Chapter Nine

A/N: This world and these characters belong to JKR. I write for fun, not money. All my love to my beta, Shellsnapeluver.

Snape was sitting at his desk when she arrived the next morning. He noted with amusement that she had her wand drawn, ready to cast Protego Totalum.

"Do you often arrive in people's offices prepared to hex them?" he asked mildly.

She grinned, the cheeky little twit, and tucked her wand into the pocket of her robes before settling herself into the chair in front of his desk. Funny, he hadn't asked her to make herself at home.

"Let me see what you have practiced."

She rose and turned away from him, muttering something. When she faced him, he had to struggle not to reach for his wand and remove the glamour as he had done the day before. Her hair was thick and long, blond with only a hint of a wave. Her nose was somehow even more pert than ever, and her skin was tanned and freckled across the bridge over nose. She had seemed to shrink in stature, becoming diminutive, delicate--the ridiculous girl had made herself beautiful.

And yet, it was not beautiful. Oh, he could see how the disguise would be a distraction, and though he would never admit it to her, it was a brilliant move. For the girl before him bore no hint of bookishness or bossiness; she would inspire men to buy her pretty nothings and stumble in front of one another for the honor of protecting her. But those eyes, those eyes did not belong in such a face, and to place them there inside that false ideal was painful to behold. Where was Miss Granger, who smiled when she insulted him and quivered with anticipation in her lessons? Where was the terrified, impossibly lovely girl who had spread herself beneath him and allowed him to...

"Remove it," he snapped. She raised her wand and undid the charm, looking at him questioningly.

"Where did you learn such a charm?"

"I... I made it."

She made it?

"Explain."

"Well, sir, the base of the charms you showed me was Dissimulo, which is easy enough. The wand movement for both was the same upward jab. The difference lay in the descriptor. I used a basic beauty charm and modified it to match the Dissimulo base... See, it's this flick at the end... and there you have it."

"You did not use the library?"

"Madam Pince is rather angry with me at the moment, sir." At this he had to suppress a chuckle. Madam Pince had been complaining unceasingly of Hermione Granger for the last six years. Snape sometimes wondered if the old witch would prefer it if no one ever visited the library at all.

"So you tried an unknown spell--of your own creation--on yourself?" he asked incredulously.

She pursed her lips and set her jaw, staring back at him. "It worked, didn't it?"

"From now on, if you wish to experiment with new spells, you will do so under my supervision. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he said and then added off-handedly, "Ten points to Gryffindor."

She had the good sense not to gloat. "Will we continue the Disguising Charms today?"

"I think not. You have two serviceable disguises at your behest. Though, Miss Granger, I should warn you that you cannot disguise Potter in such a manner. His scar and his eyes will not be changed. Anyone with half a brain will be looking for a boy with a scar and glasses. Disfiguring Potter would probably be your safest option," he said with a smirk. "But now, as our time is limited, I would like to move on to disguises of the mind."

"Occlumency," she breathed.

"Indeed."

He had been looking forward to this lesson. First and foremost, he told himself, it would protect him in the event that she were captured by the Dark Lord, and teaching her Occlumency himself would assure him that her mind was as well defended as it could be. But in addition, he craved to look into her memories, however briefly, and see what she still hid from him. Until he taught her to ward her thoughts, they would all be his.

"Has Potter described his lessons to you?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but maintained his gaze, the foolish girl. Surely, she knew that the way in was through her eyes.

"He has."

"So you know what to do. Empty your mind, Miss Granger."

When she seemed suitably relaxed, he leaned forward sharply and hissed, "Legilimens!"

Images floating past... A frizzy-headed child sitting astride her father's shoulders; Diagon Alley--and the girl, older now, being fitted for school robes, flutter-hearted with nerves and excitement; her delight at being sorted into Gryffindor; anger at the Weasley boy, but anger mixed with... no--he rushed past. Where were the memories he was looking for? He seemed to pick them up by the fistful and, after glancing, tossed them aside, rushing on, deeper... deeper... to where she kept her heart...

The Time-Turner--he'd known it, though no one would admit it!--pure exhaustion, the strung-tight feeling that told him she was near tears; fear rolling off her in waves in the Shrieking Shack; the girl with Potter and Weasley, frantic in the Ministry, yet sure of her spell work, filled with a confidence he had not suspected and the firm, unflagging sense that she would keep fighting...

Was she Occluding him? Why could he not find what he sought? Ah, but here was a glimpse--his own face, terrible with rage at Albus, yet he did not feel revulsion from her, but an odd sort of sympathy. Pity? he asked fiercely of her thoughts, but no, it was not pity... and then terror and the same kind of blind resolution he'd felt from her in the Ministry as she wrapped her hand in his. Then a wall. He tried to delve deeper, pushing past the stone, pushing perhaps more than was prudent, and he caught a whiff of something like lust and the sight of his mouth pressed to hers. He reached into her mind with his, digging with everything he had... how many solitary nights had he played this memory over and over, and now he would have it from her... his blood was surging, quick and hot; he reached... and ran up against a closed door.

He withdrew in frustration. "What are you hiding, Miss Granger? What is there that you don't want me to see?"

"Forgive me, but I was under the impression that I was supposed to be blocking you. Is that not the very point of Occlumency?"

Must she be so good at everything? "You did not erect your walls until I was viewing... more recent memories."

She colored slightly. "I hadn't sorted out how to do it until then. I thought that was why you were looking for memories that would embarrass me, sir, that you were forcing me to figure out how to shield those thoughts from you. Isn't that how you did it with Harry?"

"Why would you find those memories embarrassing? Surely, you realize that I have them myself."

"Of course," she said brusquely. "But the term 'double blind' applies here too, doesn't it? As I hardly think you'll let me examine your impressions of that night."

He snorted. "Quite right."

"So, instruct me," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" What on earth was she talking about? Had he revealed something while he was in her mind, somehow given her the impression that he wanted to...?

"I let you in too far before I began to shield. Teach me how to do it better."

He gathered his wits about him once more. She suspected nothing. "Your methods were crude, but effective. It would serve you well to remember, however, that walls can be dismantled and doors broken down by those who have the time and care little for the destruction of your mind. You want your shield to be made of something both more permanent and more ephemeral. I, myself, tend to use the night sky. You might also try the surface of a lake--anything that cannot be chipped away or pounded through by force."

She nodded.

"Practice will help you to keep that shield close at hand. The Dark Lord will not warn you before he takes your mind."

"I know, sir. I'm ready to try again."

How different she was from Potter, who cared so little for anything he might have tried to teach him. He could see that she was deliberately slowing her breathing, tricking her body into relaxation. He gave her a moment to prepare--soon he would not be so kind--and plunged.

"Legilimens!"

Clouds drifting across the sky... good, but there was fear underneath, fear that he could seize... he followed the fear to where it led, beneath the sky, and found the night that Dumbledore had enspelled her and placed her beneath the Black Lake... the cold water, the reluctance to breath... then blackness... nothing.

Withdrawing, he said, "Better. I could see the memory you used to get there, but the image, once it rose, was impenetrable."

She smiled, but he thought she looked a trifle pale. Occlumency was an incredible drain on the body's resources. That was part of the reason he was so vulnerable to Voldemort's physical attacks; whenever he appeared before the Dark Lord, he was already compromised. He reached into his desk and pulled out a bar of chocolate, broke off a piece and pushed it toward her.

"Eat it. You will need to keep your strength up."

When she had finished it, he said, "I'm going to have to begin taking you by surprise."

"I assumed as much," she replied.

"In the meantime, I thought we'd do a quick lesson on Extention Charms."

"Increasing the internal dimensions of an object without altering the outer dimensions?"

He sighed. "A definition that was ripped from the pages of The Standard Book of Spells Grade Six, I assume?"

"Does that make it any less apt?"

"I do not wish you to parrot, Miss Granger; I wish you to understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"Extension Charms are some of the most useful of the Concealment Charms because they are condoned by the Ministry--mostly for their own convenience. Come here."

She rose and crossed behind his desk.

"What do you see?"

"Er... your desk, sir."

"Precisely," he said, pulling open a drawer, revealing a set of files. "A desk. Yet, in this drawer, I have the records of every student I have had the misfortune to teach. Every student for the last sixteen years." He pulled the drawer open further, then further still. The folders continued, one after the other without ceasing.

She reached out to touch them, as if to verify that they were not an illusion.

"Miss Granger," he snapped, and she withdrew her hand guiltily.

"Miss Granger," he said again, and as her eyes rose to meet his, "Legilimens!"

Now, he had her where he wanted her, surprised and in such proximity to his body that she couldn't help but think of him. Now... He tore into her mind and saw the flickering firelight, his hands stroking her legs and felt... yes... sweet desire, tentative but present. It had not been an act. Now, she had climbed into his lap, and he was ripping off her skirt... Suddenly, the image rippled and threatened to become the surface of the Black Lake, but he plunged beneath the water, seeing her fingers rummaging under his shirt, feeling the heat and confusion swirling around in her thoughts and hearing himself say, "Bedroom." He saw the two of them entwined, his face buried in her quim. He felt her need; he felt her come; he felt...

She collapsed, striking the side of his desk with her hip as she fell.

Goddamn it. What have I done?

He realized immediately that he could not take her to the hospital wing. Poppy would be sure to ask all sorts of questions about her lessons, questions that he would be unable to answer; so, he gathered her limp and pliant body and carried her through the Floo to his chambers, where he lay her on the couch in front of the fireplace. He summoned a blanket and checked the time. Three o'clock. She'd probably been out for about four minutes at that point, so...

Three o'clock?

How long had they been warring for control of her mind? Past lunch, that much was certain, and he realized that he had no idea if she'd eaten breakfast. He had not appeared in the Great Hall that morning.

"Dobby!" he called.

Dobby appeared beside him immediately, and seeing Miss Granger upon the couch, the house-elf rushed to her side, quaking foolishly.

"But what is wrong with miss?"

"She's exhausted herself," Snape said, refusing to acknowledge that he might have had a significant role in exhausting her. "She needs food. And bring plenty of tea and pumpkin juice."

"Certainly, sir." The elf cracked out again.

He hurried into his laboratory, scanning the shelves. Pepperup, yes, between that and the caffeine... and some Memory Potion might not be totally amiss, though God help him if he'd damaged her mind...

He returned to her side and smoothed her hair back with his hand. She was sweating slightly, but he felt no real sign of fever. What in Merlin's name was wrong with him? What had he been so desperate to find that he should have fought the girl so hard? He had, as he'd pointed out to her earlier, his own set of those memories, and if he could not trust his recollections--her breathing, the thick, rich scent of her arousal--what could he trust? It had been ridiculous and destructive to push her new skills so far. Surely, when she woke she would be livid--

Dobby returned, startling him from his reverie. "I is bringing food for miss," he said. "Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

"That will not be necessary," Snape said, accepting the tray of food that the house-elf offered. "She simply needs some food and some rest. There is no need to speak to anyone," he said, knowing that would be enough to bind the elf to silence. "That will be all."

When they were alone again, he took his wand and aimed it at the unconscious girl, saying, "Rennervate!"

***

She opened her eyes warily, taking in his presence, the room, and the food and weighing their meaning before she spoke. He had cared for her. He had attacked her mind and tried to take what she had specifically warded against him, but he had cared for her. "What happened?"

"I--I tested your abilities too rigorously. You fainted."

She sat quietly for a moment, sifting through the memories he had seen before the world went dark. "You could have asked. I would have told you anything you wanted to know."

"Asked what? Here, drink this pumpkin juice. It will help get your blood sugar up. You're delirious."

"I'm not," she said, though she took an enormous swig of the juice. "I could see what you were looking for."

"You've missed lunch, and I daresay, from your reactions, you missed breakfast as well. Eat, Miss Granger. This will all make more sense in a few moments."

She glared at him, but reached out and gingerly took a sandwich.

"You will be a fine Occlumens," he began. "I apologize for pushing you so hard. Your determination proved much more than I anticipated."

"You've been underestimating me for years, Professor Snape. I'm used to it. I just hope I'm able to perform under more... malevolent scrutiny."

He nodded and poured more pumpkin juice into her glass. She drank it greedily.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said. "Thank you."

He huffed. "You should hardly be thanking me."

"No, I suppose not. Why on earth were you so determined to get to those memories?" She would have the answer; he could not evade her forever. There was a strange flicker of hope in her chest that she could not explain.

"Because the Dark Lord already suspects our relationship. It is what he will look for if he is able to lay his hands on you."

She felt the world beginning to spin again, and he thrust a phial of potion into her hand. "Pepperup," he said shortly. She drank.

When she was able to speak without fear of losing the sandwich and juice, she asked, "How do you know?"

"Because my own shields failed when I was last before him. He saw very little--but he saw you."

No, God. No. The night that he had returned to Hogwarts....

"Was that the reason for--?"

"In short."

"Professor Snape, I--Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick." She stood, looking frantically around her and remembered that the loo was through the bedroom. She stumbled as she took off through the door but managed to get there in time.

As she heaved up her meager lunch, she prayed, Please God, how can I undo it? He bears enough already. He must not be tortured because of me. His secrets... She collapsed against the wall. The cool of the tiles slowly seeped into her skin and began to clear her head. It cannot be undone, now or ever. All we have is Occlumency. Let our shields be thick and unyielding. Let me cause him no more harm. She thought of that senseless flame that had sprung up in her chest when it had become clear that he wanted her memories of that night. Don't you ever hope that, Hermione Granger. Not even for a second. If he were to care for you... it would mean death.

When she could stand, she made her way back to the sitting room, where Snape was pacing before the fire.

"I shouldn't have given you the Pepperup," he was saying. "Surely, a reaction to--"

"I'm fine," she said curtly.

"Sit, Miss Granger. You've had a shock, and you need--"

"I said, I'm fine," she snapped. "I'm going to return to my chambers to lie down." She strode across the room to the fireplace as steadily as she could.

He looked surprised at first and a bit stung; then his face settled into its usual indifference. "I'll expect you in the morning," he said. "Do have the good sense to eat something first."

"Yes," she said, "Clearly, I'll have to fortify myself." And with that, she stepped into the flames.