Chapter Eight

A/N: This world belongs to JKR. I make no money. Thank you, always, to my beta, Shellsnapeluver.

Harry wrenched her through the portrait hole. He had marched silently, lips pursed, through the hallway and up the stairs, her arm held firmly in his grip. She had only managed an apologetic look at McLaggen before Harry had swept her from the room, though her parting glance at Snape showed him smirking off into the distance.

"Harry, you're hurting me!" she'd said, trotting to keep up with him in her ridiculous heels, but he paid her no mind.

When they were safely ensconced in the Gryffindor Common Room, he burst out, "Would you mind telling me why you were dancing with Snape?"

"Professor Snape," she corrected automatically. His color, which had already been alarming, seemed to rise to an even more livid shade of red.

"Professor Snape, then," he spat.

"He had a message for me from Dumbledore," she answered. "He said that Dumbledore wants me to stay here for the holidays."

"Dumbledore could have told you that himself."

"Dumbledore wasn't there tonight, in case you hadn't noticed," she said, her temper rising. "And the last day to sign up to stay over the holidays is tomorrow."

"He could have sent you an owl--he's been doing an awful lot of that this term!"

That was a bit close to home. "What, exactly, are you accusing me of, Harry Potter? Do you think I enjoyed dancing with Professor Snape? Do you think I was just hanging about, hoping he would ask me to dance? You know as well as I do that he did it to humiliate me. Because he knew that no one would let me forget it--least of all, you!"

With that, she turned and ran up the steps to the girls' dormitory.

Parvati was sitting on her bed when Hermione entered their room. Lavender was, she presumed, off snogging with Ron in some abandoned corridor.

"Are you ok?" Parvati asked.

"Fine," Hermione snapped, tugging open the buttons of her dress with unnecessary force.

"And is McLaggen as 'fine' as you are?"

"Sod McLaggen."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Look, if you must know, and I'm sure you will by tomorrow anyway, Professor Snape asked me to dance."

"Professor Snape!" Parvati squeaked. "What did you say?"

"What could I say?"

"So you danced with him?"

"I had to."

"Well, you have had quite a night, then."

"Quite."

"How did Harry take it?"

"About as well as you might expect."

"Sorry."

"Yes, well. I'd just as soon get this evening over with," Hermione said, drawing on her pajamas. "I have to write my parents, and then I'm going to bed."

Parvati returned to her studying as Hermione sat, parchment in hand, trying to figure a way to explain to her parents that she would not be coming home for the holidays after all.

***

Snape strode through the hallways in a temper, and God help any students he found lurking where they ought not to be. He took twenty points from a cowering Hufflepuff, who was clearly on his way back to the dormitory from Slughorn's party, for being in the corridor after hours.

What could the Granger girl have meant by hiding out in his office? What had she thought she would find? He had known she was there instantly, though he had never seen her. But he'd felt her there and smelled the characteristic honey-and-fear scent that he had come to associate with her presence. Thank Merlin she'd had the sense to get out of sight.

He'd been attempting to get Draco to speak with him for so long that he'd had no choice but to proceed, even with the asinine girl tucked under his desk. As if he needed more on his plate than the simple fact of Draco Malfoy, running amok in the castle, enacting--no matter what he said--foolish and impossible schemes. He was lucky that the Bell chit hadn't died.

"Candy floss," he said angrily when he reached the gargoyle. He strode quickly up the steps and pounded on Dumbledore's door, flinging it open as soon as the Headmaster acknowledged him.

"Draco denies having anything to do with the necklace, though he is clearly lying," Snape said without preamble.

The old fool sat back in his chair, tenting his hands and waiting for him to go on.

"He still refuses to divulge his plan. He seems to think I'm trying to steal his glory."

"Keep trying, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.

"As if I had any choice. But to complicate matters, the inimitable Miss Granger had somehow entered my office before I retired there with Draco and hid herself. She heard enough to cause her distress."

"And you smoothed things over with her, I trust?"

"Why should I? If she hadn't been snooping, she would never have heard a word. Let her worry."

"I will grant you that Miss Granger should not have been in your office. But, be that as it may, a worried student can be a dangerous one, as we are coming to know. And you must not let Harry interfere with Draco's duties. The risk that Voldemort will punish him is great enough already."

"But Albus--"

"No. If not for Miss Granger's peace of mind, then for Draco. It must be done."

Snape nodded, inwardly seething. Dumbledore could always twist a matter until he had him against the wall.

"Did you speak with her about the holidays?"

"It is arranged," he said.

"Excellent. You can speak with her then. But Severus, take care that you do not divulge anything about Draco's orders."

"Such easy assignments you give me, Albus. Calm her mind but tell her nothing."

"I feel certain that you are up to the task. And you'll be setting up a course of study for her?"

"In my spare time," Snape said acidly.

"Come now, you must admit it hasn't all been bad," Dumbledore said. "She took excellent care of you while I was away. You said yourself that you rarely recover so quickly. Though perhaps she would not have had to work so hard if you had not--"

As if the torture hadn't been enough, or the knowledge that he'd endangered her--endangered all of them.

"Miss Granger is nothing if not an overachiever," he said.

"Yes, she's quite a young woman," Dumbledore said, deliberately misunderstanding him.

"What did you have in mind for her studies?" There was no point in evading it. Once the old man got an idea into his head, he was nearly impossible to sway.

"Concealment Charms, Occlumency, Shield Charms, Extension Charms, a review of common poisons, some basic mediwizardry, perhaps some human transfiguration with a mind toward disguise--"

"Is there anything you would not like me to cover?"

"I see no need for you to address Divination, nor Muggle Studies, as Miss Granger detests the former and is quite well versed in the latter."

Snape snorted. "You realize that your little list of extra curricular studies might give me an idea of what she will be doing."

"I advise you not to think too much about it, Severus. Your job is to prepare her, nothing more."

"How can I prepare her if I don't know what I'm preparing her for?" he asked impatiently.

"The less you know, the better, my dear boy. I'm sure I've made that very clear. And now, I think I'm growing weary. You will contact Miss Granger after the students have departed?"

"I wasn't aware that I had a choice."

"Quite right, of course. You don't. Goodnight, Severus."

***

The Great Hall was subdued during dinner on the night that the students departed for the holidays. Snape took his customary seat at the head table, between Minerva and Albus. As he served himself, he glanced down at the four house tables, so sparsely populated this year. Very few students had chosen to stay through the holidays; with the war brewing, families had presumably wanted to keep their children near.

The Gryffindor table was deserted but for the Granger girl. She sat and ate with quiet determination, not joining the students at the other tables, though surely no one would have thought it odd. House customs were much less stringent during the holidays. He felt almost sorry for the girl as he regarded the Gryffindor dishes. She'd taken but a serving of each, and the rest sat on the table as a palpable reminder of those that were absent.

He'd accompanied the students to the station that morning. Potter and Weasley had not acknowledged her, though she'd gone down to see them off. He felt the tiniest twinge of remorse that he had caused such a rift between the girl and Potter. He had thought only to embarrass her as she had embarrassed him and to punish her for breaking into his office; he should have realized that Potter's hatred of him would bleed into anything he touched. However, the spy in him recognized that, however unfortunate, the situation presented him with unique opportunities. How else could he have isolated her so completely? She would be vulnerable, malleable, alone. If he displayed the slightest kindness, she would leap at it, her silly Gryffindor heart unused to keeping its own company. These holiday lessons would allow him to shape her into something that would suit his needs.

Several times he thought he saw her steal a glance at him. The last time, he caught her eyes and glared so fiercely at her that she was forced to look back at her plate. He would need to break her of that habit. She would have to learn to simply be aware of his presence the way he had become aware of hers, he thought, remembering how his senses had tingled when he'd entered his office with Draco.

When he returned to his office, he touched the ring with his wand and summoned her there, Disillusioning himself and casting the Muffliato Charm on his person, so as to prevent her from hearing his footsteps.

He heard her knock but said nothing. After a moment, the door opened, as he knew it would. Miss Granger seemed to have great difficulty staying out of other people's rooms. Her face was tense as she entered, and her eyes scanned the room warily. He remembered the only other circumstances in which she had been summoned by the ring and was struck again with guilt. What was she expecting to find here? Then he chastised himself for his foolish sympathy. She didn't need sympathy--she needed to be hardened, trained.

He expected to see her prowling about--touching things, no doubt--or at the very least to be peering into the next room, so he was deeply surprised to see her take a seat in front of his desk and calmly cross her legs.

He moved to the fireplace, where he could keep watch on her face. She still looked frightened, which was gratifying, but she made no move to search for him. After a few moments she said, in a conversational tone, "Well, if you won't show yourself, I suppose I'll go back to my dormitory."

He whipped the charm off, feeling unsettled. He had intended to startle her, to teach her constant awareness. How had she known he was there?

"Ah, there you are," she said. "And with such a sensible look on your face."

He glowered at her. "Well done, Miss Granger. How did you know I was here?"

"I don't know. I felt you somehow or smelled you. I can't tell which. Why were you hiding?"

"To show you that you need not risk rumour nor discovery by staring at me like a senseless schoolgirl during meals. I intended to train you to simply be aware of my presence. But it seems you've already become attuned to my... nature. Describe to me what you felt when you entered the room."

"Er... at first I simply knew there was someone here. I wondered if Dumbledore was about somewhere, like the last time. But then I thought, no, he would have shown himself. Then I felt a kind of tingle... and I smelled spice and wool, and I knew it must be you."

"I see. Can you sense the presence of others?"

"I don't know. Most people don't hide when they've invited me to see them."

"Surprising," he said, and she bristled.

"Is there a purpose to this visit, or did you just intend to leap out and frighten me half to death, insult me, and send me on my way?"

"You will begin extra lessons with me in the morning," he said. "Dumbledore has suggested a course of study and assigned me the task of instructing you. Will nine o'clock suit you?"

"So, I'm to be given a choice about the time but not about the lessons themselves?"

"I could simply assign you a time to be here, if you are incapable of agreeing to one on your own."

"Nine would be fine."

"Marvelous," he sneered. "Good evening, Miss Granger."

She rose and headed for the door, but when she reached the jamb, she turned and said, "I trust my lessons will include an explanation of what in Merlin's name you were planning with Draco Malfoy?"

How badly he wished to laugh in her face and tell her to mind her own business. With barely concealed malice, he said, "I see no need to explain myself to you. However, we will discuss what you heard."

"Marvelous," she mimicked and swept through the door.

Insufferable, self-important, gloating little nitwit. And yet, there was a part of him that enjoyed their sparring. There had always been students--Gryffindors, his mind amended--who were willing to talk back to him, but never had anyone risen to the occasion with quite such high-minded aplomb. Miss Granger did not tremble when she struck, nor did she wince when he retorted. In fact, she seemed most at ease when they sniped at one another. Her color rose to a flattering pink, and she seemed... in her element. What can you be thinking of? He asked himself sharply as he gathered the equipment they would need for the next day's lesson. The child is but one more burden you've been saddled with. Any pleasure you take in her company only puts you both at greater risk.

***

Hermione pounded on Snape's office door promptly at nine a.m., unsurprised to find him missing once again.

"Professor, this is becoming very tiresome," she began as she crossed into the room, but then a flash of red light bounced off the floor just before her feet. She stumbled backward, shouting, "Protego!"

"Not Protego, Miss Granger! The hex has already been thrown. Try again."

"Impedimenta!" she said, aiming her wand at his desk where his voice had seemed to originate.

"Look for the source of my spells, not the sound of my voice," he said. Another flash of red hit the wall next to her. She jumped to the side. "Expelliarmus!" She flicked her wand at the fireplace. She was certain she had caught a split-second glimpse of his wand.

"Not fast enough," he taunted, and a glowing hex struck a painting over her head, causing the inhabitants to run for cover.

"Your aim is remarkably poor," she said, throwing a Jelly-Legs Jinx at a spot next to the door.

"If I had wanted to hit you, I assure you, I would have."

"Rictusempra!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Stupefy!"

"I thought we'd gotten past all this foolish yelling of spells."

Ah, ha! I've got you now, she thought, whirling just in time to see a tapestry move slightly in his wake. She summoned all her concentration and thought, Incarcerous!

Snape gave a startled grunt, and she heard a muffled thud.

"Professor?"

"Kindly remove the ropes, Miss Granger," he snarled.

"Certainly, sir. Relashio!"

"I was beginning to despair of you ever catching me," he said, taking the thrill from her victory as he got to his feet. "Had I been your enemy, you would have been disarmed and bound at once."

"Shall we try it again?" she said archly.

"Not now. The element of surprise is key. And may I remind you of your recent lessons in Shield Charms?"

She blushed. Protego Totalum. How could she have forgotten? Well, she wouldn't be so foolish the next time.

"What is on the lesson plan today, sir?"

"Disguise," he said, taking his seat behind his desk and motioning her into a chair before it.

"Why does the Headmaster wish me to learn about disguise?" she asked, though she was delighted. Disguising Charms! They had only just begun to study human transfiguration last term--surely whatever Snape taught her would be much more advanced.

"I am not at liberty to say."

She gave him a long, measuring look and was about to open her mouth to protest, when he said, "The Headmaster does not wish me to know his plan for you. I believe the term is 'double blind.' The less I know about your plan, the less I could reveal, should the Dark Lord break me--the less he could draw from my mind."

"I see."

"It is the same reason that I cannot explain what you heard the other night, why I must ask you to put it from your mind. Double blind, Miss Granger. That is how we protect one another from discovery."

"But I don't understand. I already know part of your plan--"

"That is a risk we had to take for Potter. There will be times when you will need to be appraised of the secrets of the Death Eaters in order to protect him and times when I will need to know what I can do to best ensure the success of the Order. But we will keep our shared intelligence to a minimum."

"The less you know, the less can be tortured from you..." she whispered. What did he endure from that nightmare of a wizard? She thought of him, so nearly destroyed the other night. They risked his body again and again, yet they could not risk his mind.

"Precisely. And the longer our actions remain a mystery to the Dark Lord, the better our chances of success... and survival." He leaned forward with a look she'd never seen on his face before. It looked like sincerity. "Believe me, Miss Granger, the Headmaster is aware of all I shared with Malfoy. Do your job. Let me do mine."

"Yes, sir," she said, feeling ashamed of herself. He had been right. She should not have been in his office in the first place. And now she had information that could hurt him, information that he had tried to keep from her, not to betray them, but to keep them both safe.

"Can we move on to Disguising Charms?" he asked.

"Please do."

He took his wand and aimed it at his face, saying, "Dissimulo Adversus!" She stared, open mouthed, unable to conceal her astonishment. For Professor Snape was suddenly a blond-haired, pug-nosed wizard. His lips were full, his skin warm, and he was running toward portly.

"The quickest and most effective Disguising Charm is Dissimulo Adversus. It renders the charmed person as his or her exact opposite. Where I am dark, my charmed self is fair. Where I am thin, he is fat. It effects the four sites most used in recognition: nose, mouth, hair color, and body shape." He stood. "As you can see, the charm also makes me appear to be shorter."

It was amazing. And yet, she hated it. There was still something particularly Snape about him, something that should never be trapped inside such a body. It made her head hurt to look at him.

"Would you know me?"

"No," she said honestly, "but I would know that there was something... not right. There's still some you in you, somehow."

"Good," he said and waved his wand over his face again. "Dissimulo Juvenis!" Suddenly, Snape was her own age, gangly and skinnier than ever. His skin was slightly spotty, and his posture had changed. He peered at her from behind the curtain of his dark, lank hair.

"Gracious," was all she managed to squeak out. Snape... well, it was as if he weren't Snape yet. He was in there, but only in potential. "Is that what you really looked like?"

"It is," he said shortly. "Would you know me?"

"You would seem familiar to me," she said, trying to report her reactions as clearly as she could. "But there's something quite different about your energy."

"Can you name the thing that has not changed?"

She looked hard at his face. "Stand up," she requested. He stood.

"Can I see the other again?"

"Dissimulo Adversus!"

There was something... it was right on the tip of her tongue... something Snape that could not be changed. It was curious, if she hadn't seen his transformation, she'd have said that she'd always know him by his nose, but that was clearly not it. The depth of him, the Snape, of him was...

"Your eyes!" she exclaimed.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said. "No disguise charm can change the eyes. Accio hand mirror."

A gilded mirror flew in from the bathroom. The scrollwork around it was intricate, and Hermione found it hard to believe that Snape owned such a thing. He hardly seemed the type to appreciate looking at himself.

He handed her the mirror and instructed her to try the charms.

"Dissimulo Adversus!" she said and watched, in the mirror, as her nose lengthened, and her hair straightened and became darker. Her skin went deathly pale, and her lips thinned. Dear God, she looked like--but she cut that thought off. She tipped her head up to look at him, her still-brown eyes seeking his black ones.

He studied her, saying nothing, but she felt his eyes creeping over every inch of her face. Finally, she could bear it no more.

"Sir?"

"I'm committing this form to memory. If I see it, I'll need to know that it is you."

She nodded and glanced back at the mirror. She could be his sister. It was extremely disconcerting. She raised her wand again, eager to shed the strange visage.

"Dissimulo Juvenis!"

Before she even had time to look in the mirror, she saw Snape's face contort. "Finite Incantatem!" he said, flicking his wand at her. "You are young enough."

Ah, yes. Perhaps the man who had taken a child bride did not need to see his bride as a child.

"Cuticolorus will change the color of your skin," he said quickly, turning away from her. "Pillarius adds hair. You will practice with these charms and return here tomorrow."

Hermione felt stung. She had rather looked forward to spending the day learning disguises, even if her lessons were from Snape.

"Yes, sir," she said, rising from her seat. "Nine o'clock?"

He nodded. His face was as closed as a slammed door.