Nobody Cared Enough !

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

Sept. 8, 1991 - Sunday afternoon

Harry and Draco had spent the morning exploring the castle and avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris. At noon, they had lunch in the Slytherin common room with their study group so Harry could catch up with the classes he'd missed. After the study group was finished, Harry made his way to Snape's office to help him with his potion brewing.

The door to Snape's office was open, but when Harry peeked in he didn't see his professor. "Professor Snape?" Harry called out.

"In the classroom, Mr. Potter!" came Snape's voice somewhat muffled.

Following the voice, Harry spied the door near Snape's desk that was open. He walked over to it, looked through, and saw the Potions classroom. He still didn't see his teacher, though.

"Sir?"

"In here, Mr. Potter," came Snape's impatient voice a touch louder.

Harry let out a startled yelp and Snape stepped forth from the ingredients supply room. He spoke in a more calm tone, "My apologies, Mr. Potter. It was not my intention to startle you."

"I'm okay, sir," Harry smiled weakly.

Snape's left eyebrow rose incrementally. "Indeed. Come into the ingredients cabinet, Mr. Potter. I need your assistance as I gather what we will need for today's potions."

Harry followed his teacher and was amazed by the tall, walk-in cabinet. Shelves of ingredients, all alphabetised, rose high above him. A ladder allowed one to reach the taller shelves.

Phials, jars, bottles, crates, even barrels all held a wide variety of ingredients. So many scents mixed together that it was rather pleasant, although stuffy.

Snape handed Harry a basket to hold and then he began quickly removing ingredients from the shelves. He was careful in placing them into the basket so none of the ingredients in glass broke causing ingredients to mix together.

Finally, he held up a jar that held green fluid with wrinkled objects that looked oddly like squashed human ears.

"Pickled shrivelfigs, Mr. Potter. Rather slippery as Mr. Malfoy unfortunately discovered." He gave Harry a slight smile and Harry grinned back, recalling that it was when Draco slipped on a shrivelfig that they had met in the infirmary and become friends.

Finally moving back into the classroom, Snape directed Harry over to a cauldron and had him set out the ingredients. "You brought your Potions kit and stirrers?"

Harry smiled and went over to his book bag that he'd placed on a desk. He took out his brand new textbook, the kit and the stirrers. Snape began looking through the Potions kit.

"Hmm. No. I am afraid these knives won't do," he mused, as though to himself. "That is the problem with these inexpensive kits. They are never quite up to snuff." He held out his hand. "Accio knife set!" An object that appeared to be soft leather rolled up like a scroll zoomed across the room and into Snape's hand. Snape placed the leather scroll in front of Harry. "Open it, Mr. Potter."

Harry untied a short leather tie that was holding the scroll together and then he unfurled it. Neatly placed in small pockets were a variety of knives, awls, and other sharp tools used to prepare ingredients.

"Wow!" Harry's eyes gleamed as much as the instruments that sparkled in the torchlight.

"Silver, nickel, copper, bronze, and steel. One of the finest sets of knives for a Potioneer." A glint of a smile lit up Snape's eyes. "I hope you appreciate the gift, Mr. Potter."

Snape had debated the wisdom of purchasing the set of tools for Harry. Showing favouritism to his Snakes was one thing; appearing to show favouritism towards one student could mean trouble. However, whilst in the Apothecary on Saturday he had turned from his business with the owner and watched Harry as he walked around the shop investigating everything. Such wide-eyed wonder Snape had not seen from any of his students in a very long time. He watched as Harry read labels, sniffed dried herbs, and Snape watched closely as the boy's green eyes catalogued, carefully, everything he saw.

It reminded him, somewhat wistfully, of the first time he not only had the freedom to peruse an apothecary at his leisure, but he'd had a decent amount of money to spend as well.

As he watched the boy looking over each implement Snape allowed an old, pleasant memory of the past to drift forward.

--A Sunny Day from 1973--

They were both thirteen, Lily just recently had her birthday. It was the summer and Severus had run as fast as his growing legs could carry him to the park where he and Lily always met.

Lily was on the same swing Severus had first seen her on, and sour-puss Petunia was nowhere to be seen. Since starting at Hogwarts the two sisters were fast growing into separate worlds. Lily, who loved her older sister unconditionally, was finding the separation hard, and there were so many times Severus found himself just holding his friend as she wept over the growing loss.

Today, though, Lily was revelling in the cool breeze as she rocked back and forth lazily upon the swing.

"Lily!" he shouted, smiling as he sprinted the last few feet towards his best friend.

Lily slipped off the swing and giggled as Severus lifted her in an enthusiastic embrace and spun her around. She hugged her friend back and then he, reluctantly, let her slip from his arms.

"What has you so giddy today, Severus?" she asked.

Severus pulled a small pouch that jingled from his pocket. He thrust the purse at her with a smug smile. "St. Mungo's bought my sample crate of 24 tins of Wasp & Bee Sting Relief Wax. I received payment today and... and Lily," he breathed excitedly, "they want more!"

Lily let out a whoop of joy. "Severus! How wonderful!"

"Mother was so clever, Lily," he spoke softly, but with obvious love and admiration. "The representative from St. Mungo's wanted to come to Spinner's End, but mother told him it would be easier if we met in Hogsmeade. Do you want to come? Mother said she'd take us to Diagon Alley after and I could spend some of this."

"Oh, but, Severus, you really should have your own vault, now," Lily, ever practical, pointed out.

"Oh, well, yes," he nodded. "I'll do that, too!"

Not yet a Potions Master, but the boy's talent had been recognised in the simple, sting soothing wax he had created. St. Mungo's had been his first, ever, contract, and validation that he truly had talent. Over his school years, he couldn't produce much since he didn't have his own lab except for the shed that his mother had so painstakingly hidden with magic from her own husband, Snape's father Tobias.

In potions, Snape had found a way to express himself creatively. Exacting, complicated, but beautiful. Potions were his mastery even before he had completed his apprenticeship at twenty-four. Brewing and creating potions had been his saving grace when he and Lily's friendship had broken apart. Potions had soothed him when he was angry, or afraid, and on the night that he had been summoned by his childhood friend, and made the vow to protect her son, he had returned home, to Spinner's End, and brewed long into the night to calm long dormant emotions.

Lily had loved magic. Never had its beauty tarnished in her eyes as she grew from a precocious eight year old on a playground swing to a young woman with a baby. It was this joy, this wonderment that Snape had seen in the musty apothecary shop in her eleven year old son, and it had tugged at his old heart.

Favouritism be damned, he had thought then as he saw the knife set on a shelf behind Mr. Jiggers. He had added it to his personal order. A teacher only came across such a student once in a lifetime and it was his duty, if not his privilege, to foster and encourage that need to learn.

"Gift?" Harry asked with nervous trepidation as his hand hesitated over the exquisite tools. He looked up at his teacher, his smile reflecting his hope that what he'd heard had been correct. "You... you're giving me...?"

Snape's face was threatening to crack into a self-satisfied grin of epic proportion if he didn't squash it down at once. He harrumphed and took a corner of the leather so he could draw the kit away. "If you are not interested, Mr. Potter," he said with the driest voice he could muster.

Any other child would have snatched the threatened gift right out of the Potions Master’s fingers. Harry, was not any other child. His green eyes saddened sharply as he cast a mournful glance down at the knives. He slipped his hands behind his back and gripped them tightly.

Snape nearly held his breath, hoping to see... to see what? Just as he was about to relent in his teasing, that Harry was not seeing as a tease, the boy backed away from the set of knives.

"I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled. "They are great, though."

The abject sadness, the hope Snape had just so thoughtlessly dashed upon the rocks, tightened his gut into knots. He sighed to himself and released a small, but now tinged with regret, smile at the boy. He grasped Harry by the shoulder and nudged him closer to the table.

"These are a gift, Harry," he said, the apology for his teasing backfiring in his voice. "I know that you will not only appreciate them but you will treat them well so that they serve you for a long time."

Harry's smile was wary. He raised a hand to touch the soft leather scroll pouch, but stopped. With his gaze, he looked up at his teacher. Again, there was delight, hopefulness, but there was now a silent request for permission.

Snape gave Harry a nod, and as the boy examined each tool again with care, inwardly the Potions Master kicked himself for his mistake. He needed to take more care around this child. Harry appeared so strong. Not a bruise showed and he seemed so normal. But, there were cracks in the facade. He could break so easily.

Snape did not want to break Harry.

9 Sept 1991 - Monday

With his wand tucked into a neat little holster on his arm, that Professor Snape gave to all his Snakes, Harry hoisted his new book bag with his new textbooks onto his shoulder and followed Draco out of the dorms, through the Slytherin common room, and up to the Great Hall. It would be the first time he'd actually get to eat at the Slytherin table.

As breakfast arrived, Harry noticed that the Slytherin table was not cluttered with all the varied plates of food that the other House tables were piled heavily with. There were extra dishes of fruit but the very sweet pumpkin juice was noticeably absent. In its place were pitchers of ice cold milk, pomegranate, elderberry, raspberry, cranberry, and mango juice. For the older students there was tea, also in a variety of flavours.

Prefect Tara Anglaise noted Harry's curious look and explained, "Professor Snape's really big on proper nutrition. All the other Houses get to eat whatever they want, and they usually choose the fat heavy or sugar heavy dishes. When you're a seventh year, though, you can eat whatever you want." She smiled, and laughed. "Of course, by then, you're so used to eating all the good stuff that it doesn't matter."

Harry didn't mind that his food was nutritious. The fact was, he never got to eat like this at #4 Privet Drive and so, even if it wasn't pancakes with pecans and smothered in butter and syrup, on his plate, it was still a feast.

He, and the other first years, all had bowls of oatmeal that tasted as great as it smelled. They were allowed a pat of butter, and a teaspoon of maple sugar to add, if they wanted. Or, if they didn't care for maple sugar, there was honey and even jam.

Breakfast was rounded out with whole grain toast, fruit, of course, and eggs. Harry noticed a glazed, clay bottle about the length of his hand at the corner of his plate. The top just under the cap had a note tied to it. In spidery hand he read:

Mr. Potter, this is your daily nutrition potion. You will receive one for each meal of the day. It has a rather chalky taste to it so I would suggest following it with milk or the thicker mango juice. Be sure to drink it all down at once. ~SS

Harry un-capped the bottle, sniffed it, and wished he had not done so. Draco snickered softly. Harry glowered, then brought the bottle up to his mouth and threw it down his throat like an old sailor.

“Mi… uk!” he croaked with a screwed up face. Draco chuckled and quickly poured a glass of milk for his friend. Harry gulped at the milk and then put down the empty glass. “Chalky taste?! That was just plain, old chalk!”

Draco just broke into a gale of belly-laughs. “Everyone says that Professor Snape makes his potions taste gross on purpose, Harry. He doesn’t even flavour them for his Snakes. Have some more milk.” Draco scooted over the pitcher of cold milk, but Harry shook his head.

“I like milk but I want to try some of that pommengranite juice.” Tara slid the pitcher of cool pomegranate juice, a maroon/purple liquid, over to Harry. Pouring it into his glass, he took a sip, and smiled. The taste was sharp, clean, like ripe berries. He dubbed it a favourite right after the first sip.

Draco nudged Harry, jostling his elbow so he spilled some of his juice. A quick wave of Tara's wand as she intoned 'Scourgify' and the spilled juice was gone.

"What?" asked Harry; slightly annoyed with his friend.

It took Harry a minute to understand just what it was Draco was pointing at until his gaze settled upon the girl, Hermione Granger. She was small. About the same size as Harry was. And skinny. Her hair was her most notable feature. It was bushy and looked unfortunately uncombed. Harry couldn't help smiling at it. At least he wasn't the only one with bad hair.

Hermione was seated at the furthest end of the Gryffindor table closest to the large doors that led into the Great Hall. No one spoke to her. No one paid her a bit of attention as she ate her grapefruit. In fact, it was almost as though she were being shunned by her own House.

"What's going on with Hermione?" asked Harry, as concern for the girl settled in his belly.

"Snape took points on Friday because she kept trying to answer all the questions," elaborated Draco. "Twenty points. I think the Gryffinbores are still mad at her."

"All of the questions?" Harry observed incredulously.

"Yeah. Snape called her a 'know-it-all' and a 'silly girl'." Draco dug into his eggs before they got cold.

"Doesn't she have any friends in her House?" Harry absently took a bite of his toast, which was very dry since there was nothing on it. He coughed, choking on it, and Draco thumped his back.

“You can have some butter or jam on your toast, Harry,” chuckled Draco.

Harry nodded absently. His attention was upon the lonely Gryffindor.

Tara turned so she could see what had Harry's intense interest. "That's the Granger girl, isn't it?"

"Yeah," replied Harry. "She seemed really nice in the Infirmary."

"She's bossy," Draco observed.

"Yeahhh, but nice," emphasised Harry.

"I overheard two first year Gryffies crowing about some prank they pulled on her this weekend," tsked Tara. "Poor thing."

Marcus Flint butted into the conversation. "You worried over a Gryffindor Mudblood, Anglaise?" he sneered.

Tara shoved him away from her. "Stuff it, Flint. Everyone knows you're no more a pureblood than Filch is!"

Flint eyed the Prefect dangerously, but he caught sight of her wand tip up the sleeve of her robe. Tara Anglaise was the Slytherin Dueling Champion, and had beaten Marcus Flint last year with a simple Expelliarmus Spell. He was smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, though, so he backed off. Tara just smiled lightly in triumph.

"Tara? Would it be all right for Hermione to join us?" asked Harry.

Tara tapped her chin. "Let me go ask the Professor." She turned and slid gracefully from the bench and both Harry and Draco watched as she approached the staff table.

Snape saw his prefect approaching. When she reached the staff table he inclined his head towards Tara.

"Yes, Prefect Anglaise?" Snape addressed his student.

"Sir, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy were wondering if they might invite Miss Granger to sit with them at the Slytherin table." A quick darting of her gaze towards the Gryffindor Head of House alerted Tara that her request had been overheard by the sharp hearing of the older witch.

Minerva now listened openly since this concerned one of her own Lions.

"It is highly unusual," began Snape as he eyed the two first years.

"And inappropriate," added Minerva bluntly.

Snape cast the older woman a hard glare. "And what, pray tell, is inappropriate for friends who wish to sit with one another, Professor?" asked Snape snidely.

"Two boys and a girl?" Minerva posited, as if her colleague ought to understand.

Snape rolled his eyes. "They are children, Minerva!" he hissed, letting her name slip as he became frustrated with the prim and proper school teacher. "If all three were in your House, I doubt you would be objecting!"

Minerva's lips thinned as she was caught by the slippery Slytherin. "Breakfast and lunch only, Miss Anglaise," Minerva gave an acquiescent nod that held a touch of regalness to it. “At dinner all Houses must be at their tables.”

"Thank you, professors," Tara spoke graciously and swept away from the staff table.

Together they watched as Tara passed on the good news to Draco and Harry. Harry rose from his place, and quite bravely approached the Gryffindor table. Either he ignored, or was unaware of the wide variety of stares he received as the noise level of the Gryffindors receded. There was puzzlement, curiosity, and outright hostility. Curiosity emanated from the Weasley twins, Fred and George but hatred radiated from the youngest Weasley. Snape noted the expression on the youngest redhead's face. That one would bear watching.

Snape's attention then shifted to the awkward, skinny, Granger girl. He wasn't at all fond of the child. She had shown she was intelligent and had a love of learning, but couldn't stop her need to show off how smart she was in front of all the other students. He'd heard some of the other teachers marvel at how bright she was, but he was not about to jump on the bandwagon.

Snape had little tolerance for know-it-alls and excessive hand-waving. For now, he was ignoring the girl in class, unless no one else spoke up.

"She's a brilliant child," Minerva's eyes sparkled fondly.

"Miss Granger is an unabashed show-off," he sneered.

"Miss Granger is a Muggle-born child who is only trying to prove herself, Severus. You might see to encouraging her. Taking points away when she has the answers is just... petty," sniffed Minerva.

"Being Muggle-born is not an excuse. The child's incessant need for validation is a threat to all of my other students, Minerva. I am nearly ready to expel the girl." He sipped at his coffee.

Minerva glared at him. He only gave her a cheeky smirk and she huffed. This was one argument she was not going to win. Snape's gaze went back to the Gryffindor table. He felt a sudden tension in the air. Although it appeared as though he were merely observing, Snape's muscles were taut, ready, just in case.

"Go back to your pit you slimy Snake!" spat the redheaded first year that Snape had made note of, at Harry.

Harry, who had managed to ignore the other Gryffindors up to this point, flinched. The absolute hate that was laced in the boy's tone was like hearing his aunt, or uncle, or even his cousin address him. He paused and the smile he'd approached Hermione with wavered.

"Shut up, Ron!" snapped Hermione as she grabbed her book bag and scooted away from the table.

It was that sharp admonition from Hermione towards the redhead that put Harry back on track. Hermione grabbed his arm and together they marched triumphantly back to the Slytherin table.

Snape was pleased to see his two prefects keeping a sharp eye on the Slytherins that might not appreciate either a Gryffindor, or a Muggle-born at their table. As for Harry and Draco, they allowed the girl to sit between them, making her feel welcome, yet protecting her at the same time. Teddy Nott greeted her, and Blaise Zabini did as well. Pansy Parkinson, though, had an expression on her pug-like face that was as vituperative as the one that still remained on Ron Weasley's.

Breakfast was almost finished when Snape caught Minerva staring somewhat surreptitiously at Harry.

The older woman sighed, "James wouldn't have been at all happy."

Snape bristled, both at the mention of his long, dead rival, and at the implied insult. "As he is dead, he does not have much say in the matter, does he?"

Minerva whirled on him, as best as she could in her chair at the staff table, "Severus Snape!" she admonished, her voice almost hissing in its whisper. "I was not implying that James would be unhappy to have Harry in your House! I was trying to say that he would not have been happy to know the circumstances that sent him to Slytherin."

Snape didn't relax his scowl. He was sure there was still some sort of insult in all of that. "What would you know of Mr. Potter’s circumstances?" he inquired tightly. “I thought your only involvement was when the Headmaster brought Potter to his relatives. Hm?”

It was Minerva's turn to roll her eyes at him. "I am the Deputy Headmistress, Severus. It is my business to know.” She leaned closer to the Potions Master and spoke in a controlled whisper, “I am also Albus’ second for The Order.” She took a bite of her meal, and spoke in a more normal tone of voice, “ Frankly, Albus wasn't too happy with Poppy when she shared Mr. Potter's medical record with me, but Poppy was concerned that nothing appeared to have been done about it."

"Something has been done," Snape spoke quietly. He had not known that Poppy would have spoken to Minerva. He recalled that Minerva had referred to the Dursleys as the 'worst sort of Muggles', but then he'd seen the rather brusque shove the Deputy Headmistress had given Harry after his Sorting. That still rankled that it was Minerva, a woman who had long thought well of, that had done such a mean and prejudicial action.

Snape glanced quickly up and down the table. "Professor, we both have about 45 minutes before classes begin. Might I walk you to your classroom?"

Minerva picked up on the hint that Snape wanted to speak to her a bit more privately. Dabbing her lips with her napkin, she moved away from the table and through the narrow door behind the staff table. Seconds later, Snape was behind her.

Albus glanced up from his morning tea to watch his two professors leaving together, and he frowned slightly before Filius Flitwick could capture his attention.

Once the two professors were in a corridor by themselves, Snape began by bluntly pointing out, "I was rather under the impression that you, like Albus, were not at all happy with Mr. Potter's Sorting."

"I'll admit I was shocked, Severus, but I'd never hold it against the boy. After all, Lily continued to hold a great regard for you, despite your troubles in your fifth year," declaimed the Deputy Headmistress.

Snape stopped in mid-step. This was news to him. Lily had nearly severed all ties between them after an incident out by the lake. An incident in which the Marauders had publicly humiliated him, and he had uttered the worst thing possible to his best friend. Thus, when Lily had summoned him to her parents house almost a year before her death, he had been resentful, but nonetheless curious.

"Lily held nothing but contempt for me, Minerva. And I was convenient..."

Minerva held up her hand and fixed his black eyes with her own, steady, brown-eyed gaze. "You know as well as I do that Lily was not one to hold grudges, Severus. Of course, during the remainder of your fifth year, it might have been easy considering you were both still children. After that, it became a matter of self-preservation. Muggle-borns were being targeted, and you know this,” she said with steely emphasis. “A renewed association with you in your sixth year would have been inviting trouble for you both. Lily was wise to remain with James and his friends. They kept her safe, and it kept you safe."

"How... how do you know this?" asked Snape softly.

"I loved Lily, Severus, as if she were my own child. There were so many times when she was unable to speak to her parents because they were Muggles and there was no way for them to understand. She came to me. Lily talked with me." Minerva hesitantly touched his forearm, specifically the one that bore the Dark Mark. "It pained her greatly to lose her best friend, Severus, but she knew, as did I, that if she were to openly forgive you, it could have meant your death."

Snape yanked his arm away as pain, deep pain from years gone past welled up inside of him. He turned sharply away, doing his best to steady his breathing.

"You could have told me!" he snapped with a hiss through a throat that was tight with the renewed pain inside of him.

Minerva bowed her head. "Yes, I should have, Severus, but I truly did not think you wanted to hear it."

"I... found... her!" he said through gritted teeth as he spun to face the older witch. "I should not have but I had to follow the Dark Lord since I was certain he meant to kill all of them.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I was too late. Potter was in the hallway… crumpled… I can see his glasses as I stumbled on them… on him. I hoped that Lily had survived but then I heard the boy screaming. The rest of the way…” Snape gulped at the lump of pain in his throat and then continued, “I… found… her. I tried to revive her but I heard that damned motorcycle of Black’s. I had to… I had no choice but to leave.” He glared darkly at his colleague. “All this time I thought Lily died disappointed in me!" He started to stomp away, but Minerva, possessed of strength he didn't expect, grabbed his arm and held him in place.

"Severus... Sev..." still holding tight to his arm, Minerva gently touched his cheek with her palm, "Child, listen to me. I didn't know. I did not know you still held feelings for Lily. How could I? I was neither your Head of House nor your confidant. In our Order meetings I know that you were our spy, but even then I was uncertain of your loyalties. You came, you went… you never stayed to talk to any of us. I, and the others, felt you hated them. It wasn't until Albus testified for you during the Death Eaters Tribunal that I realised the trust he had in you."

"You could have said... after the trials... all this time..." The hurt in the younger man's voice, as cold as it still was as he tried, desperately, to control his emotions, tore at Minerva's heart.

"At one point the knowledge weighed heavily upon my mind, Severus, and I thought to tell you, but I had spoken first to Albus and he suggested that it would be too painful for you to know what was long in the past," she spoke softly, her Scottish brogue coming out with her regret.

"Why?" asked Snape as mentally he worked hard to Occlude his mind against the pain. "It makes no sense for the Headmaster to have told you that. He knew... he..."

The sounds of chattering and laughter in the distance warned them that the children had all been released to their classes. Quickly Snape whispered, "Will you come and have tea? Tonight after dinner?"

She nodded her agreement and then they both parted towards their classrooms.

It was in Transfiguration class that Harry finally got to see why the Gryffindors were so hostile to Hermione. Every single question meant her hand was up in the air faster than anyone else's. Hermione seemed oblivious to the dark looks that were being shot her way.

Minerva tried not to call on Hermione all the time, but halfway through the class, no one else even bothered to try and raise their hand. Hermione was much too quick. Once, when McGonagall didn't call on her fast enough, the girl blurted out the answer. The professor sighed when she took five points from her own House.

"She's a disaster," whispered Draco to Harry when the class was just winding up to end.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We've got to talk to her before she winds up with a detention or gets hurt." His gaze strayed to the redhead who was scowling so darkly at Hermione that Harry wondered if the phrase, 'if looks could kill' had some basis in fact in the Wizarding world

9 Sept 1991 - Monday Evening

Snape's day had been a bad one. Why was it, when anyone had bad news to give him it was always around breakfast time?

Lily had forgiven him? She'd avoided him to keep him safe?

He tossed a pillow into the corner of his old, favourite sofa a bit too strongly and it thumped once, then bounced off and onto the floor. Whipping out his wand, the pillow burst, scattering feathers all over the sofa and floor. Snape sighed in frustration at the mess. Another wave of his wand, and all was clean. A knock came at his door at that moment.

As he expected, there stood Minerva looking as drawn as he felt tired. He invited her into his quarters and showed her to the sofa. Minerva sat down, gratefully, upon the sofa and looked around her colleague's quarters.

Had she never visited him? The suite of rooms that consisted of a small study, a bedroom hidden by a closed door, the modest and cozy living room, a kitchenette, were all quite unexpected by the Head of Gryffindor. Minerva didn't know what she expected of the solemn and often sarcastic, young wizard, but it was not this pleasant chamber.

The living room had been spartanly decorated which allowed for bookshelves that lined almost all the walls. A candle-lit chandelier cast a warm glow over the room from Dripless Spelled wax candles. The fire, held within a wide fireplace, added more light as the flames licked hungrily at cedar logs which gave a welcome scent to the room. The walls were the grey stone of the dungeon, but they were warmed by thick, forest green, pile carpet on the floor.

For a brief moment Minerva watched in surprise as Snape went to the kitchenette to prepare the tea. She rose from the sofa to assist and soon the two colleagues were working in silence to prepare the tea. Minerva watched as Snape poured the heated water into a delicate blue china teapot that had a lid that had been chipped at some point in its history.

"My mother taught me to make good, English tea," volunteered the Potions Master gently. "She would make the tea every evening before I went to bed. I would help her." His finger traced the chip in the lid. "Once... I got angry at my mother." He gently placed the lid on the teapot and then carried the teapot to the tray. He never said why he had gotten angry at his mother.

While Minerva followed Snape back into the living room, she felt somewhat bereft of the ritual of tea making. She pushed that aside as she re-seated herself on the sofa and accepted a cup of the tea.

After several minutes, when it appeared like neither was going to speak, it was Minerva that spoke up. "I am truly sorry, Severus. It never occurred to me to question what Albus told me."

"It seems there are many who appear content not to question him," Snape replied, his voice free of the anger he had held earlier.

Minerva frowned slightly. "You're referring to something else, Severus. What is it?"Snape gave her a hard look, "The Headmaster will send Harry back to the Dursleys this summer."

Minerva gasped. "He wouldn't! Not after seeing Poppy's report!"

"Blood wards. He told me he would send Harry back with Protection Spells and at my objection, he said if I must, I may go with him, but that Harry would go back."

"That's... that's monstrous! Severus? What is he about? Why would he allow a child to come to such harm?" she asked, completely puzzled and distressed. Again the silence fell and Minerva broke it again, "Will Albus really send Harry back to those monsters?" asked Minerva.

"The Headmaster is of the belief that Lily's own filial magic, her love, is what saved Harry from the Killing Curse. That magic, even though she is a Muggle, is carried by the sister and her son, thus, the Blood Wards that serve to keep Harry safe from those who would mean him harm."

Minerva frowned over her cup. "Blood Wards are more than just blood, Severus. There must be intent as well as the most basic of affections between those who share the blood," she exclaimed.

Snape looked up. "I had not researched Blood Wards so I did not know. There is no love there, Minerva. There could not be if Harry's family were so obviously hurting him."

"Does Harry even consider the place home?" she asked Snape.

He shook his head. "I cannot say. It is not something I thought to have asked him."

"Have you yet spoken to Harry about the abuse, Severus?"

Again he shook his head. "I have been too busy since the night of the Sorting Feast to give it much thought. However," he began to amend, "it is my intention to speak to him at some point."

"The sooner the better, Severus." He simply nodded and they both refreshed their tea, falling, for a long moment once more into silence. The flames crackled in the fireplace, but the warmth it had once offered seemed to be seeping away. Minerva shivered.

Snape then broke the silence, "Minerva, does Albus not tell you of his plans?"

The older woman snorted delicately. "Albus trusts me, Severus, but not with his secrets. I did not even know the trust he held you in until..."

Snape nodded sharply. "Until he stood for me before the Wizengamot."

Minerva put down her nearly empty teacup. "I do know that Albus believes He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will return, but I do not know why he thinks this other than the fact that but for a bit of ash, his body was never found. You know of nothing?"

"There was... a... prophecy," the wizard said slowly. He closed his eyes as that old memory, his greatest shame, rose up in his mind like a fiend. Opening his eyes halfway, he saw that Minerva's attention was on him completely. "Let me go a bit further back," he sighed softly as he decided that he must tell the witch all of his story.

"I was not yet 18, Minerva, and I did not know of my mother's inheritance. In order for me to earn the mastery I desired, I needed a sponsor. My only recourse was to ask Abraxas Malfoy for help. I expected a loan of some sort, maybe to work for his family in some way. I did not know that I would be selling him my soul." He opened his eyes all the way and looked upon his colleague, his eyes begging for understanding. "I will not apologise, Minerva. Without the title of Master there would be no jobs. No one would take me seriously. My little private potions making business had ended when my mother died and the magic hiding her small potions lab ended. My father destroyed it."

Snape put down the teacup and summoned his brandy. After pouring himself a measure, he offered it to Minerva who shook her head. Putting down the decanter of brandy, he sipped at his glass of dark amber liquid allowing it to burn through his old memories and to give him courage to continue.

"The night I took the Dark Mark was, what I thought then, one of the worst mistakes ever I had made. I was terrified and I did the only thing I could think of; I went to Dumbledore." Snape's head dropped and his hair curtained over his face, obscuring it.

--The Past--

Snape had not realised it at first, but in his highly emotional state he had Apparated to Hogwarts. For a moment he stood there beneath the cold moon, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, he broke into a run up towards the castle. He did not stop running until he reached the gargoyle.

"Butter beer! Fizzing whizbees! Licorice snaps!" Snape tried a dozen more before shouting frantically, "Sherbet lemon!" Still the gargoyle did not move. "Headmaster! Headmaster!" Snape shouted. He fell to his knees feeling that his cries would go unheeded. It was then he felt hands lifting him. That is, until he felt the rough cloth of his sleeve fall back to his elbow, scraping the injured flesh on his left forearm.

"Severus! What have you done?!" demanded Albus.

Snape raised his head and stared into the face of Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard had his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip that was bruising the delicate bones beneath the skin. He did not consider the pain more than a bother since his own soul was in pain.

"Headmaster, please...!" begged Snape. He cringed and yanked his wrist from the older wizard's hand as he saw the blue eyes become as hard as ice with disappointment and... disgust?

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I can see your fear, Severus, but that is not enough to absolve you. It is not enough for me to believe that you truly understand what it is you have done tonight."

When the Headmaster began to turn away from him, that's when the anger exploded. "Again you ignore me?! Disgusted by Snivellus the Slytherin, Dumbledore?" Snape gathered every last shred of his dignity and rose to his feet. "You contemptible, self-righteous, old man! I am a fool for ever having thought I'd find mercy at your feet."

Snape swept away from Dumbledore, his robes billowing defiantly behind him. As for the Headmaster; he had completely turned away never aware of the younger man’s departure.

Snape couldn't sit down any more as Minerva gasped in horror. "He turned you away? You came to him for help, and he turned you away? Ohhh, Severus! If only I'd known..."

The young man was pacing furiously, "I hated him, Minerva. How often had I sat in his office as he praised my mind, my intelligence as he offered me those damn sherbet lemons while those that hurt me were left free to do so again. I left that night determined to hurt him. Only, I failed."

For a long moment he was silent, yet still he paced, though it was slower. "I was not a part of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. I wanted to be a part of that Elite; those men, mostly, who seemed to have the Dark Lord's counsel. I worked hard at my apprenticeship and my diligence paid off as the Dark Lord recognised my talent. He gave me a lab filled with everything I could ever have desired. It was not enough, though. I felt, if I were part of that Inner Circle, I would gain the power I wanted to hurt Dumbledore."

Snape paused in his recitation and his pacing. "And then, a gem dropped into my lap."

The wizard then related how he had been at the Leaky Cauldron and happened to overhear the Headmaster interviewing a candidate for the Divination position. Just as Dumbledore was leaving, and Snape was preparing to dart away before being discovered…

--The Hog’s Head Inn early 1980--

A gust of ancient magic swept over the young man that was crouched just outside the door of one of the small meeting rooms at the Hog’s Head Inn. Snape felt fear twist round his heart, and as much as he wished to run and hide like a child, he also felt compelled to remain where he was. And then he heard a trembling, reed thin voice coming through the door, chanting.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..."

"Here, you! Filthy little spy!"

Snape cried out as he was rudely picked up by the collar of his robes by Aberforth Dumbledore, the owner of The Hog’s Head Inn, and unceremoniously dragged across the tavern. He was then roughly thrown out the door. Snape and Aberforth exchanged empty threats until the young wizard had gained his feet and ran.

Minerva interrupted her colleague. "You went to... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Snape nodded miserably. "The Dark Lord was... hungry for insight to the future. Bellatrix Lestrange had wheedled herself to his side with those idiotic Tarot cards of hers… and her… favours. Mad she was, but she knew how to read people, and that included the Dark Lord. There have been times she has frightened me more than Him," he grimaced with distaste. "Had I been privy to some insight to the future for myself, I would have known the moment I heard that be-damned prophecy that it had a price that was incalculable."

"Lily and James?" gasped Minerva in horror.

He continued with his story revealing how he had gone, once more to Albus, and confessed his sins. He then pledged his life to the venerable wizard if only to keep Lily, and her son, and yes, even her husband, safe.

“You were a spy!” gasped Minerva.

Snape managed a smirk that was more grimace as he retorted, “I was not at the Order meetings for my health, Minerva.” He flopped resignedly into his chair.

There was a long spate of silence, and then the Deputy Headmaster spoke slowly, “If Albus was keeping them safe why did Lily and James still die?”

“He moved the Potters, Minerva, to his boyhood house in Godrics Hollow. Had he remained Secret Keeper I am certain they would still be alive,” he said sadly. He then added sourly, “as would the Dark Lord.”

“Who was Secret Keeper if it was not Albus?” asked Minerva.

“Albus… never told me who the Secret Keeper was,” replied Snape. He gave a the older woman a deep glance that let her know that the Potions Master had been imparted that information by a source of Darkness, his other master, the Dark Lord. ‘Who?’ mouthed Minerva. Snape replied slowly, “Sirius Black.”

“Sirius?” gasped Minerva. “He betrayed his best friends? Severus, are you sure?”

“All any of us know at this point is supposition, Minerva. It was believed that Black betrayed his friends because it was believed he killed those twelve Muggles, and his friend, Peter Pettigrew.” Snape dropped his head into his hands and aggressively massaged his temples. “What Black did was evil but I betrayed my best friend. We should both be in Azkaban but it is only Black who is there.”

Minerva was feeling her age as her shoulders drooped, and her spine bent. “And, you found Lily,” she breathed. “I am…” Minerva shook her head. The witch moved stiffly to her feet, and then straightened her back. “Severus.”

The younger wizard raised his gaze to his colleague. He expected her to shout at him, to hex him for having been the instrument that sent death to Lily's door and nearly killed Harry.

When Minerva walked over to him, Snape could not stop the very slight flinch in his shoulders as Minerva raised her arms. He would not shrink from the older woman's retribution, whatever it might be.

Snape did not expect to be embraced.

For a moment he stiffened, a small boy deep within his psyche still worried that he might be struck. Minerva did not let him go.

"Oh, Severus! My poor, poor child," she whispered sadly. Tears fell from her brown eyes as she recalled Snape telling her just that morning that it was he who had come across Lily's body first. She only held the young man tighter until, with a shuddered exhalation, his body relaxed and his own arms went around her. “Our world has been so unfair to you,” she breathed gently.

Time stopped its inexorable passage as the two adults stood, comforting each other. Teacher, student. Colleagues. Friends. Allies to Harry Potter and any other child that needed them.

When Time caught up once more, the two parted. Minerva, thoughtful, her brow beetled with concern. Snape, embarrassed by his emotions and suffering the beginnings of what promised to be an unforgiving migraine. They both seated themselves. Minerva used a Warming Spell to heat up the tea and then she served them both. Snape was reaching for the brandy but she sent it out of his way and urged him to take the teacup she was offering him.

Minerva sipped her tea before speaking, "So Albus believes Harry to be... to be... what?"

"Our Saviour," Snape replied flatly.

Minerva would have given the Potions Master another look of horror, but she was mentally too exhausted. She sighed heavily instead. "He's just a little boy." Her lips pursed tautly. "And he intends to send Harry back to those despicable Muggles? It makes no sense! Albus must know that Blood Wards are useless, especially if abuse such as that poor child has faced exists."

Snape turned the conversation in another direction while he tried to erase the past with his Occlumency, "Minerva? Do you recall the Squib, Arabella Figg?"

Snape turned the conversation in another direction while he tried to erase the past with his Occlumency, "Minerva? Do you recall the Squib, Arabella Figg?"

Minerva let out a half-amused snort. "That sweet little woman who never could stop talking about her cats?"

Snape's eyebrow rose. As a cat Animagus he might have guessed that Minerva might have some fond thoughts for the woman. He hadn't, though. "Yes, her. Were you aware that she's been on Privet Drive the whole time Harry was with the Dursleys? Harry tells me that she was his babysitter."

"His babysitter? No. Albus said he had members of the Order looking out for him..." she shook her head in furious resignation. "Another lie I was too willing to believe!" Minerva put down the remains of her tea, unwilling to finish it. "At least I now understand why she was at the meetings. But, Severus, wouldn't she have at least seen something? The Dursleys were not careful about where they... they hit the child. Surely she must have seen bruises?" Minerva was the one to rise from the sofa and to pace slowly, her hands clasped reverently in front of her. "This is all so much to take in, Severus. I have grown so accustomed to obeying Albus without question, that I feel as though my foundation is being shattered."

Snape bowed his head in guilt. He had not meant to distress the woman, but his trust for her had blossomed in leaps and bounds in the last hour over tea, and so he had spoken frankly to her of things he'd thought long dead.

Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Albus Dumbledore's Chosen Saviour of the Wizarding World. Lily's son. A little boy, abused by his relatives, left to survive by his own wits while the adults who should have helped him were running around with their thumbs up their…

“Dark Man,” chided the whisper of a breeze where there should be none. Laughter followed, then faded.

Yes. He'd made a promise to Lily, but he'd made a vow to Harry the night he'd carried the frail child from those evil Muggles. He should have come sooner, but one can only regret the past, and regrets are but empty guilt. He was here, now, and he would not send a little innocent boy back into the arms of an unloving family.

Snape couldn't do it alone.

Snape considered his pacing colleague for a moment, then spoke quietly, as though the walls had ears (which was always a possibility). "There may be someone who can assist me in helping Harry, Minerva. Will you support me? Against Albus?"

Minerva stiffened. She didn't want to go against Albus, but she had seen the reports on Harry Potter's abuse at the hands of his relatives. She also knew more about Blood Wards than the Headmaster did and knew they were a weak excuse, at best. And, Albus had lied to her. Minerva might forgive his secrets, the withholding of information, but the lying was too hard for her to let go. So long poor Severus had suffered, thinking that Lily had died despising him. All this time, Minerva knew that wasn't so and she could have told him. Albus could have told him… he had not.

The wily old witch had one last question, though, before she answered Snape's. "Who is this person you will ask to help you keep Harry safe, Severus?"

For a moment, Snape did not answer. He knew that Minerva would not receive it well, and despite any trust she had in him, she might withdraw it after hearing who he intended to speak to.

Taking a deep breath, he stated carefully, "Lucius Malfoy."

Minerva made no sign of shock, and this worried Snape. Instead, the old witch calmly finished her tea, which had to have been cold by now, and gave him a stern glare; the one he'd often get from her when he was a boy in her class and he'd only had thoughts of getting back at James Potter for a prank played upon him.

"Do you trust Lucius?" she asked tautly.

"I trust in his desire to restore honor to the Malfoy name," Snape replied smoothly. "I trust in Lucius' love for his son and his wife." He took a deep breath. “I trust in the friendship we both have strengthened through the years.”

"What would you do, Severus, if he tried to harm Harry?"

Snape's gaze became like flint and his voice, when he spoke, was silken, and full of the power that many grown wizards feared, "He would not." Snape was so firm in his conviction his voice told Minerva more than his words. Minerva nodded her approval, and with a prim smile, requested another cup of tea.

12 Sept 1991 - Thursday

Hermione continued to sit with Draco and Harry at breakfast and it was something for her to look forward to in the morning. This morning, though, she was late and the two boys were waiting impatiently just at the doors to the Great Hall.

Ron Weasley eyed the two Slytherins darkly as he passed by them, but the boy said nothing. When Harry caught sight of Neville Longbottom, he stopped the boy.

Neville, round cheeked, and still carrying baby fat, seemed to be the most genial of all the Gryffindors besides Hermione. Harry had been partnered with Neville in Charms, and although Neville was unusually nervous in the class, he had been pleasant and the two boys had gotten along decently.

"Hey, Neville," Harry greeted the boy. Neville smiled warily as two older Gryffindors walked past and eyed Neville speaking to the two Slytherins. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"She's in the Infirmary," blurted Neville, and then he lowered his voice. "One of her dorm mates put Extra Strength Itching Powder in her bed and she scratched herself something fierce."

Harry glared and Draco looked a bit sick. "That's nasty!" declared Draco. "Who did it?" he demanded.

Neville shrugged. "Don't know, but McGonagall's awful mad and took points from all four girls in her dorm since none of them would confess."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said politely. Neville nodded and rushed into the Great Hall. "Let's go visit Hermione before flying class," suggested Harry.

"Okay." They went into the Great Hall, and Draco suddenly grinned. "Are you ready to fly today?"

The last few nights Draco had been educating Harry on flying a broomstick and the best game in the wizarding world - Quidditch!

Draco and Harry had about twenty minutes before the Broom Instruction class and so they ran to the Infirmary to visit Hermione. They found the young Gryffindor sitting on one of the beds looking much better than they had expected. In fact, she looked ready to leave.

"Hey, Hermione!" greeted Harry. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. Harry noted that although she smiled Hermione still looked sad.

"I'm fine," she replied softly. "How did you two find out?"

"Neville," answered Draco. "Extra Strength Itching Powder is awful, Hermione. Do you know who did it?" He had a narrow-eyed look that promised appropriate retribution on her behalf.

Hermione shook her head and was about to pick up her book bag when Harry grabbed it. "No one likes me, so it doesn't really matter."

"One moment, Miss Granger!" The medi-witch bustled out of her office and handed her a small tin. "You may have occasional outbreaks in the next three days, so the Skin Soother Cream will help. You may go, now."

Hermione slipped off the bed and went ahead of the boys. Draco leaned over towards Harry, "We gotta do something, Harry."

Harry simply nodded in reply. He wondered if the Dark Man... er... Professor Snape could help Hermione.

Madame Hooch paraded in front of her first year students standing on the grass with school brooms next to them, like a soldier as she barked out instructions.

"Put your hand over the broom, speak firmly, and order it up!" she blew her whistle which startled Harry, but he only flinched.

There was a chaotic chorus of 'ups' from the children as they ordered, coaxed, or pleaded for their brooms to jump up into their hands.

"Up, you!" demanded Ron Weasley and he was promptly smacked in the face by his broom handle. Draco and several other Slytherins laughed out loud. Harry smirked. Ron glared at all of them, but especially at Harry.

"Up. Up? Up!" Hermione said over and over at her broom. There wasn't even a twitch. She huffed in annoyance.

"Show no fear, Miss Granger. You're in charge, not your broom," Madame Hooch encouraged. "Try again."

While the professor stood in front of her, Hermione pursed her lips together, stared at the broom, and then demanded firmly, "Up!" The broom jumped and snapped neatly up into the palm of her hand.

"Good girl!" praised Madame Hooch.

Madame Hooch worked with another student, from Slytherin, who was also having trouble. While she was busy, Neville had nervously mounted his broom and before anyone could stop him he was up in the air careening about like a drunken man and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Madame Hooch shouted for Neville to come down, but he had no control over his broom as it veered this way and that. Beneath him, the students tried to follow by racing back and forth on the grass like lemmings. Hermione let out a scream as Neville's broom flipped upside-down and he began to fall. Madame Hooch had her wand out in a wink and cast a spell that slowed the boy's fall. Even so, when he hit the ground, he let out a pained moan as his wrist was bent awkwardly backwards. Madame Hooch ran over to him and knelt down.

"Oh dear! That does look broken." She helped him to his feet and he swayed woozily. "You lot stay put and on the ground!" she ordered as she walked Neville back to the castle.

Everyone watched, murmuring quietly to each other. Draco saw a red spark on the ground where Neville had fallen and ran over to pick up what appeared to be a red, glittering, cricket ball.

"Look at this!" crowed Draco with his prize. He tossed it up in the air.

"It's a Remembrall," said Teddy Nott.

"Draco! That's Neville's!" informed Hermione. "He got it from his Gran this morning in the common room."

"So? It's mine, now," he grinned.

"No it isn't," said Harry. "C'mon, Draco, give it here." Harry held out his hand.

"Let's have some fun Harry!" Draco threw the the Remembrall up into the air. Swiftly, Draco mounted his broom and flew after it. When he caught up to it her threw the Remembrall far in front of him.

"Harry!" snapped Hermione. "He's going to break it!"

Harry, annoyed with his friend, mounted his broom, and not even thinking about the fact he'd never flown before, rose up swiftly into the air and after Draco.

"Give it here, Draco!" shouted Harry as he flew almost right up beside the boy. "You'll break it!"

"Remembralls can't break, Harry!" Draco caught the red ball again. "Try to catch it Harry!" He threw it, hard, in front of them both.

Harry was still annoyed, but deep down, he had to admit, this was fun! He sped after the Remembrall, keeping his eye on it, until he got close enough to almost reach out and grab it. At that moment, it lost forward momentum and dipped down. Harry dipped down, too, and snatched the Remembrall out of the air.

Without realising what he was doing, he threw it so Draco could race after it and catch it. Draco let out a whoop and sent his broom rocketing through the sky towards where Harry had tossed the Remembrall. For several minutes, the two boys played toss and catch with Neville's Remembrall until a familiar, angry voice, using the Sonorous Spell, called them down from the air.

Snape's free period should have been spent grading more quizzes or preparing for his next class. Instead, he'd gone for a walk and much needed fresh air.

Despite the comfort he now had in knowing that Minerva was an ally, he had not slept well last night as images of Lily begging him to protect her son had plagued his dreams. Along with those images, were others of the night he'd taken the Dark Mark, the painful rejection by the one man who once had seemingly thought kindly of him, and Voldemort.

His lack of sleep had not reflected well in his classes for the morning, and in his temper he'd taken points and given more detentions than was usual for him. He didn't worry overly much about it since the students in question would merit a true detention for some infraction or another later in the day.

Snape needed to get back to the work that waited for him in his office on his desk. The fresh air had revived him and had helped him to move away from the past and so his footstep was leisurely as he headed back towards the castle. Because of this slow pace, he was witness to the sight of two first years on brooms tossing what appeared to be a red ball between them.

Snape glared in worry. Both children were far too high (damn Hooch for refusing to put a Height Limit Spell on the school training brooms!) and they were also flying about as if they hadn't a care in the world.

Suddenly, the red ball dropped sharply and the two children dove after it. If it were physically possible, Snape's heart leapt up into his throat, twice. First, when he recognised his two Slytherins, Harry and Draco, and second when he was sure they were both going to smash into the ground. Harry caught the ball, though, threw it, and before Draco could hit the earth, he spun his broom sharply and was after it.

Snape broke into a run, cursing the two dunderheads under his breath. Upon reaching the area where Hooch taught her flying class and seeing her class unattended and her nowhere about, he put his wand to his throat, cast Sonorous, and bellowed.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy! Get down here before you kill yourselves!"

The entire flying class backed away from the irate teacher. The Slytherins grumbled at their two fellows being caught, and the Gryffindors relished the thought of seeing Snape punish someone from his own House.

Snape cancelled the Sonorous Spell and watched (somewhat in appreciation) as both Slytherins landed effortlessly.

Harry and Draco were both flushed from their flying adventure, but Snape was inwardly pleased that they both wiped the grins from their faces as they approached their teacher and Head of House.

"What in Merlin's teeth is going on here?" he snapped.

Draco found the tips of his boots very interesting. Harry's mouth gaped open several times like a dying fish. The answer, predictably, came from Hermione who broke from the group of students.

"Draco took Neville's Remembrall and Harry was going to go get it, but then they started playing..." Her voice faded at Snape's dark, disapproving scowl.

"I do not believe I asked you for an explanation, Miss Granger. Ten points for talking out of turn." He pointed sharply at the students behind her. Her cheeks flamed and she turned away, trotting back obediently to the other students.

Snape returned his attention to his two errant Snakes. "One of you had better start talking. Now."

Draco chanced a glance up at his Head of House and shrugged.

Snape's scowl got even darker and the small first year shivered a bit. "Playing?" he squeaked.

"Yeah, uhm... well..." Harry mumbled and held the Remembrall out to his professor.

Snape snatched the Remembrall from Harry's hand. "You are both idiots," he drawled dangerously under his breath. "Go stand against the castle wall until I'm ready to deal with you two."

Draco let out a huff and Harry caught the boy by his sleeve and dragged him to the nearby castle where they both, dutifully, put their noses against the grey stone.

"Miss Granger!" Snape summoned the girl.

Hermione looked up and when someone pushed her, she stumbled towards him. "Yes, Professor?" she blurted as she righted herself.

"Where is Madame Hooch?" he demanded.

"Neville lost control of his broom and broke his wrist, so she took him to the Infirmary, sir." She replied as succinctly as she could.

Snape fumed, angry more at Hooch than any of the students. It wasn't their responsibility to monitor themselves when their instructor left the class.

"Fine!" he snapped after he counted to ten within his mind. "With the exception of Misters Potter and Malfoy, everyone else, line up with your brooms..."

Snape took over the classroom lesson in the hopes that Hooch might return before his free hour was totally up. As it was, she didn't return until just as he dismissed the class a few minutes early.

Harry and Draco had been putting the brooms away and they walked back from the broom shed, heads hanging, as they knew that their Head of House was still angry with them.

Snape, his hands against his hips, glared down at the two boys. "You have both brought shame upon your House with your behavior today and I am greatly displeased," he spoke bluntly. "You have embarrassed me as well by making me discipline the both of you in front of students from another House." He watched with narrowed eyes as Draco scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. Harry, on the other hand, was as still as a statue. "Chins up!" he ordered at the tops of their heads. "You are to look at me when I speak to you."

Their heads snapped up. There was defiance in Draco's eyes, but fear in Harry's. "Detention. Friday after dinner," he intoned deeply.

"But we'll miss getting to see the Quidditch tryouts!" protested Draco.

"Then perhaps missing that privilege along with preparing ingredients will remind you both to behave, will it not?" he gave them both a hard glare.

"Yes, sir," said Harry a bit too cowed for Snape's comfort.

"All day?! That's not fair!" Draco whined.

"That is what a punishment is, Mr. Malfoy." He gave the boy a dark, satisfied smirk. "I doubt your father will be none too happy to hear that you've already earned another detention. It might even give him cause to... visit you."

Draco paled. To Snape's surprise, Harry spoke up, "No! Does Mr. Malfoy have to know, sir?"

"I never hesitate in informing parents of what their children are up to, Mr. Potter. Good and bad." Immediately Snape knew that was a mistake to have revealed that information to Harry. His cheeks became snow white as the colour drained from his face.

His breath hitching painfully, Harry pleaded through his gasps, "Please! Don't tell... them... please... they'll kill... me!"

In a second Snape was down on one knee helping the child to breathe. Draco had knelt, too, and watched his friend with concern. "Mr. Potter! It is all right. You need not worry about the Dursleys. Breathe, Harry. I know your lungs hurt, but you need to calm yourself." His hand was palm flat against the boy's chest and Harry's own hands were clasped over his.

"Yeah, breathe, Harry," Draco interjected softly. "It's gonna be okay."

Between the two of them, Harry's panic attack passed quickly and he was once again breathing steadily. "Please, sir," Harry whispered so faintly, Snape nearly couldn't understand him. Draco also looked to the older wizard, his grey eyes pleading for his friend, even though he didn't quite understand why Harry was afraid.

Snape rose to his feet. "Do not be concerned, Mr. Potter. You have my word. It will be all right."

Harry gulped a few breaths as Draco looped his arm through his friend's arm. He stretched out a hand to grasp a fold of Professor Snape’s teaching robes. “It’s going… going to be all right? Sir?”

“It will be, Mr. Potter,” Snape assured the boy. He then stretched out his hand and lightly squeezed the boy’s shoulder. Snape urged the two boys onwards to their next class. Watching them run into the castle he sighed heavily. He wished he could have told Harry that the Dursleys would know nothing, but it was an unfortunate fact that he would have to inform them as per school policy.

"What's going on here?" Madame Hooch demanded as she saw her students hurrying toward their last class of the day.

Drawn from his thoughts by the woman's voice, Snape faced Madame Hooch. "It appears that you abandoned your class, Madame," Snape declared snidely.

"I had a student with a broken wrist that needed me, Snape," she replied hotly.

"Indeed? I came across seventeen students that needed you. As you were not here, two of your students decided to play with a Remembrall as they flew, dangerously, upon their brooms. That earned them an evening's detention."

"Gryffindors, Snape?" she sniped smugly.

"Slytherins," he said thinly as he swept by her. "Next time remain with your class and send a student escort instead, Madame! Or I'll find a way to make you wash a few cauldrons by hand!” He was gone so quickly that the enraged Brooms Instructor didn't have a chance to answer with a barbed retort.

13 Sept 1991 - Friday

Finally it was Friday and that meant Potions class. Harry had studied his textbook, quizzed Draco, and looked over the notes he'd taken last sunday when he helped his Head of House with his brewing. Harry didn't think he could be more prepared. He hoped he would not disappoint the professor at all.

The class of Gryffindor and Slytherin first years fell silent as the door slammed open to admit Snape. He strode up towards the front of the classroom, waving his wand towards the chalkboard where instructions for a potion appeared.

"Turn to page twenty-seven," he intoned as he whirled to face his class. He listened as books fell open and pages were quickly flipped to page twenty-seven. His eyes scanned over the bent heads, noting more than a few puzzled looks. He then caught Harry's bright eyed gaze. The boy sat eagerly in the front row with Draco and Hermione. Harry managed a quick, shy smile at his teacher. Snape gave the boy a curt nod of approval before other eyes looked up expectantly.

"Today we are brewing a simple Boil Cure Potion. Gather your ingredients and get started," he ordered.

It was a bit of organised chaos as all the students milled up towards the front of the classroom and into the ingredients cabinet. Harry, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the press of bodies and the claustrophobic feeling that swept through him, stepped backwards a few steps. He swallowed convulsively.

A hand upon his shoulder broke the spell and he looked up over his shoulder at his teacher. Harry took a relieved breath as he saw the assurance in the older man's dark eyes. Harry didn't hesitate to wait until the crowd began to thin and the feeling of impending claustrophobia faded. He then stepped into the cabinet, gathered his ingredients, and hurried back to his cauldron.

"Traitor!" someone hissed under their breath as he passed. Harry looked up to see Ron Weasley glaring at him. Harry looked away and continued on to his desk where he put down his ingredients and got started.

Snape moved smoothly up and down the aisle of two rows of desks as he watched his first years brewing the potion. He had a perpetual scowl upon his face that kept all eyes either upon their textbook or their potion.

"Mr. Weasley, I do hope you are not intending to drop all of those snake fangs into your potion at once," he observed darkly.

"Nooo!" Ron Weasley replied sarcastically as he pulled his fist, full of snake fangs, away from his cauldron.

"Five points, Mr. Weasley. Keep your attitude to yourself and read the instructions!"

Suddenly, there was a hissing and an acrid acidic smell filled the air. Snape spun just in time to see Neville Longbottom's cauldron explode. The boy screamed as some of the botched potion landed on his trousers and shoes. Snape reacted quickly, as did Harry. Harry pulled the other nearby Gryffindors out of the way of the flowing, spreading, caustic mess while Snape vanished Longbottom's trousers and shoes. A second later he had conjured a damp, cool towel that he draped over the boy's pale legs.

"Mr. Weasley!" snapped Snape, "Fetch Madame Pomfrey!" The first year Weasley ran out of the dungeon classroom, sprinting once he was in the corridor for the Infirmary.

"It h-h-h-hurts!" wailed Neville piteously.

"Then perhaps you shall remember not to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire!" Snape reprimanded sharply.

Harry heard the hissed admonishment and stared angrily at Snape. His own lips thinned and his features shadowed as he hid his disappointment. Disappointment quickly turned to confusion as Harry then watched as Snape carefully lifted the child away from further spillage and carried him into his office.

Curious, Harry followed as silently as possible and peered into the office.

Snape balanced the child precariously on one hip after silently and wandlessly casting a Featherlight Charmas he quickly transfigured a chair into a small sofa. He then carefully placed Longbottom on the sofa and as gently as possible, removed the damp towel to survey the angry, red damage on the boy's legs. Neville let out a whimper.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he sniffed as tears ran down his round cheeks.

Snape conjured a new, freshly damp towel and laid it carefully over the burns on the boy's legs. "You will learn, child, the value of carefully reading your text as the years pass. I doubt this will be the last of such accidents." The man's voice was not cruel, but it was firm.

"I just get n-n-nervo... ow!" Neville cried out as his stirring jarred the towel causing it to abrade his injury.

"Stay still child," hushed Snape. "Do you wish to have permanent scarring?"

Neville just shook his head and stared worriedly at his legs. Snape, sensing that he was being watched, turned to catch Harry peeking halfway from the side of the door.

"Mr. Potter, do you require something?" asked Snape a bit stiffly.

Harry blinked and his mind whirled with possible excuses so his teacher wouldn't accuse him of eavesdropping. "Uhm, the cauldrons, sir? No one's paying attention."

"Ah. Do you recall the Stasis Spell I taught you this sunday?" Snape inquired.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Very good. Put all the cauldrons in Stasis, if you would, and direct Madame Pomfrey in here as soon as she arrives."

"Okay, sir!" Harry smiled and gave Neville a look of sympathy. He left the office and went into the classroom. Taking out his wand he began setting all the potions being brewed into Stasis.

Hermione was pouring some powder onto the spill. Draco frowned slightly. "What are you doing, Hermione?"

"It's lye. It'll neutralise the acid until Professor Snape can clean it up." She looked up at Draco. "Unless you know a Cleaning Spell?"

Draco shook his head.

A few minutes later, Ron returned with the medi-witch behind him. Harry stepped up, "The professor's in his office with Neville, ma'am."

Poppy nodded at Harry and then went into the office.

"What a dummy!" Draco hissed to Harry. Both boys were surprised to hear the same sentiment also hissed from Ron Weasley who glowered at them.

Harry looked sharply at Draco and Ron, "It's the first time we were brewing! Any one of us could have made that mistake."

"Not Neville," declared Ron with superior knowledge. "He's a stupid, nervous, idiot. I'm not surprised he likes you, Potter."

Harry scowled at the redhead and he was joined, not just by Draco, but by the other Slytherins gathering behind him.

Ron, who was the best in his family at chess, didn't apply the strategy he knew in that game to real life. The insult was out of his mouth before his brain clicked in. "Cowards like cowards!"

Draco pulled out his wand and was halfway through a hex when he felt his wand tug sharply from his hand and fly backwards behind him. He turned, ready to give whomever had taken his wand a piece of his mind, when he saw his angry Head of House holding it.

"Ten points, Mr. Weasley, for not knowing when to shut your mouth, and detention. With Mr. Filch this evening." Draco quailed under the dangerous look his teacher gave him. He knew, without Snape even having to say it, that he'd earned a third detention, too.

With the Longbottom boy in the capable hands of the medi-witch, Snape walked through his Snakes, sharply handed Draco his wand back, and then he walked over to look at the mess on the bench and desk. The greenish-grey spill had turned a rather neon green.

"Who did this?" Snape asked tautly.

For a long moment everything was quiet, then Hermione stepped forward. "I-I did, sir. It's lye."

"I am aware of that. Very good, Miss Granger." With a wave of his wand, he vanished the whole mess. "Five points to Gryffindor." He then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, for helping to keep my classroom intact, ten points to Slytherin." Snape glided up towards the front of the classroom. "Back to your desks! We still have 43 minutes of class left." The students scrambled for their seats. "Finite Incatatem!" With the Canceling Spell, Snape ended the Stasis Spell that Harry put on all the cauldrons, and class was back in session.

Although no one else blew up a cauldron, Hermione managed to lose all the points she'd earned during the question and answer session Snape held in the last ten minutes of class.

Throughout the questions and answers, Hermione's hand was in the air so much, Harry wondered if the blood had all run out of her fingertips. He was also getting annoyed.

Harry was a little hesitant about raising his hand to answer a question because such a thing usually brought unwanted attention to himself. He had studied, though, and he'd known the answer to at least half of the questions! When he did finally get up the nerve to raise his hand, and it was about Worm Nettle, Hermione, tired of being outright ignored by Snape, blurted out the answer.

"Worm Nettle can only be found in the Netherlands, sir!"

Snape whirled upon the little girl who pressed herself as small as possible down upon her bench. Her gaze didn't flinch from Snape's, though. "Miss Granger!" he hissed, not just annoyed, but angry.

Draco elbowed Harry, "Merlin! She's done it now!"

Harry just gulped and hoped that Snape would make her death quick. And painless. But, he doubted it.

"Have I not warned you, and taken points, for your incessant need to prove yourself better than your year mates?" His voice was soft, but there was a silken undertone that made everyone in the class shudder. "Detention, Miss Granger, and if you speak out again, without being called upon, or if I see that hand of yours in the air again, you shall have a week's worth. Am I understood?"

Hermione nodded, and Harry sighed at the tears that glittered in her soft, brown eyes.

For the rest of the class, Hermione either sat on her hands, or took copious notes. She ignored the other Gryffindors that were sending dagger-like looks her way and some of the Slytherins that were smirking at her behind Snape's back.

As soon as the class ended, Hermione was up from her bench and running out of the class before anyone else. Draco and Harry had almost been run over by her.

"Think she's going to cry, Harry?" asked Draco as he stuffed his Potions text into his book bag.

"Maybe," he replied. "She really looks upset." The class was empty, but for the professor and his two Slytherins.

Snape, who was using a spell to erase the chalkboard, interrupted the raven-haired boy's thoughts, "I suggest you go find your friend, Mr. Potter, and make certain she gets to her next class on time." A last swipe with his wand and the board was clean.

Harry nodded, but Snape couldn't see it. When he turned, Snape noticed that Draco's expression mirrored the one of worry upon Harry's face. He smirked slightly. "Is something on your mind, gentlemen?"

They both nodded. "Flint said you torture Gryffindor firsties. Are you going to hurt Hermione? I think she's really sorry already." Draco said softly.

Snape scowled. He knew his reputation as a teacher was a fearsome one, but Marcus Flint's penchant of scaring his Snakes with outlandish tales of their "Dark Head of House" only became more annoying each year. He hoped the idiot would pass his NEWTs and never venture foot in Hogwarts again.

"Do you think me capable of torturing children, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked the child.

It was Harry who replied, though, his voice full of confusion, "You sounded really mean to Neville and he was really hurting. That's torture."

Snape's mouth almost dropped open. Certainly he'd been angry with the boy and he had corrected him, but Harry had seen him in his office with the Longbottom boy, hadn't he?

What was he to say to Harry, though? Snape knew he was not easy on his students, and he did, often, favour his Snakes, to the detriment of Gryffindor House points and an inordinate amount of detentions. He had a general dislike of Gryffindors in his class because they rarely paid him or the instructions in their textbooks any mind. He was always able to discern (without the use of Legilimens) which of his students had studied their text, and which had not.

The moment that the Longbottom boy had opened his book, Snape had known that the child had not once opened his textbook in the intervening week since the last class. Nervous though the child might be, he had little tolerance for any child who wouldn't do their work. It caused accidents. And, he had been angry at the Longbottom boy for causing such a stupid accident when he simply had not paid attention to his textbook.

How could he explain all of this to Harry?

"I do not torture Gryffindors, or any other students, gentlemen. I am strict, exacting, and I hold all students, including my Snakes, to very high standards. Accidents are caused by stupid mistakes, by not studying one's text, or paying attention to warnings printed in the text. Miss Granger will discover that my detentions are no more harsh than detentions I've given to anyone else. As for Mr. Longbottom, he would be best advised to study his textbook and to pay attention or he will cause another accident such as today's."

Draco nodded solemnly, but Harry didn't appear entirely convinced. Harry spoke again, "It was still mean, Professor. Neville's just a little kid and you're big and you're... well..." Harry looked down at his boots for just a moment before looking up again. "You can be kinda scary, you know?"

"Yeah," agreed Draco with a nod. "You are scary, Professor."

This little conversation threatened to turn into something that Snape didn't want to go near. Not with Lily's green eyes staring up at him from her son's face.

"You two are going to be late," he said gruffly as he ushered the two boys towards the door. "Now, go find Miss Granger and get to your next class."

Snape watched for a moment as the two boys sprinted out of the door. For a moment their boots hitting the stone floor of the dungeon echoed against the walls of the dark, torch lit corridors. He closed his door and vanished into his office.

"I am mean," he snorted at the jars and bottles of ugly, preserved things.

Potions were dangerous. As a teacher he not only had to teach, but he had to make certain that none of his students lost their eyesight, limbs, or even their life in his classes. He was quite proud of the fact that he was the only Potions instructor in the entire history of Hogwarts that had ten years of students with all their limbs intact, and not one death from stupidity.

Horace Slughorn, his teacher and Head of House, whom he replaced, was very lucky that he'd never lost a student. There were injuries a-plenty, though, due to the fact that Slughorn himself never quite paid attention to his students. Snape could name at least ten of Slughorn's students who had left Hogwarts with permanent injuries that could have been prevented, or alleviated, had the man even cared one whit about all of his students rather than just those in his Slug Club.

Snape was strict for that very reason, he did care. He may not like a great portion of his students, and most Gryffindors were at the top of that list, but he did care enough to be hard enough on them to keep all of them safe.

After gaining his position at Hogwarts, Snape had taken additional nursing classes during the summers so that he could tend to most injuries before Madame Pomfrey was called.

To be honest, he was quite proud of his exemplary record as a teacher at Hogwarts. Of course he was hardly any student's favourite teacher. And, even at the most opportune times he was hardly pleasant, but he wasn't mean, was he?

Snape, ever the scholar, summoned his dictionary and looked up the word 'mean'. The definitions were many, but he had no doubt that this definition was the one Harry had meant:

mean

adj. mean·er, mean·est

a. unkind.

b. Cruel, spiteful, or malicious.

Snape snapped the heavy tome shut. He was not cruel, spiteful, or malicious... but... unkind?

Perhaps.

The Potions Master, hearing his Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff students pouring into the classroom, slammed the dictionary down upon his office desk.

Was Harry to be his conscience, now?!

"Harry!" hissed Draco. "We're going to be late for Charms!"

"We have to find Hermione, though," Harry asserted stubbornly.

"Well, yeah, but..." Draco looked around the deserted corridor. There was only one torch to light it and all the paintings, if they had occupants, were empty. "Where are we?"

Harry stopped and also looked around. He frowned. "What floor is Charms on?"

"Fourth. It's not far from the Infirmary." Draco grimaced as he turned and came face to face with a gargoyle on a pedestal. It had a terrible face with fangs going through its lower lip. "Let's just go. If Hermione doesn't make it to class, we'll look for her before dinner."

Harry was beginning to feel a distinct chill in the silent corridor, so with a nod, he agreed with Draco. The problem was, neither boy had really paid attention to where they were going, and now neither was certain which way to go.

"There!" pointed Draco. "Maybe we came through that door."

Both boys went over to a rather worn looking old door of plank ironwood held together by rusted bands of iron. Draco grabbed the doorknob and tried to open the door.

"It's locked." Harry sighed and looked away from the door. Draco grinned as he snatched at Harry's sleeve. "I can do this. Watch, Harry!"

Harry leaned close as Draco took out his wand and confidently cast, "Alohomora!"

There was an audible click and with a bit of a smug smile, Draco slipped his wand back into his sleeve, then grasped the doorknob again, and pushed the door open.

A huge head, at least twice the size of either boy's height, swept down and blocked them. Great, ugly, sharp, yellow fangs were bared as a rumbling growl emanated from deep within the horrible beast. A second head, then a third joined the first.

Harry and Draco were frozen for only a second before terrified screams ripped from their throats. They both yanked the door closed and despite his shaking hand, Draco managed to use a locking spell to lock the door. They then both ran, with no care as to what direction they were running, until they thankfully spilled out of the corridor that led to the moving staircases.

Harry grabbed Draco's sleeve, and they both leaped onto the first staircase that was available. Once they were on the fourth floor, they both ran as quickly as possible to the Charms classroom where they skidded into class just as Professor Flitwick was beginning his lecture.

As upset as Hermione had been at Snape's humiliation of her in front of his class, she had bucked up enough courage to make it to Charms. No one in Gryffindor would sit with her, though, so she spent a few minutes of Flitwick's opening lecture about correct pronunciation by herself. Harry and Draco slipped over, in a manner they thought unobtrusive (across the classroom and crouched down in front of their diminutive professor) and sat on either side of the Gryffindor girl.

Today was the last day for the Wingardium Leviosa spell, but the first day for Harry. He completely botched the pronunciation on the first try and sent his feather rocketing across the room where it poked Pansy Parkinson in the forehead. She glared, he apologised, and Hermione was a bit snooty as she pronounced the spell for Harry.

Draco nudged her in the ribs gently. "We know you know how to say it, Hermione."

She blinked uncomprehendingly at Draco. Harry stepped in and tried to soften the condemnation. "If you're going to help me, Hermione, can you be a bit... uhm... not so..."

"Smug!" Draco finished.

"I'm not smug!" Hermione declared hotly.

"Yes, you are," Draco said firmly, but leaning against her shoulder lightly. "You can be smart without being a show-off, you know."

Hermione was about to strike back verbally, but suddenly she drooped as if she'd been deflated. "They called me a show-off in Primary school, too."

"You don't need to show-off, Hermione," smiled Harry fondly. "You're already brilliant..."

"So that means you shine already!" finished Draco with a triumphant smile.

Hermione smiled and let out a pleased giggle that lifted the hearts of both boys. They both nudged her, squeezing her between them. A warning from their professor ended the giggles and small talk, and although it took him two more times to do it, Harry soon had his feather floating in the air.

Hermione Granger had earned a detention. She'd only ever stood in the corner at Primary school, but that happened to lots of children, and her school had been a small one.

Detention was different, though. Everyone in Gryffindor was now actively shunning her and a few, mostly led by that awful Ron Weasley, were teasing her terribly. She had spent dinner in the library to avoid their taunts but when she was in the common room of Gryffindor tower, all she heard was how terrible Snape's detentions were to anyone else. Hermione was never more glad to leave the tower at 6:40pm to attend to her detention.

"Hey, Hermione!" called Harry from the corridor entrance to the dungeons.

"Snape said we could escort you," said Draco.

Hermione smiled at the two boys. She couldn't believe they'd befriended her. No matter all the teasing, or the mean glances in Gryffindor Tower, she did have friends.

"Hi," she replied to both.

"You okay?" Harry asked with concern as he noted a touch of red around her eyes.

"You're not still crying are you?" asked Draco, with a bit of an annoyed huff. He didn't tolerate emotional girls very well. Although, he'd only ever been exposed to Pansy Parkinson and she was a simpering, clingy thing that made his skin itch every time she got near him.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and clamped down on a stupid sniffle. "That Ron Weasley... he's been saying some of the most awful things. And then, Seamus, he actually threatened to feed Crookshanks to the Giant Squid if I lost any more points."

At the same time that Harry asked, "Who's Crookshanks?" Draco snarled, "I'll feed the yoik to the Grindylows!"

"He's my familiar. Crooks is an orange kneazle, but I'm certain he's got some good old, Muggle alley cat in him," she replied.

Harry took the threat to the familiar more seriously than Draco did. He could recall, far too clearly, how his own, beloved Hedwig, was almost burned up by his uncle. "Will Seamus really hurt Crookshank?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but just in case, I've been looking for spells I can use to protect him."

"I bet Snape knows some," Draco interjected firmly. "You should ask him."

"B-b-but he hates me!" her anguished look bothered both boys.

"He's just scary," said Draco reassuringly.

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "He doesn't hurt little kids for anything."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked.

Draco frowned at the perceived insult towards his Head of House. "Of course we are! You're a Gryffindor, Hermione. That's gotta mean you have some courage, so just talk to him and tell him what's happening."

She drew in a deep breath just as they stopped outside the door to Snape's office. "Okay. I think I can do this."

Harry patted her back, and she smiled at the door. Draco nudged her gently. "He'll be gruff, but just talk to him, okay?" Hermione nodded. She tentatively knocked and then glanced at her two friends, one on either side of her.

"Come!" Snape's voice ordered and they stepped into the Potions professor's office. He glared at the three of them. "Miss Granger, you will be cleaning cauldrons. Mr. Malfoy you will be cleaning underneath the classroom desks. Mr. Potter, you will assist me with inventory. Come along and do not dawdle!"

The three followed their teacher into the classroom where Snape got each of them started on their assigned tasks. "I expect you to do a good job, Mr. Malfoy, or this will be your task tomorrow in the evening as well."

Draco huffed. "That's when Slytherin's new team will practice! We were going to watch it!" He pouted.

One of Snape's eyebrows rose in sham interest. "Pity. You shall have to send your regrets for missing it."

With a glare, Draco grabbed the scrub brush and bucket of soapy water and went up to a desk where he began. Snape then directed Hermione over to the sink of caudrons. He handed her the dragon-hide gloves, and she began her task. Lastly, he handed Harry a long piece of parchment with a list of tons and tons of ingredients.

The Gryffindor stood at a wide sink, finishing her last cauldron. It was tough work, but it was done the Muggle way and Hermione didn't think it was any worse than cleaning her mother's oven, or her father's grill.

She did feel stiff and a bit sore in her back and legs, but after an hour, Snape emerged from his office, told her to quit, clean up, and to meet him in the office. Harry, who was now helping Draco with the desks, were told they had another hour before detention was finished.

Thankful for the reprieve, Hermione emptied the sink, washed the dragon-hide gloves, shelved the clean cauldrons, and put on her school robes since it had gotten hot while she worked. She then went to her teacher's office.

With a nod of his head, Snape indicated that Hermione ought to sit down upon the single chair before his desk. She did so, and he, already sitting, leaned forward with his hands clasped together.

"You are an intelligent child, Miss Granger," he began sonorously. "It is a... pity to watch you beating the other children about the ears with the knowledge you possess."

"Sir?" Hermione asked softly, as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard chair.

"It is unnecessary to show-off in front of the other students in the manner that you do. Your instructors find it neither endearing, nor conducive to a proper learning atmosphere in their classroom." He stopped and regarded the small Gryffindor. She let out a sniffle, but no tears or sobs escaped.

"I just want to learn, sir," she said softly.

"And learning is a most admirable trait, Miss Granger. However, by not allowing anyone else in the class to answer a question you hurt the entire class. Eventually, they may choose not to even try since you are constantly ready with the right answer. If the students ignore such valuable class time, do you think they shall be at all enthusiastic about studying for classes?"

Hermione gaped her mouth briefly and let out a gasp. She'd never thought she could be hurting others chances of learning. She just wanted to show her teachers that she had been diligent, that she had studied and was prepared.

"I didn't... I never meant to do that," she whispered.

"You merely wished for your teachers to know that you are a good student," he said, almost gently. Hermione nodded miserably. "Miss Granger, in order to earn the approval you so desire of your teachers, it is much better to continue your studies, be prepared for all your classes, and then to do well in class and on your exams. We are also here to help you further your education and are not averse to questions regarding your lessons. The library is a truly magical place, but it is not entirely reliable, as you'll soon learn."

This enigmatic statement about future lessons caught Hermione’s curiosity and she wanted to ask more about what he meant, but Snape held up a hand to stop her. "I would be most appreciative, Miss Granger, if you allowed other students to answer questions once in a while. I would also like to caution you, for the last time," his voice became severe and she gulped, "not to speak out when you have not been called upon. That is simply rude behaviour and although I cannot speak for your other teachers, it will absolutely no longer be tolerated by me in class."

"I won't do that again, Professor. I'm sorry." Her head bowed and she continued, "I just get... impatient, I guess."

"Indeed," he agreed. "It would be better if you offered your knowledge to your fellow Gryffindors. A study group, possibly? It would benefit them in class."

"I tried," she answered sadly. "I wanted to set up a study group, but everyone made so much noise, and that mean, Ronald Weasley... they're all teasing me, now. Except for Fred, George, and Neville. I wish I hadn't gotten Sorted into Gryffindor."

Snape sighed at the tear he saw sliding down the girl's cheek. "I cannot say why the Hat chose to Sort you into Gryffindor, Miss Granger, but it would be best to ignore the trials of the situation, and find comfort where it is offered."

"But I can't ignore it, sir!" her head snapped up, and her eyes blazed with a touch of anger, and so much hurt that Snape could almost feel it. "Seamus and Ron threatened Crookshanks!"

Snape froze. He'd seen the overly large, orange cat prowling the grounds around Hogwarts in the late evenings. In fact, no one knew this, but a time or two the cat had appeared in his private lab and had slept there while he worked on his potions.

"What... precisely... did Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Weasley say that they would do to your familiar, Miss Granger?"

More anger showed, and she spoke tightly, "Seamus said that he'd 'cut the cat up into bite-sized pieces and feed him to the Giant Squid. Ron said it might be funny to give Crooks a handful of fizzing whizbees and watch what would happen." Hermione watched as a slow burn of anger rose in the dark eyes of her professor. The fingers of his left hand began to drum rhythmically upon the surface of his desk. Hermione held her breath.

Snape had never had a familiar, not when he was a student, nor as an adult because they, like children, could be so easily vulnerable. He doubted that Finnegan would ever be able to catch the cat, who was fast despite his bulk, and would more than likely take a few chunks from the nasty boy before departing. Snape had no reason not to believe that the orange familiar could take care of itself, but a glance towards Miss Granger revealed that she would only worry herself sick over the animal.

"Miss Granger," the breath she'd been holding huffed out, and she nodded to let the Potions professor know she was listening. "Go fetch your familiar and bring him to me. I know a rather good Protection Spell I can put on him to help alleviate any fears you might have."

Hermione smiled, and wiped away one, last, stray tear. "You do?" Snape inclined his head, once. "Thank you, sir! It might take me a bit, since Crooks wanders around a lot."

"Just go and find him, Miss Granger. I shall be here until curfew." Snape dismissed her, and the child happily ran off to find her familiar.

17 Sept 1991 -- Saturday

At breakfast the next morning, Hermione again sat at the Slytherin table in between her two friends. While they ate, Hermione told them about what the Potions professor had done for her kneazle.

"Told you he was just scary," said Draco smugly.

"Yeah, he is, but I guess he's just a strict teacher," she agreed.

The morning mail owls flew in at that moment and letters were deposited for Draco and Hermione.

Hermione opened the more official looking one, and found a short note from her Head of House telling her to meet with her at 2pm. The other letter was from her mother and she read that quietly until Draco interrupted.

"Harry! You can come to our Winter Ball, right?" asked Draco excitedly.

"What? What ball?" Harry glanced at Hermione and she shrugged. She knew no more about this ball than he did.

"Every year, right when the Winter holidays begin, my parents have this really big party, a Winter Ball. It's really fancy dress, and there isn't a whole lot to do, but if you come, I'm sure we can find something to do." Draco had been looking across Hermione at his friend, but backed up a little to eye Hermione. "I'll bet you could come, too, Hermione!"

"I don't really have any fancy clothes, Draco," Harry said hesitantly.

"I've got lots! My mother or one of the house elves can make them fit you. So? You'll come?"

Harry shrugged. To be honest, he didn't know where he was supposed to go for Christmas holidays. "I need to talk to Professor Snape, first," he hedged politely.

"Great! He'll probably come, too." Draco smiled happily. "How about you, Hermione?"

"I know my parents were planning a trip to Paris, but it would be kind of fun to go to a ball. Let me write to them and see what they say." She turned away briefly and glowered down at the floor. She doubted her parents would object to anything.

Draco folded the letter from his mother. He was very confidant that his friends would come, but just to observe protocol, he wouldn't reply to his mother until he knew for certain that they could come.

Up at the staff table, the eagle owl that had delivered Draco's letter from his mother, also delivered a short note from Lucius to Snape. Snape dabbed at his lips with his napkin and broke the seal on the note. He had put off Lucius’ tea invitation since he had just been too busy once school began. He'd also had to deal with the little twist that put the son of two Gryffindors in his House.

He unfolded the note, read it, summoned a quill and parchment, and quickly wrote a reply. The Malfoy owl had been waiting for a reply before leaving so he plucked the note from the Potions professor's fingers and left.

It was two in the afternoon and Hermione was standing outside the closed door of her Head of House's office. She took a breath and then knocked. The door swung open as the tall, thin Minerva McGonagall opened the door to her office.

"Right on time, Miss Granger. Do come in."

Professor McGonagall's office was the complete opposite of Professor Snape's. Snape's office was lit, magically, by torches that cast the shelves of jars of "preserved things" in eerie shadows. His desk had been the only area well lit, but the desk had remained between student and teacher.

Professor McGongall's office was decorated, not in the heavy red and golds of Gryffindor but in the tartan plaids, heather and lavender of her family ancestry. She had a large desk, but it was cluttered with essays and tests and textbooks. The professor motioned Hermione over to a plush, tapestried sofa near the fire. Sitting on a small table in front of the sofa was a tea set of English China that was painted with an idyllic, forested scene.

Hermione liked it.

Sitting down near her professor, she accepted the cup of tea that Professor McGonagall handed her. For a few minutes, they both drank the tea, until the professor put her cup down and laid her hands, one over the other, upon her deep, tartan plaid robes.

"I am concerned, Miss Granger, that you are not settling in well to your House," began the older witch.

"I tried, Professor, but..." Hermione hung her head. She wondered if Professor Snape might have said something to her Head of House.

"Your friendship with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter aren't making it any easier, is it?" the witch asked astutely.

Hermione shook her head. "It hasn't helped." She then raised her head, giving the older woman a steely look. "I'm not giving them up, though, Professor!"

"I did not imply that you should, Miss Granger. Gryffindor and Slytherin admittedly do not have a pleasant history of inter-House relations. I am, naturally, worried about how your friendship with two Slytherins will be accepted."

"It isn't," Hermione replied sullenly.

"As I have heard," Minerva said softly. Severus had come to Minerva to let her know about the threat Hermione had received from one of her own House against her familiar. "I would like for you to give your housemates another chance, Miss Granger. If there is any further trouble, or if you have concerns, I'd like you to come to me." Minerva put down her teacup. "And, I would like for you to go back to sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast."

Hermione gave the older witch a look of confusion. "Why?"

"Miss Granger, I think that if you spent more relaxed time with your fellows, they have a better chance of getting to know you, and you them. If this doesn't work, then by all means you may return to the Slytherin table. I only ask that you give this a chance, my dear."

Hermione felt numb inside. Sitting with her friends at breakfast was like a sanctuary to her. Yes, they did sit together in most of their classes, but at breakfast she felt that she touched base with Harry and Draco, and the day would be good. She nodded to her Head of House and put down her teacup.

"Thank you, Professor," she said softly as she bent to pick up her book bag. "I'll try harder, Professor," she murmured, although she would much rather have yelled, or stomped her foot, or even wept.

Minerva rose to her feet, handed the girl a slip of paper, and then smiled, tightly at Hermione. "Just give it time, Miss Granger. I’m asking that this be only for breakfast. At lunch you may sit with your friends.” Hermione was silent. She knew this would not bode well for her. “The Sorting Hat is never wrong, my dear. You're meant to be with us."

Hermione gave the older witch a nod. Of course the Sorting Hat had chosen Gryffindor for her but that obviously did not mean automatic acceptance in one’s House. Once Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan, all ready the two most popular boys in Gryffindor, had decided she was not one of them hardly anyone dared speak to her. The only Gryffindors to speak kindly to her were Ron’s older brothers, the twins Fred and George, and Neville, who kept away from everyone in the hopes of avoiding teasing.

Head bowed, Hermione left her Head of House’s office.

Just before dinner that evening, Hermione caught Draco and Harry outside of the Great Hall and waved them over to an alcove where they could talk privately.

"I can't sit with you two anymore at breakfast or dinner," Hermione said without any warning.

Draco scowled and Harry blurted, "Why not?! Professor Snape said you could!"

"So did McGonagall," interjected Draco.

"Professor McGonagall says she doesn't object to me being friends with you both, but she says I need to give my House-mates a second chance. The professor says that if I sit with you two at breakfast then I'm only making things worse." Hermione swiped angrily at a tear.

"That makes no sense," groused Draco. "And why is it your fault?!"

Hermione shrugged, "I guess since it's me that's losing points and getting detention. It sort of makes sense."

"No it doesn't!" declared Draco. "Weasley's lost points, so has Finnegan, and Thomas, and those two older twits of Weasley's, the twins, they keep losing points in Charms. How come nobody's mad at them? How come they're not being shunned? Well?"

Hermione was so astonished at Draco's anger on her behalf that she suddenly hugged him. He let out a yelp, his arms uselessly akimbo. The hug didn't last long and Draco patted her shoulder before stepping away.

"Uhm... yeah, so... yeah," he stuttered. "Don't do that again."

Hermione grinned at him and Draco blushed. Harry smirked. "At least the professor didn't say I couldn't keep you as friends." She sniffled and Harry's face fell as he saw the glimmer of more tears. "I just... I... I hate it there! Nobody likes me and they're all stupid and loud and don't care at all about what's important, like studying and reading. I don't know why the bloody Hat put me there!"

Harry soon had his arms full of bushy-haired, weeping girl. Awkwardly he patted Hermione's back as he tried to get Draco's attention. Draco wasn't looking at Harry and Hermione. He was glaring at a group of fifth and sixth year Gryffindor girls that were passing by.

"Slytherin whore!" snapped one girl, a fifth year.

That shocked Hermione's tears away and she pulled sharply away from Harry. Before either boy could intervene, Hermione had her wand out and had jinxed the rude girl with a face full of boils. The girl screeched at the pain of the boils. Draco outright laughed and Harry just stared at Hermione in shock.

"Miss Granger!"

"Uh oh!" both Harry and Draco exclaimed under their breaths as a very angry Professor McGonagall advanced upon them.

McGonagall gave Hermione a glare before turning to the jinxed fifth year. "Oh dear! Miss Veith, take Miss Broodland to the Infirmary." Once they were gone, McGonagall returned her attention to her reluctant Lion. "Did I not say you were to try harder in making friends, Miss Granger? I am severely disappointed in you."

Hermione was still so angry, and mad at herself for getting in trouble, again, that she couldn't find her voice. Draco spoke up for her. "She called Hermione a whore!"

McGonagall ignored the Slytherin, took a deep breath, and then flatly said, "Detention. With me for a week, Miss Granger. Although the infraction against you was in poor taste I will deal with Miss Broodland. Your reaction, however, was completely out of line. Students NEVER pull their wand on another student! You've just lost your own House another 50 points! Go to dinner! All of you!" Mcgonagall strode past them. Draco was scowling worthy of Snape. Harry was frowning, his own anger seething deep down.

"Ten points, gentlemen, for defending a friend," came a silken voice from the shadows. Snape stepped from the darkened corridor that led to the dungeons and looked down impassively at the three first years. "As for you, Miss Granger. I am rather impressed." Hermione's cheeks coloured. "A seventh year jinx, and you focused it on just the face." A very small smile touched the corner of his lips before vanishing as quickly as it came. "35 points for technique ought to be appropriate." Snape then ushered the children into the Great Hall. All three were too astonished to speak.

That evening in the Gryffindor common room Hermione was disturbed from her studies by a darkly glowering house elf who grimaced at nearly all of the other Gryffindors, but had a small smile for the bushy-haired girl. He handed her a small note.

“Master Potions Master says you read and reply to Inksy, Miss Granger.” The house elf then seated himself right beside her study partner, Neville Longbottom.

Hermione quickly broke the seal on the note, and read it. She looked up, and smiled.

“What’s it say, Hermione?” asked Neville.

“Professor Snape is taking over my weeks worth of detention from Professor McGonagall. He says he requires an assistant. I’m to meet him in his office tomorrow right after dinner.” She giggled slightly.

“That’s good?” worried Neville.

Hermione nodded but then just as quickly shook her head. “It is Professor Snape, after all, Neville. She turned to the house elf. “Please let Professor Snape know that I’ll be on time, Inksy.”

The house elf rose to his feet, bowed swiftly, and in a blink he was gone.

“All right! All right!” clapped George Weasley. His hands dropped on Hermione’s shoulders.

Fred dropped his hands on Neville’s shoulders. “We really like that card game you showed us, Hermione.”

“Gred cheats, though,” sighed George.

“As does Forge,” sighed Fred.

“That means we’ll have more fun…”

“... and a fairer game…”

“When you join us,” finished George. He waved his wand and Hermione and Neville’s textbooks slammed shut.

“But there’s a test in Charms tomorrow!” Hermione protested.

“And you’ll do Outstanding, Hermione,” complimented Fred. “Come along now. One game of BlackJack.”

“We promise,” assured George with a grin that broke that promise.

Hermione sighed. There was no way to fight the twins, and since Ron might start in on her soon, they were a great deterrent to their little brother. “Come on, Neville. Let’s play.”

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