Author's Note: Please note that as of 6/23/28, this chapter is a heavily revised version of what was originally posted. Much love to my betas, TamraPraxidike and HeartOfAspen, who are absolutely amazing.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.

Monday, December 21

Hermione sat in the armchair Madam Pomfrey gestured to and gazed at her surroundings with unabashed curiosity. While she had certainly spent plenty of time in the Hospital Wing previously and was much acquainted with its arrangement, this was her first time in the matron's personal office.

She had never seen the matron's inner offices, but had to admit, Madam Pomfrey's rooms were undeniably cozy. The soft lighting, which was a happy medium between dim and bright, provided a peaceful ambience, allowing any occupants to settle into a more relaxed state of mind. As Hermione continued to take in her surroundings, her gaze was naturally drawn to the bookshelves lining the walls. Her fingers practically twitched in eager anticipation of taking in the knowledge the volumes would no doubt impart, but she forced herself to remain seated.

Pulling herself back into the present, she could practically feel the healer's eyes on her, undoubtedly assessing her. Despite her continued mixed feelings regarding the witch, Hermione hoped she had passed whatever silent test was being conducted.

"Hogwarts has seen many students pass through its doors, as have I," Madam Pomfrey stated unceremoniously, once she felt that she had Granger's undivided attention. "Many of them flourish here before moving on to lead wondrous lives. There are, however, instances where Hogwarts and its professors – myself included – have failed a student along the way. Severus Snape is one such case."

Hermione begrudgingly remained quiet, even with the numerous questions flitting through her mind. She sensed that Madam Pomfrey had much to say, and recognized that starting in with her questions now would only exasperate the witch. After being kept in the dark for so long, she was wont to do anything what would risk obtaining the answers she so desperately desired.

"I have cared for Severus since his first year here. Even then, he had undoubtedly seen more than any child his age had any right to see. There were obvious signs of neglect and abuse, both of which I brought up to Professor Dumbledore and then the head of Slytherin House, Professor Slughorn. During our discussions, Professor Slughorn appeared to share similar concerns, but as soon as I made mention of wanting to act further on them, his support vanished.

"At the time, I thought I was doing everything I could. I healed him of his many ailments on the first night of each school year, provided him with salves and potions for the most basic of injuries, and attempted to put some meat on his bones. At the beginning of each break, it was only I that stood by as he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and watched as he returned far worse than before. I know now that I should have done more. I should have taken initiative where Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn neglected to, but I did not. Though… I suppose it makes little difference now..."

Madam Pomfrey stared, unseeing, at a point just over Hermione's shoulder, clearly lost in her memories. After a moment, she cleared her throat, returning to the present, and continuing, "Over the years, I have seen countless people take advantage of Severus' vulnerabilities, time and time again. Severus Snape is every bit as vulnerable and eager for acceptance as you or I, perhaps even more so. He has, by necessity, found ways to hide such vulnerabilities from those with more… sinister intentions. Countless individuals have found any sort of leverage they could and used it to manipulate him."

Hermione was able to clearly conjure up an image of a young Professor Snape struggling to adapt in a society that thrived off of likeness, the similarities that children found in one another at a young age and then bonded over. Most were able to navigate such a world with relative ease, but for others, like Snape and Hermione, it was a path filled with confusion and loneliness.

"During his time wandering these halls as a student, it was James Potter and his band of friends that abused him mercilessly. Then it became V-Vol-," she sighed and took a moment to gather her wits, refusing to allow the monster to control her from the grave. "Then it became Voldemort. Finally, it was Albus Dumbledore. For years, Severus spied on Voldemort's inner workings, relaying invaluable information to the Order, at much risk to himself. But still, the only time Albus cared to know how Severus was fairing was when he wished to know what information he had gathered.

"One night in particular, there had been a… gathering amongst Voldemort and his Death Eaters. When Severus returned, he was in the worst shape I had ever seen him in. I set to work, healing the most severe of his injuries when Albus strode in, demanded I heal his jaw so Severus could talk, but then wait to do anything else. Severus was in pain for hours while he told Dumbledore what he had learned. How his body had not shut down in order to preserve itself, I still don't know. Afterward, the headmaster left without a word of thanks, or voicing a hope for a quick recovery. In fact, to my knowledge, the next time Dumbledore spoke with him was a week later, when Severus was lying in my Hospital Wing once again."

"How often did these… gatherings occur?" Hermione could not prevent the question from slipping past her lips.

"At least once a week, but toward the end of the war, it became every few days."

The young witch felt the bile rise in her throat, fearing the direction the story was taking. "And did Professor Snape always require medical attention after he returned?"

"In some manner or form, yes. While not all nights were as bad as the one I mentioned, there was generally always something that required my attention."

"So, all of those scars…?" Hermione felt nauseous, a cold sweat breaking out along the back of her neck.

"Are the result of curses and physical attacks, yes. It is my understanding that Voldemort would often pit his followers against one another in duels to the death. If you did not have what it took to survive, you were too weak to serve him, and he would celebrate the fact that he no longer counted you amongst his ranks. He believed that surviving a physical attack made you stronger and more likely to withstand further torture in the future."

Hermione remembered her very personal experience with just how much the Death Eaters enjoyed torturing and degrading their victims. For a moment, she was thrown back onto the drawing room floor of Malfoy Manor. She could see Bellatrix's sadistic features laughing when Hermione screamed in pain, doing whatever she could to extract more while taking obvious pleasure in her victim's helplessness.

Unable to silently relieve the traumatic experience that still haunted her, Hermione bent at the waist and grabbed the rubbish bin just moments before she retched.

Once the dry-heaving had ceased, Madam Pomfrey took the bin from Hermione's shaking hands and set a small vial in its place.

"Drink," she ordered softly, steadying Hermione's hand as the distressed witch brought the potion to her lips.

Watching to be sure that she had downed the vial, the matron turned to the bookshelves, apparently searching for something. Hermione was too distracted to follow her movements, trying in vain to calm her racing pulse.

"Ginger tea," Madam Pomfrey stated after a moment. A steaming cup floated her way. "For the nausea."

Unable to keep her hand steady enough to grasp the handle, Hermione wrapped her hands around the base, greedily taking in the warmth the liquid offered.

"Drink," the healer directed when Hermione hesitated.

Obediently, she took a tentative sip, and was surprised when it had an almost instantaneous reaction. The muscles in her stomach started to unclench and settle while the liquid relieved her of the dry throat and vile aftertaste. Hermione took slow, deep breaths as she continued to sip, waiting for the dizziness to abate.

"So you see," the healer continued after several moments, when Hermione was finally able to sit up fully "he has had a hard life, and I refuse to let anyone else hurt him. I care very deeply for Severus, as if he were my child. On the night you brought him here from the Shrieking Shack, well, I would have done anything to save him. I had feared, though, that you hadn't performed the ritual for the right reasons.

"Reckless and uncharacteristic of my position, it may be, I admit that I had every intention of deceiving you from the start. I am not a fool, Miss Granger. I know that Severus has not been kind to you over the years. But he… I needed… I could see how distraught you were and I used that to my advantage, hoping that your penchant for saving those in need would shine through once more. And it did. But I was worried that if you knew how grim his story is, that you wouldn't be swayed.

The picture isn't pretty, Miss Granger."

"You told me you would tell me if his life was in danger. This affects me too!"

"His life isn't in danger," Madam Pomfrey insisted. "I'm not so selfish that I would knowingly put your life in jeopardy."

"Life? What life? The man is hardly living as it is, if what little I've seen is any indication!"

"I realize that now, which is one of the reasons why you and I are having this conversation."

"One of the reasons?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she took another sip of her tea, her stomach displeased from her outburst. She was growing increasingly more frustrated with the lack of answers she was receiving coupled with the influx of more questions.

"Yes." Madam Pomfrey took a moment to gather her thoughts. "The night you summoned me to his chambers, you were asleep by the time I returned from my errands."

Hermione blushed in embarrassment, knowing she had failed in her duty to keep watch over the professor, but Madam Pomfrey paid her no mind.

"While it's true that I haven't often frequented his chambers, I have never seen a fire going and I've certainly never seen him use anything but that dreadful sheet. I know that was you, Miss Granger," she regarded Hermione carefully. "Since that night, I have reevaluated everything I thought I knew up to this point."

"And what did you come up with?" Hermione straightened in her seat, hoping, finally, that the answers she was longing for were coming.

"For now, I will keep that to myself."

Scowling, Hermione slumped back in her seat, not appreciating that she was being kept in the dark about something again. She settled for asking something different, hoping Madam Pomfrey would deign to answer at least one question succinctly. "What exactly happened that night?"

"An excellent question. While I'm still trying to discover the answer, myself, I will impart what I believe I have worked out." The matron shifted slightly in her seat and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Whether or not he chooses to see it yet, I believe that that little black kitten you saw has chosen Severus. You know what that means, I take it?"

"A little," Hermione admitted, feeling inept at being unable to properly answer the question. "I know that it's not the same as the relationship between owner and pet which Muggles favor. I also know it isn't as simple as someone picking out a random owl from Eeylops' Owl Emporium."

"Correct. Each witch and wizard has a distinctiveness to their magic; a fingerprint if you will, that is entirely unique to each individual, as do animals. A witch or wizard can only link to an animal and create a familiar bond, if their magicks are compatible. I might liken it to the wand choosing the wizard. Sometimes our magic does not work well in relation with other magical elements. It can be very much a trial-and-error process. Some people are fortunate enough to meet their familiar early on in life, while others never do. But once that bond has been formed, it can never be broken."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite following." Her brow furrowed as she worked through the potential implications and considered her relationship with Crookshanks. "You're saying that that black cat has magic?"

"Everything has magic, Miss Granger," the matron looked pointedly at Hermione's tea, refusing to continue until she was satisfied when the young witch drank more, "it is simply a matter of whether or not that magic has been Awakened. Muggles have magic within them, but for whatever reason, their magic was never Awakened. It is unclear why the process never occurred, or what triggers an Awakening, but we do know that it is a subtle process that ceases once a child turns eleven years of age. Some academics believe that every person begins the Awakening process, but not everyone completes it, thus resulting in phenomena such as telepathy or prophesying. Your parents, for instance, do have magic within them - it is merely dormant."

Hermione's mind reeled. Never before had she heard any mention of this theory, and she relished the thought of being able to return to the library to conduct further research.

"Now, returning to the line of thought that the kitten is Severus's familiar, I believe it says a lot that instead of seeking out myself or the headmistress, it chose you. Severus was in a very weak, very defenseless state and his familiar would've recognized that. He wouldn't have chosen just anyone to seek out for help."

"I tried to find it," Hermione admitted. "The kitten, I mean."

"But you couldn't find him," Madam Pomfrey surmised. The young witch responded with a nod. "He is likely still in Severus' chambers watching over him."

Hermione tilted her head, replaying the healer's words over in her mind. Something about the phrasing had not sat right with her, but it was a moment before she realized what it was. "Wait a minute, have you not seen Professor Snape since the night of the attack?"

"I have not. I'm sure you've noticed his absence at meals. It seems I have angered him, and now he's taken to sulking in his rooms."

"But he still needs medical attention!" Hermione cried, unable to bear thinking of what might have become of the Potions Master had the kitten not found her in time. Even now, if he was not receiving the proper care he needed…

"Indeed he does, but alas, Severus is as stubborn of a man as they come. He is, however, also a very gifted wizard."

"You can't get past his wards either? I've searched the library but can't seem to find anything about the magic he's using." Hermione admitted without thinking, frustration coloring her voice. Her eyes widened and a blush promptly covered her cheeks when she realized she had revealed that not only had she attempted to gain entrance to the professor's chambers, but that she had also researched ways to attempt to forcefully bypass them as well.

The matron raised a brow, and Hermione suspected she was stowing away this tidbit of information to mull over later. However, the witch only confirmed, "I cannot. Just as you have been deemed the brightest of your age, Severus was for his. In fact, he was one of the most gifted wizards to ever walk these halls, I daresay. While many come here to learn the basics of magic, for him it has always been innate, and he spent his time here honing what abilities he already had."

Hermione snorted, "So much for brightest witch of my age if I can't even get past some bloody wards."

"You may have looked in the traditional places, but Severus has always had a preference for older, darker magic. Magic that you wouldn't have even thought to consider."

"If Professor Snape is so powerful that he can cast these wards, how was I able to see, much less enter, his chambers that night?"

"Another excellent question, Miss Granger, for which I believe the answer to be Hogwarts. Despite common thought, Hogwarts is far more than just a castle; it is very much a sentient being unto its own - with limits, of course. I believe that it, like the kitten, sensed Severus' distress and recognized you as someone with the capabilities to help him."

"But that hardly makes any sense. I'm not a healer."

"A healer can only do so much, and it is my belief that the kind of healing Severus requires is beyond my means of giving."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Nor do I expect you to quite yet. But I find that I must ask: what are your thoughts regarding our resident Potions Master?"

"I've been thinking on that a lot, actually," Hermione's fingers fiddled with the rim of the mug she still held, the contents of which were now lukewarm.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, the first smile Hermione thought she had ever seen from the woman. "Of course you have, dear," she mused knowingly, "and what course have those thoughts run?"

"I find myself... curious," the young witch admitted slowly. "Perhaps it was the war, or maybe seeing the… attack, or maybe I've simply changed, but…" she looked up from playing with the mug, meeting the healer's eyes. "He's not all that he appears to be, is he?"

"Not at all, dear. He is much more than the rather one-dimensional façade he has maintained over the years."

"But, why?"

"I believe," Madam Pomfrey started slowly, gathering her thoughts, "that it is not dissimilar to a defense mechanism, or a coping strategy. But for now, that is all I will say. Instead, I would like to discuss whether or not you had considered pursuing a healer's apprenticeship."

Hermione blinked, trying to keep up with the rapid change of their conversation. "To be honest, I have yet to truly consider any apprenticeships."

"But it is what you want, yes? After all, why else would you return to Hogwarts to take your N.E.W.T.s when you essentially already had a prestigious job waiting for you at the Ministry?"

Hermione cocked her head slightly as she absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair around her finger, and pondered Madam Pomfrey's words. She was occasionally accosted by her professors, who demanded to know what her intentions were once she completed her education. Most notable in their efforts were Professors McGonagall and Babbling, who far too often could be found bickering over who would get the honor of continuing Hermione's tutelage in their respective subjects, nevermind that Hermione had yet to actually offer an opinion one way or the other, for she knew that the war being waged outside the castle walls would have to be won first.

Healing, though… while it was true Hermione had never put much thought into pursuing a career as a Healer, all at once the possibility became entirely appealing.

"It's true, I do want to further my education. I always have. Transfiguration seems to make the most sense, as I've always made top marks in it, but," her nose crinkled, hesitant to admit what she knew would crush her Head of House, "I don't believe I have a passion for it." Despite the hesitance she felt while preparing to say it, once the statement was uttered, Hermione knew it to be true. While she enjoyed the subject, and certainly learning in general, pursuing an apprenticeship in Transfiguration would have been a mistake.

"If I may, I suggest you seriously consider healing. Not only do you have the necessary base skills, but you also possess something far more important."

"Another applicant - one who has received formal training - would likely be far more qualified than me."

"I'm afraid I disagree. We survived a war, child. Having watched Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley over the years, I'm fairly certain they weren't the ones playing mediwitch while the three of you were on the run. Neither have the forethought or full capabilities for it. That aside, you've got a heart, Miss Granger. Most come into this field for the glory of saving another's life, or because they feel they're good at it, but that is simply not enough. You must have heart and truly care about your charges."

Hermione tilted her head slightly as she thought about every time she had been a resident of the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey never uttered so much as a chuckle at her expense when she had accidently turned herself into a cat, and for every hairball she had thrown up, the matron had soothed her and allowed her tears to run themselves dry. Every ache and cut was tended to meticulously and the matron was eternally patient.

"Many would have left Severus for dead that night in the Shrieking Shack, and a great many more wouldn't have taken the time to consider lighting a fire in those cold, dank chambers of his, much less transfigure that ratty sheet into something more suited to keeping him warm and comfortable. I have no doubt that with your N.E.W.T. scores, you'll be more than qualified. 'Outstanding' or 'Exceeds Expectations' marks are required in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Herbology. Unless you think you have reason to be worried?" The matron raised a brow and Hermione blushed, knowing she was being teased, before she shook her head.

"As I thought. Now, as I've already given you much to think about, I'll let you retire to your dormitory for further consideration of my offer. I'll be expecting an answer in two weeks' time in order to get you acclimated within the field, and in the Hospital Wing prior to the students returning."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she lifted the mug in reference to her earlier incident and placed it on the desk. Hermione paused by the door, a question on the tip of her tongue.

"Out with it, child."

"I was wondering if I might ask what, exactly, the professor was going through that night? And why it took twice the normal dosage of Calming Draught for him to settle?"

"I'm afraid that would breach my oath of patient confidentiality. However," Madam Pomfrey trailed off momentarily, "if I were talking to a prospective healer... and in the midst of her apprenticeship she were to ask me about hypothetical scenarios regarding healing techniques and implications... then yes, I could answer."

"I see. Well, thank you for your time."

"Good night, Miss Granger."