Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Hermione Granger
Genres:
Drama Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 03/19/2002
Updated: 09/01/2005
Words: 220,150
Chapters: 28
Hits: 163,807

Falling Further In

KazVL

Story Summary:
The story begins in the summer holidays before the sixth year. After her parents are murdered by Voldemort Hogwarts becomes Hermione's home. She joins the staff in the fight against Voldemort and learns more of the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom. Will *eventually* be Snape/Hermione. Lupin is again the Professor teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and has a black dog who lives with him - Sirius Black in his animagus form.

Chapter 04

Chapter Summary:
Hermione learns more about the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom
Posted:
03/20/2002
Hits:
5,924

FOUR

Back in the hospital wing for the night, because Madam Pomfrey had taken one look at her and diagnosed 'shock', Hermione slept badly, as she had been doing since her last stay there. Again, her dreams were chaotic and threatening, peopled by shadows and the terror that her mind was being stolen away, bite by bite.

She started awake, her heart racing and her mouth dry. It was the fifth time it had happened but the long, dark room was unoccupied, except for herself. Snape had won his bid for freedom and retired to his quarters, despite Madam Pomfrey's muttered threats and warnings. Wishing she was in her own bed in the small room she had been allocated for the holidays so that she wasn't isolated in the Gryffindor dormitory, Hermione checked the time; it would be light soon.

Dressing with speedy economy she looked up to see Madam Pomfrey smiling at her.

"I didn't expect to see you up yet."

"I couldn't sleep," explained Hermione. "I thought I'd go back to my room for a bath and change of clothing, then spend some time in the library."

Madam Pomfrey gave a resigned smile. "Well, if you see Severus there tell him from me that he's an idiot. You certainly look better. Off you go. You did well yesterday."

Already heading down the ward, Hermione paused and turned. "I couldn't do anything," she said with a trace of bitterness.

"That's not what Severus told me."

Pride - just - stopped Hermione from asking what that might have been. She scowled at nothing in particular until she could be certain she had her voice under control.

"It was horrible. He was in so much... And there was nothing I could do. Nothing!" She stopped and sank onto a chair, wearing the crumpled clothes of the day before because she had been too preoccupied to think to send a house elf to collect a change of clothing. "I'd still like to study with you, but I don't know how... I don't know if I could stand seeing that again."

Eyeing her shrewdly, Madam Pomfrey had the sense to say nothing.

"It's not very enterprising of me, is it," said Hermione, finding a smile of sorts.

"I repeat, you did extremely well in a disturbing situation. There's no need to decide anything now. But if you'll take some advice - "

"Of course. Oh. Have I been that bad?" she added wryly .

"Better than Severus. But then that isn't saying much. Take a few days off. Plenty of fresh air, exercise. Laughter would be good."

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "Just not very likely." Murmuring her thanks, she continued on her way.



The silence so oppressive it felt as if it must crush her, Hermione suddenly needed to get away - from the ghosts and the portraits whose figures waved at you and the unseen eyes of the house elves. Fiercely homesick, she headed out in the sweet, cool air just as the sun touched the horizon.

There was no smoke coming from the chimney of Hagrid's cottage - he must still be in Norway, dragon-watching. Reaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she paused and headed away from it towards the sun-burnt meadows that were fringed with trees bowed and bent with age. Finally beginning to relax when she could no longer see the castle, she settled against the trunk of a silver birch. She was just far enough away from the predators of the Forbidden Forest for there to be the sound of bird song and after a while she became aware that there were rabbits feeding on the edge of the meadow. Little by little her eyes closed as tension eased from her body.



She shot up into a sitting position, her eyes wide with terror, her wand gripped in a shaking hand, and discovered she wasn't alone.

Snape was crouched beside her, although he instantly got to his feet and retreated a few paces, his hands parting in reassurance.

"I heard you - someone - cry out," he said, when she continued to stare at him.

"What did I say?" she asked, trying to control her inclined-to-shake voice.

"Nothing distinct."

Despite the warmth of the morning, she shivered, wishing she had worn something more substantial than this flimsy, floating dress. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"You didn't." Snape saw no need to tell her that her disappearance from the castle had caused some concern. An inconspicuous gesture of his wand sent a message high in the sky, where Ceres Sprout, who was keeping watch on top of the Astronomy Tower, would see it.

Hermione's eyes widened as invisible warmth enfolded her like soft folds of silk. Relaxing into it with gratitude, she murmured her thanks, wondering how Snape had known that this was exactly what she had needed. As she watched he abruptly sank onto the grass, almost covering the fact that he had little option unless he wanted to collapse. She found it difficult to act naturally around him now he was out of what she had always regarded as his natural habitat; she associated him with the chill miasma of the Potions classroom, or the imposing, draughty rooms of the castle.

It was only when Snape gave her an edgy glare that she realised she had been guilty of staring, as if seeing him for the first time. The shadow of his profile stretched across the short grass and was more familiar than her own: scrawny; tall; hooked nose; virtually no-lip mouth and lank, grease-slicked hair than hung in his eyes. It was quite a work of art, not least in remembering that the Appearance Detracting Charm needed to cover his shadow and silhouette. She wondered, without much interest, what he really looked like; it hardly mattered, she suspected she would always see the image with which she had grown up.

"It's obvious you're not sleeping well. How long has this been going on?" Snape asked.

It didn't occur to her to lie. "It started the last time I was in the hospital wing."

He eyed her thoughtfully. "There's a school of thought which says that dreams hold significance in our waking lives."

"There are idiots ready to believe anything," she snapped, before she shot a glance at him. "Do you believe that?"

"Oh, yes," he said flatly.

"Why?"

"Personal experience."

"Oh." She pleated the soft crinkled fabric of her dress between her fingers before letting it spring free. "Shouldn't you being resting?" She viewed him with a critical eye.

"I slept for twelve hours. That's enough for anyone. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," said Hermione, surprised.

"So am I. And I see no virtue in eating outdoors, where all the wildlife in the vicinity believes it has a right to share my meal. Shall we go back?"

He was careful, she noticed, to make it a suggestion rather than a command.

While their walk back to Hogwarts was conducted in silence, it was more comfortable than she would have expected. As they entered the massive front doors a trail of ghosts streamed past, all calling their greetings. The main staircase obligingly moved back into position for them. Standing on a gallery high above them Professor McGonagall called down a greeting and went on her way. Smiling, Hermione wondered why Hogwarts had ever seemed alien, or disquieting.

"This really is home, isn't it," she murmured, inhaling all the familiar smells of the castle.

"I've always found it so," Snape said unguardedly, before he scowled.

Hermione had the wit not to pursue the point.

"Are there any modern ghosts?" she asked as they went into the Great Hall, which proved to be empty save for themselves.

"It depends on your definition of 'modern'. Of course, Professor Binns is the one you should be asking."

Hermione grinned. "It sounds as if you had him for history, too."

"Regrettably, yes. I caught up on many hours sleep in his lessons. I don't believe they've changed in decades. Not that I should cast stones. I sometimes feel as if I could give the first year Potions speech in my sleep."

"Maybe, but there's not much danger of your students dozing off," said Hermione with feeling.

Snape gave a shark-like grin. "That's the general idea."

Because there were so few of them at Hogwarts at present they had taken to using a smaller, round table rather than the imposing High Table which overlooked the entire hall. Snape drew out a chair for Hermione with the automatic courtesy which was second nature to him, even when he was giving some luckless female student the lecture of her life and a double detention. Once she was seated he moved away, clearly intending to eat elsewhere.

"Won't you join me?" asked Hermione on impulse.

His eyebrows rose.

"I don't have anything to read," she added, straight-faced.

"Nor do I," he said, drawing a small smile from her.

"Good, then I can pick your brains with a clear conscience. I promise not to make a habit of it," she added conscientiously. "I must have driven you mad in the library - I hate interruptions when I'm working myself."

Snape looked puzzled. "What's brought about this change of heart?"

Hot with humiliation, Hermione studied the table top. "Yesterday you said... It's obvious I've been making a nuisance of myself."

"I said - ? I don't remember. Probably because I was hoping to drive you away before I collapsed. Rest assured, Miss Granger, if I tire of our discussions you'll be left in no doubt. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"I'm writing a paper for Madam Pomfrey on applications for the Adder's Tongue Fern. And I remembered some references you'd made. I hoped we could discuss - " She paused as the food arrived and automatically reached for the coffee pot, just as Snape did for the strong black tea he favoured. Only now, watching the small clumsiness of those long-fingered hands, did she appreciate their usual deftness and grace at performing even the most mundane of tasks.

"Yes?" he prompted.

Hermione fiddled with her cup of coffee, then set it down before she could spill it. "I want to apologise properly for my unprovoked attack on you. It was easier to hate you than face... I just wanted you to know it won't happen again."

"Ah, I see I've benefited from the pity vote," sneered Snape, at his most insufferable in the space of a heartbeat.

Hermione resisted the temptation to empty her dish of melon and guava over his head.

"No, just the belated realisation that if we're going to defeat He - Voldemort - we can't afford to waste our energies on trivialities."

Snape sat back in his chair, took a sip of his tea, grimaced, performed a Cooling Charm, and took another sip. "Well done, Miss Granger. A lecture and put-down in one. Excellent. Your apology is accepted. The matter is now closed. At least I trust the matter is closed," he added pointedly.

"I don't understand - " Light dawned. "Oh, you mean I can't tell Harry or Ron that I knocked you out."

"Down," he corrected, an edge to his voice.

She gave an unrepentant grin.

The muscles around his mouth and eyes relaxed as he conceded the point with a faint smile. While fleeting, it was a moment of true communication and they were both aware of it. Shaking his head, he held up his hands in surrender.

"I haven't had nearly enough caffeine to match swords with you this morning." Ignoring the various options for the first course, he served himself with tomatoes, mushrooms, bacon, sausage and scrambled eggs and toast and began to eat with a neat dispatch.

"Then before you drink any more tea, may I ask you something, Professor?"

"I can tell you're going to anyway," he said with resignation, but he looked amused and the charm of the half-smile that escaped his controls so took Hermione aback that she forgot what she had been about to say.

"Miss Granger?"

"Uh, yes. A guava seed went down the wrong way," she lied. "Um, I've been thinking about that 'old injury' of yours."

"My affairs are not your concern."

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?"

Snape's displeasure was rarely a secret and this occasion was no different from any other. Tired he might be, but it became obvious that his tongue had lost none of its fluency or ability to wound.

Having finished her fruit, Hermione helped herself to a mushroom omelette, added some tomatoes and began to eat with every appearance of enjoyment. Eventually he wound down to give her a glare in which irritation, frustration and respect were mixed.

"I must have lost my touch," he muttered as he poured himself some more tea.

"Not noticeably," she comforted, wondering when she had developed this death wish.

"Miss Granger, would you mind telling me what - ?"

As she leant forward to reach for the coffee pot some of her unbound hair slipped over her shoulder. The various scents were achingly familiar, as was the memory of the nipple which had scraped his cheek. His gaze dropped to her breasts, then away as soon as he realised what he was doing.

Oh fuck, he thought, as he hardened as fast as a hormonal fifteen year old. He had always been too susceptible to the scent of a woman; though at least when he was teaching he would be wearing his robes. Maybe that was why they had first come into use, he thought vaguely. Bad enough to wake to sticky sheets for the first time in...

Hogsmeade. He'd go to Hogsmeade this afternoon. At least there were no nosy first years to see Professor Snape heading for 'Madam Min's House of Mirth', although where witches went he had no idea. Somehow he couldn't envisage Poppy making use of whatever the facilities might be. Not a topic he wanted to linger on, particularly not while Miss Granger's sun-freckled breasts were...

"Professor?"

He almost groaned at the warm waves of nubile woman flooding over him but - just - managed to refocus his glazed eyes on Hermione's worried face. He concentrated on controlling his breathing, which did little to help because all he could smell were those wonderful wafts of Hermione Granger.

"Should I fetch someone?" she asked, leaning even closer. Freckles gave way to skin as white and tender as -

"No," he mumbled, his mouth feeling full of tongue; regrettably it was his own. She had beautiful skin and there was far too much of it on display for his peace of mind. If Minerva ever discovered he was getting a hard on for one of her treasured students, castration would seem an easy option in comparison to what she would do to him. And rightly so. Minerva wasn't alone in guarding her students. None of them would tolerate a member of staff abusing their position of trust. He wasn't a pervert, just...horny, he admitted, caught between pride, relief and chagrin. And he needed to get a grip. Poor choice of word, he conceded, fidgeting slightly where he sat. The problem was, he knew exactly what he needed and as he wasn't going to get it until he could escape to Hogsmeade, he needed to do something to control the problem.

He exhaled softly as he regained control of his own body with the aid of a very carefully controlled Deflating Charm. He opened his eyes to find Hermione, her eyes huge with concern, staring at him.

"Find another interest in life, Miss Granger. I'm fine. Finish your breakfast and leave me to enjoy mine in peace."

Only she hadn't been expecting that and the hurt on her face was that of a child slapped for a crime it didn't understand. Experiencing a pang of regret despite himself, Snape sighed and tried to make amends.

"The Adder's Tongue Fern... What did you want to discuss?" It was a measure of the damage he had inflicted that it took several more questions to elicit more than a monosyllable from her but eventually, coaxed out by the red herring he trailed for her, she lent her elbows on the table as she engaged fully in the discussion.



Four hours later the table was littered with books and parchments, their minds wholly focussed on the scope of their discussion which, inevitably, had broadened.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made them look up to see Madam Pomfrey glaring at them.

"So much for resting in your room," she said to Snape. "I expected better of you, Miss Granger."

"Poppy, I'm - " Snape rose to his feet.

"Grey, that's what you are. As you should have noticed, Miss Granger. Severus, you need to rest. Either you go by stretcher or - Oh, Remus. Good afternoon. Would you do me a favour and escort Severus back to his quarters?"

"Of course. If you think he'll come with me," said Lupin, only half-joking.

"In case anyone's forgotten I am still here and - " His legs folding under him, Snape sat back down faster than he had intended.

Having taken back to the library all the books and parchments Snape had summoned without ever leaving his chair, Hermione remained there, unaware of the passage of time as she began a field of research of her own. She looked up as Madam Pomfrey approached the table at which she sat.

"Is he all right?" Hermione asked, feeling obscurely guilty.

"Just exhausted."

"He didn't say anything," justified Hermione, still wondering what that final reference he had been about to give her might have been.

"And you're surprised because?" said Madam Pomfrey astringently, before she sighed and gave a reluctant smile. "I don't know why I'm blaming you, child. Give Severus an interesting argument and you could saw his leg off without him noticing. Not that you're much better. Still, at least you're both eating."

"He's had another attack, hasn't he," said Hermione in a small voice.

"Nothing like as bad as yesterday. He's been asleep for several hours already. Which is the best thing for him right now."

"None of the pain-relieving spells I tried yesterday worked."

Madam Pomfrey sat beside her. "Don't look so tragic. It wasn't your fault. None of the pain-relieving spells would have worked, whoever tried to administer them. It's yet another side-effect of the Cruciatus Curse - that there should be no relief. I'd give a lot to meet the bastard who invented it," she said in a different tone, an unfamiliar light in her eyes.

Hermione hardly heard her. The Cruciatus... One of the Unforgivables. Harry had tried to describe what it had felt like once but had shivered, stopped and refused to talk about it again.

"It didn't affect Harry this way," she said.

"Harry only received one short burst. Severus has suffered... Even he's lost count."

Hermione went cold with dread. "Neville's parents went insane under the Cruciatus." The thought of that mind, whose complexity she was only now beginning to guess at, being destroyed, made her feel - Damn. Like she didn't have enough people to worry about.

"Yes." Madam Pomfrey looked sombre. "But no one knows how long they suffered. The one blessing in all this is that Severus only experiences short bursts. Although how many more he can sustain before - Mercy, I shouldn't be talking about this with you," she muttered, looking worried.

"I won't tell anyone," said Hermione. "He's working for Professor Dumbledore, isn't he?" She tried and failed to identify Madam Pomfrey's expression.

"Child, I really should - "

"You think I would tell anyone? I just hope whatever he's doing is worth putting him through this."

"So do I," said Madam Pomfrey bleakly, torn between what she knew she should do and her instinct. She loathed the Obliviate Charm, regarding it as something that was used too often with too little reason. Knowing Snape shared her view she decided to speak to him before referring the matter to Dumbledore.

"I've done some reading on the Unforgivables, given that Harry is probably going to face them again," said Hermione.

"Then you probably know as much as I do. There's very little written about them. I imagine one of the people who knows most about them is Severus and his knowledge has been hard-won. But this isn't a matter that should be discussed, even amongst ourselves. It puts Severus' life at risk, and much else besides."

"You can trust me," said Hermione, trying to ignore the questions seething in her mind.

"My dear, if that had been in question you wouldn't be staying here for the summer," said Madam Pomfrey dryly.

Hermione blinked. "I never thought of that," she admitted.

"We could tell. Right, as you've done all this research on the Cruciatus you may as well fill me in on your findings. Who knows, you might have found a clue to defeating it."



***



Keeping vigil at Snape's bedside and noting the lines of tension which even sleep could not erase, Dumbledore tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered why anyone would want children of their own; it was hard enough worrying about those belonging to other people.

Snape twitched in his sleep, an incoherent mumble escaping him. Leaning forward, Dumbledore placed his hand on the top of Snape's head, cradling his skull but it was little enough that he could offer. Even phoenix tears were ineffectual in combatting the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. But he wasn't entirely without power. He focussed his concentration, his lips moving silently, his unblinking gaze remaining on the younger man. After a while Snape relaxed and slid into a deeper, healing sleep.

Sitting back, bleached with fatigue, Dumbledore's expression was grim. Poppy had been explicit about Severus' chances of surviving much more of this. No one had gained much benefit from the holidays so far and the days were slipping away too fast. They needed more time: both to heal, and to plan.

And they needed a miracle, of course. Although that might take longer to arrange.



***



Lingering over his second pot of tea, Dumbledore abandoned his pretence of eating as the last member of staff wandered off to attend to their various duties, looking tired before they even started work. Strengthening the wards which protected the castle and its grounds was debilitating at the best of times and these were anything but that. Spirits were low, reserves of strength at rock bottom, and all he had to offer was more platitudes.

"Headmaster?"

He refocused to see Hermione Granger's earnest young face in front of him. She showed promise of being a remarkably beautiful woman - she was already a steadfast friend.

"Good morning, my dear."

"Are you all right, Headmaster? Only you look..." Old. Very, very old. And frail. As if... "Is everyone - thing - all right?"

"Professor Snape has spent the last sixteen hours in a healing sleep, everyone else is well and everything is fine. And if it isn't it soon will be. Madam Pomfrey mentioned that you wanted to see me about something? We're quite private here. Yes? Then what can I do for you?"

Hermione forgot her faint feeling of unease and sat beside him, marvelling at the serenity he radiated. It was wonderfully cheering, even if she didn't actually believe it.

"It's about what I need to do in the Muggle world. I won't legally be an adult until September. I need to go back to my parents' house, sort their belongings, dispose of what I don't need, sell the house... I wondered if I might bring my possessions to Hogwarts, until I have a home of my own again?"

"Of course. The one thing the castle has plenty of is space. You'll need your own set of chambers for the holidays. I'll speak to Minerva."

"Thank you. I might also need someone I can produce to the Muggle authorities as my legal guardian."

"The Weasleys have offered, I know, but we dare not let Arthur lose amongst Muggles. Besides, I would imagine he and Molly are probably too close a reminder of your parents for you to be comfortable with that solution."

Hermione nodded, grateful she didn't have to explain.

"As I thought. Now, the formalities must be observed in both worlds. Fortunately for us, I know just the man. He's acted on my behalf several times already. There's a new first year arriving in September - Grania Frayne. Her mother, Samantha, is a witch, her father, Peter is a Muggle lawyer who has learnt his way around a wizards' court. An excellent man. If he meets with your approval I'll approach him on your behalf."

"Thank you, Headmaster. I'd like everything arranged before term starts. Although there isn't much time."

"There should be enough," said Dumbledore placidly. "Now, with regard to your guardian. There are specific regulations laid down for young wizards and witches. You'll need a guardian until you leave Hogwarts - whatever your age. So you'll need someone who will be acceptable in both worlds, who is respected and powerful in this one - and who is free to perform the task. Which, I'm afraid, prevents Severus, Minerva or myself from assuming that role. Sirius is a wanted man and Remus is a prisoner to the moon. Neither Hagrid, Ceres nor March would, I fear, convince a Muggle for long and Polyjuice really should be reserved for times of utmost need. Which leaves Poppy Pomfrey."

"She would be perfect," said Hermione with satisfaction. "If she wouldn't mind."

"She'll be honoured. I should add that every one of the staff has indicated their willingness to do anything they can to assist you. For instance, Severus may be a more suitable escort into the Muggle world. Or indeed when you wish to visit Diagon Alley. He's accustomed to danger."

"Teaching first year Potions is excellent training," agreed a familiar voice from behind them.

"Severus! This is delightful. And Poppy. How fortuitous," said Dumbledore, beaming with pleasure. "Severus, you look well."

"I feel it, thank you, Headmaster," he said, drawing out a chair for Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione could believe it. Snape was exuding so much vitality she almost expected to see sparks. There was the crispness of a frosty morning, the gleam of a sharply honed knife - and something else she wasn't sure how to describe, except that it vitalised her just by being in his presence.

"Excellent. Sit, eat. We - Miss Granger and I - have a favour to ask of the pair of you."

"A cue to flee if ever I heard one," said Snape.

Dumbledore wasted no time explaining what he proposed.

"I would be honoured," said Madam Pomfrey, patting Hermione's arm. "Thank you for asking me."

"It should be me thanking you."

"Not according to custom. I'll tell you more later of my obligations to you, and of your rights. Now, about your parents' house. Severus should escort you there, I think."

"I'm at your service, Miss Granger," he said politely.

Glancing at him, Hermione was surprised to realise he meant it.

"I k-know I should get it over with but... Not yet," she said with a trace of desperation. She couldn't imagine her old home without her parents there. And with their clothes and personal belongings to be sorted through. The thought was unbearable.

"Whenever you wish," said Snape.

"Poppy, with your consent we'll make the contract now," said Dumbledore. "Severus, are you willing to stand signatory?"

"Honoured, Headmaster."

"Contract?" said Hermione vaguely, having been concentrating on not crying - again.

"The spell that forms the contract between Poppy and yourself is unbreakable by anyone - even Voldemort himself. Magical contracts are never lightly undertaken, and to my knowledge none has ever been dishonoured. However, as signatory, Severus undertakes to protect you in the event of Poppy's default. Is that agreeable to you?"

Overwhelmed by what she seemed to have got herself into, Hermione nodded.

"Of course, should the parties change their minds the contract is simple enough to end, so long as consent is freely given."

"Muggles could do with them," said Hermione with feeling.

Dumbledore gave her a faint smile. "No doubt. Then we'll begin."

Hastily finishing her piece of toast, Madam Pomfrey took Hermione's hand in a marmalade- sticky grasp.

Dumbledore murmured a simple phrase, his wand directed first at Hermione, then at Madam Pomfrey, and finally at Snape, who placed his own hands around theirs where they were linked. His clasp was light, his skin warm and dry, his fingernails clean and trimmed.

"And so shall it be," Hermione repeated, last of all. And the contract was complete.

Snape's hands slid from hers.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, the glass of his spectacles catching the light.

"Tea," said Madam Pomfrey decidedly. "That's what we need. More tea. Severus Snape, do you still drink that appalling muck? No wonder your teeth are so yellow."

"I thought that was due to the Appearance Detracting Charm," said Hermione without thinking.

There was a short silence around the table.

"You spotted it then," said Dumbledore. "I thought you must have."

"I was just wondering why it was necessary," said Hermione, in the guileless tone which had always worked on her father.

Snape gave her a look of narrow-eyed disdain.

Feeling a hot colour run up over her face, Hermione concentrated on pouring herself some more coffee.

"Until Severus was taken on staff the average age of male Professors was ninety three," said Madam Pomfrey, returning to her toast and marmalade.

Hermione's expression indicated that Snape was wearing well. Affronted, he choked.

"I'm thirty seven," he said coldly, vanity blinding him to her trap until it was too late.

"Exactly," said Madam Pomfrey, "and training young witches and wizards is hazardous enough without the complication of any of them developing undesirable crushes."

Out for revenge, Hermione directed a speculative look at Snape.

"Don't even think it, Miss Granger," he advised her, that rich voice sliding over her senses like silk, but the amused gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

"Given that Hermione knows, there's little point you maintaining the charm for the rest of the holidays," said Madam Pomfrey practically.

"I suppose there isn't," agreed Snape. His cup of tea still in one hand, he murmured "Accio," and drew his empty hand down past his face.

Even though she knew it was about to happen Hermione still gasped when Snape's familiar features blurred into a new face - alike and yet very different.

The hair was still the matt black of a crow's wing but it looked soft as sable, if unmanageable, and was fastened back in an untidy plait secured by a piece of string. The skin was olive rather than sallow, the teeth off-white, but crooked, the mouth generous, rather than a slit. The nose was still large, with pretensions to aquiline, and the flattened, bumpy bridge looked as if it might have been broken more than once. Rather than scrawny he was merely thin, but with a muscle tone inconceivable in the man she was familiar with. Only the eyes were unchanged; almond-shaped and black as an abyss, although she didn't remember noticing those ridiculously long eyelashes before.

"Professor Snape," she said, wondering if it was her imagination or if he really was fidgeting.

"Miss Granger."

To her relief his voice was the same.

"You didn't use your wand to do that," she said, to cover her confusion.

"I think I already knew that," he said unhelpfully.

"You're aware of the differing level of skills amongst individuals," said Madam Pomfrey. "Severus is a powerful wizard. And he's always been disdainful of what he calls 'wand waving'. Just never let him try to give your first aid. You'll end up with worse injuries than you started with - unless he's having a rare good day."

"So that's why you've always sent us up to Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione said, still trying to accustom herself to this familiar stranger. She wasn't sure if she liked the change or not and smothered a grin. She never imagined the day would come when she would be pining for Snape.

"That and to help her keep her hand in," said Snape, as he poured himself some more cold, stewed tea.

"As for working without a wand, you may find it suits you for some charms. You've several years in which to hone your skills. Don't be in such a hurry," said Dumbledore.

Snape snorted. "You might as well tell water to flow backwards. What now?" he added with resignation, when he discovered Hermione was still staring at him with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd just seen a mountain troll.

"I was just wondering why you bother with the Appearance Detracting Charm?" she said with a tactlessness worthy of Sirius Black.

Madam Pomfrey spluttered into her Earl Grey tea.


AUTHOR'S NOTE

On removal of the Appearance Detracting Charm the nose, frown lines and voice are Rickman's; everything else is Snape's.