Please note that this is split into two parts for length!

A/N: I know this took a while, but it's REALLY long, so I hope you all forgive me! Special thanks to Ladyofthemasque, Beta extraordinaire, SnivellusSnape, katydid, and yutamiyu. Now, go forth and read! ;)

Chapter 48- Fathers and Sons

Hermione woke with a start, disoriented. Oh! What time is it? Blast! Dinner will be over soon… Jumping up, she straightened her clothes and vainly patted at her hair. Peeking quickly at her reflection, she grimaced at her puffy eyes and pale face. Ugh! Maybe Severus will have already gone by the time you get there, and he won’t have to see you looking so dreadful.

Feeling a pang of envy that he could Apparate instantly to the Great Hall, while she still had to hurry down staircase after staircase, she bustled out of her room and through Gryffindor Tower, hastening downstairs.

Bursting into the Hall, she immediately noted that Snape was not there. Feeling both let down and relieved, she slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table, reaching for the serving plates and nodding in response to her mates who had greeted her.

Ginny frowned at her and said, “You okay?”

Hermione nodded, gesturing with her fork at her now-full mouth. Rolling her eyes toward Snape’s usual seat, she looked meaningfully at Ginny, who blinked in comprehension.

Harry looked over and piped up, “You sure? You look kinda’ under the weather.”

Swallowing, Hermione gasped, “I’m fine! I was just a little tired and fell asleep. I can’t believe I almost missed dinner.”

Ginny wisely left well enough alone, knowing that the real reason Hermione’s eyes were puffy was likely linked to whatever had been in that letter. But Harry persisted.

“You look like you’ve been crying—ow!” He cut a fierce glare at Ginny who had stomped his toe under the table and was staring at him in reproach.

Hermione, seeing an opportunity to distract Harry, said, “I may have teared up a bit earlier when I was reading. It was a very affecting love story.” Harry blinked and bit back a grimace, obviously not fond of girlish romances. Suppressing a wicked grin, Hermione added, “I could tell you all about it…”

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm and he hastily waved a hand at her. “No! No… that’s all right. Really. No problem. I was just concerned, that’s all. Glad you’re okay.” He ducked his head, running his hand over his hair.

Ginny smirked at his uncomfortable reaction and winked at Hermione. There was an awkward silence as Hermione continued with her meal. Eventually, Harry broached a new subject.

“So, looking forward to rehearsal? You’ve got your big song tomorrow night.”

Hermione nodded gravely. “You know, that song is so sad. I hope I don’t get all teary from it, too.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in comic dismay, and Ginny giggled. Patting his shoulder, she offered a solicitous, “It’s okay, dear. I’ll protect you from the weepy girl.”

Harry scowled at her, and Hermione chuckled. “Anyway, I know you’re not particularly looking forward to tomorrow night, but I will talk to Professor Snape before rehearsal, like I promised.”

Harry’s attention snapped to her, and he frowned. Tone dubious, he said, “I don’t know why you think it’ll do any good. You don’t have to mess with it. Leave the git alone, so he’ll leave you alone.”

Hermione’s jaw clenched. In a measured voice, she retorted, “I can’t leave him alone and he can’t leave me alone, Harry. We have to work together. He’s not as horrid as you think. Not anymore. Besides, without his help, you would have had a much more difficult time finishing off Riddle.”

Harry squinted at her, perplexed. “Riddle?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Voldemort!”

Tossing his head, Harry said, “Since when do you call him ‘Riddle’?”

Hermione was taken aback by the question. Blinking, her mind raced. That’s what Severus called him all through that letter. Oh my, this is awkward… Floundering for a response, she glanced at Ginny, who was also eyeing her quizzically. “I heard Dumbledore and Professor Snape call him that. I guess it’s a way of denying him his self-styled importance.” Feeling nervous sweat prickling her skin, she diverted the topic. “Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that Professor Snape has no reason to try to harm you, Harry. Honestly!”

Harry huffed, shaking his head slightly. “Sure. We’ll see.”

Eyes narrowing in pique, Hermione shot back a heated, “We will see, won’t we?” Then, clearing her throat and composing herself, she continued loftily, “I daresay you’ll be pleasantly surprised at just how professional and civil he can be.”

Ginny jumped in with a soft, “It’s true, Harry. Just wait.”

Harry looked between the girls, struggling with his knee-jerk loathing of the man. Remembering Neville’s assertions as well, he exhaled heavily and fixed a sceptical eye on them. “Fine. I’m reserving judgment until rehearsal. If he can treat me with respect, then we’ll talk, okay?”

Both girls’ faces lit up with approving smiles. Once again, Harry shook his head, clearly thinking they were daft. Casting a speculative glance at Ginny, he said, “So, what’ll I get if I’m nice to the ol’ Professor, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows and leered suggestively, at which Ginny burst out laughing and swatted his arm.

“Opportunist! Come on, you pervert, and I’ll give you a preview.” Smirking at Hermione’s reaction of cradling her face in her hands, she stood, pulling an unresisting Harry with her. “See you later, ‘Mione.”

Hermione kept her eyes covered with one hand and waved resignedly at them with the other, making both teenagers snigger. Harry let Ginny drag him away, tossing an amused, “Bye, Hermione!” over his shoulder.

Hermione sighed in relief and finished her dinner in peace; she wondered how Snape was faring since he wasn’t there for her to see, and was looking forward to the next evening with a mixed bag of anticipation.

******* **********

Friday saw Hermione heading to dinner as soon as it was available, consuming her meal with ill-disguised urgency. A few minutes after she had begun, Colin wandered over and took a seat opposite her. Acknowledging his presence with a perfunctory nod, she continued with her meal.

“Hi, Hermione. You’re here early tonight. Excited about rehearsal?” He pasted on a bright smile.

Warily wondering if he was still trying to pursue her, Hermione replied cautiously, “I have some things to take care of after dinner and before rehearsal, so I have to hurry. Rehearsal should be fine as usual.”

Colin nodded vigorously. “Oh, I’m sure! I know you’ll be brilliant with your song tonight.” His cheeks started going pink and he tacked on an airy, “Of course, you’re brilliant with anything you do.”

Hermione blinked and swallowed hard, feeling a knot of unease in her gut. Offering a wan smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she said, “Thank you, Colin, but you’re exaggerating. I just do my best.”

Eyes wide, he retorted, “I know you do! It shows!” He paused, awkwardly toying with his food in the lengthening silence. Hermione determinedly ignored the Head Girl-urge to engage in some sort of conciliatory conversation with him, afraid of stirring up more trouble for herself.

Several minutes passed, and she finished eating, hoping that the food would settle in her tense stomach once she left Colin’s disconcerting presence. He was morosely picking at his meal, eating little.

Clearing her throat and gathering her things, she pushed back from the table. Colin glanced up wistfully. Gamely trying for some semblance of normality, Hermione said, “Well, I’ll see you later. Gotta’ run.”

Colin nodded and gazed at her, his expression forlorn. He managed a faint, “Right. See you.”

Hermione hastened away from the table, eager to be free of him, and she didn’t look back to see him staring after her.

Bollocks! He would try to do that when no one else is around. Honestly! Please don’t ever let me endure such discomfort again! Ugh… Now to just drop off my things and get to Severus.

She bustled up to her room, blowing a quick kiss to a drowsing Crookshanks before leaving again. Hoping that none of the people she passed and exchanged greetings with would ask about her destination, she made her way down to the stairs to the dungeon, furtively glancing about to see if anyone noticed her descent so early in the evening. Working out a plausible excuse about needing clarification on her Potions homework, she smoothed her palms over her hips, wiping the nervous sweat from them.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief that she hadn’t had a run-in with any Slytherins, she forced herself to walk instead of run to get to Snape’s office. The door was closed when she arrived, and she hesitated a bare moment before knocking.

Snape was at his desk, brooding over an essay when he heard the knock, the remains of a sandwich going stale on a plate to one side. Brows drawing together in perplexity, he glanced at the time. It’s not six yet; could that be Hermione? Swallowing back the agitated pulse of his heart in his throat, he snapped, “Enter.”

Hermione opened the door and locked eyes with him as she stepped in. Her heart throbbed in an excess of emotion, but she forced herself to maintain her outward composure. “Professor.”

Snape’s expression was inscrutable as he said, “Miss Granger.” After a beat he added, “Shut the door.” When she did as she was bid, he stood, stepping around to the front of his desk. His voice soft, he said, “You’re early.”

Hermione stepped closer, still gazing up at him. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

They stared for a long moment before he nodded sharply. “Come.” He offered her his hand, and when she took it, Apparated them to his bedroom.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. She gasped, glancing sharply at him in query.

He stepped back, hands up and palms out in a gesture of appeasement, shaking his head ruefully as he murmured, “No. Nothing like that. I merely wish to avoid the possibility of anyone inadvertently seeing you if they Floo-called. Of course, if you’d rather not discuss things here, we can go elsewhere.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, extending a hand toward him in apology. “No! I was just surprised. It makes perfect sense. I’m fine.” She looked up at his solemn face and grimaced. “Actually, I’m not fine.”

Snape frowned, squinting at her in confusion. Everything she had felt when reading his letter came rushing back to her, and tears welled up, spilling over onto her cheeks as her lips trembled. At the sight of her tears, Snape’s eyes widened in alarm and he stepped forward just as she threw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest, uttering a strangled, “Severus!”

Quickly enveloping her in his embrace, he caressed her hair and back, muttering reassuring nonsense and kissing the crown of her head. He could feel her shaking as she sobbed, and he was bewildered and dismayed at such an unexpected occurrence. Urgently, he whispered, “Shh, it’s okay. Hermione, love, what’s wrong? Tell me, please. What can I do?” and guided her to sit on the edge of his bed.

Hermione gulped back her sobs and sat. Pulling away from him enough to wipe her face, she sniffled and fumbled for her wand to Summon some facial tissues. Snape watched her compose herself, waiting for her explanation for her behaviour.

Finally, Hermione Vanished several soggy tissues and swallowed hard, facing Snape. His unease was apparent, and she impulsively reached up to cup his jaw in oblique apology. “I love you so much.”

His eyes closed at her words, and he covered her hand with his, turning to plant a kiss on her palm. “And I, you. But what happened?”

Gazing solemnly at him, she whispered, “Your letter.”

His face fell, and he pulled back a bit, letting her hand drop to her lap. His jaw clenched and he avoided her eye, simply uttering a flat, “Oh. That.”

Reaching up again, she gripped his chin and guided him to look at her again. His eyes were flat and dull, closed off. Hoping her love was visible in her eyes, she pinned him under her intense gaze and murmured, “Thank you, Severus.”

His lip twitched and he seemed to shrug in derision. “For what? Traumatizing you so much that you burst into tears even a day later? Oh yes, that’s certainly something to be grateful for…”

She shook her head in exasperation and insisted, “Stop that! I am grateful that you would share so much with me. I’m glad I know more about what you’ve been through. I can appreciate you so much more now.”

Snape snorted and looked away, body tense. Hermione leant back again and pursed her lips. Her tone was verging on stern as she said, “Severus!” He snapped his eyes to hers in surprise. Holding his gaze, she eyed him and challenged, “Do you not believe me?”

Snape’s eyes went wide and his lips parted as he inhaled sharply. Closing his mouth again, he swallowed hard and finally nodded. His voice gravelly, he said, “Yes. I believe you.”

Hermione smiled at him, and he caught his breath again at the way she lit up. Relaxing under her fond smile, he gave himself a minute shake, trying to dredge himself out of his funk. He reached over and squeezed her hand in mute apology and she caressed his fingers.

Chewing her lip, she ventured, “So, may I ask you something? Without you sinking back into that pit of despair? Because remember, I’m here now, and you shouldn’t ever have to feel that way again.”

His lips twitched in a faint semblance of a smile. Heaving a gusty sigh, he blinked and said, “Ask.”

Hermione held his hand in a firm grip, her thumb stroking in little circles as she said, “You wrote something about owing a life debt to Harry’s father. What happened?”

Snape searched her face for a long moment. His voice was low when he said, “Do you really want to know?” She squeezed his hand and nodded. He thinned his lips and murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Hermione’s eyes went round as she comprehended his intent. Staring at him, stunned by his offer, she sat frozen as he stood and crossed to his wardrobe to retrieve his Pensieve. Basin cradled in his hands, he crossed back to the bed, standing on the other side of it and depositing the Pensieve on the centre of the bed. Hermione squirmed around and knelt facing it, gazing soberly up at him.

He closed his eyes and scowled as he lifted his wand to his temple, withdrawing the silvery strand of memory. When he dropped it into the basin, he opened his eyes again and gazed at Hermione, his expression grave. Folding his arms over his chest, he nodded pointedly to the swirling mist.

Hermione blinked, glancing down at the basin and then back up at him, uncertain. “Er, aren’t you going to look with me?”

Snape’s lip curled and he tossed his head, growling, “I’ve seen it more than I care to count. It is my memory, after all. No. I think you should experience it alone. So you can get a better feel for what I experienced.”

A tremor of fear washed over her. Then, she steeled herself. It’s just a memory; nothing can harm you. Leaning forward and supporting herself on her hands, she glanced up at him again. “All right, then. I’ll look.” He nodded again and she took a deep breath, bending closer to the eddying surface until she felt herself being drawn in, falling into the memory. She stifled a shriek as she dropped.

Glancing about wildly, she saw that she was in a corridor in Hogwarts, and she saw a lean boy with long greasy black hair peering intently out of a window. With a jolt of recognition, she realized it was Snape. His expression was as sour as she had often seen on adult Snape. He shuffled to one side and craned his neck as he stared outside. Curious, Hermione edged closer, trying not to feel disconcerted by encountering a Snape younger than she was. Glancing out the window, she could see what looked like a woman guiding a shrouded figure toward the Whomping Willow. She gasped as she realized what she was witnessing.

This is what Sirius and Lupin were talking about before Snape caught us all in the Shrieking Shack! That’s Lupin going off to the Shack to transform, so it must be a full moon night… She looked up, seeing the sun dipping lower in the sky. She jumped when Snape suddenly moved. He had been almost unnaturally still, and when he had stepped back from the window, it had startled her. She watched his eyes narrow in calculation as he strode rapidly down the corridor and barrelled down the stairs. She took off at a jog, attempting to keep up.

When he shot down the next corridor and out a door, she raced after him, pausing only when she saw a young Sirius lounging near a tree outside. It was apparent that Snape hadn’t seen him, as he was heading in the opposite direction, but she saw Sirius notice Snape, and she stopped short at the unsettling look of predatory glee on his face. He pushed away from the tree and bounded after Snape, calling out, “Oi! Snape!”

Snape stopped and whirled around, wand in hand. He eyed Sirius warily. Sirius merely regarded him with a smug smirk as he loped closer. Snape bit out, “What do you want, Black?”

Hermione edged around to a better vantage point for seeing them both. Sirius eyed Snape keenly. “It’s getting darker. Where’re you going?”

Snape flicked a glance at the Whomping Willow and then scowled at Sirius. “None of your business, Black.”

Sirius stepped closer, idly twirling his wand through his fingers. “You haven’t seen Peter, have you? He’s supposed to be meeting me…”

Rolling his eyes, Snape scoffed, “Now why would you think I would have seen your bloody friend?”

Sirius cut a shrewd glance at him and murmured, “Because you’re always watching us, Snape. Don’t think it’s not obvious.” He snorted in amusement at the pink stain travelling up Snape’s pale face.

Hermione wished she could do something to end such an uncomfortable confrontation, feeling totally helpless. Even she reacted with relief when Peter Pettigrew came jogging up to them, puffing heavily and sweating.

Snape’s eyes flickered between the two Gryffindors, glittering in the fading light. Peter gasped, “Sorry… I was… late.”

Sirius turned a benign smile on him and said, “No worries, mate. I was just passing the time with Snape here while I waited.” Peter looked from Sirius to Snape, eyes round with apprehension and confusion. Sirius draped an arm over Peter’s shoulders and guided him away, turning them to face away from the wary Snape.

Hermione hurried to get closer to them, barely hearing Sirius whisper to Peter, “Just shut up and play along, okay?” Peter nodded eagerly and Sirius spoke in a low voice, but one that was still audible to Snape where he stood, straining to overhear their conversation. “Lily and her friend are already under the Willow, waiting for me and James. Where is he?” Peter, afraid to say anything, merely stared at Sirius, breathless with anticipation, and shrugged. Sirius winked at Peter with the eye out of Snape’s view and continued, “Listen, I know they won’t wait forever, so we should split up and both go look for him. Just remember to tell him to use a long stick to press that knot on the trunk to get the branches to stop flailing.”

Peter kept nodding, whispering back, “Right, tell James to press the knot on the trunk with a stick. Okay.”

Sirius grinned and said, “Good man. Now, let’s hope we find him soon. Lily said she was really looking forward to her blind date.”

Hermione’s jaw fell, aghast at Sirius’ manipulation. She could see Snape listening hard, and she saw his eyes widen at the news that Lily was waiting and he could press the knot to get past the Willow. Knowing what she knew now about his youthful feelings for Harry’s mother, she felt a throb of sympathy for him, being tricked by someone using those tender feelings as bait.

Sirius winked at Peter again and nodded. Straightening and turning to face Snape, who was still eyeing him darkly, Sirius said, “Well, ah… it’s getting late, and you know we’re not really supposed to be out after dark. So, you should probably get back to the castle too, Snape.”

Snape bristled and spat, “Don’t tell me what to do, Black.”

Sirius looked back at Peter and jerked his head, indicating that the other boy should go. Peter scurried away. Sirius narrowed his eyes at Snape and murmured, “I don’t have time right now to deal with your attitude, Snivellus. Just know that you’ll get what you deserve one day. Soon.” Then, with one last look of contempt, he took off, leaving Snape standing alone in the growing darkness.

Hermione watched Snape staring after Sirius, heart aching for him. He glanced around and finally looked at the Willow. Taking a deep breath, he tugged at his robes, smoothing them. He pocketed his wand and stealthily moved toward the tree. Peering around at the ground, he saw the branch lying where someone had dropped it after prodding the knot. Eyes darting around excitedly, lips widening in a faint smile, Snape picked up the branch and poked toward the knot, ducking to avoid the reach of the Willow’s flailing branches. On the third try, he pressed it. The branches froze in place, and a fleeting expression of triumph graced his face.

Stepping closer, he withdrew his wand and muttered, “Lumos.” The wand’s light threw the opening in the tree roots into relief, deepening the shadow of it. Breathing faster, he crept forward, sliding into the hole. Once he was out of sight, Hermione glanced anxiously at the sky, seeing the moon, round and full. Remembered terror gripped her. She knew what Snape was sliding into, and she remembered how frightening Lupin had been when he had changed.

She was about to dive down after him, when she heard pounding footsteps approaching. Looking around into the expanding blankness, she thought, Everything is disappearing. It must be because this is Snape’s memory, and he’s moving further away from this point. How fascinating! She was relieved to see another boy come into view, one who looked startlingly like Harry. James!

James skidded to a stop, panting, looking panicked. He looked up at the moon and hissed, “Dammit, Padfoot!” before launching himself into the hole. Hermione dove after him, grateful that she couldn’t be hurt by the descent.

Once he hit the ground, James yelled, “Snape!” He lit his wand and took off down the passageway. Hermione ran with him. She could hear him muttering what sounded like a litany, “Not yet, Moony. Please, not yet.”

Looking ahead, Hermione saw the pinpoint of light at about the same moment James did. Again, James yelled, “Snape! Stop!”

In the distance, Hermione could see Snape’s face under lit by his wand. He scowled back at James and spat, “Too late, Potter! You may as well go back.”

James’s eyes widened in fear as he saw Snape pushing up the panel that covered the opening into the Shrieking Shack. Arm outstretched, he raced ahead, voice almost strangled in terror as he said, “No! Snape! Don’t go in!” Then, several things seemed to happen at once.

Hermione heard the menacing growl just as Snape whipped around to see the glistening jaws of a snarling werewolf peering under the panel. His face went sheet white and he seemed petrified with fear. James reached Snape and grabbed his robes, yanking him backward, bellowing, “Colloportus!” at the panel as it fell back down. There was a flash of light as the spell burst over the panel, making an odd squelching sound, sealing it. From behind it, they could all hear the snarling, snapping growls of the werewolf as he tried to scratch through it. Snape’s wand was on the ground to one side, giving off a feeble light.

James dropped to his knees, panting. Shoving his glasses back on straight, he peered anxiously at Snape, who was sprawled on the dusty ground, obviously shaken. James reached for Snape’s wand, offering it to him as he gasped, “You okay?”

Snape turned wide, shocked eyes on James and snatched his wand away, scuttling backwards like a crab. His expression was a mixture of terror and loathing as he voiced a harsh, “Get off me!”

James jerked back as if stung, taken aback by Snape’s lashing out. Blinking, trying to marshal his scattered wits in the wake of so much panic, he lit his wand again and said, “Are you hurt?”

Snape’s wand was vibrating with the force of his trembling. Hermione could see that his thin chest was rising and falling rapidly; he was almost hyperventilating in his shock. His voice verged on hysteria as he said, “Very funny, Potter! You and your friends nearly got me killed! Oh, Dumbledore will expel you for sure. You and your little gang!” Snape struggled to his feet, looking almost deranged.

Hermione stood to one side, hands over her mouth, tears trickling over her fingers, unable to look away.

James swallowed and attempted a reasonable tone. “Snape, listen! It was a mistake! Honest! Sirius really crossed a line this time. I told Peter so when he told me. And I’ll tell Sirius the same thing when I find him.” He paused at the hair-raising sound of howling and yelping from behind the panel. Glancing at Snape, who was staring, horrified, at the panel, he reached out to grip his arm. Snape jumped and batted his hand away. James backed up and said, “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

Snape pointed his wand at James again, edging around him in the tunnel. In a low rasp, he said, “You first. I don’t want you behind me.”

James nodded slowly. He stepped past Snape and began the trek back up the tunnel, Snape at his heels. Hermione stuck close to them, and she was surprised to be able to smell the acrid odour of fear-sweat wafting off Snape. When they got to the other end of the passage, James turned to Snape.

He spoke softly and with great care, as if he were trying to calm a skittish animal. “I’m really sorry this happened. It was all a mistake. Look, I’ll go with you to Dumbledore to explain what happened—”

Snape cut him off. “Don’t think you’ll get out of this one, Potter. I daresay attempted murder is against school rules!”

James ducked his head, clearly trying to maintain his composure. He looked back up gravely. “Come on, Snape. I just saved your life. Let’s be reasonable here. You owe me.”

A look of pure disgust washed over Snape’s face. His voice shook with barely concealed fury as he hissed, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

There was a long moment crackling with hostility, then James said quietly, “Have it your way. Let’s go.” He turned and climbed out of the tunnel, with Snape hot on his heels. Hermione followed, watching them trek up to the castle through the moonlit night. As they got farther away, Hermione felt the blankness encroaching, and she suddenly found herself whirling up through the mist and back onto Snape’s bed.

When she re-oriented herself, kneeling beside the basin, she looked up, seeing Snape backed against his wardrobe, arms crossed tightly over his chest, expression closed and sullen. She felt her tears cooling on her cheeks in the dungeon air, and she sat back on her heels, wiping her face. Staring at Snape, she tried to find her voice, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Mutely gazing at him in sympathy, she watched him grimly skulk over to the Pensieve and replace his memory. His jaw clenched and his brows drew together as his eyes closed.

Casting a fleeting glance at her again, he picked up the basin and replaced it in his wardrobe. When he closed the door, he placed his hands against the wood and braced himself, facing away from her. She could see the tightness in his shoulders, and his head bowed between his outstretched arms. His voice was strained and bleak as he said, “Satisfied?”

She suddenly let loose the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. As it soughed out of her, she whispered, “Severus.”

At his name, Snape’s hands seemed to claw at the wardrobe door, clenching. He pushed back and let his hands fall to his sides as he spun, turning blazing eyes in a set, white face on her. Hermione’s hand lifted toward him involuntarily. After staring at each other for a long moment, Hermione finally choked out, “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes narrowed and he snorted. “Funny chaps, Potter and his gang, wouldn’t you say?”

Hermione sucked in a breath and eyed him with reproach. “No! Of course not! That was awful.”

Snape seemed to be sucked into reliving the anguish and he spat, “And of course you know what happened after that. That bloody berk had the bollocks to harass me even more, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop them! Not all of them!”

Hermione scrambled off the bed and crossed to Snape where he was pacing feverishly. Gripping his arms, she peered up at him in confusion. “Severus, wait! What are you talking about?”

Snape pinned her with a harsh glare and growled, “Like you don’t know. Surely Potter relished telling you all the humiliating details of what his heroic father and beloved godfather did to me just weeks later during our O.W.L.s!” He looked so angry that Hermione stepped away from him, afraid.

In a would-be rational voice, she said, “I don’t know what you mean. What was Harry supposed to have told me?”

At her claim of ignorance, Snape stopped, rounding on her and glaring. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he goaded, “Surely you remember his tale when I refused to teach him Occlumency anymore! There’s only so much I was willing to endure under Dumbledore’s orders, and he crossed the line that night! Oh yes, I’ll wager you all had a good laugh back in Gryffindor Tower, taking the piss out of the greasy git!”

Hermione began to get irritated with his ranting, especially since she was none the wiser to what he claimed she was supposed to know. Frowning, she planted her hands on her hips and forcefully said, “I said I have no idea what you’re talking about! Harry said you figured he could carry on himself since you had taught him the basics, and that’s why he wasn’t studying Occlumency with you anymore. I tried to tell him he shouldn’t stop the lessons until you were sure he’d got it all under control, but he just cut me off and told me to drop it. But, judging by your reaction right now, I’m guessing there was more to it. What happened?”

Snape’s eyes widened, and he stared at her, dumbfounded. She could almost see the rapid calculations racing in his head. Holding his gaze, she waited.

Snape finally blinked. Then he blinked again, several times, rapidly. The rigidity in his frame drained away, and he seemed to deflate, confused astonishment writ plainly on his face.

Hermione didn’t move or speak. She knew that he was wrestling with something huge, and she didn’t want to interrupt whatever alteration was occurring.

Finally, Snape turned blank eyes on her again and faltered, “He didn’t tell you?”

Tamping down the flare of annoyance, she slowly murmured, “Tell me what?”

Snape sank onto the edge of his bed, looking almost lost. “He… I caught him snooping in the Pensieve… prying into my most personal memories…”

Hermione’s brows shot up. A jolt of anger at Harry flashed through her, quickly followed by a pang of pity for Snape having his privacy violated like that. Carefully, she perched beside him, gingerly laying a hand on his knee.

“No. He never said anything. And it’s not like we didn’t ask.”

Snape’s mouth worked like he had tasted something sour. His voice was low as he said, “After that night at the Shrieking Shack, Dumbledore swore me to secrecy to protect Lupin. I couldn’t believe he didn’t expel them for nearly getting me killed.”

Hermione dared to interject, “But James saved you.”

Snape snapped his gaze to hers, his black eyes crackling with fury. “Don’t you think I know that?!”

She jerked away, startled by the vehemence in his retort. Warily, she stared at him, loath to say anything again.

He dropped his head to his hands, elbows propped on his knees, and raked his fingers through his hair. Hands clasped behind his neck, he stared unseeingly at the floor as he continued, “I know he saved me! It made me sick to owe him anything! And after I tried to convince Albus to expel them, they all determined they’d get me back. They had detention for the rest of the year, until it was time for our O.W.L.s.”

She cringed at the derisive note in his voice. He ploughed on, his eyes locked on the images replaying in his head.

“After our Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, Potter set upon me, with Black and the others right along with him. Lily tried to get them to stop, and I lashed out at her in my humiliation, hurting her feelings and ruining whatever chance I may have had at remaining her friend.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “I owed a life debt to one of the people I most despised, and my one chance to really pay it back disappeared in a flash of green light at the end of a maniac’s wand.”

Hermione waited in the heavy silence. Hesitantly, she moved closer to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could. Eventually, he turned to look at her, his eyes glassy, expression defeated.

Gently, she urged, “Harry is not his father. He was wrong to snoop into your private things, but he didn’t betray them to us. I think he knows enough about what it’s like to have a deprived childhood and hateful enemies to be able to identify with what you’ve suffered.” Snape’s brows furrowed and he blinked. “You may not have been able to pay back that debt to James Potter, but you’ve admirably fulfilled your vow to protect Harry and help him. I think you’ve more than paid back that debt to Harry, since James is gone.” Snape sagged under her hand and she smoothed it in small circles, soothing him. Snape simply gazed at the floor, bewildered.

“Severus?” She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and he shuddered at her touch. Grasping at normality, in an attempt to free him from his misery, she squeezed his shoulder and said, “Why don’t I start getting you ready for tonight, okay?” Rising from the bed, she crossed to the bathroom and retrieved the hair products, returning to crawl back on the bed and kneel behind him.

Snape allowed her to pull him straighter, and Hermione began brushing his hair. His eyes closed and he breathed deeply, trying to pull himself out of his torturous memories.

She smoothed the brush through his hair slowly, caressing him after each pass. After a long while, she could tell he had relaxed again, and she began applying the pomade. When she had finished, and his hair was secured in the elastic, she let her hands fall to his shoulders, and she leant forward to brush a soft kiss along the nape of his neck. He shivered, and his hands lifted to cover hers. He gripped them and murmured, “Thank you.”

Hermione pressed her forehead against him and whispered, “I love you, Severus.”

He leant forward out of her grasp, standing and facing her. Once again sitting back on her heels, she peered up at him. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, and he cleared his throat awkwardly before muttering, “I didn’t mean to yell at you, Hermione. Can you forgive me?”

Hermione offered him a watery smile and whispered, “How many times do I have to tell you that I forgive you for whatever it is you think you need forgiveness for?” He jerked his head in acknowledgement and sniffed. There was a pregnant pause, and then Hermione added, “Not all sons become their fathers.”

He snapped a perplexed gaze to hers. “I beg your pardon?”

Hermione patted the bed, and he slowly sank to the edge again, facing her. “Harry is not his father, no matter how much you think he takes after him. And you are not your father, no matter how much you may mimic his behaviour.”

Snape’s eyes widened so much that she saw a thin ring of white around the black centres, and his mouth opened in indignation. “Mimic? Are you mad? I would never treat my family like that!”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, marshalling her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his accusing glare. “I’m sure you don’t mean to…”

His eyes narrowed, and he reared back in anger, hissing, “How dare you accuse me of being like him?”

Chin jutting forward, she inhaled sharply and forged on. “That! That right there! You said yourself that when he was most furious, he didn’t yell, but instead was deathly quiet. You do that yourself, Severus! And it’s terrifying! I know.”

He froze, and she wondered if she had actually gone too far. She could feel her heart pounding, and she waited for the next explosion.

It didn’t come. His lips barely moved as he rasped, “Go on.”

Gulping nervously, she stammered, “D-do you remember your first year speech?” At his slight nod, she continued, “You said, ‘As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.’ I remember. Does that phrase not ring a bell?” At the answering silence, Hermione’s voice faded even more and she said, “You wrote that your father didn’t approve of ‘foolish wand waving.’”

With that, Snape’s eyes widened again, and his breath caught. She hurried on, watching his face change into an expression of stunned pain.

“You wrote that he was prone to yelling and belittling…” Her face crumpled in response to his, and she whispered urgently, “Don’t you see? Not only should you stop harassing Harry because he’s not his father, you should stop harassing him because you’re not your father! You don’t have to be that man. Harry has done nothing to you that deserves such intense loathing, and you don’t have to be the one to constantly degrade and insult and threaten him!”

Snape cradled his head in his hands again, and Hermione wrapped her arm over his back and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to like him, or be his friend, but don’t goad him or attack him at every turn! You two have more in common than you may want to admit, love, including the fact that I care about you.” At that, he jerked upright, whirling to face her, eyes cutting through her in accusation.

Not wanting him to misconstrue her statement, she immediately cupped his face in her hands and gazed fiercely into his eyes, willing him to understand. “I love you, Severus. I’m in love with you. I don’t ever want to be without you. But I love Harry. He is a dear, dear friend, and I don’t want to lose him either. You know it’s going to be hard enough when we go public, dearest. Can’t you see that if you two called a truce, it might be just that little bit easier later?” She searched his face earnestly.

Snape gazed at her, obviously assimilating the deluge of information he had just encountered. Finally, he swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. Covering one of her hands with his, he opened his eyes again and held her gaze as he lifted her palm from his cheek to plant a soft kiss on it. His voice was low and gravelly as he said, “I can make no promises… but I can make an effort.”

Crying out in jubilant relief, Hermione leapt forward, enveloping him in her embrace and fervently whispering, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Snape hesitated before wrapping his arms around her in return, but when he did, she crooned in encouragement. Relieved by her response, he tightened his embrace, eventually gripping her so tightly that she squeaked in protest. Releasing her only slightly, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, cushioning it in her hair. Her hands stroked lovingly up and down his back, and she kept pressing tiny kisses on his shoulder and neck.

Mindful of how long they had been in his rooms, Hermione squeezed him and whispered, “What time is it?”

Snape glanced up at the clock and murmured, “We’ve about ten minutes before rehearsal starts. Good call.” He pulled back from her embrace and looked at her. His lips twisted as he smoothed her wild hair back from her face, where it had stuck to her tear tracks. Rising, and pulling her to her feet, he gently wiped her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. “Come. Let’s get you presentable. We mustn’t incite questions from the others with you having such a bedraggled appearance.”

Hermione huffed at him in pique, but she stepped past him to the bathroom, knowing she must look a fright after crying so much. In front of his mirror, she desperately tried to tame her flyaway locks, and she washed her face in cold water, gasping at the shock of it.

When she straightened again, icy water dripping from her nose and chin, she was startled to see Snape’s reflection. He was standing right behind her, and he met her eyes in the mirror. His expression was pensive as he murmured, “Are you all right?”

Hermione nodded slowly, hearing the plops of water droplets hitting the sink. Snape politely handed her a flannel. Her expression solemn, she took it and retorted, “Are you?”

Snape snorted. His lips thinned, and he looked away, but then he locked eyes with her again and said, “Not exactly. But I’m beginning to think I will be. Eventually.” His lips quirked at the end of his statement, and he caressed her hair.

Hermione smiled faintly at him, from beneath the damp cloth. She was therefore surprised to see him frown at her. “What?”

His voice was wistful as he said, “You look tired. I do hope you haven’t been losing sleep over any of this.”

Hermione shrugged ruefully and drawled, “No more than usual.”

He tilted his head at her in reprimand, and said, “What time have you been getting to bed, young lady?”

Hermione gripped the sink basin and glared at him. “I’m fine.”

Grunting in a noncommittal fashion, he said, “You must get your rest. We need you for this performance, Hermione. How late do you stay up?”

Lifting her chin defiantly, she said, “I generally try to get to bed before midnight, but sometimes that doesn’t happen. I spend a lot of time on my assignments, you know.” She ignored his rolling of the eyes. “And N.E.W.T.s are coming up, so I have to be prepared.”

Snape grasped her shoulders and spun her to face him, enunciating, “How. Late?”

She looked down and muttered, “Sometimes I’m up till two, two-thirty. It’s okay! I can handle it.”

He thinned his lips in disapproval and growled, “You don’t have a Time Turner this year, Hermione. Please, don’t stress yourself like that. You’re brilliant, and you know it. You don’t need to stay up so late revising all the time.”

Hermione seemed to both preen and sulk at the same time, and Snape felt himself starting to smile at her demeanour. Lifting her chin with one finger, he pinned her with his gaze and said, “Hermione?”

His expression was one of expectation, and she mentally railed at his request. Sounding like a petulant child, she said, “What?”

Warmth crept back into his eyes along with his regained equilibrium. Softly, he said, “Promise me that you’ll get to bed earlier tonight and get the rest you deserve?”

Her eyes darted around, and then she cocked an eyebrow at him and said, “I can make no promises, but I can make an effort.” His brows shot up in surprise to hear his own words flung back at him like that, but he nodded slowly.

“Fair enough. It’s a deal.”

She nodded, and his fingers slid up her chin to cup her jaw, holding her still as he ducked down to seal the bargain with a kiss. When he pulled back, his gaze was loving and regretful as he said, “Come, let’s get upstairs.”

Taking her hand, he guided her into the sitting room and over to fetch his mask from the table near the door. Once again tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, he courteously looked at her and inquired, “Ready?”

She nodded, and they Apparated into the corridor in front of the Great Hall, startling the group of students who were waiting there.

Please proceed directly to part two