Chapter 4

This Time

Chapter 4

The broken locks were a warning

You got inside my head

I tried my best to be guarded

I'm an open book instead

Broken - Lifehouse

The next morning, Severus awoke with the dawn...and with Bother standing on his chest, loudly protesting her empty belly. Pushing the Kneazle off onto the floor, he sat up, noting the mess in his pyjama trousers. Bloody nocturnal emissions, he grumbled to himself, stumbling over to fill Bother's bowl.

Grabbing his bathroom supplies, he headed for the shower again, making a mental note that twice-a-day showers might be the best way to combat the hair problem, anyway. This wasn't really news; he had always been aware of the best way to manage his overly oily glands. But as a youth, he had not even had shampoo...it was a luxury for which his parents would not pay. He had been forced to wash his hair with the same soap he used for his body, a generic compound ill-suited to treat the problem. By the time he was a fourth-year, the general greasiness of his hair and skin was so prevalent...and he was so reviled for it...that he was too damn proud to make an attempt to control it. In adulthood, his surliness on the subject only increased; he was damned if he would concede on the point after all the years of ignoring it. Now, however, Dumbledore had stressed the necessity of changing his habits and appearance, so he would just do it and not think about the past.

After all, Adin didn't have a past.

Dressing for breakfast, he assessed his appearance. He had a big fucking nose, there was no denying it...but didn't the old saw say that as the nose goes, so go other ... important appendages? Otherwise, he wasn't so bad, all things considered. He was tall, he had a strong jaw and relatively good shoulders, and he had a good bum. He smirked at himself as he deftly tied his tie, trying not to wince at the garish red and gold stripes. He shrugged on his black robes, now bearing the Gryffindor crest, and gazed into the mirror, from whence a tall, slender, dark-haired Gryffindor boy stared back at him. He wasn't handsome, but he had to admit that having short, clean hair improved his looks. Turning from the mirror, he slung his book bag over one shoulder and went down to breakfast.

Jared Józsa was the only other Gryffindor seventh-year at the table when Severus arrived in the Great Hall; Jared greeted him as if they had been friends from the cradle, and they exchanged desultory remarks about their first night in Gryffindor Tower as they sipped cups of coffee and consumed hearty breakfasts. The other seventh-years drifted in as Severus finished eating, and he acknowledged their greetings silently, pouring another cup of coffee and pulling the Defence text from his bag to read until time for class.

Hermione Granger was one of the last to arrive, coming in with a group of other Gryffindor girls, amongst them Ginevra Weasley, Parvati Patil, and Lavender Brown. All of the girls gave both him and Jared a thorough looking over, but Granger flushed when he caught her eye, and she looked away, feigning disinterest.

He smirked and took another sip of coffee. Interesting, he thought.

'Is that the new Defence text?' Lavender Brown asked, leaning over his shoulder, her perfume an assault on his sensitive olfactory organ. 'Are we having Defence this morning?'

Potter looked up from his eggs, his interest sparked, but the Weasley girl shook her head. 'We don't know; McGonagall hasn't handed out the schedules yet.'

Brown slipped into the seat beside Severus and smiled saucily at him. 'Then why are you reading the Defence book, Adin?'

Severus stared at the girl...was she chatting him up? What was the matter with these girls? Had they failed to receive the universal memo that he was ugly, greasy, and undesirable? How dared this little baggage chatter to him as if he were her inane equal?

She doesn't know who you are, idiot! he reminded himself. To her, you're just fresh meat in the Gryffindor male department.

Severus looked her up and down once and sneered before returning to his reading. He was prepared to mitigate his well-honed anti-social skills to some extent, but not to the point of engaging in breakfast-table chatter with the likes of Lavender Brown.

He heard a muffled snort of amusement and shot a piercing look from beneath his brows to find Hermione Granger with one hand pressed to her lips, her warm brown eyes brimful of merriment. Brown turned an ostentatious shoulder to him, pointedly beginning a conversation with Józsa; Hermione removed her hand from her lips and allowed her smile to show. Acting upon impulse, Severus winked at her. He was treated for the second time that day to the delicate flush which covered her cheeks, and when she looked away from him in confusion, he chuckled and lowered his eyes again to his book. His youthful reputation as Severus Snape...and his general unpopularity, even with his own House mates...had never allowed for such light-hearted pastimes as trying to make a girl colour up. Adin, however, was a complete unknown...Severus could make of Adin anything that he wished...and if, in the meantime, he also secured the assistance of Granger in the ongoing quest to save his life, then so much the better.

No one had said he could not enjoy being Adin for a while, had they?

Don't be such a fool! his adult consciousness commanded.

Severus ignored the voice, beginning to read, instead. The next time he looked up, Minerva McGonagall was standing behind the Granger girl's chair, discussing class schedules. McGonagall glanced over at him, all business, and pulled a parchment from the stack in her hands.

'Mr Prince, here is your class list. Miss Granger will assist you to find your classes and give you some information on how best to navigate the castle corridors and staircases.' McGonagall drew another parchment from the stack and leant across the table to pass it to Jared. 'Mr Józsa, Mr Weasley will assist you in the same way. Good luck on your first day.'

Severus perused his timetable, his lips pursed. Today, he had double Potions, Defence, a free period, lunch, Transfiguration, a free period, and something called Special Studies.

Józsa leant over to glance at Severus' schedule. 'I, too, have this Special Studies class...do you know what it is?'

Severus shrugged. 'I'm sure we'll find out,' he muttered, standing and shouldering his book bag again. He turned from the table, heading for the Entrance Hall, on his way to the dungeons. He was dreading sitting in his own classroom as a student.

'Adin!'

His thoughts bound up in how he would respond to his former colleagues having authority over him, Severus failed to respond to his assumed name until Hermione Granger grabbed the strap of his book bag, dislodging it from his shoulder. 'What is it?' he demanded, turning to glare down at her.

Her chin lifted, and her expression was one of indignation. 'I'm trying to help you,' she snapped, sweeping past him. 'If you want to wander around the dungeons for the next two months, trying to find your way out, be my guest. But if you want to know the way to the Potions classroom, you can follow me.'

Half a smile curled his lips as the feisty little Gryffindor flounced away from him. She put up with no shit, did Miss Granger, and she had a rather intriguing sway to her hips as she walked ... but he wasn't going to think about that, he reminded himself as the traitor in his trousers stirred into wakefulness. Was he going to have to resume the two-wanks-daily schedule he had enforced as an adolescent to control his bloody erectile hyper-function? Surely, as a mature adult, he had more control than that over his impulses.

But the portion of his body below the belt seemed bent on disagreement.

Bloody hell.

The N.E.W.T. Potions class contained students from all four Houses. Horace Slughorn, lured from retirement to teach again, cheerfully assigned them by twos to work tables; Severus found himself paired with Allison Dyrda, who quickly proved to be a trying partner.

'Who can tell me the properties of lovage?' Slughorn asked, and Allison's hand shot into the air a fraction of a second before Hermione Granger's hand did the same. Severus slanted a look at Granger, who was at the table to his right, paired with Blaise Zabini of Slytherin House. There was a look of stunned indignation on her face when Slughorn said, 'Yes, Miss Dyrda?'

This began a pattern which continued through the next thirty minutes, of Slughorn posing a question and the two girls vying to be the first to thrust their hands into the air. Slughorn's relative discomfort was evident, as he looked desperately about the dungeon for someone else to answer a question, but no other hands were raised; the students were perfectly content to watch the Hermione and Allison programme, almost as if it were a tennis match.

At last, they were given their assignment for the class period, and Severus settled into the comforting rhythm of chopping and brewing. Allison hovered anxiously over their cauldron, poking at the flames with her wand, and more than once, Severus had to stop her from over-stirring the mixture. Nevertheless, by the end of the class period, they had brewed a perfect batch of Befuddlement Draught.

Slughorn went from table to table, commenting on each potion. At Zabini and Granger's table, the old wizard uttered an exclamation of excitement and dipped into the potion, letting the opalescent mixture dribble back into the cauldron. 'Here is a perfect example, class...clear in the dipper, but shimmering in the cauldron.' Severus saw that Granger looked inordinately pleased with herself and that she chatted quite animatedly with Zabini as Slughorn crossed the floor to Severus and Allison's table.

'My word!' Slughorn murmured. 'Two perfect potions in one class period...I can't remember when that's happened before! Well done! Five points each to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.'

Severus smirked and darted a glance at Granger, whose face had clouded over with dissatisfaction. He could barely repress the urge to laugh out loud at her ridiculous competitiveness. Someone ought to tell her that caring a bit less about such things would give her a more restful life.

Class ended, and Severus took his time packing up his belongings, allowing the others in the class to exit ahead of him. He heard a drumming noise and glanced over to find Granger standing at his elbow, tapping her toe impatiently.

'What's got up your nose?' he asked her, faintly amused.

'You might have more consideration for others,' she replied. 'Can we go to our Defence Against the Dark Arts class now?'

He frowned at her. 'Do we have all the same classes?' True enough, Granger was supposed to be an important part of his finding a solution to the Dark Mark Curse, but he didn't know if he could abide all Granger, all the time.

'I sincerely doubt it,' she sniffed, turning to lead the way to the door. 'I have Transfiguration this afternoon and a class for special students...you wouldn't be in that one.'

Severus sneered at the back of her head. 'No, of course I wouldn't,' he agreed meekly.

Granger froze in the doorway, and Severus stopped behind her, his complaint of her slow progress dying on his lips at what he saw. Zabini stood against the far wall with a sobbing Pansy Parkinson in his arms, rocking and soothing her. In all the years he had known her, Severus had never seen Pansy so distraught. He pushed past Granger to go to Pansy...he was her Head of House, it was his duty to calm her, to deliver her to Madam Pomfrey if necessary...but Granger caught his arm.

'I wouldn't, if I were you,' she murmured. 'Parkinson is difficult enough even when she knows who you are...I don't know how she'd be with a stranger.'

Severus stopped, realising the truth of Granger's words; Parkinson didn't know Adin Prince at all, and would doubtless not take kindly to intercession on his part. Damnation! There were many things at which he had never excelled as an adult, but he had taken good care of his Slytherins...it had been one of his successes, and now, he was to be robbed of that satisfaction.

He struggled with himself for a moment, knowing it would be pointless to approach Pansy. But why was she so upset? Straining, he listened to her anguished cries as she explained to Zabini the news she had received, and the words he could distinguish made him rush down the corridor, heedless of Granger's surprised questions, single-minded in his determination to reach his destination.

'Of course I was going to tell you,' Dumbledore said, sliding a cup of tea across the desktop to Severus. 'I would have contacted you during your free period, rather than interrupt your first day of classes ...'

'Bugger my first day of classes!' Severus shouted, pushing the teacup back at the old man. 'What has happened to Draco?'

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, then said wearily, 'Draco died this morning, as did his two friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.'

'Damn it!' Severus roared, rising jerkily from his chair, sending it tumbling backwards to crash on the floor. 'Why didn't you do something? They were just children! They deserved a second chance in life...far more than I!'

Dumbledore rose to his feet as well, his kindly blue eyes now blazing in his terrible old face. 'Don't you think I tried?' he thundered. 'I attempted to gain access to each and every one of the Death Eaters in Azkaban, after I successfully performed the Youthening Enchantment on you.'

Severus bared his teeth at the old man. 'I am happy to have been of service as your guinea pig!' he snarled.

'But the prison administrators refused to permit me to cast the same enchantment on the remaining Death Eaters.' Dumbledore turned away from him, staring out the window at the sunny grounds. He added bitterly, 'I appealed to the Ministry, but they were still debating the issue when I received word this morning that Draco and his friends had died.'

Severus drew his wand and felt the plague of helplessness raging through him. He knew he was losing command of himself, but found he was unable to prevent the explosion of magic which burst from him, radiating out in every direction, shattering the tea service on Dumbledore's desk and the ornaments on the mantelpiece, ruffling Fawkes' feathers, and pushing Dumbledore until his crooked old nose was pressed to the glass of the window.

The Headmaster waited for the pulse of magic to pass, then turned back to Severus, his hands outstretched. 'Discipline yourself,' he said with quiet authority, 'or I shall have to restrain you.'

Severus flushed and sheathed his wand with slightly shaking hands, appalled by his display of adolescent pyrotechnics. 'Right. Sorry,' he muttered.

Dumbledore flipped his fingers and righted the chair, into which Severus thankfully subsided; the Headmaster then repaired the shattered breakables, allowing Severus time to collect himself. Severus stared down at his hands, seeing clearly in his mind Draco, aged two, clinging to his knee and calling him Sev'wus in his baby voice; Draco, aged five, soaring about the Malfoy Manor garden at tree-top level on his first training broomstick, saying, Watch me, Sev'rus!; Draco, aged eleven, springing from the Sorting stool and proudly taking his place in Slytherin House...and forever more, calling Severus sir and Professor. Tears came to his eyes, unbidden, and he was only recalled to the present with the Headmaster laid a crisp white handkerchief on his knee.

He took the handkerchief and dried his face, raising his eyes to those of his mentor. 'Remove the enchantment,' he croaked, his voice still roughened by the painful lump in his throat. 'I am the only one left, and I am not worth the effort of finding out how to remove the curse.'

Dumbledore looked down into Severus' eyes, his lined face inscrutable. 'Perhaps you are not,' he said neutrally. 'Nevertheless, Tom Riddle took a perfectly useful Protean Charm and perverted it into the Dark Mark which the Death Eaters bore...and then he perverted it further, introducing some sort of delayed death curse into it. I would feel the world to be a safer place if we had a counter-curse for that modification, wouldn't you?'

Severus could scarcely argue with the old wizard's reasoning, so he nodded once.

'Good,' Dumbledore said equably, returning to his chair. 'Then, since you are the only remaining bearer of the Dark Mark upon whom we can test our counter-curse once we have perfected it, I hope you will consent to continue with our plan.'

Severus sighed noisily, feeling simultaneously released and ensnared ... but wasn't that the way of things, for him? His life had no inherent value and never had done. The purpose of his existence was to facilitate the plans and designs of others. Why would it ever change?

Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to speak in his most serious 'Headmaster voice'. 'And now, Severus, since you have successfully avoided your first lesson in Professor Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts class, I hope you'll be careful to find out the homework assignment and complete it.'

With a muttered curse and a glare at the Headmaster, Severus snatched his bag up from the floor and set out for the refuge of the library.

The library had always been his favourite place in the school, since his very first year. Walking through the doors and past the disapproving glare of Madam Pince acted upon him as a Calming Draught, and when he entered the stacks and caught the first whiff of aged parchment and well-maintained leather bindings, he was restored to some semblance of equanimity. Moving purposefully, he headed for his favourite nook, also a relic of his childhood. In the deepest part of the oldest books on magical textual interpretation, he came to a windowless cubby hole, large enough for a scarred old rectangular table and two rickety wooden chairs. It was the least popular section of the library, because there were no windows through which one might gaze and wool-gather whilst one ought to be studying; it was the very reason why it was his favourite place. Spreading his books around him like a fortress, he flipped open his Potions text and began the essay Slughorn had requested regarding lovage, sternly reminding himself to write it like a clever seventh-year, rather than like a Potions master.

Granger found him at lunch and stopped behind him, ignoring the presence of Józsa and Dean Thomas, who flanked him.

'You never came to Defence class,' she said. 'You left so suddenly ...'

Severus raised his brows interrogatively. 'Did you have a question, or do you wish to continue making statements about facts with which I am quite conversant?' he inquired nastily.

She didn't reply to him but walked away without a backward glance; he immediately wished he had held his tongue. He needed Granger...the bloody prophecy clearly said so. He ought not to let his temper show with her.

When the meal was done, she left the Great Hall between Potter and Weasley, who had Józsa in tow. Granger never spared him another thought, apparently, for she certainly never looked for him. Feeling oddly miffed, Severus went off to Transfiguration, his forbidding expression discouraging anyone from trying to speak to him.

McGonagall's manner in teaching her subject had not altered since his first sojourn through her classes, he was pleased to see; that meant the course notes he had kept all these years might be of use to him. Glad he'd brought them from Spinner's End, he forced an attentive face for her lesson on human Transfiguration. When the bell sounded, he approached Granger.

'You left me,' he accused her.

'You deserved to be left,' she replied shortly, turning away from him.

'Wait,' he said, 'I have a class called "Special Studies" after break...I don't know what that is.'

She snorted in disbelief. 'You do not,' she said, clearly irritated. 'You're only saying that because I told you I have that cla...'

He thrust his schedule before her eyes. 'Do you see it?' he hissed.

She snatched the paper and looked it over completely. 'We have every single class together!' she gasped indignantly. 'Were you in the top of your class at Durmstrang? Because I know Jared was...and that girl Allison...but he didn't mention you.'

Severus removed the schedule from her fingers and made a show of smoothing the creases out. 'You're not doing a very good job of intelligence gathering, are you?' he retorted. 'I was privately tutored; I was top and bottom of my class.'

Granger blinked at him. 'Oh,' she said. She seemed a bit embarrassed by her outburst and added, almost kindly, 'I'm going back to the common room for break; if you'll meet me there, I'll take you to our last class.'

'Fine,' he said shortly, and turning on his heel, he went back to the library, wondering why talking to her made him so unreasonably cross.

Severus returned to the Gryffindor common room three-quarters of an hour later, and true to her word, Granger led him to the Special Studies class, which was taking place, strangely enough, in the Room of Requirement. Dobby the house-elf stood before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the ballet-dancing trolls.

'Walk past the wall three times, thinking to yourself, "I want to go to Professor Dumbledore's Special Studies class,"' Dobby instructed them.

Severus and Granger obeyed him, and the door to the impromptu classroom appeared, just in time to admit Jared and Allison, as well. The four of them entered to find a typical classroom setting, with rather more home comforts, including a semi-circle of squishy armchairs, poufs upon which to rest one's feet, and a fresh tea service.

'Help yourselves,' Dumbledore said cheerfully from his place at the head of the room, where he was ensconced in his own plush chair with a cup of tea and a plate of fresh macaroons on the table at his elbow.

Severus ignored the tea service and was pleased to note that the Granger girl did, as well. The former Durmstrang students served themselves and settled in the semi-circle before the Headmaster.

'Is this the whole class?' Allison inquired, in what Severus thought was an irritatingly nosy manner. Who was she to question the Headmaster?

'Yes, this is all of us,' Dumbledore answered. 'First of all, I want you to understand that there are no grades given for this class and that participation is entirely voluntary. I have assembled the best minds in the student body to assist me in solving a rather knotty problem, but if, after hearing the particulars, you do not care to participate, there will be no hard feelings should you decide to leave.'

Severus sat tensely in his chair, wondering what the old man was up to now. Did Dumbledore actually think two Durmstrang drop-outs and Hermione Granger could assist them in solving the question of how to counter the Dark Mark Curse?

'Please, Professor,' Józsa said courteously, 'tell us more about the project.'

Dumbledore sat forward. 'As you may or may not know, all of the incarcerated Death Eaters have died in the last several days of a curse apparently embedded in the Dark Mark.'

Severus noted that the other three students gasped, and Granger recovered first, going immediately into her know-it-all mode.

'All of them, sir?' she asked.

'Yes, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore said.

'Including the former students?' she said, sounding horrified.

'I'm afraid so,' Dumbledore agreed gravely.

In the blink of an eye, tears were pouring down Granger's face, but she did not seem to notice, and her voice did not so much as waver.

'But what about Professor Snape?' she asked piteously.

Severus turned his head sharply to stare at her. She knew he was there...she knew who he was! That was the only reasonable explanation for her words! How were they going to make her keep quiet? How could the whole situation have gone pear-shaped so quickly?

'Professor Snape is safe,' Dumbledore assured her.

Granger looked as if she had gritted her teeth, and her chin trembled with the effort not to sob out loud. Her hands were in lap, and she twisted them together in great agitation. 'But will he stay safe?' she asked.

Dumbledore sat forward, looking directly into the girl's brown eyes. 'That remains to be seen,' he admitted.

Granger was quiet for a moment, then she spoke again, as if she could not force herself to be silent. 'How do we know he'll continue to be well?' she blurted. 'We have to do something now!'

Dumbledore sat back again. 'Precisely!' he agreed. 'This is the exact attitude we must bring to our work...we must do all we can to find a solution to the problem of the Dark Mark Curse so that Professor Snape can be safe...and so that no one else can ever again be hurt by this Dark magic.'

Allison sat forward now, her face alight. 'Please, Headmaster, tell us more...we want to help.'

And Dumbledore did just that, beginning to explain in detail how the Protean Charm worked and what had been done to alter it. The other three listened to the Headmaster, rapt, but Severus did not.

He was too busy staring at Hermione Granger, gobsmacked.