Explanations

******

Severus stilled as he heard the front door open. He was lying on his bed, attempting to read "Crime and Punishment." He had been intrigued by the title when he saw it on Hermione's bookshelves, but quickly found that the verbose Russian novel could not distract him.

He smoothed his hair behind his ear and scowled. Despite himself, he was... worried. Perhaps he was even vulnerable, if there was still any part of his black soul that could feel vulnerability. Whatever it was, he hated it.

Azkaban had mostly eradicated any kind tendencies he possessed. Though he perhaps had never inspired many friendly feelings or advances, what little social abilities he had died many years ago. He was not the same man Hermione fell in love with, and he doubted very much that that man even existed.

Sometimes, Severus felt like he was little more than a handful of snide comments and a few cutting remarks. Sometimes, he felt as if the façade he had so carefully crafted over the years to ensure his survival was all he had left. He had truly become a cold, heartless bastard, and whatever was good inside him...whatever had befriended Lily and enamoured Hermione...was as dead as Emma Rochester. This thought depressed him.

He heard Hermione call his name, and her voice somehow reminded him of his best memories...his first Potions class at Hogwarts, Lily's hand clasped tightly in his own, Dumbledore's kind eyes and his dotty smile, Hermione's breathless confession of love.

Tonight, he didn't want to fuck her. He wanted to love her, tell her that she was everything that was good and beautiful to him. She was his saving grace, and he wanted to cling to her amidst the darkness of his life. Only, he didn't know how to say that. He didn't even know if he had the capability to say that.

"Hello," came her voice from his doorway, and when he looked up she was leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed and her eyes slightly red. "Sorry I was gone for so long."

He placed the book on the nightstand and sat up, clenching the bed frame so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Hermione," he finally said. "Hello."

She smiled wistfully and came to sit down next to him in the bed. They sat in silence, and Severus found he couldn't breathe properly. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his weakness, wishing he could manage to maintain some distance from the girl. But he found he wanted to rest his head on her heart.

"Severus," she breathed. "How are you?"

The question confused him, and he cocked his head inquisitively at her.

"How am I?" he repeated incredulously. How to answer her... "I was a bit bored here, without you." He attempted to lower his voice to its silkiest decibel, but feared that he sounded a bit too desperate for seduction.

She raised her eyebrows. "Dostoevsky not doing it for you, huh?"

"Ah, the novel. No."

She nodded her head. "I read it first when I was twelve. Interesting, really. Seeing how... evil you can be without your conscience getting in the way. Seeing what you are truly capable of."

Again, he realised that he was having trouble breathing and his chest hurt. He was too damned old for this. "Have you set such an experiment up for yourself, Hermione?"

She blinked rapidly. "Not consciously. But perhaps I have."

"Do you know the results yet?" His voice sounded strained.

"Do you?" she replied sharply. He didn't answer her, and she sighed deeply.

"Listen, Severus. Before anything else happens, before this goes any further, I need to know what happened."

He scowled at her and was tempted to say something bitingly cruel about her sense of timing. She only wanted to know now, when it benefited her. But when he needed her to believe in him those seven years ago, she conveniently couldn't be bothered. More than anything, this fact had tormented him throughout the years. As time passed, he forgot how he could completely engulf her tiny little hand with his own and the light smattering of freckles across her nose and the way she would laugh in the dungeons. All he remembered was that somehow, Hermione Granger had morphed into Lily Evans, and so joined they ridiculed him in the darkness of his cell.

Fuck.

And so he would try to focus on her ink-stained hands and her endearing slight overbite. For tonight, at least.

"I'll tell you then," he said, his voice gruff.

"Well?" she said.

"What? Now? Here?" He needed time to prepare. Surely she knew that.

She crossed her arms and huffed. "I think I've waited long enough, Severus."

"That is hardly my fault, Miss Granger," he said, his voice cold despite his previous resolutions.

Her face softened somehow and she tentatively placed her hand over his. He blinked. Her nails were bitten ragged. For the second time that night, he felt as if something in his chest was going to explode.

"I know. And I'm sorry for waiting so long to ask, Severus." Her voice was gentle and her eyes were deep and warm, and Severus felt that he would forgive her anything if she kept looking at him like that.

He cleared his throat, thinking back. The memories assaulted him quickly, and Severus Snape, fiercely protected by the life-long walls he had built around himself, was left feeling with the sheer pain of it all.

******

*Seven Years Earlier*

Severus scowled as he opened the doors to his Potions classroom. Hermione Granger, one of the many banes of his existence, was due at any moment. If she was late, he figured he would simply shut and ward the door, and damn it all. They were doomed to failure anyways. Mere potions could not help them, despite what Dumbldore or the girl herself thought.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:58. She had precisely two minutes. If he was feeling particularly generous, he might wait three. But no more.

He stared at the clock, watching as the seconds ticked by. This was really ridiculous.

Suddenly, Miss Granger ran breathlessly through his open doors.

"Oh! Good. I'm not late!" She smiled up at him, and Severus scowled in return.

The girl came overly prepared, as he should have realised. She had pages and pages of notes on the potions and the spells they would need, and he was annoyed. He had hoped this would take a few nights of his time. Judging by the parchment in her hand and the eager look upon her face, this was going to take all blasted summer.

"Dispense with the foolish grin, Miss Granger. I'm in no mood."

She smiled wider. "Of course, sir. I'm sorry." But he noticed she didn't stop smiling.

The night was spent mostly creating a timeline in order to satisfy Miss Granger's inane requests. Apparently, she believed that they were going to require an entire potions laboratory on their doomed quest.

"And what, pray tell, are you going to need a Thickening Solution for? And wouldn't Potter's cloak be more effective than an Invisibility Elixir? I am beginning to believe you are here to waste my time."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I just want to make sure that we are prepared for anything." The girl, though she flushed slightly, did not cower at his harsh tone; rather, she Summoned several ingredients and asked if he was ready to begin. This was... intriguing.

***

"Of course, Miss Granger, you are aware that you are not correctly brewing the Invigoration Draught?"

Severus smirked as she looked at him exasperatedly. "Yes, I am correctly brewing the Invigoration Draught. I know that some supposed Potions experts prefer to stir it with a silver rod, three times clockwise, but I have found that the potion is much closer to the correct shade of aquamarine if I use this pewter rod. See for yourself." She gestured towards her cauldron, the perfectly aquamarine liquid twinkling devilishly.

He snorted. "If this were the school year, I would deduct twenty points from Gryffindor for your arrogance." The girl was really too smart for her own good.

"My arrogance? Really, sir. I mean, pot, meet kettle." Her lips quirked, and he looked at her suspiciously.

"I am not arrogant, Miss Granger. I am simply confident in my abilities."

"Same thing," she muttered under her breath as she stirred her cauldron. Severus was confused. Normally, he would feel a strong flash of annoyance and wound her deeply with a few cutting remarks. But instead he felt... warm. And that most certainly annoyed him.

That night, Severus dreamed of Hermione splayed wantonly on his bed, her chest heaving and her face flushed as she rubbed herself whilst moaning his name. Try as he might, he was never able to look at her as a student again.

***

He paced restlessly. She was late, and she was never late. Panic coursed through him. Perhaps... perhaps she had been captured. Perhaps she was being tortured at this very moment. He should alert Dumbledore. He should find her.

She rushed into the dungeons, her hair flying out behind her. "Professor! I'm so sorry I'm late."

He looked at her. She appeared unharmed. "What kept you, Miss Granger?" he snapped.

She flushed. "I... I was talking with Harry and Ron. I lost track of time."

At that moment, Severus felt something that he thought he would never feel again. Not after Lily. But a streak of possessiveness, strong and maddening, ripped through him, and he felt he wanted to murder Potter and Weasley.

"Well, Miss Granger," he snarled, his voice cruel. "Since I mean so little to you perhaps you would like to put an end to our... meetings."

Her eyes widened. "But sir! You... you mean a great deal to me."

And the look upon her face was so urgent and so sincere that Severus found himself... hoping. For what, he couldn't say, but the feeling was strongest when she was with him.

***

"Miss Granger! What are you doing here? We don't meet again until tomorrow night."

The girl was in his office, curled up on his couch and reading a book. At the sound of his voice, she looked up and positively beamed at him.

"I'm sorry, sir. But I thought that we could just... spend time together. As friends. If you want." She looked uncertain and she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"As friends?" he questioned, and he told the feeling so akin to hope in his chest to stop.

"If you like," she said shyly. "I would like that."

And Severus was quite lost. He sat next to her and allowed their legs to brush, and the touch felt more intimate than anything he had ever known. When their fingers grazed, something deep within him cracked, and Severus knew that this seventeen-year-old girl would be his undoing. Looking at her crooked smile and her dark eyelashes, he knew that she would be worth it.

That night, he dreamed of Hermione in a lovely white gown, a gentle smile upon her face as he lowered his lips to kiss her.

***

He sat with his mask in his hands and a look of sheer boredom upon his face. This was getting ridiculous. It was a wonder that the Dark Lord would listen to such asinine ramblings. He glanced quickly at his timepiece. Avery had been talking for over thirty long minutes. If he would just get to his point! Hermione would be in the dungeons soon.

"Need to be somewhere, Severusss?" Voldemort asked, his voice a hiss.

"No," he said sharply, and before Severus had time to properly set up his Occlumency shields, the Dark Lord had slipped into his mind.

An image of Hermione...her hair pulled back into a messy bun and her eyes wide with excitement...flashed across his mind briefly before he forcefully dissolved it. He offered Voldemort other images...Dumbledore worriedly talking to McGonagall, Potter riding his broomstick over the Quidditch pitch...until he felt his master slip away.

Voldemort was chuckling. "Who was the girl, Severus?"

"The girl?" he asked, forcing himself to steady his breathing and slow his heart rate.

"Yesss, the girl you did not want me to see. What are you hiding from your master, Severus?" Voldemort steepled his fingers together and smiled.

"I am hiding nothing, my Lord. I live only to serve you. The girl is a student I teach. Nothing more."

"I see," he hissed. "Do you believe him, Avery? Or you, Lucius? I myself do not."

The Death Eaters around him murmured in agreement, and Severus felt a chill touch his heart.

"Very well," Voldemort said quietly. "I want to speak to you alone, Severus. The rest of you, leave now."

Severus approached Voldemort as his compatriots Apparated around him. He focused all of his thoughts away from Hermione.

"Are you lying to your Lord, Severusss?" Voldemort asked, and the slits of his eyes gleamed wickedly.

"I would never lie to you, my Lord," he replied.

"Who is the girl, then?"

"A student. Nothing more."

Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched eerie wail. "Tell me the truth, Severus, or I will use other means to... break you."

Severus felt his hand begin to tremble, and he clamped down on his emotions. "I... desire her," he finally said.

Voldemort paused, considering him, the spiny greyish length of his fingers clasped tightly together. "Yesss. I can see that you are telling the truth. I am sorry, Severus. You know what I must do."

Severus bowed his head in acquiescence.

"Crucio," the cold voice said, and Severus knew only pain.

***

"Professor! What happened to you?"

He blearily opened his eyes and found that he was somehow on the floor of the Potions classroom. The girl was kneeling on the ground next to him, stroking his forehead gently.

"Hermione," he said, his voice cracking. "Potion... on my desk. Get it."

He closed his eyes as his body twitched painfully. He had suffered through the effects of a prolonged Cruciatus curse before, but somehow this was worse. Perhaps it was because she was here to pity him.

He felt her tiny hand coax his mouth open. She poured the potion into his mouth and gently forced him to swallow.

"There," she whispered. "Please get better, sir."

As Severus slipped into sleep, he imagined he felt her lips, cool and soft against his cheek.

***

He awoke howling with pain, his Mark throbbing and writhing on his arm. He barely had the presence of mind to Summon his cloak and his mask, so bad was the pain. The Dark Lord was either very angry or very happy, and neither option appealed to Severus.

He Apparated with a pop, and when he arrived he felt a jolt of surprise. This was no ordinary meeting. Voldemort was seated with Nagini curling herself around her master's feet. A cloaked and masked Death Eater whom Severus did not recognize stood motionless next the Dark Lord.

He bowed deeply at Voldemort's feet. "Yes, my Lord," he breathed.

"Severusss," he hissed as he stroked Nagini affectionately. "So glad you could join us." And Voldemort smiled, his lipless mouth curling upwards unnaturally.

"As am I, my Lord."

"You see, Severus, it has recently come to my attention that you have... betrayed me."

Severus breathed. If he were going to die now, he would not die a coward. "That is not true, my Lord," he said, his voice steady.

"Perhaps not," the Dark Lord said. "But perhaps it is. I need you to do something for me, Severus. To prove yourself."

"Anything, my Lord."

Voldemort withdrew a single sheet of parchment from his robes. "This is a list of people I want dead, Severus. Dead. Kill them."

Severus took the list. He didn't immediately recognize any names, but he quickly counted nine.

Nine people. He wants me to kill nine people.

"It would be my pleasure," he lied.

Voldemort smiled again. "I'll give you one week, Severus."

Severus bowed again, kissing the hem of his master's robes, and stood to leave.

"Severusss," the Dark Lord continued. "If you fail, there will be consequences. Not only for you... but for the girl as well. Hermione Granger."

***

When Severus arrived home, he took a bottle of Firewhisky and drank deeply.

The Death Eaters would torture and rape Hermione before they killed her in some horrific way. He had seen it happen far too many times. And they would do it, of that much he was certain.

He drank again, revelling in the way the liquid burned a hot trail down his throat.

What in the bloody fuck was he going to do?

Fuck this, he thought angrily. I should just let her die. Let us both die.

But even as he thought that, he knew that he would do anything to keep Hermione Granger safe and alive. She was worth more than the lives of nine people he didn't even know.

***

He knew that she was leaving tomorrow, and the thought hurt him. He did not want her to go; he wanted her to stay, to save him from himself.

When she asked for wine and innocently settled into him on the couch, he knew that whatever it was between them...this heat, this feeling of completion, of rightness...she felt it too.

He knew what he was going to do tonight, and he knew that by doing so she would hate him. But she would be safe, and that was all that mattered. He simply had to convince her not to render his actions useless by throwing her own life away. But she was being impossible.

"I'll promise you one thing if you'll promise me the same, Severus," Hermione said. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to survive this war. Promise me the same."

He shook his head. The girl should understand that he mattered only insofar as she survived.

"I've lived long enough, Hermione. There is nothing here for me anymore."

He saw how her eyes darkened and her face took on this endearing pinched quality.

"If that's what you think, Severus." She reached out and touched his shoulder, and Severus froze, hardly breathing. Her tiny fingers trailed a path down his arm, caressing the ugly Dark Mark tentatively. "If you think that there is no one in this world who cares for you, who loves you..." The girl then grasped his hand, and he noticed how completely his hand could engulf her own. He felt a twinge. "Then I must tell you, you must not be as intelligent as you claim. You are missing what is right in front of you."

Severus stared disbelievingly at their entwined fingers. Surely she had lost her senses, but the feeling inside his chest tightened. He looked at her, hoping that his gaze conveyed what his words never could.

"Hermione," he whispered, and his voice sounded broken.

He needed to touch her. Just once. He needed to. Reaching out his hand, he noticed how his fingers were shaking slightly. He touched her face, caressing lightly, and to him she felt real in a way Lily never had. Her eyes glowed with the touch before they closed, and he wondered briefly how he ever could have preferred green eyes to her warm brown.

He ended his caress because he feared that soon he wouldn't be able to stop.

She opened her eyes.

"Why did you stop?"

He swallowed heavily. "You should leave, Miss Granger, before this leads to something we will both regret."

"I won't regret it." She sounded so certain of herself.

Wincing, he wished that was true. It wouldn't be after tonight. "You might not at first. But you will come to regret it. And you will hate me. Of that much I am certain. It would be much kinder for me to deny you now and ask you to leave."

"I won't regret it, Severus, and I could certainly never hate you. I... I am in love with you."

The tight feeling in his chest pulsed. "Don't say that, Hermione. Not to me. Not now."

She walked towards the door, and Severus followed her, wanting to smooth away the confused look upon her face.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "I thought you cared."

"Cared!" The foolish girl! He grabbed her wrist and turned her around to face him.

"Do you think this is easy for me? Hermione, I care about you with all of my heart and soul, with all of my mind and being. I belong to you completely." As he said the words, he knew that they were true, and so he kissed her. She tasted of tears.

"My life," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "You are my life. And for that, you must leave tonight."

"Don't make me go," she begged. "Let us have this one night."

And he wanted her to stay. He wanted to carry her into his bedroom and make love to her.

"If we both survive this war, Hermione, and this is what you still want, then I will selfishly take you, marry you, and keep you all to myself."

"That's what I want, Severus. It's not going to change. I'm not going to change."

He grimaced. If only she knew. "You say that now, but you will."

Tears ran down her face. "I am going to miss you, Severus."

He turned from her, worried that if he kept looking at her he would break. "Just go, Hermione. Please."

After she left, Severus closed his eyes tightly until he didn't feel like crying anymore.

***

He found the first house easily. Too easily, it seemed. Murder, he felt, should not be this easy. The wards in place were amateur at best, and he quickly worked his way in.

The flat was small, and he located the bedroom easily. The couple was sleeping deeply, her arm flung carelessly around her husband's waist. But he didn't care about him. No, she was his target.

Emma Rochester.

She had a very small nose, he noticed. And her hair was very blonde.

Severus clenched his wand, unsure if he could do this. But he thought of Hermione. He imagined her broken and bloody, surrounded by jeering Death Eaters, and his heart clenched until he raised the wand in his trembling hand and pointed it at the sleeping blonde witch.

"Avada Kedavra," he whispered, and the green light from his wand hit her squarely in the chest. She stopped breathing.

***

Severus collapsed outside the house, trembling and breathing heavily. Somehow, her husband had not awoke. Somehow, he had escaped.

His wand slipped from his grasp and landed on the lawn, and Severus cradled his head in his hands. Waves of guilt and self-loathing washed over him until he leaned over and vomited on the lawn.

He was crying; he was sobbing into his hands, and he wanted to die.

"I can't do it," he howled. "I won't do it."

"You disgust me," snarled an unfamiliar voice, and Severus looked up in surprise to see the unknown Death Eater from before.

"I disgust myself," he whispered. "Just kill me."

The masked figure laughed. "No. That would be far too easy."

The Death Eater regarded him for a moment. "Stupefy," he finally said, and Severus knew no more.

***

When he next awoke, he was sitting shackled in a small cell. He tried to remember what happened.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly.

A small, well-dressed man entered the cell. "Ah, Snape. You've awoke. Good. I'm Wilbur Whittleby, and I will be representing you in court."

"Court?" he muttered groggily.

The man nodded, his long moustache quivering. "Yes. The Wizengamot. You are being charged with nine accounts of murder."

"Nine?" He was forgetting something, something important.

The man nodded again. "Now, I won't be able to get you off, with all that evidence against you, but I'm thinking we can avoid Kissing if you'll name some Death Eaters. Yes, I think a life sentence in Azkaban is far preferable to Kissing."

Severus mumbled in agreement. It was far better than he deserved.

***

He was still worried about Hermione, and he figured that he would protect her best if he admitted to killing the nine people. And so when the prosecutor asked him if he had killed them, Severus readily lied. And when he was asked to give an explanation, he gave the one that Voldemort would most enjoy.

***

After the War, after the Dark Lord and his followers fell, Severus allowed himself to hope for the first time that perhaps Hermione would come visit him. Each day, he awoke feeling confident that she would come. If he could have her forgiveness, he could live somewhat happily in his prison. He could remain somewhat whole.

But it took her seven long years to come, and by then the hope that Severus had survived on had died, replaced with bitterness and hatred.

******

A/N: As always, thanks to my betas, mgm86 and reets67, and the wonderful admins at TPP. A final thanks to readers and reviewers!