AN: Just to clarify the timeline- Let's say we're working in The Half Blood Prince time period whilst not following its plot line.
I'm taking this and running with it where ever it takes me.
Secondly thank you so much for your reviews. This update wouldn't be happening if not for you.
It's been so long since I've sat and really concentrated on writing anything, so I really do appreciate all the positive feedback.
I hope you'll all continue to nudge me onwards. ~squish~

Edit: I've received a review concerning the fact that Severus was supposed to be teaching DADA in the Half Blood Prince.
I'll address this just to avoid any future confusion.
I'm working in The Half Blood Prince's timeline (ie, Hermione's 6th year at Hogwarts), not with it's plot line.
I may pinch one or two main aspects from the books, but otherwise this will not be following the same story line as the novels did.
In this fic Severus Snape is still Potions Master at Hogwarts, and in following the yearly tradition a new DADA Professor has been hired to teach
(as already mentioned later in this chapter).
I hope this clears up any doubts.

~x~

~x~

Severus woke up around dawn in the same position that the Granger girl had left him in late the previous afternoon.
He sat up stiffly from oversleeping but found his other limbs to be surprisingly cooperative.
Likely due to the fact he'd finally managed to get some well needed rest- even if it was in a chair rather than a bed.
Having said that, the pre-sleep attentions given to him had thankfully made the pain bearable enough to sleep through the night, which was a rarity these days with the Dark Lord's increase in temper.

But he wondered, what repercussions would occur from the small ounce of relief he'd been given?
He wasn't a fool to take things freely, though he was finding it difficult to place a possible ulterior motive.
What was there left to take from him? What else could anyone possibly ask from him? Especially a 6th year Gryffindor girl.
He felt his finger nails dig into the fabric of his chair in response to his thought process before getting up and making his way towards his private study.

He knew that Granger wasn't as innocent as she was painted out to be by his coworkers.
He was entirely aware that it was she who had rummaged through his private store room in her second year of Hogwarts- and he was under no false impression that she had failed to get wiser and more resourceful as the years went on.
She was likely one of the only students to walk into his dungeons who he could, grudgingly admit, was on the same intellectual level as he was when he attended Hogwarts.
She had the same bookish nature, the same vigor for studies.
The only difference was that she had friends- and good Lord, she was infuriating.
The fact that she walked and talked with The Boy Who Lived only gave greater fuel to the fire of suspicion.

But he had more pressing matters to attend to than that particular muggle born female.
Rather, he had several muggle born men and women who's lives were in jeopardy. The Dark Lord was frustrated.
He felt things were going too slow, he felt like he hadn't had a true "win" in a while.
His Death Eaters ran wild raping and killing and maiming, but that wasn't his real agenda. That was just play for his sadistic followers.
His second Master enjoyed torture and pain, without a doubt - but his interests were political. And they weren't moving forward.
There was death with no result.

But now he had a list.
A list with the names of some known muggle born witches and wizards from Hogwarts, likely collected via the gossip of Death Eaters children.
9 children were named. Children that he'd taught and watched grow.
It had apparently taken some digging to find the many non magical households, but it had been done.
It was all prepared.
All they had to do was wait and strike.

Most of his Slytherins talked a big talk, but underneath the self importance and the superiority complex, most of them were as scared as anyone else.
Perhaps more so. Many of them would have an initiation before the year was out and refusal was not an option.
He wondered how many of his students had unknowingly signed a death warrant for their peers for the sake of arrogant chatter in the wrong company.

The message the Dark Lord intended to send was simple.
"Magic for Magical Beings".
And this message would be sent out in the blood of dead children. The condition was that muggle borns should either cease magical education and high status wizarding positions voluntarily and admit inferiority, or face expulsion from suchpositions by force.
He looked to break down the education systems and the ministry first. Once he had those he had everything.

It didn't take much thinking to reveal the main culprit behind the planning.
Bellatrix Lestrange had sat on the arm of the Dark Lord's chair grinning maniacally and twirling her locks through the entire explanation.
So that's what you get when you mix poison with poison, he remembered thinking bitterly through his submissive gaze.
It would have worried him had anyone else excluded him from plotting until so far late in its stages had Bellatrix not been the mastermind behind it.
He got under her skin, and she would much rather see him tortured or dead than in among the Dark Lord's closest circle.

That was another issue to deal with. He needed to reaffirm the Dark Lords trust in him.
He'd brought nothing of solid value for the past few months and she could hear the likes of Bellatrix's whispers gain more ground in his eyes.
He needed to give him something, else it was unlikely he'd be useful for much longer.

Severus had owled Dumbledore the moment he'd returned, but he hadn't expected such a delayed response.
He hadn't included the details, but when a war spy returns from a summoning with a message that there are things of importance to be discussed, it is more than often a life or death situation.
He opened his desk drawer sharply and slammed fresh pieces of parchment down on the wood.
It was far too early in the day to feel so angry. But that was how he operated. Anger. Frustration. Pain. And the rotation continued.
He took out his quill and scribbled another message of urgency.

It was useless to go to his office anymore. He was barely ever there.
What the hell the old man could be doing at such a dire moment was beyond him. He had a whole castle of students to shelter and life determining plans to make. Sacrifices were going to have to be made in order to appease the Dark Lord and they had to have a serious think as to what they could stand to lose.

It wasn't a conversation he looked forward to, but one that was essential to have as soon as possible.
He melted some emerald wax onto an envelope and stamped it with his Head of House Slytherin seal.
With a sigh he set it to the side so he could take it to the Owlry before breakfast.

He moved to clear the extra parchment away but his thoughts strayed back to the Gryffindor girl he'd threatened with the promise of detention.
If he were honest it wasn't something he wanted to do. Not for the fact that what she did helped him,
but rather because he valued his time alone, especially in these hectic times.
People drained him, and he was surrounded by people who demanded his attention and service.
But he couldn't be seen to show favoritism- and throwing away the opportunity to condemn a Gryffindor to detention would be seen as such, especially among his Slytherin students. And gossip, it seemed, always found its way to the wrong people.

With that thought in mind, he began to write the details of how she would be spending her Saturday evening with him.
He would not think about her presses and light touches. Trivial things were not to be lingered on.
Not now. Not for someone like him.

~x~

The Great Hall was not where she wanted to be.
She would have been fully content to miss breakfast in exchange for some extra sleep.
Dormitory life however was not one which satisfied the need for a long lie-in.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ron was touching her arm with buttery fingers chewing repulsively.

Hermione pushed away her own plate having concluded that she was more than done with breakfast.
"I'm fine, I was just studying late. Potions."

A more accurate response would have been the fact she had sat in stunned disbelief until the late hours of the night of the things she'd done in her Potions Master's personal rooms.
She wasn't ashamed of it, but she feared what would come of it in the way of awkwardness and or punishment.
It was only October, they still had most of the year to get through- and she didn't know if she could stand becoming target number 1 for classroom cruelty.

"We already get enough homework from that git, the one day we don't get an assignment you're sitting up there studying?"
Ron turned to Harry and nudged him for support.

She threw a glare his way but decided the best response was to say nothing.
She'd pressed the topic of respect with him more than once.
At this point she let him indulge in his own ignorance.

Ron caught her bitter look and folded his arms defensively
"What's the big deal? I bet he's done more than enough to earn it. With He Who Must Not Be Named and all. Git."

Harry knew what lines to toe when it came to Hermione, and most importantly he knew when to stop talking, unfortunately the feeling that told him when to stop was usually triggered by Ron more than himself.
He merely gave a neutral shrug in response to his friend's jab at Hermione and their Professor and attempted to move the topic on.

"We were just worried about you, with the potion incident and all, Neville was hysterical. We had to give him a calming draught from Poppy"
She felt a pang of guilt in her chest.

"It wasn't that bad, no one was hurt in the end."

"I wouldn't say that" he continued, " I feel like if Neville ever has to stand in front of Snape again he's going to start hyperventilating until he passes out"

This mornings breakfast was a decidedly horrid experience, she concluded.

An owl flew over the table dropping an envelope in the space her plate had occupied and thus saving her from making any guilt ridden responses on Neville's condition. She felt truly bad, but she didn't know how she could make that casualty better.

"It's from Snape." Ron said leaning in to her shoulder.
"I can see that." was he always this irritating?
She broke the seal and unfolded the crisp parchment in front of her.

"Miss Granger,
Your Detention will commence from 6pm sharp Saturday evening.
Also note that your Hogsmede privileges have been revoked for the time being. Disobedience will not be tolerated.

Severus Snape
Head of Slytherin House"

She had expected him to follow up on the promise of detention- but revoking her Hogsmede privileges?
Maybe he was angry at her for interfering. She didn't think things had gone terribly.
But on that thought, he was definitely not in a condition to retaliate when she last saw him.
Did she take advantage of her Professor?
The thought made her queasy.
If he saw it that way then she may as well throw herself in the lake for the giant squid to take care of instead of face him on Saturday.

"That's a bit excessive" Ron murmured.
"Well I did dismiss his entire class prematurely." among other things.
She sighed and folded the parchment into her robes.
"It can't be helped now"

Harry gave her a sympathetic shoulder squeeze as she got up from the table.
"We don't have Potions again until tomorrow anyway." he gave her a lopsided smile.

"You guys can keep eating before classes start, I'm going to sit in the library and catch up on some missed reading for a while.
I'm sure I have some transfiguration homework that's not entirely up to scratch yet."

It seemed like her know-it-all nature reputation was coming in handy a lot these days.
She didn't intend on any kind of homework, but it was the only time people avoided her for fear she would rope them into some unbreakable study circle .
And she was in no mood for people.
Fun and friends seemed like something distant. Her friends acted like nothing much had changed.
It was just another year at Hogwarts to them. Tedious classes, pretty girls, Hogsmede trips.
And as per usual they had a new lousy Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.

The truth was that very soon people they knew could die. People they knew would die. They might very well lose each other.

How could they act like it was okay? How could they still laugh?
There was someone who was in the very Order itself being tortured on a regular weren't they planning?
And if people were planning why wasn't Harry being informed being that he would be the one to face Voldemort on the battlefield?

The only person she'd seen look as sober as she felt was Professor Snape. And he had been suffering from the cruciatus curse.
Helping him had felt like the only real worthwhile thing she'd done this year.
What troubled her was the fact that he had likely dealt with these same effects alone on several occasions, and would likely do so again.
It was plain luck she was there at the right moment, and he was likely never to make that same mistake again.
Was she supposed to forget the entire ordeal?

She stood up to leave while Ronald gave her one more dramatic eye roll before she left the Hall. She arched her neck to throw him a glare as she walked out the door and stumbled as she collided with a dark flare of robes making an entry.

Old books, fresh cotton, green grass

She felt her stomach and heart sink simultaneously as memories of the previous night flooded her vision with scent verified clarity.
She hadn't even mentally prepared herself to be in his presence until tomorrow.
She spluttered out an apology before even seeing his face feeling her entire body heat up from sheer embarrassment.

When he didn't move away immediately she looked up to see a raised eyebrow and two dark eyes boring into her.

"If you would be so kind, Miss Granger, to remove your feet from my person."

She looked down mortified to find herself standing on the corner of his robes and almost fell over herself in the process of stepping off.
"I trust you received your letter"
"Yes Sir."
"Tardiness will not be tolerated."

She felt her face burning as he billowed passed her and up to the teachers table.
Hermione stood bonelessly in the Hall's entrance arc a short moment before collecting herself and swiftly retreating to the library praying that her face would stabilise into a more natural tone before anyone pointed out her flushed complexion.

~x~

Thank you for reading~
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