Chapter one
Severus took a deep shuddering breath, before wincing in pain that raked his body. After 20 years of it, one would think he would be use to it. The Cruciatus Curse was not the only thing causing pain that night, along with a dislocated shoulder, and broken ankle, the cast helping somewhat he limped slowly up the long drive on the frigid November night. Once again, he had failed to give the Dark Lord what he wanted, what he so adamantly needed, the full version of the Prophecy and any other information on the Boy-Who-Lived. Telling the Dark Lord that not only was he no longer having time to weaken Potter’s mind, but also that Albus the old fool was now teaching the boy Occulmency to protect his mind from intrusion was just one of many things the Dark Lord felt the need to take out on him. It was a game he was overly weary of partaking.
As of late, it seemed the Dark Lord now wanted his Death Eaters about him three to four times a week. The last hour for him usually spent under the Cruciatus Curse, and anyone else that displeased him. Severus was nearing death and felt soon would be the end. He also knew without a doubt that no one could help him.
The large oak doors creaked as he crept
inside the main hall. Casting a quick charm with his wand now in his right hand
as his left hand was mangled courtesy of Pettigrew. He closed the door and
began to make his way across the hall. The only source of light was the pale
moonlight, which slanted in from the windows. It was well after
He limped slowly towards the opening to the stairs of the dungeon when it happened. With a soft groan, his body stiffened with a mind-ripping convulsion. He began to fall face first towards the stone steps, before hearing a strangled yelp and a feeling of enchanting lightness, just before he passed out from the post-Cruciatus shock.
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“Will misses want anything else?” Dobby asked in his usual high-pitched squeaky voice as he looked at the young woman with his large tennis ball sized eyes, with concealed sadness.
“No thank you Dobby…” Hermione whispered in a quiet voice as she sipped her mug of warm milk. Her large brown eyes glazed slightly as she stared into the fire. Legs curled as she sat in the stuffy winged backed chair. Her dressing gown parted showing her long white nightgown underneath. Chin resting comfortably on one small hand curled into a fist.
It had been like this since May, but had
steadily worsened since this start off term. The first time she came here was
quite a shock for the elf, who wondered briefly where her friends were and
whether they knew about this. Over the past 3 months, and the two before summer
break, Dobby’s heart went out to the obvious depressed and utterly broken young
women. Rumours, that he had heard confirmed by the Headmaster,
himself, said that during the last attack at the end of Hermione’s sixth year,
she had and by no small feat, killed someone. It was none other than Bellatrix
Lestrange had fatally underestimated her duelling rivals’ ability. Therefore,
as she aimed a Killing curse at her, it had missed. Miss Granger had promptly
in retaliated with the same spell, only to be right on target.
Harry and Ron, not wanting to be outdone, proved to the world how powerful they were too finished off her husband and his brother as well, Bellatrix Lestrange’s fellow Death Eater’s Rodolphus and Rabastin, seconds afterwards. Although, they saved countless students and Hogsmeade residents, the three friends had changed, without knowing it overnight.
All three had received Order of Merlin 1st class and special commendation of merit to the school.
However, while Harry and Ron’s summer went rather smoothly, Hermione had not. She had lost her parents and most unfortunately not by magic, a Muggle teen seeking drugs had gone to her parent’s practice only to pull out a gun and shot both Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s directly, and wounding several other’s in the process. Her only living relatives an uncle in Maple Hurst was appointed her guardian until she was to be of age in September.
It was in her seventh and final year. She had made Head Girl as had been expected, (though there were rumours that she initially declined) and of all boys in seven year (and still questioned even by the elves in particular) Draco Malfoy was Head Boy. She had come back to school seemly unchanged though unless you really knew the girl you could not see any change. As he and the other elves had been seeing a lot of Miss Granger as of late and were very aware of the differences, they were torn between their sense of duty and sense of compassion where the girl was concerned.
Nevertheless, as the war outside the walls wagged on, Hermione’s losses were in Dobby’s opinion causing a near clinical depression, she was suffering from awful nightmares, and a change of appearance unknown to all curtsey of the Glamour spells she was using. Worse yet was something else about the day her parents died were leading Dobby and his fellow elves to believe her parent’s death was only half the story.
“Thanks for everything Dobby. I’m going to get going.” Hermione said lightly as she stood up and stretched. She reached for the silvery invisibility cloak (that Harry had given to her) and drew it around her too thin shoulders.
“Will Misses be wanting to take anything with her? Some snacks, something to drink?” Dobby asked quickly, very much aware of how thin she was even with the glamour she had covering herself.
“No, that’s ok, goodnight,” Hermione, said with a faint smile as she pulled the hood over her bushy curls disappearing from sight.
She breathed a slow sigh of relief as she walked down the dark deserted corridor. She reminded herself that she had to stop inflicting herself upon the House Elves. No matter how much she needed to get out she would not go to the kitchen. However, when the time came? She inevitably ended up there curled in front of the fire, with her mug of milk.
Since May, she had been ultra sensitive to her surroundings. Therefore, as she crept up the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall, She stopped at the top of the stairs and held her breath as she heard the front doors open. She pressed her back against the stonewall and peered around the corner and watch as someone came inside and by the way he/she was walking and hold themselves was injured. In head to toe black robes and white mask, the Death Eater was veering towards the entrance to the dungeon stairwell. She made to scream but no sound came out. Whomever he was appeared, quite out of nowhere, started to shake villently quite suddenly. With a quick “Bloody hell, Mobilicorpus” and flick of her wand he stopped mere inches from falling head first down the rough stone steps. When the mask fell from his face, it revealed a pale Severus Snape.
Without thinking she moved his body over to solid floor laid him on his back lifting the spell. She conjured a stretched and began holding her wand like a baton began to walk up to the hospital wing. She got there in a matter of minutes, opening the doors with magic and once she arrived, put the unconscious Potions master on the nearest bed and howled out for help. Being invisible, as she was still under Harry’s cloak she shrank to the corner as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office. The Hogwarts Matron saw the Professor lying there called out sharply to enquire who was there, before going to work. Hermione watched anxiously as the Healer assessed her patient and began performing spells. Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself, removing his robes and magicing him into a pale grey nightshirt and trousers. She left briefly to her office and Hermione moved closer to look at him. Professor Snape’s large nose that was always the talk amongst the students looked in her opinion, broken, dried blood on the bridge giving it away. His eyes closed so badly swollen, sporting two dreadful shiners, pale, thin, pink lips cracked and bleeding as if he had bit into them. His ankle was swollen to twice it’s usual size and remembering how he was walking most likely broken. His shoulder though she couldn’t see, was most likely dislocated as well as he had been holding his arm in earlier. By way of the ragged breath she was willing to bet a least one if not more ribs were broken and his lung possibly punctured, and the way his body was trembling, she strongly suspected him suffering from post-Cruciatus Curse shock. Overall, he looked a terrible mess. She sent a silent pray up for him, before leaving as Madam Pomfrey came back to his bed, accompanied by the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. As she walked stealthy back to her room, she could not help but wonder what the Potions master did to enrage Voldemort, to hurt him, within an inch of his life.
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He blinked his eyes slowly and looked around. From where he was lying he gathered he was in the hospital wing, but how he got there was absolutely beyond him. The last thing he remembered was the soft a feminine voice muttering and a feeling of enchantment. He could only assess that whoever stopped him from breaking his neck, must have considered it best to bring him here.
“Aye, how are you feeling?” Albus asked lightly, with a smile, blue eyes twinkling as he looked at the younger man.
Without even opening his mouth, he fixed the man with cool, black eyes.
Albus just smirked all too familiar with the look.
“Well you’ll be pleased to know the injuries though many were not life threatening and fixed quiet easily.” Severus response was a snort. “As for whoever brought you here, a thank you at the very least should be in order.” Albus said pointing as he looked at him. Severus snorted at this remark and shook his head.
“Even if I did know who did this, I wouldn’t waste the effort as I could have just as easily fixed the problems myself.” Severus replied coolly, his black eyes hard, with a shrug as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed.
“Well, luckily I have made such a discovery as the identity of said pupil, and thus have indicated that she will be receiving said thank you.” Albus said lightly, the blue eyes gleaming with merriment.
“And whose debt am I in now?” Severus asked scornfully, flicking his wand and in one instant changing from his night attire to his usual teaching robes.
“Indebt is a bit much; just a brief acknowledgement of her help from saving you from an early death will suffice, Miss Granger could barely admit to even being there, to stop you from falling headfirst down the dungeon steps, but thankful Dobby cleared that matter up. As such I believe this will benefit Miss Granger more then she thinks…I’ll send her to your office in an hour.” Albus said genially, with a small smile. He stood, and with a nod of his head walked out of the wing, leaving the Potions Master to speculate as to way she did not want admit what happened that night. It seemed odd to him, when you considered she was a Gryffindor.
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She could barely feel the cold as she walked down the grey stone hall of the dungeons. She was cursing herself for her stupidity in the first place. She knew she messed up badly from the start. First, she lied to the Headmaster about being there. Then Dobby had finally broken his silence about her apparent change, use of glamour’ to conceal her weight and severe depression. The headmaster had even gone so far as to threaten her with expulsion, but then an hour later he being the truly ingénues man that he was caught her with the censoring wards he place around the Potions Master after having her convinced that Professor Snape was much worse then she thought. Even with Harry’s cloak, alarm bells rang off; Hermione realized a set up.
Now as Hermione, stood before gleaming oak door, she felt miserable. God only knew what would happen next. She knocked briskly, heard a muffled “Enter” before turning the gold knob, and entered the room. It took her a minute to adjust to the lighting, as it was not what she had expected. She looked around curiously. The desk was large and situated to the left side of the room in front a small stone fireplace. The hard maple surface covered with books and parchment, quills and inkpots and a half-full bottle of firewhiskey and tumbler. On the wall opposite, the door shelves of the same maple of the desk covered then length with an oak door in between. Books of various subjects on one side of the shelves and glass beakers on the other shelves, the wall on the right side of the room the same. However, the worktable drew her attention the most. Twice the length of the ones in the classroom with four caldrons all burning and steaming, the man behind them was even more enigma then what she was use too. Dressed in head to toe black was not something new to the witch. It was the style that she wasn’t use too. All visible signs of injury were gone. He stood there look strangely attractive. His usually long greasy hair pulled back showing off high cheekbones, olive shaped black eyes, long crooked nose, and small lips. The long sleeved black silk shirt was one similar to the one her father owned. With a deep v-neck line showing of a pale, but tone chest cover with a light dusting of curly black hairs. The trousers showed off his long legs narrow hips. It was then that he chose to speak in both an amused but sardonic tone of voice.
“Miss Granger, I don’t believe that was the type of thank you Albus had in mind, have a seat.” Severus said silkily, causing the young witch to blush before nodding and taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She sat and folded her hands on her laps watching as he finished the potion he was standing in front of and turning the flame low to let it simmer, by the fumes and colour of the potion, she knew it was a love potion. He moved gracefully to his desk and took a seat, pulling out a piece of green parchment that she recognized immediately.
“Sir is that…” She asked gently nodded her head towards the parchment in his hand.
“Did I say you could speak?” He asked, as he looked at her his black eyes, hard, cold. She bowed her head before he added “Your application for apprenticeship yes…” He said as he headed it over to her for her to look at. It had been almost a year ago that she had handed that in when told halfway through 6th year she was eligible for various apprenticeships. Therefore, she had applied for three of her favourite courses. Only later to decline all offers, except this one, which she found she wasn’t in the running.
“I will be expecting several things, first being obedience, if following my instructions or do as I tell you to do is not something you are willing to brave…” He stopped stressing the last part clearly mocking her. “Then you are more then welcome to decline, this is a two year program and I will not tolerate disobedience. Secondly, I expect punctuality, discipline and an aptitude of innovating thinking. Being able to copy potions that are tired and true is one thing. However, to make it as a Potions Mistress you have to have your own ideas as well. Any fool can make a Love Potion but do you know how to combine the Imperius Curse to one so as to have complete control over the subject?” He asked expectantly as he looked at her before getting up and walking back to the vapid pink fumes of the caldron he just left. She took that as a sign as to follow and came to stand beside him looking at the majestic red potion. She felt something in the back of her memory prickle. They way he asked the question reminding her of someone else. She stood there for several terse minutes replaying books of love potions and the unforgivable curse in her head as if flipping pages to the books. Finally, she smiled, small but satisfied.
“I would have thought even Messer Weasley and Potter could have given me an answer by now,” He hissed rudely. She turned and looked at him, what anger she had been trying to quill now aching to burst.
“Even after death mammal bodies will retain spells. Sufficed to say that if any of the numerous ingredients added to a potion are of mammals that cursing them with Imperius will cause the potion to a bid with the spell and thus work…the more ingredients affected the stronger the curse.” She stated haughtily.
He suppressed the urge to smirk at her answer.
“Well let’s see,” He said with a wave of his wand the potion vanished with another wave, ingredients appeared after that he stepped away and went to one of the other caldrons at the long table.
For the next three hours, they worked in relative silence. Apart from the awkward beginning, not a word broke up the monotony. Finally, she asked the question that she had been dwelling on since arriving in the room.
“Sir was this your idea or the headmasters?” she asked quietly unable to look up not sure she wanted to see his response to this question.
“Miss Granger, do you believe it possible of me to giving someone, lest a Gryffindor know-it-all such a position if I didn’t believe them worthy of it?” He asked coolly in the silent room. She looked up at him, his black eyes filled with contempt. She closed her eyes and took a breath.
“No, sir,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Finish up, clean up your material then you are free to go.” He said briskly turning back to his potion. They passed the next several minutes in silence. She cleaned up quickly, bottling her potion, putting the extra ingredients back to where they went on the shelves.
“Goodnight professor,” she said quietly as she turned to look at him one last time.
“Be back tomorrow by
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“She had a bit of a bounce to her step as she was leaving I take it the meeting went well?” Albus said as she came into the room.
“She was brewing a love potion, I dare say even the most depressed of witches would be at least somewhat affected by the fumes.” Severus said calmly not bothering to look up at the headmaster.
“And hear, I thought it was because of your usual charming demeanour.” Albus said cheerfully as he transfigured one of the chairs in front of the younger man’s desk and took a seat. The scantly look of contempt he sent the Headmaster was enough to burn a hole threw other people. However, when he spoke it was with elegance that few could acquire.
“She’s an exceptional student, brilliant, talented,” he replied. His usual mask of indifference, intact, making the Headmaster wonders if this plan would work. They lapsed into silence or several minutes, before Albus asked quietly.
“Will you help her?”
“If this is what you desire, though I still believe Minerva or Potter or even Weasley would be better, I’m going to be hard pressed to win her trust.” Severus said evenly, His black eyes, devoid of emotion.
“Yes, but as you were there, at her abduction the day her parents died, and there when he released her. Then this responsibly will ultimately be yours till she can resemble some part of her old self or until you tell us what happened…” Albus said quietly, thin lips unmoving, blue eyes still as stone.
“Very well,” Severus said nonchalantly.
“Goodnight Severus” Albus said quietly. Severus nodded as he turned back to his work, the old feeling of guilt making him feel all the worse.