Shifts in the Universe

Lying on her bed in the girls' dormitory, Hermione listened to Lavender's and Parvati's even and steady breathing. Her roommates were already sound asleep.

As you should be as well, Granger, she reminded herself, staring up at the bed canopy.

They had left Grimmauld Place early in the morning, and the journey on the Knight Bus had been tiring as had been tonight's knitting of elves' hats. Her fingers still felt a bit tense, but to know that the hats would be gone in the morning was the best reward for this little discomfort.

Tomorrow classes would start again, and the fact that she would have to face Professor Snape for the first time since the incident at Grimmauld Place made her stomach tingle with nervous anticipation.

Their brief encounter on the edge of the night had shifted her small universe irrevocably.

Like tasting from the bittersweet Tree of Knowledge, it had robbed her of her state of innocent ignorance. She would never be able to forget the sight of him – cursed, trembling, and hurt.

And tomorrow, she would sit in the Potions classroom, no longer oblivious to the fact that Professor Snape risked his life for the sake of the Order...for Harry...and had to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary...

Nothing out of the ordinary.

How utterly preposterous.

Hermione snorted quietly into the darkness.

Relief had flooded her as she had recognized that he was well again when she had caught a small glimpse of him during his short visit at Headquarters to schedule Harry's Occlumency lessons.

Well again, indeed.

Hermione sighed, rolling onto her side and giving her pillow an annoyed thump.

Professor Snape had already recovered so sufficiently that he was able to fight with Sirius...again. Each time, she was shaken by the amount of enmity that radiated between the two men. What could have possibly caused this wrath, this ... hatred?

Professor Snape knew Sirius since his schooldays, this she knew for sure, as he knew Harry's dad, Remus and...

Lily.

Professor Snape had spoken the name with such tender longing even a blind man would have known that he cared... no, loved this Lily wholeheartedly. The sound had filled Hermione's soul with some kind of unknown envy, leaving her for a rather selfish moment to wonder if Ron would ever say her name that way.

At Grimmauld Place, she had spontaneously assumed that her professor had been calling for Lily Potter, but later she wasn't sure anymore if she had drawn the right conclusion. Harry's mum was simply the only Lily she knew in the Wizarding world. Therefore it was most logical that she had thought of her first. But for Professor Snape's sake she sincerely hoped that her first guess was wrong; that this Lily was still among the living, even if his love for her was obviously an unfortunate and unrequited one.

Lily was by no means a rare given name, and Harry had told her that his mother and his father had been together since Hogwarts. There was no way that Professor Snape's feelings would fit into this. Maybe there had been another girl named Lily with whom he attended Hogwarts, or knew some other source. There were women among the Death Eaters as well...

Among the Death Eaters.

A female Death Eater. A possibility. A most logical answer.

"No," she whispered into the darkness, hugging her pillow a bit tighter, as if denying this possibility out loud would make it impossible.

Her heart felt unpleasantly heavy, filled with the sudden need to know for certain who Professor Snape's Lily was.

Hermione's forehead crinkled. She would have some research to do. Maybe Professor McGonagall would allow her to have a look into the school records. She only needed a good reason. Well, she had a good reason, but none that would count for her Head of House.

A presentable reason.

Stifling a yawn, Hermione snuggled into the sheets. She would find a reason for Professor McGonagall. She would figure out who this Lily was. And she would start tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

---

Merlin, help her.

She would hex him.

She would simply hex him into next week.

Yes, that would be a most satisfying punishment.

Hermione glared at her porridge, which had lost all appeal to her, silently counting the different ways to hex Ron for all eternity if he dared to eat another piece of black pudding.

Her stomach felt even more queasy with nervousness this morning. The gloomy look Professor Snape had worn at breakfast hadn't helped much either. She had dared a brief glance at him while he talked to Professor Dumbledore. Immediately a wave of sympathy had washed over her as she had seen the dark circles that wrapped his eyes. They stood out quite visibly against the pallor of his skin. He seemed to have not slept properly in days. Did the man ever rest?

"Hey 'Mione, you look a bit pale. Everything okay?" Ginny asked in a whisper as she leaned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, really?" Hermione asked in a tone she hoped sounded utterly surprised, shoving her porridge away.

"Yeah," Ginny confirmed, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze, which Hermione returned with a non-committal shrug of her own. From the corner of her eye she caught Ron grasping for the black pudding plate while he talked to Harry.

Eyes fixed on the surface of the table, Hermione gritted her teeth, recounting the ten characteristics of dragon's blood in an attempt to focus on something different than the new wave of queasiness Ron's choice of food had caused her.

"Do you know how long the Greasy Git will keep you tonight, mate?" she heard him ask as he threw another piece of black pudding into his mouth and ate it noisily. "I mean, Harry, Snape can't force you to spend the whole evening in the dungeons..."

However, Hermione never heard Harry's answer. Ron's words caused a bubble of boiling anger to erupt in her already tense stomach. How could he be such an ignorant prat? Didn't he know that Harry needed these Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape?

Dismissing her first impulse to scream, shake or knock some sense into Ron, Hermione felt herself rise from her seat, giving him a murderous glance.

"It is Professor Snape, Ronald," she said sweetly, a tone that would have left Dolores Umbridge green with envy. "And I would advise you to improve your table manners if you do not want to risk taking your breakfast alone one day. I'll see you in Potions, Harry.

Ron's jaw dropped unflatteringly, causing a certain amount of snickers around him while Hermione grasped her books, turning swiftly to leave. She allowed herself to raise her chin slightly as she made her way through the Great Hall, savoring the feeling that for a brief moment the balance of Justice's scales had been restored.

---

As she reached the door of the Potions classroom, Hermione stopped in her tracks. She exhaled deeply in a final attempt to brace herself for the inevitable, before pushing the door open with a swift movement. The room was already half-filled with students. Some were talking quietly while others made last attempts to finish their essays. Everything appeared as usual. It felt almost surreal as she placed her bag on her worktable.

"Uh... hello, Hermione," a voice said behind her.

She turned around and was greeted by Neville's friendly round face.

"Good morning, Neville." Hermione gave him a broad smile before she looked down to retrieve her copy of Magical Draughts and Potions from her bag.

"How..." she trailed off, biting her tongue. For thoughtless seconds she had been about to ask Neville how his Christmas had been, before remembering their heart-wrenching encounter at St. Mungo's. Another piece of bittersweet knowledge Christmas had brought her.

Feeling eternally grateful that her eyes were lowered to her bag right now, Hermione swallowed, knowing that her features would have betrayed her shock about her near lapse.

"How what?"

"Sorry Neville... I was momentarily distracted. How was your Potions essay?" she asked with feigned interest, eyes firmly directed on her bag while she pretended to search for something.

"I can have a look at it if you like."

There was a moment of silence, and Hermione was just about to turn around as somebody stepped up behind her.

"My, my, Miss Granger. That will be twenty-five points from Gryffindor, for helping Longbottom to cheat on his Potions essay."

The sudden sound of Professor Snape's cold voice left her rigid, her heart literally skipping a beat as she sensed the Potions master lean down.

"And another twenty-five points for being a nosy Gryffindor and not minding your own business, Miss Granger," he announced in a low, dangerous tone next to her ear.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he rushed away, releasing Hermione slowly from her stupor.

Sweet Merlin, where was the hole that would swallow her? Of all the horrible scenarios how their first meeting would pass, this was the worst imaginable.

Suddenly, her knees felt wobbly and Hermione flung herself on her chair, ignoring Neville's attempts to apologize and Pansy's giggles.

"See, that's what you get for defending the bastard, 'Mione," Harry hissed quietly as he slipped into his place next to her.

She opened her mouth to respond, trying to tell him that he was wrong, but her attempt was stopped as Professor Snape rose from his desk, stepping up in front of the class. Hermione dropped her gaze swiftly, suddenly feeling unable to meet those black eyes.

"Close your books," he ordered coolly, causing half of the students to whisper in bewilderment.

"I am well aware of the fact that most students in this class spend their free time during the Christmas break with rather mindless activities instead of revising the subject matters of the last term, as you should be doing for your OWLs. Therefore we will start this lesson with a revision before you will brew today's scheduled potion."

Eyes still glued firmly to her hands on the worktable, Hermione heard Ron mutter something like "nasty git" under his breath while, throughout the class, quiet groans erupted at Professor Snape's announcement.

"Let's begin with something simple. Who can name the two essential ingredients for the Draught of Peace? Mr. Longbottom perhaps," Professor Snape asked with a sneer.

Hermione squeezed her hands into small fists, forcing herself to refrain from raising one and suppressing the strong urge to snort at the description for this quite challenging question with the word simple.

Casting a quick glance at Neville and seeing him shake his head confirmed her suspicion that he would not be able to answer the question.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Mr. Malfoy would you be so kind to assist Mr. Longbottom in his ignorance."

"Certainly, sir," Malfoy said gleefully. "The two essential ingredients for the Draught of Peace are moonstone and hellebore."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin. The main ingredient of the Strengthening Solution then, Longbottom?"

Immediately Harry's hand was in the air and Hermione forced her own hand down again, silently wishing that Harry's willingness to answer a question would tempt Professor Snape to leave Neville alone.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Miss Parkinson, please enlighten your fellow classmates, so that even Mr. Longbottom has the small chance of passing his Potions OWLs."

The Slytherins snickered, and Neville seemed to shrink with each word further into his chair.

Anger. Indignation. Disappointment. Hermione could not name what finally urged her to lift her gaze to meet the sight of Professor Snape. Arms crossed in front of his chest and lips pressed into a thin angry line, he waited for Pansy to answer his question, an aura of frosty aloofness surrounding him.

The harsh Potions master in front of her was a million miles away from the man she had seen at Grimmauld Place – a man to whom she had given a promise.

Whenever. Somehow.

A promise that appeared utterly ludicrous while she was left to watch how this man gave Neville another disdainful look. Certainly the question had been an easy and essential one, but how could he humiliate Neville like that?

How?

Meanwhile, Pansy answered proudly, "The main ingredient is salamander blood, sir."

"Excellent, ten points to Slytherin," Professor Snape said, his eyes already on Neville again.

"But maybe the noble house of Gryffindor has a more adequate knowledge in the field of love potions. Mr. Longbottom, pray tell, what is the strongest known love potion?"

Amortentia

Hermione blinked, her knuckles white with anger. Amortentia wasn't even OWL level. Neville had no chance to know the answer.

"With all due respect, sir, the question is unfair," she heard herself snap, the indignant protest leaving her mouth before her mind had even realized it. Instantly cold black eyes met her gaze.

Oh my.

"Miss Granger, I see you have finally decided to join us intellectually."

Professor Snape placed his hands on her table, leaning slightly forward in an obvious attempt to intimidate her. But the pure adrenalin that was coursing through her veins saved her from being sufficiently affected by his gesture.

"Miss Granger, may I ask you to illuminate me, why...in all your know-it-all wisdom...you have decided that this question is not adequate for Mr. Longbottom, before I have the pleasure to deduct at least twenty points for interrupting my class." A sneer curled his thin lips while those frighteningly emotionless eyes bored further into hers.

Seventy points in only half an hour.

Professor McGonagall would have her head for this; for an absurd moment, she was relieved that nobody could be expelled for losing house points. But nothing could save her from the icy feeling that crept into her heart.

In front of her, a mocking eyebrow rose, and Hermione realized that she was still staring at Professor Snape, her bottom lip trembling treacherously.

"I am waiting, Miss Granger."

She swallowed, angry tears forming in her eyes. She would say it. She had to say it, even if he would eat her alive afterwards. House points be damned.

"The answer to your question is Amortentia, Professor Snape, and Amortentia is a NEWT-level potion. It hasn't been covered in class up to now. Therefore, asking anybody in this room for the answer could be counted as unfair in my opinion."

The words came out in the most self-confident tone she could measure, but her voice still sounded disturbingly high-pitched. And then there was nothing but silence.

Dead silence.

Merlin, she was in the eye of a hurricane. But the hurricane never came.

For mere moments Hermione believed she could see something flash in the dark depths of Professor Snape's eyes, but he did not say anything; his face remained unreadable as always. After several seconds, he simply turned his back on her, moving with billowing robes to stand behind his desk. What the hell was he doing?

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for speaking in class without permission, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said coolly, causing several Slytherins to snicker with delight. But a sharp look from him silenced them immediately.

"And I will not tolerate any further interruptions today. You will now brew the Fever Reducing Solution by following the instructions on the board. You have one hour." Leaving no space or time for possible questions or objections, Professor Snape sat down at his desk, focusing on the pile of essays in front of him.

It took several minutes before Hermione was able to concentrate on her ingredients, and as she caught Harry's worried emerald eyes over her mandrake roots, she mouthed a silent later.

She had lost enough points for one day.

---

Scribbling a neat red 'Adequate' at the bottom of Miss Chang's Potions essay, Snape lifted his gaze slightly from his desk, scowling at the irritating Gryffindor in front of him.

It was easy to tell that Miss Granger was quite disturbed at the moment. Her bottom lip was already glowing in an unflattering angry shade of red, and tiny pink flushes graced her cheeks. A perfidious guilty feeling rose in his stomach, causing his quill to draw a particularly harsh line on Miss Abbott's parchment, as he tried to crush it ruthlessly.

Granger.

Seldom in his life had he felt more furious, exposed and humiliated as in the moment he had realized that it had been a student...this girl, of all people...to show him sympathy in a time of weakness. And while it still hurt to know that his heart had tricked him to believe she had been Lily, the wrath at Miss Granger's intrusion of his privacy had abated slightly over the Christmas break.

But when he had caught her this morning, looking at him, with an expression of sweet concern on her face as if he were one of those unfortunate house-elves, whom a gifted sock could free from his evil master's service, his anger had known no boundaries.

He didn't want her compassion and, most of all, he didn't deserve it.

He was not a house-elf in need or any other kind, misunderstood creature Hagrid would adopt. Hell, he was a Death Eater, somebody she should fear with all her heart...a fact Miss Granger's highly praised mind had obviously deemed insignificant in all its glory.

While knowing that this girl had chosen to show him kindness...despite the Dark Mark on his sullied left forearm...filled his soul with treacherous warmth, he would not allow for it to ever happen again.

It was a weakness. And the Dark Lord enjoyed weaknesses. He watched them, nursed them, and explored them, toyed with them only to thrust his venom into the most vulnerable spot in a useful moment.

The most vulnerable spot...

Snape swallowed.

It had been about time for the girl to learn not to waste her kindness on cursed souls like him; he would never become a pathetic, good-doing person like the miserable werewolf she called friend.

Casting a swift glance at the other upset Gryffindor in front of him, the guilty feeling stung once more. He had been unnecessarily harsh on Longbottom. The boy still cracked under pressure, and therefore he had simply been the perfect object of demonstration. These little Gryffindors were so easy to manipulate. Nothing would disgust Miss Granger more than openly displayed injustice toward one of her friends, and it would teach her with what kind of person she was dealing.

At least his little act had gone as predicted.

Almost.

He had anticipated Miss Granger's anger and indignation, but he hadn't been prepared for the plainly honest disappointment in her eyes. The girl had always worn her heart in those large hazel pools – so unlike those sophisticated green ones he loved and would never see again...

Nevertheless, to know the caring tenderness her eyes had held for him, as unwelcome and undeserved as it had been, made the shift to their silent accusation even more painful. Eventually, they had rendered him unable to continue his act. He was a weak fool.

Gritting his teeth, Snape lowered his gaze to another inadequate essay. Would it always be a pair of Gryffindor eyes that tore at his soul?

---

"Time is up. You may bottle your potions now and place them on the desk before leaving."

Professor Snape's announcement caused Hermione to cast a concerned glance at Neville's potion: it was flashy red instead of the required yellow color. The liquid boiled merrily in its cauldron. He hadn't even dared to ask her for help. And the unhappy looks on Ron's and Harry's faces told her that they had not managed to brew the solution correctly either.

"We'll see you in Transfiguration, 'Mione," Harry called from the door, giving her a compassionate look.

Well aware that she had worked unusual slowly today, she nodded silently before turning to her own cauldron and filling a flask with the golden liquid she had managed to create. She sighed as she cast a silent Evanesco. Well, at least it was some shade of yellow.

Hermione stepped up in front of Professor Snape's desk with her flask in her hand.

However, the Potions master did not acknowledge her presence; his gaze lingered on Crabbe and Goyle, who were the last students to occupy the room obviously in an attempt to learn if their Head of House had any further punishment in store for her.

Intuitively, Hermione used those precious unobserved seconds to dare a closer look at Professor Snape while she placed her flask next to the others' samples on the desk. The thick black curtains of his hair obscured his profile from her view, but unconcealed tension radiated from his whole posture, even his hands were curled around the backrest of his chair.

It was an unusual gesture for him. Hermione's mind was torn between wondering why he would possibly search support from his chair and also admiring his long, slender fingers – those fingers that had covered her hand so gently.

Don't be daft, Granger, not your hand – Lily's hand.

"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, I would advise you to leave now." Hermione winced. For the second time this day the sudden sound of his voice had caught her by surprise.

"Professor McGonagall will be most pleased to deduct a certain amount of Slytherin house points if you arrive late for her lesson," Professor Snape snapped, grasping for the potion samples and giving Hermione one last cold look before he left for his office.

Bugger. Transfiguration.

She had already lost seventy house points and she was late.

Oh, bugger.

Hermione rushed to her workplace, throwing the Potions kit and the books into her bag as several loud plops caught her attention. Next to her stood Neville's still heavily boiling potion, thick red fumes soaring from the cauldron. He had obviously forgotten to Evanesco it in a rush to get out of the room. Well, who would blame him after this disastrous start of term?

Hermione drew her wand from her pocket, already pointing it at the cauldron and preparing herself to stash the boiling mess away as she heard Professor Snape call her name. She sighed. What could he possibly want now?

But as she turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart stopped.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He was running her way with his wand drawn, an alarming expression on his face, eyes fixed on the cauldron in front of her.

Neville's cauldron.

No.

The instant her mind made the connection, her eyes were mesmerized by the now threateningly boiling liquid. Unknown panic glued her to the spot, rendering her body unable to follow her mind's terrified screams to move out of the danger zone.

From somewhere far away Hermione heard Professor Snape casting a shield charm and felt the strong pull of an arm around her waist in the moment Neville's cauldron exploded.

And then everything went dark.

---

A pair of fingers was pressed against her throat.

Somebody said her name, somebody next to her, who sounded ... concerned.

"Miss Granger?"

She knew that voice.

Professor Snape.

Oh.

Her memory of the last minutes returning, Hermione blinked several times in an attempt to open her eyes. Wincing at the sudden light, she closed them momentarily. Her head was throbbing slightly.

"Miss Granger, do you hear me?"

She nodded, slowly opening her eyes again. As her vision cleared, she found herself lying on the floor with her head propped up on something soft. Professor Snape knelt on one knee at her side, observing her intently. The usual worry line between his brows seemed to be carved even more deeply into his face, and there was a large smudge of grime covering his left cheek.

"How do you feel?"

Embarrassed, she thought ruefully, managing a shy thankful smile.

"A bit shaken, I fear, but unharmed." Her voice sounded surprisingly hoarse, as if it hadn't been used for a long time.

"How long have I been out?" Hermione asked as she tried to sit up, bringing herself face to face with Professor Snape.

"Mere seconds," he said, sounding infuriatingly detached. His face once more held an unfathomable expression, but as Hermione searched his gaze, the cold indifference had left the dark depths, baring a storm of nameless emotion to her eyes. For several heartbeats she was lost, drowning in a warm black surge.

In an abrupt movement, Professor Snape rose from the floor, holding his right hand out to her.

"Do you think you can manage to get up, Miss Granger?"

Hermione found herself nodding again, taking his offered palm. Long slender fingers came to rest on the back of her hand, pulling her upwards with a gentle force.

"Severus," Professor Dumbledore's voice echoed from the hallway, "the Bloody Baron informed me of an explosion in the dungeons. What has...," he broke off as he stepped into the door, beholding the scene in front of him.

"One of the dunderheads I am forced to teach has managed to leave me a rather explosive device, Albus." Professor Snape sneered without turning to the Headmaster; his eyes fixed on Hermione as she struggled to stand, not releasing her hand until she leaned against the next worktable. Her knees felt still rather wobbly.

"Is Miss Granger..."

"I am fine, Headmaster," Hermione assured quickly, searching the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, while the Potions master moved to bend over the remains of Neville's cauldron.

"Thanks to Professor Snape," she added gratefully. "He..."

But she never got to explain how Professor Snape saved her. A sweet and tiny cough from behind Professor Dumbledore interrupted her.

"Hem, hem."

"Dolores. What can we do for you on this wonderful morning?" the Headmaster asked cheerfully as he turned around to greet the toad-like face of Professor Umbridge.

"I heard from Mr. Filch there was an incident in the Potions classroom," she announced in the slow sweet tone Hermione had come to loathe. "I was just wondering if Professor Snape needed any help with his students."

For the second time today, Hermione waited for a blow that never came. Professor Snape straightened up slowly before answering Umbridge in a disturbingly calm voice.

"Professor Umbridge, I assure you regretfully, after fourteen years of teaching the art of potion making to incapable students, I know how to deal with an exploding cauldron quite well."

"Oh, yes, I see." Umbridge gave the explosion-induced chaos in the classroom a rather indignant sniff.

"Dolores, now that it is ensured that my Potions master is perfectly able to handle this little affair, why don't we discuss Cornelius' last letter in my office," Professor Dumbledore offered, already shuffling her into the hallway.

Her response to the Headmaster's proposal was already lost to Hermione as mere moments later the door of the classroom snapped shut.

"Evil old hag," Hermione muttered under her breath as she straightened her school robes.

"Pardon, Miss Granger?"

Oh hell.

Seeing the knowing smirk curling on the corners of his mouth, she flushed furiously. He had bloody well heard her.

"Umm ... nothing, sir."

"Very well then," he said nonchalantly before giving her a serious look.

"Miss Granger, I must ask you not to speak to anyone about this incident."

"But why..."

He held up a hand, his face hard as he spoke.

"Miss Granger, the Dark Lord cannot learn one way or another what has occurred here today. Do you understand?"

Hermione blanched. How could she have forgotten? He was a Death Eater. He was not supposed to protect her – Harry Potter's friend, a... Sweet Merlin.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I suggest you go to see Madame Pomfrey now, Miss Granger. Despite your assurances of feeling well, I would like to avoid any complaints from your Head of House for not treating you with the necessary caution when I inform her about the reason for your absence today."

"Yes, sir."

She was clearly dismissed. Professor Snape was right; she should pay the matron a visit. Her legs still felt a bit unsteady. She felt unsteady.

While absently walking for the door, Hermione dared a brief glance back over her shoulder. Professor Snape was already bent over the remains of Neville's cauldron again, clearly trying to analyze what had caused the liquid to erupt in the end.

Seeing the icy coldness in his eyes today had hurt, like watching a hope die...

But then, for a brief moment, she had found him.

The man who loved Lily.

The man whom she had given a promise.

Hermione stopped in the door frame, placing a hand on the ancient wood before glancing back again. Her gaze lingered on the Potions master. If somebody would have told her months ago that this man evidently hid his heart...like the Dark Mark he was bearing...beneath the multiple layers of his frock coat, she would not have believed it. But she knew it better know.

"Professor Snape?"

His head snapped up, black eyes searching her gaze.

"Miss Granger?"

"Thank you," she said softly and vanished into the hallway, hiding the ridiculous blush that colored her cheeks.

---

Snape flung himself into the next armchair, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the backrest.

Granger.

The girl had been white as a sheet as she had left for the Hospital Wing.

Foolish, foolish Gryffindor.

Why had she tried to vanish Longbottom's explosive leftovers herself instead of calling him? He couldn't even bring himself to blame her for the decision after today's events.

They were all fortunate that the cauldron had exploded at the beginning of his free period and not in an already half-filled classroom. And if he was honest with himself, the incident was as much his fault as Longbottom's. The boy wouldn't have made such disastrous mistakes without being robbed from Miss Granger's helping hand and having himself made a fool in front of his classmates.

Snape slumped forward, burying his head in his hands.

He had been the real fool today. He should have known better than to allow his anger to engage in this shortsighted act. And then he had been blind in his disgust at his own weakness not to go through with it. His guard had slipped. It was his fault. He should have seen the cauldron. He shouldn't have left his classroom without a second glance.

If Miss Granger or any other student had been hurt in his classroom ...

If she had... He swallowed.

Alone, my fault.

Like Lily.

But what had Miss Granger done? This foolish girl with her annoyingly soulful eyes had thanked him.

Simply thanked him. It was honest, lovely and completely unnerving, causing his miserable, undeserving heart to swell in his chest.

Merlin help him. He needed to control his emotions better, otherwise the Dark Lord would pull him apart like warm bread.

---

Author's note: Once again, my infinite thanks belong to Losille 2000, my lovely beta.

Next up: A presentable reason, the aftermath of Occlumency and something about the marks that bind us.

Reviews are love :o)