; clearly, she was having to decide between being 
kind and lying.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Granger. I've gotten a pretty clear picture of 
what sort of man I am, or was. It's a wonder you're talking to me right 
now." He decided a change of subject was in order. "What's it like to be a 
witch? I haven't really had a chance to ask anyone."

She'd known Snape had suffered the loss of some of his memory, as did the 
other students. She hadn't known it was this extensive. Did he truly not 
remember the way he treated his students, or even being a wizard? She 
quickly schooled her expression, hoping he hadn't seen her shock.

After some thought, she finally answered him. "It's the most incredible 
thing that's ever happened to me. I was born into a Muggle family, so I 
didn't know I was a witch until I got my letter from Hogwarts. I never 
imagined anything like this." Her hand swept in a circle meant to 
encompass their surroundings. "It's a difficult time to be a Muggle-born 
witch, though."

"Because of Voldemort?"

"You remember Voldemort?"

"No, Miss Granger, I'm afraid I don't. I've heard the name, however."

"Oh. Well, yes, because of Voldemort. A lot of his nastier activities have 
been directed at Muggles and wizards and witches who aren't purebloods. 
He's killed so many people."

"I've heard some things about it, but it's not a topic anyone seems to 
want to discuss. What does Harry Potter have to do with it all? Professor 
Lupin gave me the impression that it all comes back to your friend, 
somehow."

"Yes, it seems to. Harry was subjected to a killing curse when he was a 
baby. The curse is unblockable. His parents were both hit with it, and 
died. The thing about Harry is, he did block it. He's the only one who 
ever has. Voldemort's power was destroyed when that happened. He's getting 
it back, though, and he wants Harry dead."

"Poor kid." Snape said. Hermione looked at him as though it was unheard of 
him to express sympathy for the boy. It probably was, he thought. A 
serious expression settled on his harsh features.

"Miss Granger, you're the first student to talk to me, really talk to me, 
since I was... hurt. There's something I have to know. If you don't want 
to tell me, I'll understand..."

"I'll tell you anything I can, Professor."

He took a deep breath. This was probably going to be unpleasant, he 
thought, if she answers me at all.

"What kind of man was I? Am I? I've noticed I'm not winning any popularity 
contests around here."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she could have been 
stupid enough not to have anticipated that this would be what he wanted to 
ask. And what to tell him? She knew tantalizing hints about the role he 
played in trying to bring about Voldemort's downfall, but nothing 
concrete. Anything she told him about that would be no more than 
speculation. As for his personality...

"I wish you'd asked about something else."

"If the answer was going to be pretty, I wouldn't have had to ask, would 
I?"

"If you insist... but just remember, you wanted to know. You're a complete 
and utter bastard." All the times I've wanted to say that to him, she 
thought, and when I get the chance, I can't enjoy it.

He blinked.

"My, that was... direct." To her great surprise, he smiled again. "That 
had to be the hard part. At least, I hope it doesn't get any worse."

She smiled back in relief. He certainly took that well, she thought. She'd 
almost expected to lose house points for daring to say such a thing. "No, 
that pretty much sums it up. You're rude, insufferable, arrogant, 
unkind..."

Snape held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I get the picture. Was 
I like that with you?"

"With everyone, Professor."

"Miss Granger, I have no memory of being a professor. I don't know 
anything at all about Potions. I wish you'd call me Severus."

"I can't do that!" She was scandalized. "You still ARE a professor, 
whether you remember it or not."

"Give it a try. It can't be any harder than telling me I'm an 
insufferable, arrogant bastard."

"You've got a point. Severus." He was right; it wasn't so difficult. 
Strange, certainly. "And I'm Hermione."

"Now about the specifics of my rudeness and insufferability..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

They talked for several hours. She told him about her first year, when 
she, Harry and Ron had thought that he was trying to kill Harry, never 
suspecting that it was Professor Quirrell all along. He listened intently, 
looking horrified in the appropriate places. He went very pale during her 
recitation of the incident in the Shrieking Shack in her third year.

"And Black is a good friend of Remus Lupin's? I'm amazed the man will even 
speak to me, let alone be as kind as he's been."

"Well, it was hard for us to see at the time... actually, I'm only seeing 
it now, to be honest. But you had good reason to be suspicious of Sirius. 
Even Professor Lupin didn't know at first that he didn't murder those 
Muggles and Peter Pettigrew, and that he hadn't betrayed the Potters. And 
he did try to feed you to a werewolf when you were in school. I like 
Sirius, very much, but there are times when I really want to know what 
happened that night, and why he wasn't at least expelled. I just can't see 
Professor Dumbledore overlooking an incident like that."

The bell rang announcing dinner, and they gathered their books. As they 
walked together towards the Great Hall, students turned to stare at the 
sight of a Gryffindor chatting amiably with the Head of Slytherin.

When they separated, she to go to the Gryffindor table and he to the 
teachers', he laid a hand on her arm.

"Just a moment, Hermione. I really enjoyed our conversation this 
afternoon. Even the more uncomfortable bits," he said. His smile was 
disarming.

"Me, too," she said, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'd like to hear more about the wizarding world. The staff are all very 
kind, but they have extra duties, since I'm not able to attend to my own. 
I'm sure you're busy with your studies..."

"Oh, no! I mean, yes, I do often have lots of studying to do, but if you 
want me to tell you more about it, of course I'd be happy to." The 
sincerity in her face was obvious.

His smile broadened. A Ravenclaw, seated nearby, choked at the sight; 
several of his fellows began to pound him vigorously on the back.

"Perhaps we could meet again tomorrow, in the library?"

"I don't have classes after lunch tomorrow until Herbology at four. How 
about one o'clock?"

"That would be splendid. Thank you, Miss Granger." Neither of them had to 
say anything; amongst others, the formalities had to be observed.

"Oh, it's nothing, Professor. I'm looking forward to it." She turned and 
hurried to her place at the table, reflecting that it wasn't politeness 
that made her say that - she was truly looking forward to another tete a 
tete with Professor Snape.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 4

Snape met Hermione in the library the next day, as planned. The 
conversation was as enjoyable as the previous day's had been, and by the 
time Hermione had to leave for Herbology, they were on very good terms 
indeed. This new, decidedly improved version of Snape had a wicked sense 
of humor, and he was able to make Hermione laugh so much that Madam Pince 
warned them they would have to leave, if they could not control 
themselves. She found him a willing audience for her vast store of 
knowledge concerning Hogwarts. After a while she noticed that the 
conversation had drifted towards the personal; he drew her out skillfully, 
and she found herself telling him all about her home, her parents, and 
what it was like to be the best friend of a famous boy wizard. He was 
apologetic at being unable to reciprocate, since he couldn't remember 
anything about his life before waking up in the hospital wing of Hogwarts 
to find himself surrounded by magic.

She noticed that he was pressing his fingers to his temples, rubbing them 
as though he was in pain.

"Are you all right, Severus?"

"Just a headache, that's all. I can't seem to shake it, I'm afraid." He 
smiled ruefully.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey; I'm sure she could get rid of it."

"Actually, she did give me something for it, but it keeps coming back. 
Don't worry," he said, seeing her concern. "It's really not that bad, just 
rather annoying. A byproduct of my concussions, I think."

Hermione bit her lip worriedly, but decided not to try to bully him into 
another trip to the hospital wing. If he wasn't feeling better when she 
saw him again, she would reconsider the matter.

Snape asked Hermione if he could walk her to the greenhouses; he hadn't 
seen them yet, and he was sure magical plants must be as fascinating as 
magical people and animals. Professor Sprout gave him a pleased smile, and 
delayed the start of class long enough to give him a quick tour of some of 
her more fascinating specimens. He thanked her and left, saying he didn't 
want to disrupt her class any more than he already had, and giving 
Hermione a friendly wave on the way out.

"He must have gotten hit harder than I thought," said Harry.

"He did," said Hermione. "He can't remember anything at all."

"Anything?" asked Ron dubiously.

"Well, not anything about being a wizard."

"How can he not remember being wizard?" Harry asked. "It's not like he's 
got anything else to compare it to. I mean, if you were a Muggle, would 
you forget being one?"

"It's not the same, Harry," said Hermione. "At least, I don't think it 
is..."

"I'll tell you what, I think he's faking it."

"No, Ron, he's not. He couldn't fool Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hermione, 
do you mean that he can't remember Potions, or having been a Death Eater, 
or anything?"

"No, nothing at all. He asked me today if Potions was anything like 
chemistry. I didn't think about it at the time, but it seems rather 
strange that he would forget Potions and remember a Muggle science."

"Did he know anything about chemistry?" asked Harry.

"About as much as Ron does, I think," she said, smiling at her friend. He 
gave her the finger, disguising it by using it to scratch his nose.

"Still, since you mention it, it does seem odd that he would use it for 
comparison," she continued. Professor Sprout asked mildly if they might be 
persuaded to turn their attention to her lecture, and the discussion was 
soon forgotten.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The following Saturday, Gryffindor played Ravenclaw in Quidditch. Hermione 
sat between Snape and Lupin, waving a red and gold pennant as she cheered 
on Harry and Ron, who in his sixth year had finally made the team as a 
Beater. Snape was by now conversant with the rules, having reread 
"Quidditch Through the Ages" twice over. Reading about it and seeing it, 
however, were two very different things. He soon gave up trying to control 
his amazement as he watched teenagers flying through the air on brooms, 
chasing and being chased by a variety of balls and by each other. Well 
into the game, with Gryffindor up by twenty points, Ron drove a Bludger 
between the shoulder blades of the Ravenclaw seeker, causing him to miss 
the Snitch by centimeters.

"Well done, Weasley!" shouted Snape. Even over the roar of the crowd, the 
hush that fell over their section of the stands was palpable. Lupin and 
Hermione stared for a moment before recovering and adding their own 
cheers, and soon, those around them turned their attention back to the 
game. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Snape's crushed 
expression.

Impulsively, she grabbed his hand. "Never mind, Severus," she said so only 
he could hear. "Don't let it get to you."

He smiled back, squeezing her hand. The crowd, which had gotten to its 
feet at Ron's save against a Ravenclaw victory, resumed their seats. 
Neither Severus nor Hermione made any move to disengage their clasped 
hands, hidden under the folds of her cloak. For the rest of the game, 
which ended in a Gryffindor victory, 220-90, Hermione was aware of little 
else except the strong, warm hand which held her own.

*~*~*~*~*~*

That evening, Hermione asked Snape if he wanted to see the sun set over 
the lake. The dying light reflected fiery red and gold in all the windows 
on that side of the castle, she said, and was not a sight to be missed. He 
accepted, and half an hour later they were strolling along the perimeter 
of the lake. They fell into the easy conversation that had become usual 
with them, and it seemed only natural to him to take her hand once more.

"How old are you, Hermione?" The suddenness of the question startled her; 
they'd been discussing the merpeople, only moments ago.

"Legally, I'm seventeen."

"Legally? And otherwise?"

"Technically, I'm eighteen." She told him about her use of the Time-Turner 
in her third year, and how it had given her many extra weeks worth of time 
during the school year.

Still holding her hand, he sat down on the grassy bank, tugging her gently 
down next to him.

"I think I'm in my late thirties," he said.

"You don't know?" she asked before thinking.

"No, although I'm sure someone here could tell me, if I asked. And on top 
of that, I don't have the first clue who I am. So I shouldn't be telling 
you that I'm very attracted to you."

"Oh."

He let go of her hand. "You've been kind to me, but it's more than that. 
You're beautiful, and sweet, and intelligent. I didn't come out here 
planning to tell you this, I swear," he said, seeing the confusion in her 
face.

"No, no... I'm really glad you did. I... I feel the same way, and I wasn't 
sure if I should say anything."

"Really, Hermione? You're not just saying that because you feel sorry for 
me?"

She snorted. "I've never yet confessed to falling in love with someone out 
of pity."

"You're falling in love with me?" The smile that broke across his features 
was beautiful, she thought.

"Well, I think I might be," she replied, trying to be scrupulously honest. 
"I don't really know you all that well."

"That's an understatement. I don't know myself, and what I do know, I 
can't stand."

Severus stood and brushed the grass from his robes. "We'd better go back."

Hermione's face fell. "Aren't you going to... you know, try something?"

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her forehead.

"You are enchanting, Hermione, and I don't mean that in the wizarding 
sense. But no, I don't think it would be wise. The difference in our ages 
notwithstanding, I need to know more about who I really am before I can, 
um, 'try something.'"

"Oh, well, if you feel that way about it..." She threw her arms around his 
neck and pressed her lips to his. He responded hungrily for a few moments 
before reluctantly drawing back. They walked back to the castle, a 
respectable distance apart. Hermione was tempted to steal one more kiss 
before ascending the stairs to Gryffindor, but an eighteenth century 
shepherdess in a frame near the floor raised her eyebrows disapprovingly, 
so she simply said good night.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione practically floated into the common room, beaming at everyone she 
passed.

"Uh, are you all right, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"I know that look," Harry said. "Ron gets it when Fleur Delacour visits 
with Bill. You really have to stop lusting after your brother's 
girlfriend, you know."

"Hey, a guy can look, can't he? Although I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't 
repeat that to Bill. I don't fancy a beating from him. And I don't look 
like that."

"No, you don't look that bad, I have to admit. What's up, Hermione?" Harry 
demanded.

Hermione blushed, but said nothing.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry? She's in love with Snape."

"You must have got knocked off your broom when I wasn't looking, Ron."

"No, I don't think so, Harry. She's been spending all her free time with 
him for the last couple of weeks. Who else could it be?" He popped a 
Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean into his mouth. "At least it's the new, 
improved version, and not the malicious bastard we all know and hate."

"Are you really, Hermione? That's so romantic," breathed Parvati Patil, 
coming to join the conversation.

"Honestly. Couldn't you have the decency to speculate on my love life 
behind my back, like you're supposed to?"

"We don't get to see you blush when we do that. Although you know, when 
you're not here, we don't talk about much else," Harry said.

"Absolutely correct," said Ron. He chose a random roll of parchment from 
his bag and opened it, pretending to read. "Let's see, item one on the 
agenda for our next meeting. Snape: Slytherin Sex God? Ginny, you were 
going to take the pro position, and Harry, the con. But hey, since 
Hermione's here, she can tell us herself."

"I'm not an authority on the subject, sorry," said Hermione. "Yet." She 
took the stairs up to her room, loftily ignoring the giggles and snickers 
that followed her.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 5

"Severus, what's wrong?"

Snape clutched his head, his eyes squeezed shut with the pain. Remus was 
up immediately, throwing Floo powder into the fire and calling Madam 
Pomfrey. In moments she was there, just in time to help Remus lower a now- 
unconscious Snape to the floor.

"He was looking pale, and then his head seemed to hurt terribly," the 
Defense Against the Dark Arts professor told Pomfrey. She was running her 
wand over him, looking baffled. She conjured a stretcher and they took him 
up the stairs to the hospital wing.

By the time they reached Madam Pomfrey's demesne, Snape was conscious 
again.

"Get Dumbledore..." His whisper barely reached even Lupin's sensitive 
ears. "Voldemort... Malfoy..." He lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

"He remembers!" Remus exclaimed. "Does it hurt to recover a lost memory?"

"No," said Pomfrey grimly. "It shouldn't hurt, and it shouldn't make him 
pass out, either. There's something else going on with him." She hurried 
into her office, and came back out with a flask containing a red, 
pearlescent liquid. "Help me get him to drink some of this."

Lupin held Snape's head up and back, while Madam Pomfrey poured a small 
amount into his mouth. The unconscious man swallowed reflexively, and 
after a few moments, opened his eyes.

"The pain seems to be gone," he said, touching his hand gingerly to his 
forehead. "You'll have to tell me what you put in that, Poppy. Phoenix 
tears, perhaps?"

He sat up, impatiently shaking off the hands that tried to restrain him, 
just as Professor Dumbledore entered the room.

"Albus, they know I've betrayed them," Snape said without preamble.

"You remember?" Dumbledore embraced the Potions teacher, who endured it 
stoically.

"Before that last gathering, along with other prophylactic potions against 
whatever curses might be cast, I took a draught that I've been working on 
for some time now. I had not expected to need it, of course, but its 
intended effect is to weaken memory charms. The one Malfoy used was 
powerful; the potion worked, I'm happy to say, but it took its time doing 
it."

"How did they find out?" Lupin asked.

"That I'd betrayed them? They've suspected for months, of course, but that 
night, for the first time since Voldemort's return, I was called upon to 
torture and kill a Muggle."

Pomfrey gasped; Lupin and Dumbledore looked grave. All three chose to 
ignore the implication that he might have done that very same thing during 
the Dark Lord's previous reign.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"I refused. I could think of no way to do so without revealing myself, so 
I decided that I would not worry about that aspect of it. I grabbed the 
man's hand and attempted to Apparate. I was hit with Petrificus first, by 
at least four different people; I hadn't truly expected to make it out of 
there."

Snape rubbed his hand across his eyes and sank down onto the side of the 
nearest bed.

"Voldemort declared that as I was so fond of the Muggle, I would share his 
fate, rather literally. A potion was administered to me that gave me 
awareness of the Muggle's thoughts and feelings. His name was Jonathan, by 
the way. He was a rather a pleasant fellow. Wife and daughter, in Sussex. 
He wanted to travel to America one day." Snape grabbed an empty vase off 
the table beside him and hurled it against the far wall, watching it 
shatter into thousands of pieces. His audience remained perfectly still 
and waited for him to continue.

"He could feel me, too. All he could think about was seeing his family one 
more time. He died begging me to help him. And I could do nothing." Tears 
streamed down his harsh features. "I still retain some of his memories. 
Merlin knows I don't want to, but they're there anyway. I don't know if 
it's a result of my potion, or theirs. Gods, Albus, I could do nothing!"

Snape's frame shook violently as he wept. It had been worse, far worse, 
than anything he had ever before endured at the hands of his pretended 
allies. Before, he had suffered alone, and not known enough to be thankful 
for it. He had endured all of Jonathan's pain, fear, and impotent fury, 
but it was so much worse knowing exactly what the other man was going 
through.

"Let Poppy give you the Dreamless Sleep Potion, Severus," Dumbledore 
ordered implacably, although his tone was gentle. Snape stopped trying to 
push it away, and grabbed it abruptly out of her hand, finishing it in one 
swallow. A moment later, he slid bonelessly to the floor, and was 
levitated up onto the bed. Madam Pomfrey efficiently arranged him as 
comfortably as possible, and the two wizards and the witch retired to 
Pomfrey's office to discuss the dramatic scene they had just witnessed.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione went to the library after lunch the next day, expecting to see 
Snape as usual. He had not appeared at breakfast or lunch, and she was 
hungry for at least a glimpse of him. He was not there, but she was 
surprised to see Professor Lupin seated at one of the tables between the 
massive shelves. He had no books in front of him.

She gave him a wary smile, wondering what it might mean that he was here, 
and Severus was not. He smiled back, looking tired.

"I've got some good news, Hermione," he said, his tone sounding forced. 
"Professor Snape has recovered his memory at last."

"Oh, that is good news, Professor Lupin!" She smiled brilliantly at him. 
"Does he remember everything?"

"Yes, indeed he does. Not only what took place before his episode of 
amnesia, but also during it as well."

"Oh." It occurred to Hermione that with his memory restored, Severus might 
no longer feel comfortable treating her as a friend, or slightly more than 
a friend. She didn't know how to phrase her question discreetly, so after 
a few moments' silence, she gathered her courage and asked.

"Does he remember anything... about me?"

Lupin took her hand. Not a good sign, she thought. He regrets it, doesn't 
he?

"Yes, he remembers. And um..."

"What did he say?"

"He said... he said that he regrets anything untoward that may have 
occurred while he was not in possession of his memory." What he'd actually 
said was, 'What further proof could be needed that I was out of my mind,' 
but Remus tactfully chose not to share this with Hermione, whom he 
considered not only a student, but a friend.

"I see," she said tonelessly.

"I know you won't want to hear this, but it's better that this happened 
now, before you became even more involved."

I'm in love with him, you git, how much more involved can I be? She felt a 
twinge of guilt for her uncharitable thoughts. Remus Lupin was kindness 
itself, as evidenced by the fact that he was here right now, doing his 
best to let her down gently. Anger at Snape welled up suddenly. He should 
be here, she thought.

"Why couldn't he do his own dirty work?" She sank her head onto her arms 
and began to cry.

*~*~*~*~*

In his office, preparing to resume his Potions duties, Severus Snape was 
berating himself for sending Lupin to do his dirty work for him. He hadn't 
dared to go himself; he didn't trust himself not to simply pull Hermione 
into his arms and kiss her thoroughly, which, he thought, was a rather 
ineffective way of ending a relationship. You are truly the bastard 
everyone says you are, Severus, he thought.

Chapter 6

"Put those books away!" The entire class turned to see Professor Snape 
sweep in through the open doorway, robes flapping dramatically with his 
energetic strides. His voice was pure ice, and as one, his seventh year 
Gryffindor and Slytherin students hastened to obey.

"No doubt you've all enjoyed a relaxing vacation these last weeks, and 
have forgotten how to do any real work. I'm going to let you show me just 
how far you've gotten behind. Potter! Parkinson! Gather the ingredients 
for the Nonflammatus potion, and pass them round. Quickly! Why are you 
dawdling, Miss Parkinson? Not quite finished your conversation with Miss 
Bulstrode? I do apologize for interrupting you. Ten points from 
Slytherin."

No one dared to speak, but the reaction was nearly universal. Nervous 
glances were exchanged; the Nonflammatus was an especially challenging 
potion, and they had not yet covered it.

"Surely he won't expect us to test it," Seamus Finnegan whispered.

"See Filch this evening for your detention, Mr. Finnegan. Did you not 
learn from Miss Parkinson that private conversations are to be conducted 
outside of my classroom? Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry and Pansy handed out ingredients as quickly as they could without 
spilling or dropping anything. Harry had barely taken his seat when he was 
targeted.

"You've forgotten the aloe juice, Mr. Potter. One would think you want to 
see your housemates sustain very nasty burns when you test your potions. 
Yes, I said test. Do shut your mouth, Mr. Malfoy, you look like a hooked 
trout. Very unattractive. Ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin." 
Exchanging a rare sympathetic glance with Draco, Harry scurried to the 
cupboards for the aloe juice.

Later, it was agreed by everyone who wasn't too traumatized to discuss the 
experience that it was the single worst Potions lesson they'd ever 
endured. Snape stalked about the classroom as they worked, silent as a 
shark lurking just under the ocean surface, and easily just as 
frightening. Students nervous about the prospect of holding their hand 
over an open flame to test a potion they had little confidence in 
preparing jumped like startled hares when he materialized behind them. 
Neville, predictably, melted his cauldron, but this was a mercy, as it 
meant he had no potion to test. In the end, no one sustained serious 
injury, but there was a great deal of discomfort amongst the students 
lined up outside the hospital wing after class.

Hermione was not among those scarred physically by the lesson, but she 
fled the room as soon as the students were dismissed, only to burst into 
tears just outside the door. Snape had not criticized her work once, but 
then, he had not spoken to her or even looked at her, either. For the 
first time since coming to Hogwarts more than six years ago, Hermione 
wanted desperately to go home.

At dinner that evening, Snape's first Potions lesson since his injury was 
the primary topic of discussion, even for students who hadn't been there 
to witness it firsthand.

"He's worse," groaned Lavender Brown. "Let's hope he never loses his 
memory and acts nice again; can you imagine what kind of monster he'd be 
when he remembered who he was the next time?"

"Look on the bright side. It will make it easier for Hermione to get over 
him. It was never going to work anyway. I mean, really, Snape!" Parvati's 
voice said, some distance from Hermione.

Only yesterday you thought it was romantic, Hermione thought bitterly. But 
then yesterday, I thought he loved me. And I thought that he might just be 
lovable.

*~*~*~*~*

After dinner, Hermione climbed to the Astronomy Tower, hoping it was not 
in use by some snogging couple. She wanted more than anything to simply be 
alone with her pain. She had just settled into a deep window embrasure, 
commanding an eagle's eye view of the Hogwarts grounds and surrounding 
environs, when the door opened. It figures, she thought. She stared 
fixedly out the window, hoping whoever it was would leave upon seeing her 
there.

The door closed again, but Hermione sensed that she still had company.

"I should deduct points, finding you here outside of school hours, Miss 
Granger."

"Go ahead. I don't really care." Her voice was devoid of emotion.

"That does remove some of the fun I derive from doing so," he said 
conversationally. He moved to stand beside her, following her gaze over 
the darkened landscape.

"Shouldn't you be skulking in your dungeon?"

"Miss Granger, sometime in the last few weeks you appear to have gotten 
the impression - an entirely mistaken one, I assure you - that you may 
speak to me as you like. I trust that we have cleared up that 
misapprehension?"

"Go to hell."

"Apparently we have not."

She jumped up, nearly knocking Snape over as she pushed past him. She 
stopped at the door and turned.

"Why did you send Professor Lupin to break up with me for you?"

His face became a mask of cold steel. "There was nothing to break up. We 
behaved in an inappropriate manner, and it had to stop. There is nothing 
more to it." Trust you, my dearest Hermione, to get right to the point, he 
thought. He kept himself utterly still, fearing that if he moved, it would 
be to gather her in his arms.

"I don't believe you."

You must, my love. There is no future for us, no future for me.

She took a step toward him. "Why are you here?"

He infused his voice with all the irony at his command. "Perhaps I thought 
to throw myself out of the Astronomy Tower window, like a proper 
star-crossed lover."

She paled. "If you do," she replied, her tone utterly serious, "I'll be 
right behind you."

No! he wanted to shout at her. You don't know what I am. Don't care about 
me. I'll destroy you, as I've destroyed everything I've ever touched.

"I suppose that goes for any other method I might use of dispatching my 
unworthy self?" His voice was at its silkiest, his tone its most mocking.

She nodded, her face set in grim lines. She saw, clearly. And she wasn't 
going to give him permission.

"In that case, I'll see you in Potions tomorrow. Good night, Miss 
Granger." He swept past her, out of the tower.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione gave into the fresh onslaught 
of tears.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 7

A/N: I owe three debts of gratitude for things in this chapter that I've 
lifted from other fanfic authors (perhaps more, but only two of them are 
conscious). First, Snape's quoting of Hagrid; I don't remember where I saw 
it (sorry!) but it made an impression on me. Second, the whole idea of 
Inebriated!Snape is taken straight out of McAmy's "Matter of Honor" 
mega-fic. And from another don't-miss story, Abby's "The Other Side of 
Darkness," comes the idea of Snape reacting to seeing himself from a 
different perspective.

The poem is Robert Frost's "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening."

*~*~*~*~*

Remus was instantly awake and alert, adrenaline suffusing his system at 
the insistent pounding on his door. He threw on his robes and grabbed his 
wand off the bedside table before answering the summons.

Snape stood swaying in the doorway, hand poised to knock once again. He 
almost fell forward when Lupin opened the door. The werewolf caught him in 
his arms and guided him inside, helping him into a chair.

"Are you ill, Severus? Have your headaches returned?"

"No, I'm not ill, Remus." Snape gave Lupin a friendly pat on the head as 
the man crouched in front of him, examining his face. "But it's sweet of 
you to worry." His words were badly slurred, and the smell of Ogden's Old 
Firewhiskey rose like a cloud between them.

Lupin stood up and sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Severus the 
worse for drink, but never had he seen him this far gone. He'd wondered 
how his friend would cope with the new emotional burdens that had been 
placed on him since his last Death Eater gathering, but he had expected 
something a bit more subtle than this.

"Can I get you some tea, Severus?"

"Y'got anything stronger?"

"I do, but while I'd be more than happy to talk as long as you like, I'd 
just as soon not have you pass out on me." If it's not already too late, 
he thought.

"Ev'rybody hates me, Remus." Snape's face was comically glum.

"I don't hate you. I'm rather fond of you, in fact."

"You're the only one. And you ought to hate me, y'know. After what I..." 
He gave a loud, rank belch. Remus was unable to keep his sensitive nose 
from wrinkling up at the miasmic reek. "'Scuse me. After what I did to 
you."

Lupin knew he referred to what he thought of as the Second Shrieking Shack 
Incident. The next morning, Snape had 'accidentally' let slip Remus' 
status as a werewolf, all but packing his bags and holding open the front 
door of Hogwarts for him. Bitter as it was at the time, he knew Snape had 
done the only thing he really could; when all was said and done, he had 
neglected to take his Wolfsbane potion, and had been unable to control 
himself during his transformation into a wolf. It was a miracle no one was 
killed, and he knew it. Added to that was the fact that Severus had worked 
hard in the intervening years to perfect the potion, so that its toxic 
effects were greatly reduced, and had personally petitioned for Lupin's 
return to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position when it became vacant 
yet again. All in all, it was very easy for him to forgive Snape. But he 
knew his friend well enough to know that his guilt over it still had its 
claws sunk deep into him, and probably always would.

"You had no choice about that, Severus. I was a danger to the students and 
the other teachers. There really wasn't anything to forgive, and besides, 
and you did help me come back."

"I love you, Remus, you know that, don't you?" Please let him not remember 
this tomorrow, Remus thought. He doesn't need anything else to feel 
mortified about.

"I love you too, Severus." He handed Snape a cup of strong black tea.

"No one else does," the Potions Master moaned miserably.

"I happen to know that Albus loves you as though you were his own son."

Snape sniffled. "Great man, Dumbledore." Lupin smiled again, this time at 
Snape's unconscious quoting of Hagrid's favorite phrase.

"Yes, he is, Severus."

"Hermione hates me."

This gave Lupin pause. For all he knew, it might very well be true. She 
had not taken his method of ending their short-lived but intense 
relationship at all well.

"Y'know who doesn't hate me?"

"Who, Severus?"

"Jonathan. He told me so." Tears filled Snape's eyes.

Remus' mind cast about for a moment, seeking the significance of the name. 
He quickly found it.

"Severus, why don't you tell me about Jonathan?"

"We couldn't talk through our link, Remus, but we could feel everything. 
Physical, emotional, everything. He was a great man, too. Not great like 
Dumbledore, but good, really good. He was everything I'm not. I should 
have died there, and he should have lived. He had a family that loved him. 
People cared about him, because he was good and decent and kind. He 
forgave me for not getting him out of there." He paused to blow his nose 
into his handkerchief. "People hate me. And I make them hate me, because 
that's the only way I'm going to get someone to feel strongly about me. I 
made Hermione fall in love with me, and now I've made her hate me. Again. 
It wasn't me she loved, anyway; it was the echo of Jonathan's memories. I 
wish to the gods that I'd died that night, not him. I want to die, Remus."

Dear gods, this is serious, thought Lupin. Snape's self-loathing was 
thoroughly familiar to him, but the burden Severus sometimes felt his life 
to be was not something he discussed, with anyone, ever. Long ago, the 
night he confessed his identity as a Death Eater to Dumbledore, the 
ancient wizard made him swear that he would not take his own life. That 
Snape told Lupin about it years later, during a late night conversation 
that had not involved quite this much alcohol, told the werewolf volumes. 
Dumbledore would not have insisted on such a promise had there been no 
need for it. And Snape would never have mentioned it to Lupin, save that 
it was the closest he could come to unburdening himself of the secret of 
his terrible compulsion. That Severus mentioned it now, firewhiskey or no 
firewhiskey, meant that he'd nearly reached his limit. How can I help you, 
Severus? he wondered, anguished for his friend.

Snape continued to talk, telling Lupin of his suspicion that mild memory 
charms had been used on him before, prompting him to add his experimental 
concoction to the others he habitually imbibed before answering the 
summons his Dark Mark conveyed. He described the desolation he felt, 
seeing himself through the eyes of the doomed Muggle, charitable though 
that man's view was. He knew now that somehow Voldemort had known he would 
break through the stronger memory charm eventually, and that doing so 
would probably cause a great deal of pain. This, he knew, was why he 
hadn't simply been killed. Voldemort would not kill, when there was 
suffering yet to be wrung from one of his victims.

Snape's eyes began to close, resisting his efforts to hold them open, and 
he was trying to keep his head from dropping to his chest. "I'm so tired," 
he mumbled. He rose clumsily and started in the direction of the door, but 
didn't protest when Remus steered him instead to the bed. He helped Snape 
into one of his own nightshirts and settled him into bed before stretching 
out on the sofa for the rest of the night.

Remus awoke to a loud groan, disoriented for a moment to find himself on 
the couch. Then he remembered his visitor of the night before, and opened 
his eyes to see Snape sitting up, a hand pressed to his head.

"How much do you remember about last night?"

"You needn't shout, Lupin." Snape squeezed his eyes shut.

"I didn't. Is there something you can take for this?"

"Of course," the black-haired man snapped. "I wouldn't have started 
drinking if I couldn't cure the results, or make myself sober again, if 
need be."

"Tell me where to find it, and I'll fetch it for you."

Snape sagged back down onto the pillow, a hand over his eyes. He told 
Lupin what to look for and where to find it. When the werewolf returned 
with a small green flask, Snape received it gratefully and took several 
long swallows.

"That's better. Thank you, Lupin."

"Anytime, Severus."

Lupin decided to let Snape speak first. The silence stretched for long 
moments.

"Lupin... did I say anything particularly - foolish - last night?"

"Your definition is probably different from mine, but yes, several things 
you said would qualify for that description."

"I whinged about nobody loving me, did I?"

Remus grinned. "Yep."

"I really should abstain permanently. If only I could be a silent drunk, 
rather than a maudlin one."

"Coming from you, maudlin is refreshing, Sev."

Snape scowled at the nickname. "What else?"

Lupin hesitated, and Snape sighed. "Did I bore you with threats to end my 
life?"

"I don't think bore is the proper word."

"I won't do it, you know."

"I was rather hoping not, Severus."

"I owe too many people too much. And now Hermione..." Snape buried his 
face in his hands.

"Are you familiar with Muggle poetry, Severus?"

"Shakespeare, some Coleridge, Shelley, Blake, Donne, a few others. Why?"

"An American fellow, Robert Frost, wrote one I think you might like."

Lupin searched in a drawer for parchment and a quill, and began to write. 
Severus watched him with mixed annoyance and curiosity. The poem was 
short, and soon Lupin handed him the parchment.

'Whose woods these are, I think I know
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near.
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.'

Snape read it, a slight, almost imperceptibly sad smile curving his lips. 
He threw his robes on over Remus' borrowed nightshirt, and tucked the 
parchment into a pocket.

"Anytime you wish to talk, Severus..."

"I know. Thank you." Then he was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 8

A/N: Though it shames me to admit I could not at first remember the 
source, the idea for pain and eventually madness resulting from resisting 
Lord Voldemort's call is lifted directly from Damiana's celebrated 
"Marrach." She has graciously agreed to let me twist it to my own fell 
purposes.

*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks later, some routine had been restored to the Potions Master's 
life. After his dramatic first day back at his teaching duties, he 
restrained himself and waited for half an excuse to remove points from the 
various houses, rather than no excuse at all. Slytherins were bewildered 
to find that they now lost as many points, and received as many 
detentions, as their Gryffindor counterparts. Their Head of House's 
favoritism seemed to have evaporated, and speculation was rife as to the 
cause.

Snape no longer appeared at meals in the Great Hall. Except for two staff 
meetings, where he had arrived just in time and departed as quickly as he 
was allowed to do so, he was not found abroad in the castle at all. 
Students illicitly roaming the corridors at night reported having to dodge 
Filch and Mrs. Norris as usual, but Snape was never anywhere to be seen.

His time outside of class was, in fact, spent in his personal workroom. He 
left it only to teach and sleep. Visitors were strongly discouraged; even 
Dumbledore was made conspicuously unwelcome when he visited.

"I do not wish to 'chat,' Albus. Do go away."

"I'm concerned for you, Severus."

"How delightful," he snapped. Snape closed his eyes momentarily, then 
said, "I apologize for that. But if you are concerned, then know that I am 
doing everything possible to remedy the situation. If you have an 
alternative, I am eager to hear it. If not, I respectfully suggest that 
you let me get on with it."

"You need not face this alone, Severus. All of us are willing to do 
whatever we can."

"Which is precisely nothing, unless you can perhaps kill Voldemort for me? 
I find your timetable for this task a bit leisurely for my purposes."

"Would you have me awaken Harry Potter and send him out right now? I'm 
sure he would go." Dumbledore said mildly, the barest hint of impatience 
in his tone at Snape's intractability.

Snape whirled, in a flurry of black robes, to face him. "No, I would not, 
as you know very well. I am attempting to avoid the sacrifice of 
innocents. You meant that as a joke, I believe, but it was in poor taste, 
Albus."

"So it was. My apologies." Dumbledore laid his hand on Snape's shoulder, 
removing it sadly when the younger man flinched. "Whatever resources I can 
command are yours as well. Aurors, Unspeakables, Ministry research. You 
have only to ask."

"All of whom would be delighted to assist me in performing Dark Magic, no 
doubt. I thank you, Albus, but I must do this alone, if it can be done at 
all."

"All the same..."

"Goodbye, Albus."

Dumbledore left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Shaking, Snape turned back to his work.

*~*~*~*~*

"Professor Lupin?"

Lupin looked up and smiled at Hermione, who stood with uncharacteristic 
uncertainty in the doorway of his office. "What can I do for you, Miss 
Granger?" He pulled up a chair for her, beside his desk.

"Tea?" he asked. She nodded. He prepared the tea silently, allowing her 
time to gather her thoughts. Whatever she wanted to see him about, he 
thought, she wasn't finding it easy to talk about.

"You're our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she finally said.

"Yes, I believe I am." He smiled encouragingly, handing her a steaming 
cup. He had added plenty of sweetener to it; it looked to him as though 
she could use it. He noticed that her face was rather pale.

"I... I was in the library last night, after curfew. In the Restricted 
Section."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"I... I took this." She pulled a book out of her bag and handed it to him.

"Perhaps you should be confessing this to Professor McGonagall, Hermione. 
Or Madam Pince."

"I'm not here to confess, Professor. Not exactly. Um..."

Remus looked at the book in question. "Modern Dark Magic." He was familiar 
with the volume; as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, he needed to 
be. It was a study of the methods used by Lord Voldemort to control his 
followers, up until his downfall in 1981. It was fairly authoritative; the 
author had been present at many Veritaserum-assisted interviews of 
captured Death Eaters. It made very grim reading.

"What would you want with such a book, Hermione?"

She told him about the episode in the Astronomy Tower.

"...and you see, I thought he could just be joking... but I didn't think 
so."

Lupin said nothing.

"And I thought... I mean, we... I know it's stupid, but I thought it had 
to do with me."

Don't discount yourself, Hermione, he thought. By the time Severus was 
himself enough to shut that particular barn door, the horse was long gone.

"But it isn't me at all. It's his Dark Mark, isn't it?"

Quick as she always was, Remus was surprised. "How did you know about his 
Dark Mark?"

"Lots of people saw it, the night of the third challenge at the Tri-Wizard 
Tournament. Or, maybe just a few people saw it, but everyone heard about 
it."

"No, I mean how did you know it was bothering him?"

She looked down. "This isn't the first time I've looked at this book."

"I see," Lupin repeated. "I really ought to deduct points, you know. Or 
maybe even a detention."

"Yes, sir. Anyway, I read about how the Mark burns when the Death Eaters 
are summoned, and what happens to someone who doesn't answer it. And Snape 
rubs his left arm a lot in class."

Lupin rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"He's working on a potion that will break the connection."

"But he won't be able to do it, will he?"

His answer was extremely reluctant. "No, probably not."

"The book says there's a potion..."

"It's never been successfully brewed, that anyone knows of. It's beyond 
the capability of most who would have wanted to try it. And Professor 
Snape won't use it, Hermione."

"But he'll go insane."

"I know." Lupin's voice was bleak. He placed the volume on his desk.

"I'll return this later. But Hermione, you are not to utter one word of 
what you know to anyone. If you do, I'll think up a detention that will 
make you sorry you were ever born."

Hermione shuddered at this unaccustomed harshness from one of her favorite 
teachers, but nodded.

"I understand that you want to help. But there's truly nothing you can 
do."

"Yes, Professor." She picked up her bag and left the office.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione lingered in the corridor outside the Potions classroom, telling 
her friends she would catch up with them later. She had spelled the lace 
on her shoe to break, and stayed very busy fixing it in a non-magical, 
time-consuming way, until the last student turned the corner. She pointed 
her wand at the laces.

"Reparo." The lace not only mended as though it had never broken, but was 
also neatly tied. She reached for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, lent without 
awkward questions by her friend. She made certain she was completely 
covered, and walked as quietly as possible back into the classroom.

She didn't have to wait long; Snape soon stood no more than two feet from 
her, pointing his wand at the entrance to his workroom. She slipped in 
behind him, hoping he wouldn't close it up too fast. Breathing heavily 
with nerves, she took herself to the farthest corner she could find, and 
waited for him to settle into his work.

She took the time to admire his competence with his tools and ingredients. 
His movements, she'd noticed long ago, were deft and efficient, and there 
was a definite beauty to them. He was working on what seemed to be a 
variation of one of the potions she had read about that were designed for 
addiction to certain very nasty substances. The wizarding equivalent of 
drugs could make cocaine seem like candy. There were several ingredients 
on the table that she didn't recognize, and couldn't even guess at. She 
began to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all; obviously, 
whatever he was attempting to formulate was well beyond her knowledge and 
experience. Typical Gryffindor arrogance, he'd say, she thought to 
herself. You came in here thinking that if anyone could supply the 
answers, it would be you. And you don't even know the right questions.

Snape, meanwhile, was wondering how much longer it would take for Hermione 
to show herself. He had recognized the sharp, sweet scent of her 
cherry-almond shampoo when she'd walked by him several minutes earlier. 
The scent was unique to her, he knew, so unless Potter had taken to 
borrowing her toiletries...

He wearied of the wait first.

"What do you think, Miss Granger? The unicorn tear, or the phoenix tear? I 
think it might be somewhat extravagant to use both." She made a choked 
sound from her corner, and slipped the cloak off her head.

"The rest of it, if you don't mind. Your disembodied head is rather 
disturbing."

She stuffed the cloak into her bag, and took several shuffling steps 
forward.

"I... I wanted to...you see, I thought if..."

"You've figured out the nature of my problem, and you thought that your 
extraordinary brain could come up with answers, where my own had failed. 
Typical Gryffindor arrogance."

This statement had the effect of making her smile, for no reason Snape 
could fathom. Perhaps I'm not the only one in danger of going mad around 
here, he thought.

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, Professor. More like, two heads are 
better than one."

"And you are proposing to be my 'second head.'"

"If you'll let me."

He crossed his arms and looked down at her. "Why do you wish to help me, 
Miss Granger?"

"Someone has to. If you don't want me, maybe Madam Pomfrey..."

"As skilled a mediwizard as Madam Pomfrey is, you already know more than 
she does about potions. And that, Miss Granger, is saying a great deal."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Her first-ever compliment from Snape, at least 
from a Snape who was not under a memory charm, and it was a spectacular 
one.

She recovered quickly. Getting her ego stroked was nice, but it wasn't her 
primary purpose here.

"So will you let me help you, Professor?"

"Even after I dismissed you so callously?"

"Finding out that you'd snogged me a few times when you weren't yourself 
must have come as a terrible shock, so I've decided to forgive you."

You have no idea how much of a shock, he thought.

"How very noble and Gryffindor of you."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know, but thank you anyway."

"You are really a very odd girl, do you know that?"

"I wouldn't presume to argue with you."

He snorted. It felt good; it was the closest he'd come to laughter in 
weeks.

"You would presume a great deal more, beginning with your appearance here 
today. Stop chattering and make yourself useful." He pushed a cutting 
board in her direction, handed her a knife, and gestured towards a basket 
of roots that she could not identify. "Very small, mind you, but make the 
edges even. Ragged pieces will be of no use."

It hardly mattered, he thought. Even prepared perfectly, it was unlikely 
that the potion would have much effect at all. Still, he had to try. He 
had other options open to him, but all were unpalatable.

They worked in silence for two hours, and he stopped denying to himself 
that he found her companionship soothing. She was glad that he had no 
apparent desire to bite her head off, or just ignore her.

While she worked, Hermione reflected on the nature of her feelings for 
Snape. She had fallen quickly, and hard, for the memory-impaired version. 
But he had been kind, funny, and... say it, Granger, she thought to 
herself. Easy. It had been easy to love him. Same mysterious, intimidating 
package, with a fluffy bunny wrapped inside. Her half-conscious fantasies 
of taming the volatile, unapproachable Potions Master seemed the height of 
schoolgirl foolishness now. His cruelty towards her had been a good thing, 
she admitted to herself. It kept me from following him around like a 
love-struck puppy. But part of her, she realized, still liked him, even 
with his numerous and glaring flaws. Liked him rather a lot, in fact. In 
their short exchange tonight, she had heard hints of the Snape she'd 
thought herself in love with. But that had nothing to do with her presence 
here tonight, she told herself. Even if she still hated him, she would 
still want to do everything in her power to save him. She knew that he 
would do as much for her.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 9

My thanks to everyone who has contributed comments about this story. I've 
tried to shore up some of its weak points, although I'm hampered to a 
certain extent by what I've already posted. I may eventually rewrite the 
entire thing, but not just yet. Thanks for your help, everybody!

Thanks again to Damiana (author of Marrach), whose notion of the Dark Mark 
causing terrible pain and eventual insanity, should its owner not respond 
to You-Know-Who's summons, is again featured heavily in this chapter.

Warning: This chapter contains a brutal, although not terribly graphic, 
sex scene involving dubious consent. Not quite NC-17, but a strong R.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione was getting behind in Arithmancy, and knew her grades would soon 
be suffering in other classes as well. Her studying was becoming cursory, 
something to be fit in between classes and meals and what she privately 
called The Project. The Project was at the top of her list, and as far as 
she was concerned, the rest could go hang.

The problem was, The Project wasn't yielding results. She watched Snape 
deteriorate daily, stress and pain taking an inexorable toll on him. He 
was beginning to have visible difficulty in using his left arm. His temper 
was frayed, far more so than usual. In ten days, they had tried four 
potions, all experimental, and all failures. When the third did not work, 
Snape terrified her by sending his carefully set up equipment crashing to 
the floor with his good arm. When the fourth failed, he simply sat down on 
the floor, his back against the bare stone of the wall, and buried his 
head in his arms. She sat beside him, waiting for more than an hour until 
he spoke. Even then, it was only to tell her in a ragged voice to go to 
bed.

Hermione kept up an outward appearance of calm, but she was frantic. She'd 
worked with him, soothed him, attempted to care for him since showing up 
in his workroom uninvited. She braved his rages, nagging him to get him to 
eat, and made him sit still so she could rub his knotted shoulders, 
careful not to touch his left arm. Her emotions in that time felt like a 
Muggle roller coaster, with a surge of tenderness towards Snape followed 
by exasperation with him, or anger at his stupidity in ever becoming a 
Death Eater in the first place.

Her devotion to him did not go unremarked. It was allowed to continue, 
mostly because Severus was inclined to allow it, and because it was 
desperately needed. The headmaster did not like placing such a burden on 
the shoulders of a student, any more than he liked the burden that sat so 
heavily upon Harry Potter. But as with Harry, there seemed to be no 
alternative. Dumbledore was a pragmatic wizard. Even with his spying days 
at an end, Severus still had an important role in the fight against 
Voldemort. If Hermione could be of help, he would let her do so as long as 
she wished, or until it became too dangerous.

It was impossible for Hermione to spend so much time with Severus without 
gaining a clearer understanding of the nature of her feelings for him. 
Sometimes she could discern warmth in his pain-filled gaze as it rested on 
her. It was the same warmth she had seen so many times when he had not 
known himself. It meant far more now. He had laughed more easily then, 
been more open and friendly. It had been him all the time, she knew, not 
the Muggle who Remus took it upon himself to tell her about. Some of that 
poor man's memory was available where his own was not, but that was the 
only difference. His feelings were his own; or what his own would have 
been had they not been filtered through a lifetime of horror and sorrow. 
He was an innately sensitive man, and it amazed her that he had escaped 
his time as a Death Eater with so much of his essential self intact. His 
restored self, the bad with the good, was not as easy or comfortable as 
his unremembering self had been. But it was far more valued and more 
beloved.

It wasn't just that he needed her, she thought. She needed him, too, and 
would do whatever it took to keep him.

*~*~*~*~*

It had been three days since he turned his classes over to the other 
teachers once again. He had resisted doing so. It felt like giving up. But 
it was inescapable that he could no longer control his temper with his 
students. He drew his wand on Draco Malfoy that last day, over a snide 
remark he could not remember five minutes later, and only Harry Potter's 
quick use of the disarming spell saved the boy. Snape considered himself 
fortunate indeed that he had been stopped not only before he could utter 
the curse, but before his lips could form the first syllable of it. He 
felt certain that Dumbledore's tolerance of his increasingly erratic 
behavior would not have covered the use of Cruciatus on a seventeen year 
old boy.

Hermione Granger's presence in his workroom was both balm and torture. The 
desire to turn to her for comfort grew almost irresistible. He reluctantly 
decided that he could no longer allow her to pursue his futile task with 
him. God knew what he might end up doing to the girl, in the event of 
another disappointment. Snape suspected that this must be something like 
what Remus Lupin went through, as each full moon approached. Lupin, he 
realized, was made of far stronger stuff than Snape had ever guessed.

*~*~*~*~*

Once again, it was Lupin who was charged with the task of breaking the 
news to Hermione. She took it calmly, but he couldn't say later that she 
took it well.

"So this is where we sit back and wait for him to go mad? Then what? We 
cart him off to St. Mungo's?"

Remus was frustrated as well.

"Do you think you're the only one who cares about him, Hermione? Have you 
seen Albus Dumbledore lately? He's aged years since this began. What about 
me? He's my friend, you know. One of very few who know what I am, and 
still associate with me voluntarily."

Hermione bit her lower lip, eyes wide in her tearstained face.

"I know, Professor. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that..."

"I know, child. This is hard on so many of us, just watching him... 
disintegrate. And knowing there's nothing we can do."

"There's nothing you can do, you mean. But I can."

Lupin's eyes blazed. "Do you honestly think he'll let you do that? And 
there's no guarantee it would work, if you did. Voldemort commissioned the 
Virgin Sacrifice potion to be punishment for disloyal Death Eaters, not a 
cure for the Dark Mark. And he's never actually used it to strip a Death 
Eater of his Mark when one has fallen out of favor. He seems to prefer 
killing them outright, except in a few notable cases." He snorted 
mirthlessly. "Besides, it's dark magic."

"What exactly defines dark magic, Professor?" Hermione's face was 
determined. "The virgin doesn't actually die, you know."

"I suspect that in any Death Eater ritual, she would, although that's not 
the point here. Your safety can no longer be guaranteed with Severus. He's 
in very bad shape. Even if it does work, you don't know what effect will 
have on him."

"It's a very simple design, if not the easiest to execute, Professor. If 
virgin's blood is keyed to the spell that created the Dark Mark, like it 
says in the book, the only effect it should have is to get rid of the 
Mark. Period."

Remus took her by the shoulders. "Listen to me. I know Severus. You know 
him; I shouldn't have to tell you this. He would literally die before he'd 
use anyone for something like this. Don't make me have to confine you to 
Gryffindor, Hermione. If I feel you're placing yourself at undue risk, 
I'll do it. Do you understand me?"

She glared at him. "Yes, sir." She walked stiffly out of the room and, 
when she was sure he wasn't following, headed for the dungeons.

*~*~*~*~*

He has to listen to me, she thought. I can't lose him; I'm not going to 
let him throw himself away when I can save him.

Snape had shown her the spell for opening the workroom door, and she used 
it this time rather than knocking, knowing it was unlikely he'd respond. 
Stepping into the chamber, she was shocked at what she saw.

Once again, it was littered with broken equipment. Thick orange liquid 
dripped from the walls and covered the sparse furnishings. Snape sat 
hunched on a stool, his back to her. His head was bowed, and she could see 
that he cradled his left arm to him. He was trembling violently. She stood 
there for several minutes, trying to order her thoughts. This would be her 
only chance to convince him, she was certain. She couldn't screw it up.

He gave a great, defeated sigh, and her heart twisted inside her. She 
started towards him just as she noticed his wand in his right hand. She 
stopped, thinking he meant to clean up the mess in the workroom. She 
watched in confusion as he raised it with jerky movements, until it was 
pointed at himself. Oh, no, she thought...

"Avada..."

She lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. He went down underneath her, 
his breath violently expelled from his body. He was stunned long enough 
for her to draw her own wand. She stood and pointed it at him.

"Petrificus Totalis. I'm sorry, Severus, but you're going to have to stay 
put there for a little while." Tears streamed down Hermione's face as she 
reassembled the damaged equipment with her wand, and disposed of what she 
could only assume was another failed concoction.

"You bloody great stupid man. How could you do this?" she raged as she 
worked, knowing he could hear her. "I told you that if you did this, I'd 
follow you. You didn't think I meant it, did you? I love you, you bloody 
bastard. You're not going anywhere." She ranted at him as she assembled 
ingredients, marching back and forth between the workroom and his stores. 
When she was certain she had everything she needed, she set up wards at 
all the entrances to the room. Lupin can give me my detention, she 
thought, they can kick me out of Hogwarts, as long I get this done first.

Within fifteen minutes, she had the first potion concocted. She set it 
aside while she started the other, stopping only when it had gone as far 
as it could without its key ingredient. She hated to leave him bound for 
so long, but she couldn't risk him trying to stop her. It took over an 
hour of the most meticulous work she'd ever performed, but finally it was 
ready. Pouring the simple but powerful lust potion into a small flask, she 
took it and knelt beside him, holding it against his lips as her other 
hand raised her wand. His eyes were on her, unreadable in his still face. 
She removed the body bind, then tilted the flask into his slightly opened 
mouth, counting on reflex to make him swallow at least some of it before 
he could react enough to spit it out.

Snape sat up, glaring at Hermione even as he reached for her. There was no 
bed in the workroom, not even a sofa. He brought his mouth down bruisingly 
on hers, his kiss conveying rage and lust and little else. She hadn't 
expected gentleness - not quite - but this savageness startled her, and 
she instinctively pulled back. His arm snaked around her body, pinning her 
to him. He hissed at the pain, but his grip did not lessen. She tried to 
push him away until she recalled her mission. She relaxed as much as 
possible, knowing what was about to happen, and how little it would 
resemble what she had dreamed of.

His hand found the front of her robes and ripped viciously downward, 
buttons scattering everywhere. His free hand kneaded her breast roughly 
through her jumper, making her whimper in pain. She struggled not to 
resist him. He pulled his robes up and fumbled hastily with his trousers 
until he had freed himself. Hermione shut her eyes, trying not to cry. 
This is not his fault, it's yours, she told herself. You asked for this, 
you're getting it, be happy about it. He pushed her to the floor, grabbing 
the hem of her skirt and lifting it to her waist. He grasped her underwear 
and yanked it down to her ankles and over her feet, tossing it aside, then 
used his knee to spread her thighs.

His first thrust was agonizing for Hermione. The matter of her virginity 
aside, she was completely unprepared. Searing pain shot through her, 
causing her entire body to clench.

"Relax, damn you," said Severus through gritted teeth. He pushed through 
the resisting muscle and tissue, then withdrew and repeated the painful 
process again and again. Hermione could not help crying out her hurt and 
fear.

You need to do better than this, Granger, she castigated herself. Where's 
that vaunted Gryffindor courage? She stifled her sobs and threw her arms 
around him, feeling him stiffen in surprise.

"I love you, Severus."

Finally he shuddered and spent himself into Hermione. When he was still, 
she pushed him off of her and got to her feet.

He sat up, watching her wordlessly as she scraped the fresh blood off of 
her thigh and added a single drop to the potion she'd prepared. When she 
brought him the vial he raised it to his lips and drained it in one 
swallow.

She barely stopped him cracking his head on the floor when he collapsed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 10

"I thought you might want to know that it worked."

Ron Weasley sat down on Hermione's bed. Upon returning from the hospital 
wing, she had gone directly to her room and remained there. She lay on her 
stomach, her face turned toward the wall. She hadn't responded to his 
knock, or anyone else's, for several hours. Finally, he opened the lock 
with his wand and walked in. He sat there for ten minutes waiting for her 
to acknowledge him.

He placed his hand on her back, and began rubbing it in the soothing way 
his mother used when he was small. A suspicious sniff was her only 
response. She lay unmoving, but he was certain she was crying. He couldn't 
blame her.

"Everyone's talking about it. I take back every disparaging remark I ever 
made about all the time you spend in the library, Hermione. You got rid of 
Snape's Dark Mark. A bloody miracle, I'd call it. You did more than that, 
too, you know."

He waited, hoping she would be curious enough to say something. After 
several minutes, he sighed and continued.

"He looks much better, too. He looks about ten years younger, and much 
healthier. He's awful quiet, though. I wonder if he'll be back in class 
tomorrow?" Or if you will, he didn't say.

"Anyway, I wouldn't have bothered you, but Dumbledore asked to see you 
quite a while ago. He said at your convenience, but I don't think it would 
be a good idea to keep him waiting much longer, do you?" Her body 
stiffened at the mention of Dumbledore's summons; he responded by rubbing 
harder, trying to infuse as much comfort into the touch as he could. "Do 
you want me to go with you, love?"

The endearment broke the dam of her silence. Ron was uncomfortable with 
displaying affection, she knew; he was more likely to give her a good, 
hard punch in the arm to let her know he cared than to offer sweet words. 
She sat up and allowed him to cradle her in his arms, crying noisily into 
his robes. He hastily fished a handkerchief out of a pocket and handed it 
to her.

"He looked at me like I betrayed him," she said. Her voice was husky from 
her tears, but it had an empty sound to it that Ron didn't like at all.

"You did what you had to do, Hermione. Don't forget that. I don't think 
I'd have done as much for Snape." He shuddered at the image he'd just 
given himself. "I'm sure I wouldn't have. Maybe for Professor Vector..."

He hoped she would at least smile at the joke, weak as it was, but she 
didn't. He stood and tugged on her hand.

"Up you go. Better to get this over with. And if you don't mind me saying 
so, you might want to clean yourself up a bit first. You look bloody 
awful, you know."

"Thanks, Ron." Hermione felt a wave of affection for him, and for Harry 
too. They had likely tossed a coin to determine who took on the task of 
dragging her out from under her metaphorical rock, she thought. No one 
ever had better friends. "You really know how to cheer a girl up."

Ron walked her to Dumbledore's office, Harry flanking her on the other 
side. She didn't allow them to accompany her beyond the gargoyle; she 
didn't want anyone to think she felt the need for bodyguards. She told 
them that there was no need to wait for her. They nodded, and when the 
steps carried her up and the gargoyle had moved back into place, they 
leaned against the stone wall and waited anyway.

Professor Dumbledore looked as grave as Hermione had ever seen him. 
Professor Lupin was there, as was Professor McGonagall. Of the three, 
McGonagall's face held a look closest to sympathy. Lupin's expression was 
closed, unreadable.

"I trust you understand the seriousness of what you've done?" Dumbledore's 
voice was devoid of its usual warmth. Hermione felt her composure 
crumbling. She took a deep breath, resolved that she would not cry.

"Yes, sir."

"You deliberately disobeyed the explicit instructions of a Hogwarts 
professor. You drugged and cursed another, forcing him to do something you 
knew he would consider repugnant, and had the choice been offered him, he 
would have refused to do. Your method utilized the Dark Arts, as Professor 
Lupin had already explained to you, I believe?"

Hermione nodded.

"The Ministry is aware of your actions, Miss Granger. It was with some 
difficulty that I was able to persuade the Minister to allow me to deal 
with you, and to recall his two rather zealous Aurors."

Aurors? Hermione felt faint.

"It would have pained me to see you spend even a short time in Azkaban. 
While I have no doubt that the outcome of your trial would have been 
favorable, given the circumstances, it would have been a most unpleasant 
experience for you."

Hermione felt the room lurch around her. Lupin was there before she could 
fall, and he guided her to a chair.

"I see that you do appreciate the gravity of the situation. You will 
understand, I'm sure, why I cannot appear to be too lenient towards you. I 
would not like to see the Ministry decide that I have not punished you 
adequately, and demand that I hand you over to them after all."

Hermione's throat felt dry and constricted. She swallowed with difficulty, 
trying to breathe.

"I have persuaded the Minister that it is in wizarding society's best 
interests that you be allowed to complete your education. Your record was 
a deciding factor. I am relieved to say I will not be required to expel 
you from Hogwarts. Unfortunately, I shall have to suspend you from your 
classes for a period of two weeks."

Hermione barely heard him. "Azkaban" and "trial" still rang in her ears.

"You will be given a choice; you may return home for the period of your 
suspension..."

"Oh, no..." She stopped herself before she could plead further. She would 
not beg.

"Or you may remain at Hogwarts, although you will have to remove from 
Gryffindor. Which shall it be?"

"I'll stay," she whispered.

"You will spend the two weeks confined to guest quarters. You will not go 
to the Great Hall; your meals will be brought to you. You will be allowed 
as many books as you like, including your textbooks, but all class 
assignments will be withheld until your punishment ends."

I'll never catch up, she thought despondently, but she said nothing.

"You may receive visitors for limited periods of time, all such visits to 
be approved by Professor McGonagall. Do you have anything to say, or any 
questions, Miss Granger?"

"May... may I please speak with Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered briefly to Lupin and McGonagall before he 
spoke. "I am not certain that would be wise, my dear. I shall inform him 
of your request, however, although I cannot be certain that he will accede 
to it." He paused. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"May I say that I am relieved to be still in possession of my Potions 
Master? Severus would have been most difficult to replace." For the first 
time since entering the office, Hermione could see a twinkle in the 
ancient eyes. She gave him a weak smile.

McGonagall led Hermione out of the office, and down to where Harry and Ron 
waited.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

Hermione bit her lip. "I've been suspended for two weeks."

"Suspended!" Ron exclaimed. "But you saved Snape's life!"

"Be that as it may, Mr. Weasley, your friend broke a great many rules of 
this school, as well as several wizarding laws. She also placed herself in 
great danger. She could have been killed."

"K-killed?" Hermione was stunned.

"Professor Snape's mental state had grown extremely unstable, Miss 
Granger. Between that and the lust potion - I hope you realize that its 
effects had nothing whatsoever to do with love?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good. Had you attempted to change your mind, he might easily have become 
violent. As bad as the experience was for you, it could have been a great 
deal worse."

"Oh, my god," said Harry, appalled.

"Precisely, Mr. Potter. Now it's time you two went back to Gryffindor. I 
shall let you know when you may visit Miss Granger."

They looked mutinous, but they obeyed. Hermione followed McGonagall down a 
little-used corridor to a small set of rooms, consisting of a bedroom, a 
bath, and a tiny sitting room. Her things were already there, neatly 
arranged about the quarters. A large stack of books sat on the desk. As 
prisons went, she thought, it looked quite comfortable.

Before leaving, McGonagall raised a hand to Hermione's cheek.

"If it's any comfort, child, had I been in your place, I would have done 
the same."

*~*~*~*~*

The door to her sitting room opened later that evening. Professor 
McGonagall entered. She was not alone.

"I understand that you wished to see me, Miss Granger?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 11

"Yes, I did want to see you, Professor. Thank you for coming." Hermione 
rose from her seat, plucking nervously at her robes as if to dislodge 
imaginary lint. She spent the day hoping to see him, but now she didn't 
know where to begin.

He crossed his arms, his manner thoroughly unapproachable.

"Now that I am here, what is it that you want?"

"I..." She raised anxious brown eyes to forbidding black ones. 
"Professor," she said, turning to McGonagall, "would it be possible for me 
to speak privately to Professor Snape? Just for a few minutes?"

McGonagall looked dubious, but turned to Snape.

"You needn't wait for me, Minerva. I shall not be long."

"I shall give you ten minutes, Miss Granger." She left the room.

Hermione crossed her own arms, but the posture had the effect of making 
her look lost rather than distant.

"I... I guess I wanted to know if you were all right, and..."

"I am quite well, thank you." His tone was disdainful.

"Yes, you look..." ...wonderful... "well."

"Was there anything else you required of me, Miss Granger, other than an 
opportunity to ask questions that any of the staff could have answered for 
you?"

"Is it really gone?" she blurted.

He regarded her for a moment, and then, pulling up the left sleeve of his 
robes, he thrust his arm out.

"See for yourself."

Snape's left arm was unblemished.

"So it worked."

"Yes, Miss Granger, you succeeded. Where I failed, you accomplished the 
goal. My congratulations." Hermione never hated his sarcasm as much as she 
did at that moment, when his words cut into her like wire-thin whips, 
wielded mercilessly.

"I saved your life."

"I did not ask you to do so."

"Why are you being so hateful about this? I know you didn't care for what 
I did, but why does it bother you so very much? What was so awful about 
having sex with me that you would rather have died?" The words erupted 
seemingly out of nowhere. Having uttered them, she had no choice but to 
wait for a response to a question she already wished unasked.

"The Dark Mark is gone, Miss Granger, and for that, I do indeed thank 
you." His sneering face held genuine rage. Hermione backed up without 
realizing she was doing so. "I am no longer in danger of being driven 
insane by it. I admit that that is a good thing. But the stains on my soul 
that it represented... those are ineradicable. Remove the Mark a thousand 
times, and those remain. And now, through your actions, I have the burden 
of one more, far worse than the rest because..." He caught himself, 
barely. Because I never loved any of my other victims, Hermione. "Because 
it represents a violation of the position of trust that I hold at this 
school. I cannot hold my head up, Miss Granger. I have debauched you, and 
all know it. Your innocence is gone; one more victim of Severus Snape, the 
Death Eater."

"Former Death Eater," she said in a small voice.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, former Death Eater."

"Do you truly think that matters? I will always be tainted. And now you 
are tainted along with me. You have ruined yourself through intimate 
association with me." His words were darts tipped with bitterness.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Do speak up, Miss Granger. If you are to mumble every word, we shall 
never end this discussion. It grows late."

"I said, it wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"How glad I am that you realize that. Regardless, I must live with the 
consequences as well."

Anger ripped through her. Give me credit for having given a damn about 
you, she thought.

"Should I have just let you kill yourself?"

He flinched. The movement was barely perceptible, but Hermione caught it.

"Yes. That is precisely what you should have done."

Hermione shook with emotion. She reached for her wand, forgetting that it 
had been taken from her as part of her punishment. Her eyes fell upon a 
knife that lay on the table, a half-peeled orange forgotten beside it.

"I told you that if you killed yourself, I would follow you. Did I not?"

"I hardly think this melodrama serves any..."

"Did I or did I not?" she shouted.

"You did."

She grabbed the knife from the table and thrust it into Snape's hand. 
Surprised, he took it. She turned and pressed her back to him, seizing the 
hand that held the knife. As he stood shocked and unresisting, she brought 
it to her throat.

"I screwed things up. Make them right."

"Bloody hell, Hermione..." His voice was disbelieving. Had she been able 
to see his face, it would have appeared as white as Dumbledore's beard.

"You really want to die? All right, fine, die. But take me with you. I 
won't stay if you go, and I'd really rather not have to do this myself."

She pressed the blade closer; he dared not move suddenly, for fear of 
harming her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"For the same reason I forced you to fuck me. For the same reason I didn't 
let you use Avada Kedavra on yourself. I love you. And if my actions have 
bound you to a life that you can't bear, if it's really that bad, then I 
love you enough to let you go. But I'm coming too."

"And if I don't love you, Hermione?"

She was silent. A drop of moisture struck Snape's arm.

"What if I don't love you?" he repeated, his whisper velvety, soothing, at 
odds with the stark harshness of the words.

The seconds crawled by for Snape, his unwilling hand holding death at her 
throat. Words of love formed on his lips, but he held his breath against 
them. Not like this, he thought.

After what seemed like hours, her hand dropped.

"I'm sorry," she said dully. "For everything." She sat down at the table, 
burying her face in her hands.

The door opened, and McGonagall entered. She stopped, taken aback at the 
sight of Hermione, weeping brokenly, and Snape looking helpless. Her eyes 
took in the knife he held. He pocketed it, his eyes flicking to the 
sobbing younger woman. Her eyes widened.

McGonagall walked over to Hermione and placed her hands on her student's 
shoulders.

"I shall manage from here, Severus." Her voice was calm, belying the 
anxiety in her face.

Snape nodded wordlessly and left the room, shaking legs barely carrying 
him to his quarters. He did not sleep that night.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 12

Shortly after Snape's departure, Hermione had another visitor. McGonagall 
answered the knock at the door. It was Remus Lupin.

Hermione was curled on the couch, wrapped in a tight little ball of 
misery. She saw Lupin and turned her face away. He walked over and sat 
beside her.

"I'm not here to lecture you, Hermione. I think you've had enough of that 
for today."

She sniffed. "You warned me."

"True. And I hoped you'd heed me. But like everyone else, I'm pleased with 
the results of your disobedience - mostly."

"What do you mean, mostly?"

"I ran into Professor Snape in the corridor - literally. I think that's 
the first time I've ever seen him bump into someone because he wasn't 
watching where he was going."

"I guess I really upset him." Gee, Hermione, that was about the stupidest 
thing I've ever heard you say, she berated herself. Traumatized him, more 
like. What the hell were you thinking?

"Um... yes. I suppose you did. He wouldn't tell me anything, though. And 
I'm not here for the juicy details," he said, when she looked up at him. 
"I just want to make sure that you know everything that you need to know."

"What else is there? I essentially raped Professor Snape, and he's 
wallowing in guilt over it, even though it wasn't his fault. He said he 
wished I'd let him die. And I did take away his choice - but I just 
couldn't stand by and do nothing, Professor! If I had to do it again, I 
would, even if it makes him hate me twice as much as he does now."

Lupin was fairly confident that Snape did not hate Hermione, but he did 
not mention this.

"Did he mention why he feels so guilty?" he asked.

"He said he debauched me. How can he see it like that? I forced him to do 
it. And he said he'll always be tainted, and now I'm tainted too. Like I 
care about that."

"That's only part of it. Do you remember when you asked me what made the 
Virgin Sacrifice potion dark magic?"

She nodded. Despite her unhappiness, she was curious to know where he was 
going with this.

"The virgin's blood has to be taken with intent to harm. It doesn't take 
much of this intent; being angry with someone, wanting to get back at her 
by being less than gentle; that's enough. But it's a necessary element."

"I didn't see that, when I read about it." Hermione was confused.

"I don't believe 'Modern Dark Magic' makes mention of it. Several other 
texts do, however. The Death Eaters interviewed with Veritaserum left out 
what the potion allowed them to; the book you consulted has many such 
omissions."

"Oh my gods," said Hermione. "I assume Professor Snape knows this?"

"He does. Does this help you understand his, um... annoyance?"

Dear gods, she thought.

"But still... I couldn't just let him die."

McGonagall spoke up. "I cannot say whether you should or should not have 
done so, Hermione. I believe you already know my opinion on the fact that 
you did not."

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione needed a vote of confidence desperately 
at that moment.

"But the very fact that the Virgin Sacrifice worked means that the intent 
to harm you existed within Professor Snape. He was angry at being 
controlled, and of course the Dark Mark had taken a toll on his state of 
mind. No one can justly say he was responsible for his actions at the time 
- but a great many will, nonetheless, because of his history." Remus' face 
was grim.

"But it was me! I put him under Petrificus. I force-fed him a lust potion. 
And his temper had been horrible for days. He wasn't himself at all." 
Lupin and McGonagall both looked amazed at that statement. Hermione was 
smitten indeed if she could think that, Lupin thought. "Of course he was 
angry with me." Snape's reaction to being cured of the Dark Mark made more 
sense to Hermione now. How can I cure the cure, she wondered.

"He was worried about my reputation as well," Hermione said. "Why would he 
care, when I've ruined whatever chance he might have had of ever 
recovering his own?"

"It's not my place to say, but..."

"Then perhaps you had better not do so, Remus," McGonagall interrupted 
him.

The werewolf nodded. Then he pulled a vial out of his pocket.

"Professor Snape made this for you. He gave it to me when I saw him in the 
corridor. He meant to give it to you himself, but it slipped his mind." He 
handed it to Hermione.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion. He said he thought you might need it, after 
today."

Hermione clutched the vial tightly. Her head bowed again, and her eyes 
stung as another bout of tears engulfed her.

"Why would he want to be so kind to me?" she whispered.

Lupin and McGonagall exchanged glances; she gestured that he should answer 
Hermione. He knelt beside her, his hand resting on her shaking shoulder.

"Don't think that he doesn't appreciate what you did for him. Yes, he's 
angry. I think you understand why now?" She nodded jerkily. "But he knows 
what it cost you to help him, and he knows that you did it because you 
care about him. He appreciates that a great deal. He hasn't had a lot of 
people care about him enough to sacrifice anything of importance for him, 
Hermione."

"If you mean my virginity, I don't see that as a significant loss."

"More than that."

"But I didn't know the potion was... was dark..."

"No, but would it have stopped you if you had?"

"No." She spoke unhesitatingly.

"You risked what he knows, what everyone knows, is the most important 
thing in the world to you - a magical education here at Hogwarts. You went 
into it knowing that it could mean your expulsion. Or did you not realize 
that?"

She reached for her handkerchief and blew her nose. "No. I knew. I hoped 
it wouldn't happen, but I knew it might. But you're wrong. And he's 
wrong."

He tilted his head, puzzled. "About what?"

"School isn't the most important thing in the world to me."

Two pairs of eyes regarded her solemnly. Neither of them spoke, and 
Hermione began to feel exasperation.

"For heaven's sake, do I have to spell it out?" She realized as soon as 
she spoke that she had just been guilty of gross impertinence towards two 
teachers. Both professors, to Hermione's gratitude, chose to ignore it.

McGonagall's eyes were suspiciously bright. "No, my dear Miss Granger. 
Indeed you don't." She walked over and sat down beside Hermione, drawing 
her into an embrace. "I wish I could do something for you."

"You can, Professor. Could you let me see Harry and Ron?"

The two young men sat at the table in the small sitting room, looking 
anywhere but at Hermione. Lupin left before they arrived, and McGonagall 
told them they could have fifteen minutes before leaving the trio alone.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know," Hermione said, her 
frustration rising. She looked pointedly at the grazed knuckles on Ron's 
right hand.

"It's only Malfoy and his group," Harry said, not meeting her eyes.

"Tell me what they're saying," she said, grinding the words out.

"Hermione, we just can't," said Ron, looking like a trapped animal.

"Fine." She stood and crossed her arms. "Then I'll just ask Professor 
McGonagall if Malfoy can visit me. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell me 
everything."

As Hermione had begun to fear during her discussion with Lupin, the talk 
throughout the school had turned from Hermione's success with the Dark 
Mark, to lascivious titters over her means of achieving it. She wanted 
desperately to know just how bad it had become.

"I'm asking you because you're my friends, and I know I can count on you 
to tell me the truth. Right?" Her eyes bored into each of them in turn.

"Hermione, it's going to hurt. Bad." Harry looked more uncomfortable than 
Hermione had ever seen him. More so, even, than when meeting Cedric 
Diggory's parents for the first time after the boy's death.

"Please, Harry."

"God, I don't want to tell you this," said Harry. "They're calling you the 
Whore of Gryffindor."

Hermione felt like she'd just been punched in the stomach, but forced 
herself to sound as matter-of-fact as possible. "That's... not very nice. 
What else?"

Ron held up his injured hand. "I got this when Goyle said that you were so 
desperate, you'd use a lust potion on Snape just to get some."

Those lousy, fucking bastards, she thought.

"What about Snape? Are they saying anything about him?"

"Um... Mudblood-lover," Ron said. That didn't seem so bad, Hermione 
thought. Ron and Harry had often been called the same thing because of 
their friendship with her.

"And they're saying... they're saying that since he couldn't go to any 
more Death Eater gatherings, he was making do with a convenient 
Muggle-born for his sport."

Hermione felt like she was going to throw up. This was what he feared, she 
thought. And I did this to him.

"Is it really just Malfoy and his friends? The truth."

Harry held up his own right hand, palm down. Hermione hadn't noticed that 
his knuckles were also decorated with abrasions.

"I got this from smashing in the face of a Hufflepuff. I've got detention 
for a week," he said.

I've dragged my friends into this, whether they wanted to become involved 
or not, she thought. What in the hell am I going to do? And what, in the 
name of all the gods, am I going to do about Snape? There's no way I can 
fix this. Despair threatened to overwhelm her.

Ron and Harry left a few minutes later, shooed out by their head of house. 
Before McGonagall shut and locked the door for the night, Hermione asked 
her for one more favor.

"Could I please send an owl to my parents?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 13

The Grangers arrived the next day, just before dinner. Professor 
McGonagall met them at King's Cross, employing counter-charms to the 
anti-Muggle defenses around Platform 93
â
�
„4 so skillfully that Hermione's parents never realized that any special 
magic was needed to get them onto it. The journey on the Hogwarts Express 
was spent in going over the particulars of the situation as it related to, 
in Mr. Granger's words, what exactly on God's green earth was going on 
with his little girl.

An abbreviated version had been owled to them the previous day. They had 
agreed, reluctantly, to Professor Dumbledore's request to allow Hermione 
to remain at Hogwarts. The transition back to the Muggle world during the 
summer was always a shock for their daughter, one that became more 
pronounced each June. It seemed unwise to remove her from the comfort and 
familiarity of the school, on the heels of so traumatic an event. This 
unselfish decision having been reached, the Grangers proceeded to worry 
themselves into a state of panic, and it was with great relief that they 
received Dumbledore's letter inviting them to visit Hermione.

The Muggle couple arrived at the station in Hogsmeade in only slightly 
less anxious a state than the one in which they'd left London. They used 
the hours on the train to try to come to terms with the horrifying 
knowledge that their much-loved only child had found herself in a position 
in which she saw no alternative but to drug her teacher into brutally 
deflowering her. That it was a teacher of whom they'd never heard any good 
from Hermione did not help in the slightest. They understood perfectly 
that the man's life had been at stake, if they were unclear on the reasons 
why this was so. They were ready to accept that Hermione had acted from 
the purest of motives, and far from shaming her family, had shown greater 
courage and resolve than should have been demanded from a young woman of 
her age. They also understood that the man whose life Hermione had saved 
appeared to be far from grateful for her intervention.

They were suitably impressed by the carriages, drawn by no visible means, 
that carried them from the train station to the castle. They politely 
noted that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a most 
impressive edifice, and that everything about it, from the winged boars at 
the gates to the waving figures in the portraits on the walls, was 
remarkable. Students on the way to dinner in the Great Hall thronged 
around them in the entryway, each dressed in robes exactly like the ones 
they bought for Hermione in Diagon Alley each year, when she did not do 
her school shopping with the Weasleys. Whispers of "Muggle" floated around 
them; they took no offense. Each new marvel became more unbearable than 
the last, because each seemed to be one more obstacle in the way of 
getting to Hermione and ascertaining her well-being for themselves. The 
moving staircases, amazing as they were, were a particular trial. The 
Grangers were absolutely frantic with worry.

She was waiting for them in the sitting room of her detention quarters. 
She flung herself into her mother's arms, crying over and over that she 
was sorry.

"Sshh, love. You've got nothing to be sorry for," her father said, 
stroking her curls. "You weren't raised to let a man die if you could 
prevent it, now, were you? Although I never dreamed of anything like this 
happening to you..."

He caught his daughter in his own arms, hampered by the fact that Mrs. 
Granger hadn't quite released her. Professor McGonagall, reluctant to 
intrude on the emotional reunion, withdrew from the room.

They coaxed Hermione into telling them her version of events, incredibly 
painful though it was to both her and her parents. Her mother's 
determinedly cheerful demeanor dissolved, and she wept bitterly at the 
trauma Hermione had endured, knowing that she was powerless to make it 
better. Her father exclaimed furiously at the mention of Azkaban, saying 
that he'd have a thing or two to say to that Fudge fellow for daring to 
suggest it. Both Muggles earnestly desired a word with Professor Snape.

Dinner was served to them, but no one ate. As the evening wore on, it 
became clear to her parents that Hermione's biggest source of grief was 
not the assault upon herself that she had precipitated, or even the threat 
of prison or expulsion, but some perceived harm to Snape.

"They're saying that once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," Hermione 
said. "They're saying he manipulated me. Since I'm Muggle-born, some 
people actually believe it. Harry told me that there have been owls from 
parents saying they want him sacked. And it's all my fault."

She explained the nature of the Virgin Sacrifice potion, thankful for 
their quick understanding. Eventually even her father was able to express 
some sympathy for the Potions Master's untenable position.

"You've a good heart, darling," her mother said. "But our first concern 
has to be you. What can be done to make this right for you?"

"As long as it's not right for him, nothing." She took a deep, steadying 
breath. "Mum, Dad... I'm in love with him."

Two pairs of eyes widened in disbelief and some horror.

"How long has this been going on, Hermione?" Mr. Granger demanded.

"Since just after his amnesia began." They'd already been filled in on 
Snape's period of memory loss, but this stunning announcement made them 
ask for more details. Hermione answered as calmly as she could, breaking 
down into sobs only occasionally.

"Don't try to decide anything just yet, sweetheart," said Mrs. Granger. 
"We'll get this sorted out. That's why we're here."

"I know, Mum. I love you two so much. I'm sorry to be such a worry."

"We've already had that discussion, Hermione," her father said sternly. 
"No more apologies. Now, where can I find Dumbledore?"

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione did not go with her parents to visit the headmaster. When they 
returned, it was clear from their faces that their anxiety over her had 
not been allayed, and had perhaps had something added to it.

"He's not going to expel me after all, is he?"

"No, Hermione, far from it. He wants very much for you to stay here. He's 
a remarkable man, I'll say that. But we need to ask you something," her 
mother added. Her tone was grave. "You said you're in love with Professor 
Snape?"

"Yes, Mum."

"How certain are you of your feelings, sweetheart?" Her father's face was 
set in serious lines.

"Very certain." Hermione saw no need to go into the convoluted path her 
emotions towards Snape had taken. She'd never been more sure of anything 
in her life.

"After you graduate from Hogwarts, what sort of career do you see yourself 
pursuing?" This question, from her mother, puzzled Hermione.

"I want to go into theoretical Arithmancy, or else Potions research. I 
haven't quite decided," she said. "Why?"

"Are you certain that there's nothing- nothing in our world- that you 
might be willing to consider?"

"Why are you asking me that? What is going on?"

Her parents exchanged uneasy glances.

"We just think, after all this, it might be more - comfortable - for you 
in the Muggle world, darling." Her mother tried to sound casual, but 
failed utterly.

"Mum, you know how important magic is to me. Why wouldn't I want to live 
in the wizarding world?"

"Hermione, I don't understand the wizarding world. Not even a little bit. 
I know it's different from us Muggles, but apparently your Professor 
Snape's history is more - oh, bloody hell, I don't know how to say this. 
More sordid than we'd understood it to be." Her father looked very 
unhappy.

"You already knew that he was a Death Eater," said Hermione quietly.

"Yes, darling, but we didn't really understand what that meant. I realize 
he's quite reformed now, but in the past..." Her mother shuddered.

"He did some truly terrible things. Yes, I know."

"You know? And you can still say you love him?"

"Mum, Dad, try to imagine the courage it must have taken to renounce You 
Know - to renounce Voldemort, knowing that it almost certainly meant 
Azkaban. If Severus..." Her heart seemed to flutter in her throat at his 
given name. She had been trying to think of him only as Professor Snape, 
trying to impose distance any way she could. "If Severus had gone to the 
Ministry, he would definitely have gone to prison, probably without a 
trial. He went to Dumbledore instead, not expecting anything better - only 
hoping to be able to tell his story before he was buried alive in that 
place. He didn't expect mercy, even from Dumbledore. But he got it, and 
he's spent his life since then trying to be worthy of it. That's who he 
is, and that's why I love him. He's the most decent, honorable... he's the 
strongest person I know."

"I see," said Mrs. Granger. "You might as well know that Professor 
Dumbledore thinks that what... Severus... told you is true. Your 
reputation in the wizarding world has been damaged, maybe beyond repair."

What do I care what a bunch of Slytherin gits think of me?" But she did 
care, she knew, just as she knew it wasn't only the Slytherins. And there 
was one Slytherin in particular whose good opinion she cared about more 
than anyone else's.

"Snape's reputation has also suffered, Hermione. Dumbledore doesn't plan 
to fire him, but he's under a great deal of pressure to do so. Your world 
thinks he's a seducer of innocents, even though they ought to know it's 
rubbish. And they think you're his..."

"You don't have to say it, Dad. I know."

"There's only one way to silence the gossips, sweetheart. But I want you 
to think very carefully about this. Ask yourself if it's worth betting 
your entire future on."

"What is it? I'll do anything. I just don't want to see him suffer over 
this, not if I can repair the damage I've done to him."

Her father gave her a piercing look. "Anything, Hermione?"

"Yes, Dad, of course!"

He remained silent for several moments, obviously working towards a 
decision. Finally he spoke.

"If you're certain this is what you want... I'd best go have a chat with 
my future son-in-law."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 14

After a moment's hesitation, Snape extended his hand to shake Mr. 
Granger's outstretched one. He meant no discourtesy to Hermione's father; 
he was simply nervous. He didn't want to have this conversation, but he 
owed it to the Grangers, after what he'd done to their daughter. Had he 
been in this man's place, he knew, he would have wanted the source of his 
daughter's ruin to explain himself.

While Professor Dumbledore offered tea, Granger studied Snape with 
amazement, although he tried to hide it. This was the man Hermione loved? 
How had his girl ever managed to see past the hooked nose, the greasy 
hair, the cold eyes? Hermione's tastes had often been unaccountable, he 
thought, but this was extraordinary.

Dumbledore had offered to leave the two men alone, even though they were 
meeting in his office, but each had asked him to stay. Brown and black 
eyes pleaded silently for support. He remained.

Snape forced himself to begin.

"There is very little I can say to you, sir, except that I deeply regret 
the harm I've caused Miss Granger. I would give anything to undo it, were 
it possible."

Granger regarded him silently for a few moments. Snape's nervousness 
increased. He felt like a first year, called to this very office for a 
lecture over some infraction of the rules. "Well, Hermione regrets it 
too," Granger said roughly. "Seems to think she's ruined your life."

Snape flushed. His harsh words to Hermione, in the aftermath of her 
desperate attempt to save his damnable hide, came back to him. Rash though 
he thought her actions, she had not deserved such anger from him. He could 
not imagine her simply letting him turn his wand on himself. It was not in 
her nature. His anger toward her found most of its source in the knowledge 
of what she'd done to herself in the process. She had deserved his 
comfort, not his censure. He felt like a beast.

"I'm the one who ruined her life, Mr. Granger. I'm fully sensible of it, I 
assure you." For what it's worth, he thought. If he chose to kill me here 
and now, I would not lift a hand to prevent him.

"Well, this self-flagellation you're both determined to indulge yourselves 
in is all well and good, but it doesn't answer the question of what to do 
next."

Snape wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. He said nothing.

"Professor Dumbledore has explained that neither you nor my daughter can 
expect much of a welcome in the wizarding world after this."

"The Headmaster is correct, Mr. Granger. I regret..."

Granger cut him off. "I know, you regret it, deepest apologies, etcetera." 
His tone was scathing. "I've heard enough about regret from Hermione to 
last a lifetime. You both found yourselves in an impossible situation, and 
you did the best you could. I know very well you didn't want Hermione 
interfering. And I know Hermione; nothing could have stopped her. I think 
it's time to move on."

Snape's jaw dropped. Dumbledore suppressed a chuckle.

"My daughter, though she meant well, compromised you." He raised a hand, 
stopping Snape from responding. "But she's my primary concern, and you've 
compromised her as well. I want to know if you're going to do the right 
thing by her. Professor Dumbledore seems to think it's the one thing that 
might get you both out of this muddle."

Snape felt the blood drain from his head. He gripped the arms of his 
chair, willing himself not to faint.

"Has... has Hermione... Miss Granger agreed to this?

"No. She won't say a word for or against the idea, until she knows how you 
feel about it. Insists she won't have you forced. I don't think it's a 
matter of forcing either of you, if you've any brains at all. Everyone 
around here says you're a smart fellow, Professor. Do you see any 
alternative?"

"The impact on her life..."

"Will be considerable, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I will do whatever I 
can to mitigate it, while she remains a student. That is, if you agree.

Bitterness mixed with elation, though he tried to clamp down on the 
latter. He didn't deserve to gain anything out of this. He couldn't find 
the words, so he merely nodded. Once again, Granger reached out his hand.

"Welcome to the family, Severus."

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning's classes dragged on interminably for Snape, but finally 
he found himself free. He walked to the edge of the school grounds and 
Apparated to Diagon Alley.

When he returned an hour later, he headed straight to Hermione's detention 
quarters. To his dismay, the tiny sitting room was crowded. Besides 
Hermione's parents, Lupin and McGonagall were also there, as well as 
Harry, Ron, and Ginny Weasley. Hermione looked to be in good spirits, but 
she paled when she saw him.

Silence fell, and everyone looked at him, expressions ranging from 
expectant to, in Hermione's case, frightened. She needed reassurance, he 
saw, and she needed it now.

"Would you mind giving me a few moments alone with Miss Granger?"

He was rather startled to see that his words caused a virtual stampede 
towards the door. He had expected protests, from her friends at least.

When they were alone, he sat beside her on the sofa, and awkwardly took 
her hand.

"You are fortunate to have so many people care about you, Miss Granger."

She inclined her head, her eyes never leaving his. She looked almost as 
though she was going to be sick, he thought. Nerves, or revulsion? She had 
insisted that she loved him, but he didn't see how her feelings could have 
survived the events of the last few days. She probably wishes she'd never 
come down to the dungeon, he thought.

"I have no right to ask this of you. Did I not believe it would be for 
your own good, I would not do so, but circumstances leave us no choice." 
He withdrew from his pocket a band of white gold, mounted with one large 
emerald, surrounded by smaller diamonds. "Will you do me the honor of 
becoming my wife, Miss Granger?"

She stared at the ring, her thoughts unreadable. One tear fell from her 
cheek, splashing on his hand as he slid the ring onto her finger.

Her voice was choked when she answered.

"Yes, Severus. I'll marry you."

Another tear spilled. Snape could not tell himself that it was from 
happiness.

*~*~*~*~*

The news of the engagement, sent immediately by Professor Dumbledore to 
the Daily Prophet on behalf of the Grangers, had one immediate positive 
effect. The Minister himself paid a visit to the newly affianced couple, 
exclaiming his delight that things had turned out so well.

"All pending charges are dropped, of course, Miss Granger," he said. "No 
question of dark magic and all that now, eh? Never heard of a Death Eater 
marrying his victim. Or hers."

Fudge's words churned Hermione's stomach. It was clear that he had been 
prepared to consider her the next thing to being a Death Eater, her 
demonstrated lack of support for Voldemort apparently not entering into 
it, in his estimation. Fortunately, he excused himself quickly, citing 
pressing business at the Ministry.

"Loathsome fellow," said Mr. Granger. No one disagreed with him.

*~*~*~*~*

With the removal of any danger of prosecution, Dumbledore declared that 
Hermione need not finish her period of suspension, although the points 
Lupin had taken from her for disobeying him were allowed to stand. Fair 
enough that she got to end her punishment early, Ron had said; after all, 
she was getting a life sentence with Snape. Harry smacked him hard in the 
arm. Hermione did weep with joy at being able to resume her studies. The 
time spent with Snape in his workroom had already caused her to fall 
slightly behind; complete exclusion from her classes had been nothing 
short of disaster. Her things were moved back into her room in Gryffindor 
that day, and evening found her in the common room, surrounded by the 
notes her friends had taken in various classes.

Parvati and Lavender were disgruntled. They had hoped for the whole 
delectable story, straight from the source. They settled for interrupting 
her studying with suggestions for her wedding.

"You definitely have to have white robes. The whole virginity thing 
doesn't matter. I mean, how many people actually get married as virgins 
anymore?" Lavender said.

"Well, it's a bit late for you, Lavender," Parvati said. Her friend 
frowned, but otherwise ignored the remark.

"I think the Great Hall, tons of flowers. Professor Sprout should be able 
to have masses of them, if you just give her a day's notice. Now about 
music..."

"Lavender, it's going to be a quiet ceremony with as few people as we can 
manage. Now if you don't mind, shut up. I've got to concentrate."

Parvati was exasperated. "How can you be so dull about this, Hermione? 
You're getting married. I'd be terribly excited, if I were you."

Hermione slammed her Charms book shut. "You're not me. And I'm getting 
married because I have to. It's not like he would have asked me 
otherwise," she said bitterly. She left stalked out of the common room.

"Well, that was uncalled for, don't you think?" Parvati asked.

"Definitely," responded Lavender.

"I think you two should just stuff it," said Seamus Finnegan.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione was at the Quidditch field before she realized that she had 
decided on a destination. The Gryffindor team was practicing, and she 
chose a seat away from the other spectators. Harry spotted her from the 
air, as did Ron after a few minutes. They flew over to join her when 
practice ended.

"How are you holding up?" Harry put an arm around her shoulders, his green 
eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, honestly. But I don't think I can stand to have one more person 
ask why I'm not thrilled to death over the fact that I'm getting married."

"Really, though, Hermione, why aren't you thrilled? You're in love with 
him, right? I mean, I know marriage is not exactly like going steady..."

"Not even close, Ron," she said, though she smiled at him. He was dense 
sometimes, but very dear, she thought. "And I do love him. But how can I 
be happy that he's marrying me because he thinks he has to? Do you want to 
know what he said when he asked me? 'It's for your own good.' And he 
looked like he was going to be sick."

"It's kind of hard to tell with Snape, but I do think he cares about you," 
said Harry. "Maybe you can make it work."

"Maybe," Hermione said noncommittally. The boys let it drop, though she 
caught the troubled glance they shared. When will they stop feeling sorry 
for me? she wondered.

"Wow, Harry, look." Ron held up Hermione's hand, displaying the engagement 
ring. "Slytherin colors."

Hermione stiffened. The same thought had occurred to her, although she 
didn't think it was a conscious choice on Snape's part. Just the same, it 
bothered her a bit.

"You're going to give him a ring, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but only a plain gold band. No stones."

"I say you should break tradition. Give him a ruby surrounded by topazes. 
What do you think?"

"I think my marriage would be over before it started, thank you very 
much," but she laughed. The absurdity of the notion of giving Severus a 
ring adorned in Gryffindor colors cheered her greatly. She began to think 
that perhaps things would be all right after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 15

The wedding was held the next day. It was a short, simple affair, and 
before Hermione had time to calm her pre-wedding jitters, she was a 
married woman. Mrs. Severus Snape. She rolled the name around in her mind, 
trying to make it seem real. She wore navy blue dress robes, flatly 
refusing to wear white. They all knew why she was here in the first place, 
after all. She felt they could dispense with the symbolism.

It was a plain band of white gold that she placed on Snape's finger, 
matching her engagement ring and the one that joined it during the 
ceremony. She saw Harry stifle a laugh out of the corner of her eye, and 
barely suppressed one herself, despite her taut nerves. She knew he was 
thinking of the Gryffindor ring they'd joked about.

Dumbledore performed the ceremony, with Professor McGonagall as Hermione's 
sole attendant, and Remus Lupin acting as best man for Severus. Besides 
Harry, Hermione had also invited Ron, Ginny, and Hagrid, and of course her 
parents were there. A small reception was held afterwards, with all of the 
teachers and the school prefects in attendance, which unfortunately 
included Draco Malfoy. Hermione had dreaded his presence, but to her 
surprise, he behaved himself impeccably. She snorted to herself 
afterwards; of course he did. Teachers were watching. A reporter from the 
Daily Prophet was there; Hermione was deeply grateful it was not Rita 
Skeeter.

A honeymoon away from Hogwarts was not thought to be advisable. Voldemort 
would, as everyone was well aware, be more than happy to lay his hands on 
either the bride, the groom, or both. Hermione belatedly realized that the 
threat from Voldemort must have been in large part responsible for her 
parents' relatively easy acceptance of the extreme step this wedding 
represented. Removing Snape's Dark Mark would have irritated Voldemort 
greatly, she had no doubt. She wondered that her parents offered her the 
option of returning to the Muggle world at all. It would not have been 
safe. As it was, she had to hope that they themselves would remain beneath 
the Dark Lord's notice.

The reception was not much longer than the wedding itself; the students 
and teachers had classes that afternoon, and Hermione's parents had to get 
back to London and their dental practice.

Her parents hugged and kissed Hermione, who was still in her wedding 
robes, at the front entrance of Hogwarts, before climbing into the 
carriage that would take them to Hogsmeade and the train station. Mr. 
Granger shook Snape's hand, leaning close to admonish him to take good 
care of his daughter. After a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Granger threw her 
arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. Smiling and crying at the 
same time, she followed her husband into the carriage, and waved as it 
moved off.

Snape and Hermione had been told by the headmaster to take the day off. 
Potions classes were cancelled for the day. Hermione was anxious to get 
back to her schoolwork, but even she acknowledged that it would seem odd 
to show up in History of Magic on her wedding day. She had the rest of the 
day to spend with her new husband. She had no idea what to say to him at 
that moment, much less what to do with him for the rest of the day. The 
traditional newlywed activities didn't seem appropriate, somehow, in this 
marriage of convenience.

She stared off after her parents, unaware that Snape was regarding her 
thoughtfully. It startled her when he spoke.

"Would you like to see your new home, Hermione?"

Granger, you idiot, she thought. She had not considered the question of 
where she would live after the wedding, but now it seemed obvious. She 
would have to remove from Gryffindor and take up residence in the 
dungeons. She shivered at the thought. The house elves had probably 
already moved her things. Tears welled up at the thought of no longer 
living in Gryffindor, but she forced them down. It would not do to start 
her marriage by telling her husband that she wanted to go back to her 
dormitory.

Upon the heels of that realization was the one that she would have to stop 
calling herself Granger, because it was no longer her name. She was a 
Snape now.

*~*~*~*~*

Severus' private quarters were nothing like she had imagined they would 
be. She expected either a Slytherin-themed d
Ã
©cor, or a lot of black. His rooms were furnished in neutral colors, 
masculine but not as somber as she had feared. The furniture was heavy in 
design, old-fashioned but not the repellent dark Victorian horrors she had 
expected. All in all, the small suite was comfortable. With a little bit 
of color here and there, it would even be welcoming.

"You may make what changes you wish," Severus said as she looked around. 
She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. It was a generous offer; no doubt 
he liked things exactly as they were, she thought. She resolved to keep 
any changes to a bare minimum. Some flowers and a few colorful pillows 
would do.

She walked into the bedroom, and as she expected, her things had already 
been brought down and put away. Her books shared the shelves with his own, 
and she hoped none of his had been removed to make room. The bathroom, she 
discovered, was nowhere near as luxurious as the prefect's bath, but it 
was unexpectedly charming. The deep marble bath was inviting, and the 
thick Egyptian cotton towels told Hermione that Snape was, despite all 
outward appearances, a man who was fond of comfort. Perhaps this would not 
be so bad.

Snape sat at the desk in his - their - sitting room and began to sort 
through some sixth-year tests that still needed marking. He 
surreptitiously watched Hermione explore, trying to gauge her reactions to 
her new surroundings. The sense he had expected of having his privacy 
invaded did not surface. It felt natural to have her here. Anticipation of 
future companionship in these rooms washed through him, leaving him with a 
pleasant warmth. He had been alone for so long that he had given up any 
hope of ever being anything else. Now his wife would be returning here 
every evening. His wife... the corners of his mouth turned up slightly at 
the thought. I'm sorrier than I can say for what you've been dragged into, 
Hermione, he thought. But selfish bastard that I am, I'm glad you're here.

*~*~*~*~*

They dined in their quarters that evening. Conversation was sparse. Each 
searched for something to say to the other; each was afraid of saying the 
wrong thing. It will get more comfortable, Hermione thought. We just have 
to get used to this.

A long evening stretched before them. She thought wistfully of the noise 
and activity that would be going on in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was 
probably beating Harry at chess at this very moment. Harry seldom won, but 
enjoyed the challenge of playing against someone of Ron's ability enough 
to lose happily on a regular basis. Lavender and Parvati would be - on the 
other hand, maybe it was better to be in the dungeons tonight. The would 
be furious at having been excluded from, as they put it, the event of the 
season.

Snape moved over to the fireplace and lit it with his wand as Hermione 
moved from the small table to the sofa. He sat down beside her, and they 
stared silently into the flames for a while. Once she thought his hand 
fluttered in her direction, but she couldn't be sure. It came to rest 
quickly again on the back of the sofa.

We should be shagging like rabbits right now, Hermione thought. I'll bet 
everyone thinks we are. The thought made her blush, and she hoped the red 
glow of the fire masked her reaction to the notion.

"Hermione..." Snape's voice broke into her reverie, just as she was 
wondering if he intended to kiss her. She jumped guiltily.

"Yes, Professor?"

Snape cleared his throat. "I believe you may call me Severus, Hermione."

"Oh." Embarrassment stained her face red all over again. You're a git, 
Granger. Snape. Whatever.

"If..." He was clearly as uncomfortable as she was. The thought made her 
feel a bit better, as she wasn't alone with her discomfort this evening. 
"If you would prefer to postpone our..." He shook his head, as if 
disgusted with himself for not being able to come right out and say it. 
"At some point I would like to..."

It was hard to believe that this was the formidable Hogwarts Potions 
Master, too tongue-tied to initiate a simple conversation about sex with 
his own wife. But the awkwardness lay in the fact that she was his wife, 
she thought, and how that had come to be. And was there really any such 
thing as a simple conversation about sex?

He cleared his throat again. "Your first experience of sex was traumatic. 
I do not expect you to want to repeat it again so soon." He swore. That's 
one I've never heard, she thought. "I would like to know your thoughts on 
this."

Oh, great, throw the ball in my court. Thanks, honey, she thought 
sarcastically. She toyed with the idea of springing that homey endearment 
on him, and decided he'd been through enough for one day.

And what do I think? What do I want? I want him to kiss me, she thought. I 
want him to - to do what he did last time, only this time I want him to do 
it properly. But I want to be more comfortable here, with him, before he 
does. I think I want to wait - at least for one night.

She repeated her last thought aloud, shyly, unable to look at him. He took 
her hand, less awkwardly than the last time.

"Then we shall wait." She looked up at him; his face held so much 
understanding that it made her want to cry. "Now, what would you like to 
do until it is time for bed... that is, until it is time to sleep?"

She couldn't help smiling at that. Squeezing his hand, she scooted closer 
to Severus on the sofa, and daringly leaned her head on his shoulder. She 
heard his intake of breath as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

"There is something I'd like to do, if you don't mind."

"Anything you like, Hermione."

"Well... I'm behind in all of my classes. Do you think you might help me 
catch up in Potions?"

He gave her a broad smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 16

A/N: Portions of this chapter could practically have been lifted from 
Damiana's 'Marrach.' While this was unintentional, it's Freudianly obvious 
that I was VERY inspired by this wonderful story. My thanks, kathy!

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione had breakfast with Severus in their sitting room. By unspoken 
agreement, they put off their first appearance in the Great Hall as 
husband and wife until lunchtime. The thought of facing all those curious 
stares so early in the morning wasn't something either of them felt that 
they could stomach.

Last night had been pleasant, she thought as she read through an essay she 
would belatedly hand in during Transfiguration today, checking one more 
time for errors. Snape was reading the Daily Prophet across the table from 
her. If there was anything in the paper about their wedding, he made no 
mention of it.

Having his undivided attention concerning Potions was a truly marvelous 
experience, she decided. She learned more last night, she knew, than she 
learned in a typical week of classes. His sneering attitude, his snide 
remarks about her role as the perennial Gryffindor show-off, were 
completely absent. The time they spent together after he regained his 
memory did not compare, instructive though it had been. Then, he had been 
silent, moody, visibly on edge. Last night had been... fun. He expressed 
appreciation for her quickness, and accepted her tentative teasing over 
his change in attitude with humor. She knew better than to expect to see 
that side of him in class, among other students, but it was nice to know 
it was there under the surface. It was even nicer, she realized, to know 
that it was reserved for her alone.

Eventually she had begun to yawn, and he stood and stretched, saying that 
it was past time they went to bed. He allowed her to change into her 
nightgown in privacy, and to get in bed and safely under the covers before 
he entered the bedroom. He did not spare her modesty further, choosing to 
undress before her, but warning her before he did so.

He smiled wryly, she recalled, as he began to unfasten his robes.

"I'm afraid you will have to get used to this eventually, Hermione. It 
will make bedtime less uncomfortable in the future if we get this out of 
the way tonight." He then proceeded to strip down to his underwear. She 
had not realized that she was staring until he hooked a finger in the 
waistband, preparing to draw it down over his hips. She'd gasped and 
turned away, blushing. She could hear him laugh as he drew off the boxers 
and tossed them into the laundry for the house elves to collect. She felt 
him climb into the huge bed next to her, and in another moment the lights 
were extinguished. She lay down upon her back, her body tense with the 
knowledge of a naked Severus Snape in the bed beside her.

Her heart pounded, and she stared into the darkness with wide eyes. 
Despite what she had said earlier, she hoped very much that he would make 
love to her. She knew that if she stretched her hand out, just a little... 
But she did not. Last time I made the first move, she thought. Or some 
nightmarish approximation of one. I need to let him do it this time.

She fell asleep wanting him. Sometime in the night she awoke to find 
herself curled against his warm, smooth... naked back. She hastily rolled 
over, as far as the bed permitted. She thought she heard him give a quiet 
snort of laughter, although she couldn't be sure, and definitely was not 
going to ask. But in the morning, he was the one pressed against her. She 
woke with his arms encircling her, and to her shock, his unmistakably 
throbbing erection pressed between her buttocks. She dared not move.

He had been dreaming, she remembered, heat rising in her face. She looked 
up, across the table, but his eyes were still fastened upon the paper. He 
had not simply been pressing against her. He had been rubbing himself 
against her. And moaning softly. She lay frozen, imagining his reaction 
when he awoke to find himself doing... that. Fortunately, he had sighed 
and let her go, rolling onto his other side. She waited until he was still 
again, and got out of bed and fled hastily into the bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape looked up from the Daily Prophet, and let his eyes rest upon his 
wife's curly head, bent over her essay. He had awakened this morning to 
find himself lying on his side, his arms around Hermione. His painfully 
erect penis had been pressing into her soft derriere. The dream he had 
been having evaporated, but he knew what, and who, it had been about. 
Waking had not caused the erection to fade. He realized almost instantly 
that she was awake, and rigid with... he hoped it was not fear. 
Embarrassment, perhaps. He had sighed softly with frustrated longing and 
rolled over. Moments later, she shot out of the bed and into the bathroom, 
closing the door behind her. He could hear faint movements from within the 
bathroom, and had been unable to keep from imagining her naked, imagining 
hot water from the shower steaming over her body...

She left the bathroom finally, wrapped in a thick robe. She looked over to 
where he lay, and smiled shyly, realizing he was awake. He greeted her 
pleasantly, and waited for her to go into the sitting room before throwing 
off the covers and striding into the bathroom, his cock bobbing with each 
step. It was with intense relief that he stroked himself to orgasm in the 
shower.

She had smiled when he joined her for breakfast. If she retained any 
discomfort from her first experience of waking up in bed with him, she did 
not show it. But he knew it would only get worse, and rapidly. He could 
not have her in his bed and not want her. He hoped to all the gods who 
inclined towards mercy that she would want him tonight.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape put the Daily Prophet aside and looked at Hermione.

"We can put it off no longer," he said. She nodded and rolled up her 
Transfiguration parchment, stuffing it into her bag. "It's less than ten 
minutes until the first class of the day. Shall we go?" He offered her his 
arm.

The gallant gesture made her smile. He escorted her through the Potions 
classroom and out into the corridor, where a line of Hufflepuff and 
Ravenclaw second years was already gathering. The noisy hallway grew 
quiet. There were murmured greetings to Professor Snape.

And then one bold child said, "Good morning, Mrs. Snape," followed by a 
chorus of echoes. This, decided Hermione, walking past the respectfully 
nodding heads, was going to take some getting used to.

*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 17

Returning to class was a relief to Hermione. It was the signal that her 
life was resuming some semblance of normality. Her first two classes went 
well, and she realized that she was not as far behind as she feared. Her 
study habits over the years ensured that a short time away from her 
studies could not hurt her very much, but still she had worried.

There was some confusion in class over how to address her. She was the 
only married student at Hogwarts; her teachers had not wanted to make her 
stand out uncomfortably. Professor Lupin took her aside before Defense 
Against the Dark Arts.

"We could stick with Granger, if you like," he offered.

She had already given the subject a great deal of thought. In the end, she 
decided that it really was a very small matter. She would not risk giving 
Severus cause to feel that she was anything other than proud to share his 
name.

"Mrs. Snape will be fine, Professor."

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione had a free half hour before lunch, and she decided to visit 
Gryffindor. The Fat Lady refused to let her in.

"I'm sorry, my dear," she said, genuinely upset on Hermione's behalf. 
"They changed the password yesterday. I can call a prefect, if you like."

"No, thanks," said Hermione. She had never not known the password, in her 
seven years as a Gryffindor. She felt humiliated. On top of that crept the 
sensation that she no longer belonged. She walked dejectedly back the way 
she had come.

Hermione had arranged to meet Severus by the main stairway just before 
lunch, so they could enter the Great Hall together. He usually used the 
faculty entrance, but had offered to lend her moral support by personally 
escorting her to the Gryffindor table before heading for his own seat 
amongst the staff. He found her seated on a pedestal that belonged to a 
fourteenth century suit of armor, gone visiting for the afternoon. The 
look on her face was becoming far too familiar to him.

"What happened, love?" The endearment slipped out before realized it, but 
he felt no desire to take it back. He offered her his hand and pulled her 
to her feet.

"I tried to go to Gryffindor. They've changed the password..." Her breath 
hitched in a way that usually meant tears were not far behind.

"They change the house passwords at least weekly, Hermione. Often daily. 
You know that."

"Yes, but... but I've never not known the password. I always know the 
password." Curious students passed them on the way to lunch. Those foolish 
enough to stare at the Potions Master's upset young wife were warned off 
with a poisonous glare from the Potions Master himself.

"Severus, I don't belong there anymore." The grief in her voice shocked 
Snape. He had foreseen that she would feel some alienation from the house 
that had been her home for seven years. He hadn't expected it this soon, 
however, nor had he thought it would hit her this hard. He chose his next 
words with care.

"Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor, Hermione. It's the same no matter 
what house you're in. You do not sleep in Gryffindor anymore. You will not 
spend as much time in your common room as you once did, although I expect 
you'll want to go there from time to time. But you're still a Gryffindor, 
Hermione, I promise you. I shall make certain you are given the password 
as often as it's changed." He tugged pointedly on the red and gold house 
tie she wore under her robes. "And now I shall escort you to your place at 
the Gryffindor table." He led her to a seat beside Harry Potter before 
continuing on to the staff table.

Draco Malfoy stopped behind Hermione a few moments later.

"How come you're not sitting with the teachers, Granger? You've got them 
so wrapped around your finger that one of them actually married you. What 
are you doing slumming with these children?"

"Why would I sit with the teachers, Malfoy? Do I look like a teacher?" she 
asked scornfully.

"No, you look like a teacher's..."

Neville Longbottom stood up, nearly pressing his nose to Draco's.

"You... you want to be more respectful to Mrs. Snape," he said. His voice 
shook, but he showed no sign of backing down, even when Goyle and Crabbe 
appeared at Malfoy's shoulders. Ron rose as well, moving to stand behind 
Neville. At seventeen, Ron had grown very tall indeed, and had at least 
four inches over Crabbe, who was the tallest of the three Slytherins. 
Crabbe and Goyle backed away. Harry ostentatiously fingered his wand 
through his sleeve. Malfoy sneered, but took himself off.

From the staff table, Professor Snape watched thoughtfully.

*~*~*~*~*

"Mr. Longbottom." Neville tensed reflexively. Being called upon by Snape 
in class was seldom a good thing for him. "What would you get if you added 
powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The room went still. Neville actually had a chance of knowing this one. It 
was the first question Snape had ever asked this class, in their first 
year, and none of them were likely to forget. But then, Neville was more 
forgetful than most...

"The Draught of Living Death, s-s-sir."

"Excellent. Twenty points to Gryffindor. Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor?" The word was a sneer. The boy didn't know when to quit, Snape 
thought.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will remain after class."

The blond boy looked sullen, but didn't protest. Around him, the other 
Slytherins whispered to each other about the blatant favoritism being 
shown to the Gryffindors. It just wasn't fair, they said.

*~*~*~*~*

In the corridor, Hermione glanced backward through the open door before 
walking away with Harry and Ron.

"So what do you think he wants to see him about?" Ron asked rhetorically, 
grinning.

"I think I can imagine," said Harry.

"Wish I could stay to see it," said Ron. "I want to see him tell Snape, 
'I'll tell my father.'"

"Somehow I don't see that carrying much weight anymore, not that it ever 
did, really, now that I think about it," Harry said consideringly. "He 
stopped favoring the Slytherins the day he got his memory back, and 
realized he couldn't spy for Dumbledore anymore. I don't think that's a 
coincidence. You're awful quiet, Hermione," he added.

"I don't want him to feel like he has to do this for me," she said. She 
was sick of battles being fought on her behalf.

"I wouldn't mind doing it myself," Ron said, flexing his hand and rubbing 
his knuckles. "I'd be more than happy to pound Ferret Boy into the bloody 
ground. But I have to admit, I'm curious what Snape's going to do to him. 
I'm almost beginning to like the greasy git... oops. Sorry, Hermione."

*~*~*~*~*

"I believe you know the reason for my rather sudden nuptials, Mr. Malfoy."

Snape had no desire to waste time fencing with Lucius Malfoy's spawn.

Draco did not look at him. "You did the little Mudblood in your workroom. 
What happened? Did you knock her up or something?"

Snape's hand flexed, much as Ron's just had, a corridor away. He itched to 
grasp the insolent young man's throat and squeeze until no life remained.

"Your unwise habit of discussing my wife, both to her face as well as 
behind her back, is why you're here right now, Draco. Your use of that 
epithet is worth fifty points from Slytherin."

Draco swallowed. He no longer cared much about house points, hadn't for 
quite some time, but his housemates would not be happy with him.

"Tell me how you knew about the Virgin Sacrifice." Snape's voice was hard.

"How do you think? My father keeps me informed of what goes on outside 
this pile of rock."

"Did he tell you of the reception I could expect upon the occasion I met 
him last?" The caressing tone did not deceive Draco. He paled still 
further.

"No, Professor! I swear he didn't tell me. I didn't know there was even a 
gathering that night. I was as upset as anyone when they brought you back, 
like that..."

Snape's expression did not soften, but he did indeed recall Draco's 
anguish at his condition. No, the boy would have warned me, he thought. He 
felt some of his anger drain away.

"Do you aspire to bear the Dark Mark, Draco?"

The blond boy bit his lip. "No, Professor Snape. I'd do anything to avoid 
it. But the next time I go home..."

"I see. I might be able to assist you, if you wish it."

Severus could see him fight to suppress a surge of hope. For a spoiled 
rich boy, he thought, Draco had known more than his share of 
disappointment and bitterness. The older man suspected that racing brooms 
and stylish dress robes did little to make up for having the elder Malfoy 
as a parent.

"I don't dare cross my father," Draco whispered at last. "But please, I 
don't want..." He didn't finish.

"The decision must be yours, or I can do nothing for you."

Malfoy nodded.

"Now back to the small matter of my wife."

Draco's entire body tensed. The frozen tone was firmly back in place.

"I will help you to avoid the Dark Lord's brand, as I said. But I will 
have an explanation of why you felt it necessary to spread the details of 
her actions, and their ramifications, throughout Hogwarts." Snape felt 
certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Draco.

"My father told me to."

"Of course. I understand your reluctance to disobey him. You would be a 
fool if you did not fear Lucius. But know this, Draco." The silk was back 
in the cold voice. "You should fear me as well. And as I am at Hogwarts, 
and he is not, whom do you think you should fear more?"

Draco's hands trembled as he clutched his school bag, Severus noticed. 
Good.

Draco understood that he was being told to make his decision now; he would 
not be given time to think it over. But it was really no choice at all.

"You know what Slytherin is, Professor. Pansy isn't my girlfriend. She's 
my keeper. Everything I do, everything I say, gets back to my father. If I 
acted nice to Granger..."

"Mrs. Snape," Severus corrected gently. The message was clear to Draco; I 
will protect what is mine, and she is mine. Don't fuck with her.

"Mrs. Snape," Draco echoed, his voice shaking. "Anyway, if I was nice to 
her... You should know what I'm talking about."

Snape allowed his features to thaw fractionally. He knew exactly what 
Draco meant.

"I can't make life in Slytherin much easier for you, Draco, although I'll 
do what I can. But if I ever hear the word 'Mudblood' from your lips 
again, I'll throw you to Voldemort myself. I feel certain I don't have to 
warn you against a repeat of the drama you initiated at lunch?"

Draco was surprised to find that the thought of what lay ahead, now that 
he was as good as openly declaring himself opposed to Voldemort, did not 
frighten him as much as he thought it would. The thought of his father 
scared him most of all. But even so, as he assured Snape of his future 
behavior towards Hermione, he felt more free than he ever had in his life.

*~*~*~*~*

A device closely related to a Sneakoscope rested on the mantel in the 
Snapes' sitting room. It began to spin, emitting a high-pitched whirring 
sound. Hermione, seated at the table with her Herbology book open before 
her, looked at it questioningly.

"Trouble in Slytherin," said Severus. "I should not be long."

*~*~*~*~*

The noise abated as Snape swept angrily into the common room. He was more 
than a little annoyed at this interruption of his evening.

The altercation had been quick and bloody. Draco lay unmoving on the floor 
near the hallway leading to the boys' dormitories. His nose was obviously 
broken. Snape hoped that the streaks of crimson which splattered in all 
directions around the still form could be accounted for with that injury 
alone. The boy was as white as fresh parchment.

The students who remained upright hastened to provide Snape with loudly 
voiced, somewhat conflicting versions of the fight. He sorted silently 
through these as he knelt beside Malfoy, trying to determine whether it 
was safe to move him. Finally he picked him up and barked out several 
names, ordering those who appeared to be involved to follow as he took the 
unconscious boy to the hospital wing.

*~*~*~*~*

Much later, Draco sat up in his bed. His nose had been healed, though it 
would always remain slightly crooked. Four cracked ribs, two bruised 
testicles, a nearly crushed larynx and a concussion had been dealt with by 
Madam Pomfrey.

It hadn't taken long for Snape to discover what had happened in his house. 
Those students who declined to answer the questions put to them had been 
dosed with Veritaserum, after Snape obtained assent from Dumbledore.

Upon returning to Slytherin after his conversation with Snape, Draco had 
taken Pansy Parkinson aside and told her they were through. Pansy had 
acted upon long-standing orders, which decreed that should the Malfoy heir 
show signs of kicking over his traces, she was to send him back to his 
father by whatever means necessary. She put him under Imperius with the 
intention of making him walk to the edge of the grounds, and Apparate to 
the Malfoy residence. He surprised her by throwing off the curse and 
drawing his wand. Several of his erstwhile friends, who subscribed to 
their parents' Death Eater loyalties, had responded by disarming him, then 
holding Draco while Crabbe proceeded to beat him mercilessly.

"Could you not have been more circumspect, Draco? As you mentioned, I know 
what Slytherin is. So do you. One does not walk into that house and 
announce that one's loyalty to Voldemort has been severed." Fresh guilt 
swamped Snape. He felt responsible for this, since he had challenged Draco 
to choose that very day.

"I didn't expect she'd take it so hard, Professor. I thought she might cry 
or something, not throw an Unforgivable at me." His voice was a hoarse, 
painful croak.

"In your own way, you are as marked as Potter, Draco. Voldemort considers 
you the nearest thing he has to an heir. Of course you are closely 
watched. I should have warned you to show no outward sign of your 
decision. I offered you help, and this is what I give you instead." The 
black eyes glittered with self-hatred.

"Bullshit, Professor. I should have known what would happen; I know them 
better than you do. And they won't get another chance." Draco rubbed his 
throat, which still hurt a great deal.

"Out, Professor," said Madam Pomfrey. "Mr. Malfoy needs rest. And so do 
you, I think," she said, eyeing him closely. "Thank heavens you arrived 
when you did, Severus," she said as she steered him towards the door. 
"Those little savages might have finished him off."

Does she think me so fragile? Snape wondered. "Save your bedside manner 
for your patient, Poppy," he said harshly, and walked out.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione was still up when he returned, sitting on the sofa with her legs 
curled up under her.

He walked to a cabinet and removed a bottle of brandy. He lifted it 
inquiringly towards her, and she shook her head. He poured himself a glass 
and drained it in one swallow.

"You were gone a long time," she said, when he didn't speak.

He closed his eyes. He'd just left one student, harmed by association with 
him, to return to another.

"Draco Malfoy was beaten nearly to death this evening. Parkinson and 
Crabbe have been expelled. Miss Parkinson has been taken into custody by 
the Ministry for use of the Imperius curse."

Snape could see the shock and concern for him that filled Hermione's face. 
He knew she was reaching for something soothing to say, and hoped she 
wouldn't make the effort. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she 
rose and moved to stand behind him, wrapping her arms about him as he 
poured another glass of brandy.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, this time in longing. He leaned back 
into the embrace for a moment, feeling her lay her head between his 
shoulder blades. Need for her threatened to overwhelm him. He felt himself 
hardening. The thought of lying chastely next to her for another night was 
unbearable.

The thought of using her to comfort himself was worse.

He shrugged out of her arms and moved away.

"It's late. You should be in bed."

"So should you, Severus." Her tone was unmistakably seductive. God, did 
she truly want him? Or was she being kind, sensing his distress? A pity 
fuck would close this abominable day admirably, he thought. Especially if 
it came from his own wife.

"I have... house matters to attend to before I sleep."

"Surely it can wait until morning? You look exhausted."

"I have just said that it cannot," he snapped. She flinched, and he bit 
back an apology. "Go to bed, Hermione."

Hurt throbbed in her voice when she spoke.

"Right. Good night, then." She caught herself just before she slammed the 
door of the bedroom.

Snape spent the second night of his marriage trying in vain to make 
himself comfortable on the sofa, while his bride sobbed in their bed.

*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 18

Bloody hell, Snape thought. Bloody, fucking hell. I couldn't be more of an 
imbecile if I tried.

He had awakened to see Hermione emerge from the bedroom, dressed for 
class. She didn't so much as glance at him as she hurried across the room 
and left.

He'd meant to apologize to her over breakfast. It hadn't crossed his mind 
that she wouldn't be there for it. He thought of the comments that her 
appearance at breakfast in the Great Hall might provoke. Probably none at 
all, he thought, realization hitting him. His own personal scandal would 
almost surely be eclipsed by the events of the last evening. It wasn't 
every day that a Hogwarts student faced Azkaban. It was beginning to look 
like a weekly event, however, he thought without humor. He wondered if 
Hermione would feel sympathy for Pansy. No, the two situations were 
entirely different. Hermione had intended no harm.

With no warning, shame and horror surged forward in his mind. Harm. The 
intent to cause harm was an integral component of a successful Virgin 
Sacrifice. It couldn't have come from Hermione. After all, she'd been the 
virgin. The harm had to be directed toward her. He knew that any such 
intent must have come from him. The knowledge had been lurking in the 
shadows of his mind, too sensitive to be touched. Of course he'd known, he 
just hadn't thought...

He did not bother with breakfast. He went mechanically through the motions 
of preparing to face the day, his mind consumed with what he'd done.

He had not been himself. Even he was not so enamored of heaping guilt upon 
himself, he reflected, as to think that he had been in complete control. 
The lust potion had performed its function perfectly. He had been unable 
to resist taking Hermione. He could not blame the potion, however, for his 
behavior beyond that simple act. He forced himself to remember just how 
much he hurt her that day.

He'd regained consciousness after only a few minutes and awakened to find 
himself in the hospital wing. He heard Hermione speaking with Madam 
Pomfrey on the other side of a closed curtain. Poppy had administered a 
potion to ensure that Hermione would not find herself pregnant. She had 
also had to heal several tears inside her vagina. Snape felt sick when he 
heard this. He recalled noticing what looked like too much blood on her 
thighs as she completed the Virgin Sacrifice potion, but he'd been in no 
fit state to judge. There had apparently been a great deal of bruising as 
well, but Hermione was frantic to escape the hospital wing. She'd begged 
Poppy to just let her go, and the mediwitch had given in. Snape wondered 
if any of the bruises were still visible.

He hadn't truly intended to hurt the girl, though. Or had he? Think, you 
bastard, he sneered at himself. Of course you did. By definition, you must 
have intended to do so. He scoured his mind, searching through and 
discarding slightly hazy memories, looking for the pertinent ones.

I was angry, he thought. Far more than angry. Petrificus for nearly an 
hour and a half. My arm hurt unbearably, and I couldn't even rub it. I was 
so close to being done with it all. Three more syllables, and it would 
have been over.

He rubbed the back of his neck and thought of a word he heard from 
Muggle-born students on occasion. Bingo. That was it, he said to himself. 
You resented the hell out of the fact that you were still alive.

He admitted that he'd hated her, briefly, for taking all control away from 
him. It hadn't lasted, but it had burned hot in him for a short time.

He was grateful he had not eaten breakfast; nausea rose strong within him. 
He had punished her for daring to interfere. Memories, ruthlessly 
suppressed until now, surfaced with horrifying clarity. His fingers 
digging into her flesh, the rage she must have seen in his eyes... God, 
no. Her fear when she realized he wanted to hurt her. He remembered how 
she had made herself relax under him, controlling her impulse to fight 
him. She'd been so brave, his foolish little Gryffindor.

And then... "I love you, Severus."

Agony shook him. Hermione had done so much for him, given him so much. 
Time after time, he repaid her with pain. His loathing for himself 
spiraled to new heights - or depths.

Last night he'd pushed her away. He hadn't wanted sympathy, and hadn't 
stopped to think of what prompted it. Didn't she have a right? he asked 
himself. I refused to let her comfort me, refused to accept her. Bloody, 
stupid git. You behave as though you want her to hate you. Do you?

He had to be in Dumbledore's office in only a few minutes to go over the 
previous night's debacle. He had to make a decision now, before he could 
put the subject conveniently out of his mind again.

She loves me. She loves me, and may all the gods help me, I love her. Is 
there a chance she might forgive me? For last night, for everything?

He vowed to himself that he would do anything that was required of him to 
make it up to her.

*~*~*~*~*

"We haven't seen you in here at breakfast in ages," said Harry. His mind 
was on tomorrow's Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. He didn't notice 
Hermione's pale, set face.

The urge to confess her troubles to her best friends was strong, but she 
resisted it. She had no desire to add to Harry and Ron's negative feelings 
towards Severus. More than that, she did not think she could turn to them 
to discuss her growing frustration. Severus was holding her at arm's 
length, and she didn't think she could bear it.

"There was a problem in Slytherin last night, and Severus didn't get much 
sleep. I didn't want to disturb him this morning," she finally said. Ron 
and Harry both looked a bit uncomfortable. Hermione realized that the 
reminder that she shared a bed with Snape was the cause. She was suddenly 
angry. Taking out her feelings on her friends wasn't fair, she knew, but 
she didn't stop herself.

"You're going to have to stop squirming when I say 'Severus' or mention 
anything that reminds you that I'm sleeping with him," she said bluntly. 
And a bit untruthfully, but she quashed that thought. "If you can't accept 
that, then I won't bother you with my Snape-tainted self anymore." She 
pushed her plate away and rose.

Ron grabbed her arm, pulling her back down to her seat between him and 
Harry.

"Not so bloody loud, if it's all the same to you," he said, looking around 
to see who might have heard her. "You know that doesn't matter to us. 
Well, not much, and we are trying. Right, Harry?"

"Absolutely," said Harry hastily. Hermione's move to depart had caused him 
to look up, and then around. Absorbed in thoughts of Quidditch as they had 
been, neither he nor Ron had noticed the attention being focused on the 
Slytherin table. The Slytherins themselves were uncharacteristically 
subdued.

"What sort of trouble in Slytherin?" he asked.

She told them. Both of her friends were stunned.

"Crabbe? I just can't believe it. I thought he worshipped Malfoy," said 
Ron.

"What about Goyle?" asked Harry.

"With Crabbe in the way, Goyle couldn't get to Malfoy. That's the only 
reason he's still here. Slytherin lost almost all of their house points 
last night," Lavender Brown said from across the table. "I asked Nearly 
Headless Nick about it this morning. He said the Baron's beside himself."

"You can't blame him," said Ron. "But what happened?"

Everyone turned to Hermione. They think Severus would tell me, she thought 
bitterly. They think he'd actually share something with me.

"Excuse me," she said, rising again. They didn't stop her this time.

"Wow, she's taking it really hard," said Seamus. "I can't believe she'd 
cry over Malfoy."

*~*~*~*~*

The knock on Snape's office door was welcome for once. His reverie had not 
been a pleasant one. Thoughts of Draco, lying still and pale and bloody, 
would not be banished. Draco was already out of the hospital wing, back in 
Slytherin. Prepared to strike back, no doubt, the Head of Slytherin knew. 
As long as the boy was reasonably discreet, Snape was fully prepared to 
look the other way.

Images of Hermione also haunted him. Laughing with him in the library, 
teasing him as he helped her with her studies, trying to mask her hurt at 
his rejection of her. He tried, unsuccessfully, to clear his mind before 
opening the door.

Lupin stood there. Oh, bloody hell, the Wolfsbane potion, Snape thought. 
He had forgotten.

"Come in, Remus. I must apologize; I haven't finished it yet. Do you mind 
waiting a few minutes?"

"Don't worry about it, I've got some time before my next class. Gods, you 
look awful," The werewolf's eyes narrowed as he looked at Severus.

"Thank you," Snape answered dryly. "That observation makes me feel so much 
better." He led the way to his workroom, where the potion quietly bubbled.

"I'm glad I don't have to deal with the stuff that comes along with being 
a Head of House," Remus said. "I've only got a handful of kids who come to 
me with their problems. They're doing a good job of making my hair turn 
gray faster as it is. Especially Harry and..."

"Hermione" hung unspoken in the air between them.

Lupin looked suddenly wary; Snape knew he was waiting for him to take 
offense. He was actually relieved; the other man just provided him with a 
perfect opening for the question he desperately wanted to ask.

"Remus... I believe you were about to mention Hermione?"

"I didn't mean anything, Severus. But she does talk to me sometimes, 
and..."

"I know. And you can stop looking as though I'm going to curse you at any 
moment. I'm glad she has friends she can turn to. I'm wondering if perhaps 
you've spoken to her today?"

"Only in class. Is there something you think she might have needed to talk 
about?"

Snape flushed, but continued. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I was abominable 
to her last night."

Remus' face showed nothing. "Go on."

"She wanted to comfort me after I returned from dealing with the incident 
in Slytherin. I was... not appreciative." He stared into the Wolfsbane 
potion. Lupin tactfully refrained from asking for details.

"You're used to dealing with everything alone, Severus. It's going to be 
an adjustment, knowing you've got someone to share this sort of thing 
with. Or is it that you don't want to share your problems with her?"

"Last night, I thought I was protecting her. From the more unpleasant 
aspects of life in Slytherin, and from myself."

"What do you mean, from yourself? You mean you thought you might hurt her 
again?"

Snape felt his temper rise at the words, but reminded himself that it was 
just what he had been thinking. He couldn't get angry with Remus for 
voicing his thoughts honestly; he was simply being a good friend.

"I was afraid that she might be reminded of the day I took her virginity. 
In this very room," he said, a sneer twisting his features. "I didn't 
think I could bear to see her become afraid of me again. I also did not 
want to use her again, as I did that time. Sex with her that day was a 
cold-blooded means to an end. Last night..." God, but this was difficult 
to talk about, he thought. "Last night I thought she pitied me. I thought 
she offered herself to me for that reason."

"Did it occur to you that Hermione might have wanted some comfort 
herself?"

"This morning, just about the time she slammed the door."

"Your timing could use some work. So could your communication skills. I've 
seen Muggle self-help books all about this sort of thing. They call it 
being 'emotionally unavailable,' and apparently, women don't care for it."

"Muggles write books on such things?" Snape was amazed.

"Yep, and buy them by the millions."

"Thank the gods we're not Muggles."

"Yes, much better to be an emotionally unavailable wizard who's married to 
a beautiful, sweet, smart young woman who loves him. She's not likely to 
wait forever while you decide if you can open up to her, you know."

Snape scowled. "Point taken. Now what do I do about it?"

"You're asking the wrong man, Severus."

"Surely you don't think I should go to Dumbledore with this?" Snape looked 
uncomfortable.

"No, although I'd say it might do you more good than talking to me. If I 
were you... but no, you won't like it."

"If it will help, I'll do it."

"I don't know that it will help, but I don't think it could hurt. But if 
you want help in understanding Hermione, you need to talk to her friends."

"But her friends are Potter and Weasley." Snape looked horrified.

"It's nice to know I've got someone so observant making this stuff for 
me," Remus said, waving towards the Wolfsbane potion. "You know, now that 
you mention Harry and Ron, it wouldn't be the worst idea in the world for 
you to try and mend fences with them. I'm not saying you have to become 
friendly with them," he said as Snape tried to interrupt him. "I think the 
world might end if that happened. It's probably one of the signs of the 
apocalypse. But they're very close to her. Think of the strain that 
continued mutual antipathy will put on your relationship with Hermione. 
And think of the points you'll score, if she sees you making this kind of 
effort for her." Lupin looked very pleased with himself.

Snape ladled some of the potion into a goblet and handed it to the 
werewolf. Remus drank it quickly, making a face of pure disgust.

"I swear this tastes worse every time," he said.

"How fitting," Snape replied. "I'm glad I'm not the only one forced to 
swallow something unpalatable today."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 19

A/N: My very grateful thanks to Amy, kathy, Monique, and Nancy for some of 
the best constructive criticism I've ever received. They were especially 
helpful in ironing out some of the wrinkles in this particular chapter. 
Everything about it that is still weak, lame, or otherwise doesn't work is 
entirely my own.

*~*~*~*~*

"Mr. Potter... Mr. Weasley?"

Ron and Harry looked around to see Snape standing behind them in the 
corridor. Other students scattered, not wanting his notice to fall upon 
them.

"Might I have a few moments of your time?"

The Gryffindors looked at each other. It sounded like a request rather 
than an order.

"All right, Professor," Harry said for them both.

Snape turned and walked away, leaving them to follow.

*~*~*~*~*

He had no idea how to begin.

The notion of asking Potter and Weasley, two of his least favorite people 
in the world, for advice on how to talk to the woman he loved had to rank 
as the single most humiliating experience of his life.

Severus Snape, former Death Eater, former spy for Albus Dumbledore, knew 
all about humiliating experiences.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley knew Hermione. It really was that simple.

Snape recounted the events of the previous night, leaving nothing out. He 
refused to indulge in self-justifications. He saw the looks of anger and 
horror that flitted across their youthful faces at any mention of his 
wife's unhappiness. He couldn't blame them; he felt the same way himself. 
He knew that it galled these boys, badly, that he could claim Hermione as 
his. He wondered if their resentment on that score went deeper than the 
mere fact that he was the hated Potions Master. Had either of them 
expected to have her for himself? he wondered.

Still, he realized as he went on, they listened to him. He knew what it 
cost them to allow him to confide in them; nearly as much as it cost him 
to do so, he thought. I would do this for you, Hermione, he vowed. This 
and much more.

"I wish I could tell you what you ought to do," said Harry at last.

"You don't want to ask me, really," said Ron. "When I had a chance with 
her, I blew it. I took her for granted. I guess that's one thing I can 
tell you, Professor. Don't assume she'll always be there, because she 
might move on while you're not looking."

*~*~*~*~*

Potter, for some reason, seemed interested in Malfoy, and pursued the 
subject. After the unprecedented, if largely unhelpful, cooperation he'd 
just received, Severus felt that satisfying Harry's curiosity was the 
least he could do. He recounted the fight in Slytherin and its aftermath.

"I heard it was pretty bad," said Harry. "He looks okay now, though."

"It will be a long time before Mr. Malfoy is 'okay,'" Snape said, with a 
hint of anger in his voice. Then, surprisingly, "I'm sorry, Potter. I did 
not mean to snap at you."

"It's all right," said Harry. Even after the confidences of the last hour, 
he looked confused by the apology.

"You understand that what I've told you is to go no further?" Snape 
demanded.

"Sure, Professor. I almost feel sorry for Malfoy, though," Ron replied. "I 
thought that being poor was the worst thing there was. I wouldn't trade my 
family for all the money in the wizarding world."

"That, I suspect, is the basis of Draco's envy of you all these years. 
That, and your friendship with Mr. Potter here."

"Malfoy? Jealous of me?" Ron sounded incredulous.

"Why would he be jealous of Ron over me? Draco can't stand me," said 
Harry.

"I should not have said anything about that, I'm afraid. Speaking of 
jealousy," he continued reluctantly, "I would like to ask you a rather 
personal question."

They looked at him with undisguised curiosity.

"You mentioned that you were once interested in Hermione yourself, 
Weasley."

Ron nodded.

"One can't help but notice that the three of you are still rather... 
close."

Two faces stared at him. You're not making this easy, he thought.

"Forgive me for asking, Potter, but has my marriage to Hermione dashed any 
hopes you might have harbored in that direction? Not that I'm offering to 
step aside for you," he said, when Harry blushed. He wished fervently he 
had not asked.

Ron cleared his throat.

"Well. There's obviously something you don't know about Harry."

It was Snape's turn to look curious.

"He's-"

"Ron," Harry interrupted him furiously. "I prefer to out myself, if you 
don't mind."

Ron raised his hands in a backing-off gesture.

"Sure, no problem."

"Out?" Snape's brows climbed.

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of... gay."

"Ahem." Snape was disconcerted. "Sort of?"

"Well, not so sort of. I haven't been interested in a girl since Cho 
Chang, and that didn't last very long. My next crush was on..." He mumbled 
the name.

"I beg your pardon?" Despite himself, Snape found he was dying to know.

"Professor Lupin," said Harry, very quietly.

Snape grinned, startling Harry and Ron both.

"Does he know about this?" Fresh ammunition, thought Severus gleefully.

"No!" shouted Harry, panicked. "Please don't tell him."

"He doesn't know Harry liked him. But he does know he's the Cake Boy Who 
Lived," added Ron helpfully. Harry smacked him.

Snape swallowed his disappointment at having to keep this revelation to 
himself. It would have been great fun to tease Lupin with this juicy 
tidbit.

"I won't say anything," he promised. He had his suspicions that a certain 
blond Slytherin seventh year would find the news of Harry's sexuality 
interesting indeed. Pity I can't tell him either, he thought.

On the subject of Hermione, neither boy had had very much to offer that 
was helpful. For best friends, their powers of observation where she was 
concerned were minimal. Even so, he did not feel the discussion was a 
complete waste of time. Lupin was right, he knew. Coming to some sort of 
understanding with Hermione's friends was indispensable to a viable 
relationship with Hermione herself. He began to feel as though he was 
making progress at last.

*~*~*~*~*

It was well past curfew when Hermione returned to their rooms. She glared 
at him from the doorway, her look daring him to take points. He asked her 
where she'd been all evening, but she walked past him and into the bedroom 
without answering. He followed her.

She shrugged out of her robes and, to his astonishment, peeled off the 
rest of her clothing as well, obviously not caring that he watched her. 
Her skin was golden in the muted candlelight. Severus suddenly found it 
difficult to breathe. Clad only in underwear, her bare breasts swaying 
enticingly with each step, she crossed to a chest of drawers and removed a 
nightgown. It was with profound regret that Snape watched her slide it 
over her head.

She climbed wordlessly into bed, closing her eyes, effectively shutting 
him out. He undressed as well, and got into bed beside her, unable to face 
another night on the purgatorial sofa in the sitting room.

Tentatively he reached out to touch her shoulder, withdrawing his hand 
when she rolled away from him. He realized with disappointment that this 
would not be the time to tell her how he felt about her. He was surprised 
that her anger with him over last night could be sustained like this, but 
if she needed more time, he would give it to her.

*~*~*~*~*

Still not speaking to her husband, Hermione departed early for breakfast 
in the Great Hall, carrying her Gryffindor scarf. Snape felt no desire to 
eat alone in their rooms. A short time later, he followed her upstairs.

Snape took the seat beside Remus, who sported a scarf identical to 
Hermione's. He could see his wife talking with Ginny Weasley at the 
Gryffindor table. He tried to catch her eye and failed.

The students chattered eagerly about the day's Quidditch match. Severus 
had no house loyalties to support in the contest between Gryffindor and 
Ravenclaw. He had toyed with the idea of sitting with Hermione, but as 
Head of Slytherin, he could not sit amongst the Gryffindors, no matter his 
personal ties to that house. He also suspected his company might not be 
entirely welcome to Hermione. He hoped she would thaw towards him soon.

Owls suddenly filled the hall, narrowly missing each other in their rush 
to deliver the morning's post. Severus noticed Potter's owl, Hedwig, whose 
distinctive white feathers stood out in the sea of tawny, brown and black 
birds. She skimmed over Harry's head but did not stop. The owl glided down 
the length of the Gryffindor table in Snape's direction. A message for 
Remus, perhaps? he wondered. He recalled the startling disclosure made 
yesterday by Potter, and thought again that it was a pity he couldn't bait 
the werewolf with it.

Hedwig flapped to a stop in front of Severus' plate. Only then did he 
notice that the envelope attached to her leg was red.

"Better go ahead and open it," Remus said. It was common knowledge that 
Howlers could explode if one tried to delay the inevitable. Snape detached 
the envelope from the owl's leg. He narrowed his eyes at Hedwig, who was 
helping herself to his plate, uninvited. It scarcely mattered; the sight 
of the red envelope usually banished the appetite of the recipient. Snape 
was not immune to this effect.

Hermione's voice, amplified many times, boomed in the hall. Rage was 
apparent in every word. He lifted his head to see her finally looking at 
him. Her gaze was cold. He scarcely heard the message being delivered, 
although the volume was deafening. She rose and turned to walk out of the 
hall, her head held high.

Ignoring the looks on the faces of his fellow teachers, he stood and 
followed her, trying vainly to gather the shreds of his dignity.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione was waiting for him in their rooms.

"How dare you embarrass me like that?" He hadn't intended to yell.

"What the bloody hell do you mean, talking about me to my friends?"

The ink bottle missed his ear by less than an inch. Either her aim was 
excellent, or she truly meant to hurt him. He caught it out of the air 
just before it smashed into the wall.

Remus, you're a dead man, he thought. He knew it was unfair to blame his 
friend, but at that moment he felt in need of a convenient target. 
Preferably one that was not lobbing missiles at him.

"You humiliated me!" she screamed at him. "To think that I bothered to try 
to keep from embarrassing you yesterday!" A heavy book followed the ink 
bottle. It looked like a Transfiguration text, but it whizzed past too 
quickly for Snape to be sure. He ducked.

"Ron and Harry want to know why I'm not shagging you," she continued, 
looking around for another object to toss at him. "Why in hell do they 
have any idea whether we're shagging or not, you bloody great bastard?"

Snape set the ink bottle down on the nearest table. "Hermione..."

"Don't talk to me! Talk to your friends instead." She stalked into the 
bedroom and slammed the door.

"'Think of the points you'll score, if she sees you making this kind of 
effort for her.'" Lupin's words came back to Severus. I can't believe I 
asked for advice from the one wizard who knows less about women than I do, 
he thought. I'd have done better with that rutting bastard Black.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 20

A/N: Rating is NC-17. Yes, I said NC-17. There is SEX in this chapter. It 
gets a little KINKY. You cannot say that you have not been warned, or you 
will label yourself as an unobservant git.

Thanks to everyone at WIKTT for your comments as this story progressed. I 
would especially like to thank Amy, kathy, Monique, Nancy, and Susanna. 
Much of what works in this story would not be here if I hadn't had their 
generous feedback. As always, what doesn't work is the result of my own 
sheer bloody-mindedness.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape flung open the bedroom door. Hermione was throwing things 
haphazardly into a trunk. He walked over to her, took a book out of her 
hand and set it back on the shelf. He slammed the trunk closed.

"What do you think you're doing, Hermione?" His voice was quiet.

"I'm doing what I should have done when this started. I'm going home."

"Are you?" Sarcasm was back in his tone, full force.

"Do you think you can stop me?"

"I don't think I'll have to. You're not about to throw away seven years of 
education because you're annoyed with me. Besides, you can't leave 
Hogwarts. It isn't safe for you away from here."

"I'll take my chances." She moved around him, plucking the book back off 
of the shelf. He placed a foot on the lid of the trunk.

"I know you're upset with me for discussing you with your friends, and 
with Remus."

"Professor Lupin?" Oh, shit, he thought. "Who else, Severus?"

"No one, Hermione. And if it helps at all, I'm sorry."

"I want a divorce."

"Hermione, listen to me. I said I'm sorry. And since I am not the only one 
here who ought to be apologizing, the least you could do is listen to me."

"You think I owe you an apology? Get comfortable if you plan to wait on 
it, because it's going to be a while."

He stiffened. "Surely you don't think that shaming me in front of the 
entire school was justified?"

She flushed, but didn't reply.

"I have to teach those students on Monday, Hermione. I must have their 
respect, or at least their fear, in order to function. How can I maintain 
control over a classroom, when all of Hogwarts knows that I cannot control 
my own wife?" He closed his eyes as soon as the words were out, knowing 
they sounded incredibly chauvinistic. He had not meant them to be.

"I knew it!" she yelled. "You think you have to control me. You think you 
have a right to try. I'll never be anything more than a student to you. 
That's why you pushed me away, isn't it? Can't fuck a student, even if 
you're married to her. Well, I'm not sticking around for a lifetime of 
detention, so get out of my way!"

"I believe that it was you who wanted to wait, on our wedding night."

"I changed my bloody mind. Let me by!" He had clamped a hand on her wrist.

"You're behaving like a child, Hermione."

"And you're behaving like a teacher, trying to discipline me. I won't have 
it. Not from my husband, not when we're alone."

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing, his hand still around her wrist.

"Discipline isn't a bad idea." He picked her up and threw her over his 
shoulder, then carried her to the bed. He sat down on it and drew her onto 
his lap, face down. She kicked at him wildly, but still he held her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I am going to punish an errant brat."

"WHAT?" she shrieked. "You're going to spank me?"

"Only if you will not apologize for sending me a Howler. It was uncalled 
for, and I believe you know it."

She squirmed on his lap, trying to escape him.

"You touch me, and I'll..."

"You'll what? Leave me? You were planning on doing that anyway. My 
apology, if you please."

"Rot in hell."

"Eventually. I apologized to you for my ill-judgment. I had no intention 
of embarrassing you, Hermione, and I am sincerely sorry if I did so. I 
wanted to understand you better. I thought it would help to talk to Potter 
and Weasley." He paused, shifting to hold her with one arm, and running 
the other hand lightly up and down her spine. The view of her rounded 
bottom, covered though it was in robes, was stunningly erotic. Her 
squirming served to further excite him, and he began to find the idea of 
spanking her appealing in a way that had nothing to do with discipline.

She shivered involuntarily. He placed a hand on her ass, and felt heat 
rising through the fabric.

He moved his hand caressingly, then raised it to deliver a gentle blow. 
She gasped.

"I should have talked to you, I know," he said, caressing her again. "I 
didn't know how to deal with my fear where you were concerned."

She stopped trying to wriggle off of his lap.

"You were afraid? Of what?"

"Of giving you cause to fear me. Of making you hate me. I was afraid of 
driving you away. I don't want to lose you, Hermione." He circled his 
palm, then lifted his hand to spank her again, as gently as before.

Her bottom arched up into the touch.

"I am terrified at the power you have over me."

Another blow, slightly harder. She moaned, although he knew it could not 
have hurt her.

"I'm afraid of what I might do to you, should you ever make me angry 
enough."

"Severus, you would never hurt me." He smiled at this, uttered as it was 
from her vulnerable position across his thighs.

"I already have, Hermione. I know that it's in me to do so. I can't bear 
the thought of that ever happening again."

"You have an interesting way of illustrating your point." So she's seen 
the irony as well, he thought.

He massaged her lightly.

"Would you like me to release you?"

She hesitated.

"I haven't apologized for the Howler yet."

He sighed and loosened his grip on her.

"You needn't do so, Hermione, if you don't feel it is warranted. If you 
felt I deserved it, so be it." He suddenly felt weary, unwilling to try to 
force regret from her that she did not feel. "This is most undignified. 
You may get up now."

She didn't move.

"But I probably shouldn't have sent it, Severus."

As apologies went, it wasn't much, he thought, but he would not press her 
for more.

"No, Hermione," he said sadly, "you definitely should not have sent it. 
But now that you have finally apologized, there is no need for you to 
remain where you are."

"I didn't apologize."

"You just admitted that you should not have sent it."

"But that's not the same thing as apologizing." She squirmed again.

Comprehension dawned.

"You like this, don't you?" He rubbed the cloth-covered behind again, and 
gave her another spank. She moaned again. "This is arousing you." His tone 
was incredulous.

"Mm," she said noncommittally.

He had an inspiration.

"I still want your apology for the Howler, Hermione."

Another blow, slightly harder than the last. Her hips wriggled, brushing 
against his hardening shaft. She said nothing.

"If you do not apologize," he said, his voice low and velvety, "I shall 
not spank you again."

"I'm sorry, Severus." She waited expectantly, and he rewarded her with 
another slap.

"I shouldn't have sent the Howler. It was very wrong of me."

The next strike was calculated to sting slightly. She moaned loudly this 
time, desire unmistakable in the sound.

"I'll never do it again. I promise!" He drew his finger along the cleft of 
her buttocks, slowly tracing until he found the spot where the fabric 
covered the juncture at the top of her thighs. She made soft whimpering 
sounds. He drew back his hand and smacked her ass again, hard. She yelled.

"You will accompany me to this afternoon's Quidditch match."

"Yes, Severus." She was rewarded again.

"You will hang on my arm, and give every appearance of adoring me."

"Yes, oh, yes, just, please..." The force of the blow scooted her slightly 
forward. She screamed.

"And later, you will return with me here, where you will give me your 
undivided attention as I tell you how much I love you. Is that clear?"

"Oh, god, Severus, YES!" After one last stinging smack, he pulled her up 
and into his arms, bringing his mouth down upon hers. After a few moments, 
he realized that she was trying to say something. Reluctantly, he released 
her mouth.

"Say it again, Severus." Her tone was full of wonder, her eyes bright with 
emotion.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Then she pulled his mouth to hers.

She sucked greedily at his bottom lip before opening her mouth to take his 
tongue inside. She pressed herself against him, her hands frantically 
trying to unfasten his robes.

As foreplay, the little game proved effective beyond Severus' dreams. His 
young wife was clearly ready. He undressed her quickly, and soon had her 
spread naked beneath him on the bed. Thoughts of their first and only 
other time rose unbidden, but he found them easy to push away. This bore 
no resemblance at all to that encounter.

She was kissing his neck, muttering pleas as he positioned himself. He 
slid into her slick, welcoming passage, meeting no resistance whatsoever. 
She screamed his name, arching her hips up to meet his thrusts. The feel 
of her breasts sliding against his chest as he moved in her was heavenly. 
She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to move faster.

"Ah, god, please... you feel incredible," she panted.

"Hermione... so good, love," he moaned into her neck, thrusting 
desperately. A detached corner of his mind, a very small one, chided him 
for his lack of restraint. He told it to sod off; he needed completion 
like he needed air. He sensed that Hermione did, too. He shifted his 
weight to press down hard on her pubic bone as he fucked her. This 
additional stimulation was all she needed. She tightened fiercely around 
him, her nails digging furrows in his back as she clawed him in her 
ecstasy. She raised her head to bury it in his shoulder, her body going 
rigid as she clamped down on his shaft, her orgasm slamming through her. 
Her voice, already going hoarse, issued one final scream.

With a loud cry, he found his own release. Never in his life had he come 
so hard, or so satisfyingly.

They lay sprawled together, trembling and breathless, for a long time.

"Severus?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm sorry for what I put you through when I saved you. But I'll never 
regret that I did."

"I love you." He kissed her.

*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sat with Severus at the Quidditch game, cheering as loudly as her 
abused vocal cords would allow. Gryffindor won the match easily. Harry 
caught the Snitch after a mere eleven minutes, making it the shortest game 
played at Hogwarts in many, many years.

She kept her promise to Snape; she hung on his arm as though her life 
depended on it, and the gaze she turned on him was as adoring as he could 
have wished. The Howler incident, which had seemed so horribly 
embarrassing only a few hours ago, was already being treated as a very 
good joke by everyone who spoke with the Snapes. The obvious happiness 
which radiated between them made it impossible to see it as anything else.

Severus actually had a smile for Harry and Ron when they came over to be 
congratulated. Remus took him aside when as they talked with Hermione.

"So I take it I didn't screw you over as badly as I thought?"

"We still have a lot to talk about, of course. I'm not sure much is truly 
resolved between us. But from now on I'll talk to her about it, thank you 
very much." He grinned at Lupin. "And no, you did not 'screw me over.' I 
could have rejected your suggestion. Next time, I imagine I will. 
Especially now that I know just how thick you are regarding matters of the 
heart."

Lupin followed his gaze over to the trio.

"I take it you're implying that I didn't know about Harry?"

Snape was crestfallen.

"He couldn't come near me without blushing for weeks. Of course I knew. It 
was terribly flattering; he's a beautiful young man. Some day he's going 
to make some other beautiful young man very happy."

Draco Malfoy chose that moment to approach Harry, Ron and Hermione. He 
looked very uncomfortable, but relaxed slightly when he encountered three 
reasonably non-hostile glances.

"Um... good game, Potter. Great piece of flying, there."

"Thanks, Malfoy."

The four of them stood awkwardly for a few moments, not knowing what else 
to say, until Draco spoke again.

"There's something I've wanted to say for a long time now, Potter."

"Yeah, what's that?" Harry tried to look casual.

"Um... what we said to each other when we first met, on the train. Do you 
remember?"

Harry looked as though he remembered perfectly; so did Hermione and Ron. 
The two professors had heard about it, of course, and looked on with 
interest.

"I, well... I said you didn't want to go making friends with the wrong 
sort. And you said... you said you could tell the wrong sort for 
yourself."

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Harry's eyes did not leave Draco's.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while now that you were right." He stuck 
out his hand. Harry took it, a grin splitting his face. The audience that 
had gathered released a collective sigh of relief.

"We're going to Hagrid's; he's got some butterbeer to celebrate our 
victory. Want to come?" Harry asked diffidently.

"Do you think it will be all right with him?" Draco asked, biting his lip 
uncertainly. He had, after all, been instrumental in the loss of several 
of Hagrid's prized magical beasts, including a dragon and a hippogriff.

Draco looked startled as Ron Weasley punched him in the arm, then relaxed 
as he realized that the gesture was not meant as an attack.

"Yeah, come on, Ferret Boy. It will be fun."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but followed the two Gryffindors.

"Are you coming, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"No, you go on. I have some apologizing to do." A snort of laughter 
escaped Severus. The professor offered his arm to his wife, and she looked 
up at him adoringly as they walked back to the castle.

THE END

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