Chapter 1

 

Severus took a deep shuddering breath, before wincing at the in pain that raked his body. After twenty 20 years of it (you’ve already said it is pain, so use a pronoun instead to tighten up the style)this pain, one would think he would be used to it. The Cruciatus Curse was not the only thing causing pain that night., along with theDespite having a dislocated shoulder, and a broken ankle, he limped slowly up the long drive on the frigid November night (he’d not be able to go more than a few hundred years with a broken ankle – you need to either insert him casting a spell to help, or rethink the injury). 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 wasdid  he no longer have theing time to weaken Potter’s mind, but also that Albus Dumbledore, the old fool, was now teaching the boy Occulmency, to protect his mind from intrusion was just one of a million thingsa number of things (unless it is really a million things, it’s a wild exaggeration) the Dark Lord felt the need to take out on him. It was a game, in which he was overly weary of participating partaking.

(for this to be submitted to Ashwinder, ideally you will want a clear line space between paragraphs)

            As his exposure to the Cruciatus Curse was now nearing, at least an hour each time he went to the meetings and revels that the Dark Lord felt the need to have at least three or more times a week. (That sentence is very unweildly.  Try:  “It seemed that the Dark Lord now wanted his Death Eaters about him three or four times a week, and for at least an hour of those meetings he was inevitably subjected to the Cruciatus Curse”.  Avoid “dark revels” – it’s a ghastly fanon concept)Severus was nearing death a leap at a time and knewfelt  his time was growing shorter. He also knew without any doubt that no one could help in the first placehim

.

            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 already badly mangled courtesy of Pettigrew)..  Hehe closed the door and began to make his way across the hall.  (Now cut this sentence as it is turning into a run on) The only source of that was only light was by the pale moonlight, which slanted in from  form the windows. It was now well after midnight.

 

            He was limpinged slowly towards the opening to the stairs of the , which led downwards to the dungeons when it happened. With a soft groan, his body stiffened with a mind-blowing  mind ripping (mind blowing sounds more like the effects of drug taking) convulsion. He began to fall heavily face down first ontotowards the stone steps, before hearinghe heard  a strangled curse(?) Curse?  Surely spell if it is someone else saving him) and a feeling of enchantingmagical lightness, just before he passed out from the post-Cruciatus shock.

 

 

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“Will Mmisses be wanting anything else?” Dobby asked in his usual high-pitched squeaky voice as he looked of sadly 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. Her lLegs were curled up as she sat in the stuffy winged backed chair. Her dressing gown parted showing her long white nightgown underneath. Her cChin resteding comfortably on one small hand curled into a fist.

 

It had been like this since May, but had steadily worsened since theis start off term until now (until now is so implicit in the description, you do not need it). The first time she came here was quiteet a shock for the elf, w. Who wondered briefly where her friends were, and whether they knew about this. Over the past three3 months, and the two before summer break, Dobby’s heart had gonewent out to the obviously depressed and utterly broken young womaen. Rumors, that he had heard confirmed by the Headmaster, himself, said was that during the last attack at the end of Hermione’s sixth her 6^th year, she had and by no small feteeet, killed someone. It was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange who had fatally under estimated her dueling rival’s ability, so as she aimed thea Killing Ccurse at her, it had missed.  (Cut this sentence, too, it’s another run on), Miss Granger, who in retaliation had promptly retaliated with sent the exact 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 as well, and promptly finished off her hHusband and his bBrother as well, Bellatrix Lestrange’s fellow Death Eater’s Rodolphus and Rabastin,  seconds afterwardsbefore. Although, they saved countless students and Hogsmeade residents, all three friends The Trio had changed, without really realizing it, unknowing overnight.   (The term “Trio” or worse still “Golden Trio” is also a bit of a fanon horror, in my not so humble.  It smacks of cliché, so I’m suggesting you just say the three friends.  Sometimes, very simple is more original).

 

All three had received the Order of Merlin 1^st class, together with  and special commendation of merit to the school.

 

 

However, while Harry and Ron’s summer went rather smoothly, Hermione’s had not. She had lost her parents and most unfortunately not by magic, when a Muggle teen who had been seeking drugs had gone to her parents’’s office demanding drugs (we already know this teen is after drugs, no need to mention it again) only to pull out a gun and had then shot both MDr and Mrs. Granger’s (dentists are not normally called “Dr” in the UK) directly, and had then woundeding several other’s present, alsoin the process. Her only living relatives were an uUncle in Maple Hurst, who was to be appointed her guardian until she came was to be of age in September.

 

It was nowin her seventh and final year. She had been made Head Girl as had been expected, (though there were rumors that she initially declined), and of all people the boys in seventh year (and this had been much still questioned even by the elves, in particular) Draco Malfoy was made Head Boy.  She had come back to school, seemingly unchanged, though unless you really knew her well, knew the girl you wcould not see any changes. As Dobbyhe and the other elves had been seeing a lot of Miss Granger as of late, and they were very aware of the differences, they were torn between their sense of duty and sense of compassion where the shegirl was concerned.

 

Nevertheless, as the war outside the walls wagged on, Hermione’s the unofficial brains of the Trio since then had suffered losses (I’ve taken the bit before out, because it’s getting rather confusing what has happened and when) that were, in Dobby’s opinion, causing a nearcatatonicclinical (if she was catatonic she’d be just sitting and not moving) depression.   to boot, SShe was also suffering from evereawful  Ninightmares, and a had undergone a drastic change of appearance, as yet unknown to the other two and the majority of  hub of the student body, as well (how would no one know? If it is her appearance, they must know!). Worse yet was something else about the day her parents died, which had were ledading Dobby and his fellow elves to believe her parents’ deaths wereas 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 Iinvisibility Ccloak and drew it around her too thin shoulders.  (Okay, where did she get it from?  Remember canon suggests they are very rare)

 

“Will Misses be wanting to take anything with her? Some snacks, something to drink?” Dobby asked quickly, very much aware of how thin she had become was even with the glamour she had used to disguise the weight loss.covering herself.

 

“No, that’s okay.  , gGoodnight,” Hermione, said with a faint smile, as she pulled the hood over head, and her bushy curls disappeareding 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. It was easily said and thought but when the time came, she wouldhe 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 stone wall and peered around the corner toand watch as someone came inside.  She knew  and by the way they he/she were as walking and holding  themselves, that they were was injured. Wearing In head to toe black robes and a white mask, the Death Eater was veering towards the entrance to the dungeon stairwell (okay, you are Hermione.  You are in Hogwarts, and you see a Death Eater wandering the corridors.  What would you really do? Scream?   Decide to watch and wait?  Whatever the story should tell us Hermione’s reactions). Whoemever he was, he appeared quite, quiet out of nowhere, and began to to shake villently, quiteet suddenly. With a quick curse spell  (I do not think this spell is a curse – it’s gentle) and fFlick of her wand, she was able to stopped mere inches from him by inches from  falling head first down the rough stone steps.  (Run on again!), but theWhen the  mask fell from his face, a clack loudly down the steps, it revealeding the pale yet severely cut up face of Severus Snape.  He was covered in cuts.

 

Without thinking, she moved his body over to solid floor laid him on his back, taking off the spell., She conjured up a stretcherd, and began holding her wand like a baton, she began to walk up to the Hhospital Wwing. She got there in a matter of minutes, opening the doors by magic, and once she arrived, sheand puttingput  the unconscious Potions mMaster onto the nearest bed and calleding out for help. Bebecause she was still ing invisible, due to the cloak, she shrank back went to the corner, as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office.  The Hogwarts Matron, saw the Professor lying there, and  before coming over and looking for who called hercalled out sharply to enquire who was there, before going to work. HermioneShe watched anxiously as the Healer witch assessed her patient and began performing spells. Muttering to herself, she removeding his robes and magicinggot him into  him into a pale gray nightshirt and pants. She left briefly to visit her office,  and Hermione moved closer to look at him. His large nose that was always the talk amongst the students, looked in her opinion as if it had been broken;, dried blood on the bridge strongly indicated that to be so.giving it away. His small black eyes were so badly swollent that they had virtually closed, and she would see that he would have sporting two dreadful black eyes (lovely shiners is a bit jokey, here)lovely shiners.  His, pale thin pink lips were 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, she thought it highly likely it was most likely broken. His shoulder, though she couldn’t see it properly, looked to bewas most likely dislocated,  as well, for as he had been holding his arm in oddly when she first saw him earlier earlier. By way of theHearing his  ragged breath, she was willing to bet that ata least one, if not more, of his ribs had beenwere broken and his lung had possibly punctured.  , and theFrom the way his body was trembling, she strongly suspected guessed he wasim suffering from post-Cruciatus Curse effects of shock.

 

All and all he looked a terrible mess. She sent a silent prayer up for him, before leaving as Madam Pomfrey came back to his bed, aAccompanied by the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. As she walked stealthily back to her room, she could not help but wonder what the Potions mMaster did to so enrage piss (piss off is just not the right tone here) Voldemort off that badly, for him to to hurt him to, within an inch of his life.

 

 

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He blinked his eyes slowly and looked around. From where he was laying, he gathered he was in the Hhospital Wwing, but how he got there was absolutely beyond him. The last thing he remembered was a softthe soft curse femaleof a feminine voice casting some spell, and a feeling of enchantment. He could only assumeess that whomever had 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.

(When the point of view changes, so does the paragraph)

Without even opening his mouth, he fixed the man with coldool, black eyes, and an expression of the deepest loathing*, the one he usually reserved for Neville Longbottom.

 

Albus just smirked all too aware not to bother to be upset by his threatening look.

*canon thumper here.  There’s not the slightest evidence that Severus feels loathing for Albus or his position.  It’s another of those dreadful fanon clichés that Severus hates Albus and that Albus is some arch manipulator.  And if you read canon, it is just not true. 

 

Snape owes DD a great deal – it is DD’s intervention that kept him out of Azkaban post first fall.  He speaks of DD with enormous respect. 

“Well you’ll be pleased to know the injuries, though many, were not life threatening and could be fixed quiteet easily.” Snape’sHis 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. SnapeHe snorted at this remark and shook his head. (When you refer to two males in a paragraph you need to keep naming them, to clarify who it is you mean – using pronouns means it could be either)

 

“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, giving 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 pupildiscovered the identify of your rescuer, and thus have indicated that she will be receiving said thank you.,” Albus said lightly, the blue eyes gleaming with merriment.

 

“And whom now are you putting me indebted tooAnd 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.

 

“In debt is a bit much; however , just a brief acknowledgement of her help infrom saving you from a early deathemise will suffice., Miss Granger wcould barely admit to even being there, even though it was she who to stopstopped you from falling headfirst down the dungeon steps, but thankfully Dobby cleared theat 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.  As he He stood up, and with a nod of his head, walked out of the wing, leaving the Potions mMaster to speculate as to whay she did not want to admit what happened that night.  It seemed odd to him, when you considered she was a Gryffindor. in the first place considering her Gryffindor brass.

 

 

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She could barely feel the cold as she walked down the gray stone hall of the dungeons. She was cursing herself for her stupidity in the first place. She knew she had screwed up badly, from the start.   fFirst she had liedlying to the Hheadmaster about being there, tThen Dobby after several months breakinghad finally broken  his silence about her apparent change, and use of glamours to conceal her use of glamour, lost weight and severe depression. The Hheadmaster had even gone so far as to threaten her with expulsion, but then an hour later Dumbledore,he being the truly ingeniousingénues man that he was, had  caught her by means of  with the censoring wards he had placed around the Potions mMaster,  after having cunningly her convinced her that  Professor Snape was much worse then she thought. Even with Harry’s cloak, the spells had still found her and rang a set of alarm bells.   and sShe realized that she had been set upknew without a doubt that set her up. Come hell or high water she was going to make the old man pay. I’ve taken the last bit out – she’s clever enough to know that she was breaking the rules, and she’s straying hugely out of character here.

 

Now as she stood before the she gleaming oak door, she felt her anger drain. Obviously the old man just felt that catching her wasn’t enough, and hewanted to punish her more (er, this is Dumbledore we are talking about.  He is wise and good, not some school Machiavelli). God only knew what he would make her do next. She knocked briskly, heard a muffled “Enter” before turning the gold knob, and enteringed the room. It took her a minute to adjust to the lighting, as it was not what she had expected. She had only been in his office once before,  and that was to steal Bboomslang skin in her second year to make an illegal potion. She didn’t have much time to look around back then. (she was not in Snape’s office when she stole the Boomslang skin in year two – it happened in the Potions classroom)Now she did. The desk was large and situated to the left side of the room in front of a small stone fireplace with rectangular windows on either side of the fireplace (there can be no windows, this is a dungeon and therefore underground). The hard maple surface was covered with books and parchment, quills and inkpots and a half-full bottle of firewhiskey and a tumbler. On the wall opposite, the door shelves of the same maple of the desk covered then length of the wall 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 cauldrons all burning and steaming, the man behind them seemedwas even more enigma thaen what she was use tooever to her.  Seeing him d Dressed in head to toe in black was not something new to the witchher,  it was the style that she wasn’t used too. All visible signs of injury were gone. He stood there looking (in no words she had ever heard him describe as) Hot strangely attractive. His usually long greasy hair was pulled back showing off high cheekbones, olive shaped black eyes, a long crooked nose, and small but posy pink lips (er, no, he sounds like a girl.  Drop the small posy lips and put something else). The long sleeved black silk shirt was one she recognized on her father (this reads as if Snape is wearing Hermione’s dad’s shirt.  Try:  The shirt was similar to one her father had owned), with a deep v-neck line showing off a pale, but toned chest covered with a light dusting of curly black hairs. The pants showed off his long legs, narrow hips, and whether or not he knew it what lay underneath and making her wonder if he were a boxer or brief man (again I think Hermione is coming over a bit er tarty here – drop the speculation about his underwear, unless this is Porn without plot). 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 herbrunette 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 lap,s watching as he finished off working on the potion, he was standing in front of and turning the flame low to let it simmer.  Judging by , by the fumes and color of the potion, she was going to guessed  and though she had never brewed or even seen one made, it must be a love potion*. He moved gracefully to his desk and tlook a seat, pulling out a piece of green parchment that she recognized immediately.

*  If she has never seen one made before, she has no way of knowing that is what he is brewing.  Secondly, it’s made fairly clear by JKR that love potions do not really work.

“Sir is that…?” sShe asked gently noddinged her head towards the parchment in his hand.

 

“Did I say you couldan speak?” hHe asked as he looked at her. His eyes were black, hard and , cold. She bowed her head before he added “Your application for apprenticeship yes.…” heHe said as he haneaded it over to her for her to look at. It had been almost a year ago whenthat she had handed that inapplied. when she was told  Hhalfway through sixth 6^th year they had been told they could apply for various apprenticeships.* Therefore, she had for every one of her courses. 

 

Apprenticeships do not happen in canon.  It’s a common mistake.  However, seeing as there are loads of apprenticeship stories, here’s the deal.  You can only have one.  Not for each of your courses.  Secondly, how is every student going to have an apprenticeship at Hogwarts?  There are not enough teachers.   

 

“I will be expecting several things, the first being obedience.  , iIf following my instructions or doing  as I tell you to do is not something you are willing to brave…” heHe stopped stressing the last part, clearly mocking her,. “tThen 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 innovativeng thinking.  Being able to copy potions that are triedired and true is one thing. However, to make it as a Potions mMmistressaster 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 cauldron he just left. She took that as a sign as to follow and came to stand beside him looking at the majestic looking red potion. She stood there for several tenrse minutes replaying books of love potions and the unforgivable curse in her head as if mentally flipping pages ofto the books. Finally, she smiled, gave a small but satisfied smile.

 

“I would have thought even Messer Weasley and Potter could have given me an answer by now,” hHe hissed rudely. She turned and looked at him, what anger she had been trying to queill now ready to aching to burst forth.

 

“Even after death, mammals’ bodies will retain spells. Suffice ited to say that if any of the numerous ingredients added to a potion are from of mammals that have been curseding by them with Imperius, they will cause the potion to a bind with the spell and thus work…the more ingredients that are affected,  the stronger the curse will be,.” sShe stated haughtily.

 

He suppressed the urge to smirk at her answer.

 

“Well let’s see,” hHe said, and with a wave of his wand the potion vanished.   with aAnother wave, , and new ingredients appeared.   aAfter that he stepped away and went to one of the other cauldrons 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’re idea or the headmaster’s?” she asked quietly, unable to look up, and not sure if she wanted to see his response to theis question.

 

“Miss Granger, do you believe it would be possible for of me to be giving someone, least of all a Gryffindor know-it-all, such a position, if I didn’t believe them worthy of it?” hHe asked coolly in the silent room. She looked up at him and saw , his black eyes were 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,.” hHe 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 quietl,y as she turned to look at the himenigma one last time.

 

“Be back tomorrow by six,6:00” he answered in way of replying. She nodded her head before turning and walking out the door.

 

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“She had a bit of a bounce to her step as she was leaving.  I I take it the meeting went well?” Albus askedsaid 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 aeffected by the fumes,.” Severus said calmly, not bothering to look up at the Hheadmaster.

 

“And herear, I thought it was because of your usual charming demeanor,.” Albus said cheerfully as he transfigured one of the chairs in front of the younger man’s desk and took a seat. The barely cloaked scantly look of contempt he sent the Hheadmaster would have been as enough to burn a hole through mostrew other people. However, when he spoke it was with an elegance that few could acquire.

 

“She’s an exceptional student, brilliant, talented,” he replied. His usual mask of indifference, ever intact, making the Hheadmaster wonder if this plan would work.

 

“Will you help her?” Albus asked quietly.

 

“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, hHis black eyes, devoid of emotion.

 

“Yes, but as you weare the only one to witness what happened that day her parents died, Then this responsiblyresponsibility will ultimately be yours, until till she can resemble is more like her 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, wondering why he was keeping her secret in the first place.