'How could I have let this happen?' Hermione seethed to herself as she attempted to sneak back up to the Gryffindor Tower.

Sometime in her third year she discovered a long forgotten room in the dungeons. She frequently visited the room to isolate herself from pestering questions of the other students who needed tutoring or told her she worked too hard. It was her solitude that she still frequented three years later.

But tonight… she had fallen asleep while trying to decipher the intricate and delicate Ancient Runes project she had undertaken. And now at 2 am she woke with a crick in her neck and the horrible task of having to sneak back to her bed on the opposite side of the castle.

Frustrated by her negligence, Hermione quickly and quietly walked up the dungeon stairs into the Great Hall… and stopped in surprise at the sight of the front doors ajar.

Heart pounding in her chest, she frantically searched for the intruder. Nothing was out of the ordinary and the silence was deafening. She had just convinced herself that it must have been Filtch prowling the grounds when the moonlight filtering in from the doors gleamed off an object tucked far back in the dark alcove to her left. It looked as though something had been carelessly tossed to the side as someone had entered.

Approaching cautiously she let out a strangled yelp as the object became recognizable.

The Death Eater mask lay face up turned towards her. She could see a smear of blood streaked down the front, along with a couple of bloody fingerprints.

In fear, she slowly started to back up, but was stopped again by another shock. A muffled moan broke the silence around her. As she strained her eyes, she could just make out a black lump hidden in the shadows behind the mask.

Drawing her wand she was prepared to wake the entire bloody castle because she was not going to let a Death Eater escape. Opening her mouth she concentrated to cast her patronus, but before she could gather her happy thoughts, pale hands appeared from the shadows, and silently summoned her wand from her hands.

Staring down at her empty hands in shock, she was faced with an important choice: fight or flight. She could run to find help, this Death Eater was obviously injured, but there was a high possibility of his escape. Or she could stay and fight and yell her goddamn head off. Balling her hands into fists she made her decision. The bastard wasn't going to escape, even if it turned into a physical fight.

She watched as a figure slowly crawled into the moonlight. Pale features stared out at her, black eyes locking onto hers full of fire and glazed in pain. Ebony hair lay in lank, matted strands across his shoulders. He attempted to rise but quickly stumbled back to the ground leaving bloody handprints and a broken twisted leg behind him.

"Professor?" she asked in disbelief.

"A-and… they call you… the br-brightest witch… of her… age," he said between gasps.

She came quickly to his side.

"W-what are… you doing? Y-you should not… touch the… greasy bat…the u-ugly, evil …. Death Eater," he spat.

"If you're a Death Eater, I'll eat my homework."

There was a wheezing chuckle in response.

"I need to get you to Madame Pomphrey."

"NO!" he shrieked, grabbing her robes and pulling her down. His eyes were wild with pain and fear. He needed medical attention immediately. Hermione tried to think of a way to get help without him noticing, but she was afraid any sudden movement would push him into shock. Swallowing she felt tears in her throat. Seeing her Professor so broken and vulnerable was disquieting, and she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

As she gaped at him, he seemed to gain some composure. "Help me… help me to my rooms," he whispered, pleading with her.

Without saying a word, she tucked her arm around his waist and pulled. They slowly rose to a stand, and she was appalled at how thin he was. He couldn't have weighed much more than her, but was at least a foot taller in height. He leaned heavily on her and she could feel blood from his various wounds dripping down her back. The situation was so surreal that the only coherent thought she had was that under the metallic scent of his blood, he smelled of spices… and the ocean. And she thoroughly enjoyed it. This was a thought she never conceived she'd have about her Professor, although she'd never thought she would be helping his bleeding self back to his private rooms either.

As they got further into the dungeons, his breathing grew heavier and soon Hermione was dragging him more and more as they walked. They rounded a corner close to her secret room and came to a dead end.

"Sir…there's nothing here…."

His only response was to point to the wall. As they reached it, he carefully placed his hand in the middle of the bricks. There was a soft glow around his hand as they shifted apart to reveal his rooms. As they stepped inside Hermione realized that she was supporting her Professor's full weight, and that he had passed out. Whether from blood loss or pain, she wasn't sure. Gently laying him down, she dug into his pockets until she found her wand.

"Mobilicorpus."

His body lifted a few inches off the ground. Hermione quickly ran from room to room, stopping momentarily to admire the vast library she found behind one door, until she discovered his bedroom.

The room was one of the most surprising parts of the night, as the décor was quite tastefully done not in Slytherin green, but only in shades of black, white, and grey. A large black bed dominated the majority of the room. Her face reddened slightly as she realized the bed was gently draped in soft silk sheets. Lowering him into his bed, she pealed back his robe to see the full extent of his injuries.

His leg was completely mangled and twisted so that his foot pointed in the opposite direction. She could see the shattered bones through his torn flesh and the sight made bile rise up in her throat. Blood pooled and soaked his clothing from various cuts that seemed random in their affliction, and whose purpose seemed only to inflict pain.

Using her wand she started the healing process.

"Episkey."

Her Professor's leg rightened itself with a snap. The shattered bones started to piece together and his skin closed.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

She watched his flesh knit back together effectively stopping the bleeding, but leaving raised, red scars in their wake.

Once she had finished she turned and promptly threw up on his stark white rug. As she cleaned up the mess, she heard her Professor laughing from the bed. The sound was deep and rich, and absolutely unsettling.

Standing upright she gawked at him. At her confusion, he stopped laughing at her, and turned instead to his side table to pull out various potions that he swallowed one after the other. Ignoring her, he took out his wand and pulled memories from his head in thick silvery strands. Placing them in an empty vial he held in out into the air. Fawkes appeared with a bright flash, grabbed the vial, and disappeared again with a squawk.

Turning to face her, Hermione could see the exhaustion on his face, but the vulnerability was gone. His eyes had turned to ice. With a sneer he said, "And do tell Miss Granger, what exactly are you still doing here?"

Even indisposed on his black silk sheets, he demanded authority.

"Well… I-I, you see…" she babbled, and then burst into tears. The stress of the night was too much, plus she was covered in blood and vomit, and had discovered her Professor was a Death Eater or was at least pretending to be one.

He continued to stare at her while she cried before saying, "How very incoherent of you. Is this what it takes to make the Gryffindor lioness shut up?"

Her mouth fell open and with tears streaking her cheeks, she lost control and started screaming, "WELL SIR, I FOUND YOU ON THE VERGE OF DEATH. I CARRIED YOU ALL THE WAY BACK HERE AND HEALED YOUR INJURIES. ME, A MUDBLOOD, WHILE YOU ARE STILL IN YOUR DEATH EATER GARB." Taking a calming breath she finished, "I think I deserve a little gratitude."

Professor Snape's eye narrowed at her and he rose out of his bed to tower over her. "Gratitude? Appreciation is given to those that have earned it, not to know-it-all Gryffindor's testing their courage by wandering around the castle in the dead of night. Detention Miss Granger, with me every night at 8 pm, for the next week."

"How d-dare," she stammered. "I saved your life!"

"And I spared yours!" he roared. "If I had meant you true harm, you would have been dead when you allowed me to take your wand. Or did you think brains and intellect were all it took to protect against a killing curse?"

She glared at him in rage. His eyes looked even darker in the dim candlelight and she found nothing behind the coldness held there. She vividly remembered the deep baritone laughter he had uttered minutes ago but the memory seemed like an amusing contradiction compared to the man before her.

Dropping her gaze from his sneer she turned to leave.

"I will escort you back to your rooms."

"But sir, you were grievously injured, you need rest! You shouldn't even be standing."

"Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot handle," he whispered coldly.

"Yes sir," she said still staring at her feet.

The walk back to the Gryffindor Tower was silent and awkward. Hermione's mind was racing and her heart pounding with adrenaline. She tried to ignore the man in front of her, but she couldn't miss his abnormally slow gate or slight limp. While she had healed his fatal wounds, she wasn't a practiced healer. He probably had numerous internal injuries and breaks that weren't as obvious. He was most likely in immense pain.

She watched his back as they walked. His heavy cloak lain abandoned in his rooms, and without it she could really see what a slight figure he made. He was present at all the required meals, but now that Hermione thought about it… she couldn't remember him eating much.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice that they had arrived. Looking up she found that he was staring at her with an intensity that she didn't understand. His eyes were pools of ice but as she met his gaze, the ice seemed to crack. She felt an overwhelming pain of snapped bones rubbing against each other and a deep, deep sorrow that left her on her hands and knees gasping. As their eye contact broke the pain faded away and her Professor was already striding around the corner and out of sight.

Entering her room, she landed face first on her bed exhausted. She didn't bother to change or even wash her Professor's blood from her skin.

As she sunk into a deep sleep, the revelation that had been working through her mind all night came forth:

First that Professor Snape was a Death Eater, but that it was the logical conclusion that he was spying for the Headmaster and the Order.

And second that he was not going to survive this war without her help. And help him she was indeed going to do.