When Living is No Longer Enough

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Chapter Three


To say that Hermione was having a bad day would have been the understatement of the year. She had found Professor Snape's class notes and syllabus neatly tucked away in his desk drawer and proceeded to lead the class in the making of an Aging Potion that would wear off by mid afternoon. Until then, Hogwarts would be boasting some very mature looking seventh year students. One boy in particular, Ryan Dallon, had made the mistake of adding too many Unicorn Hairs and could almost pass for his father's brother rather than for a seventh year student. Another student didn't add enough powdered Dragon's Claw, causing her skin to pucker and pull as the aging potion attempted to perform its magic. That student was currently visiting with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary. However, that was the least of her headaches during the double Potions class. 'You would think, that after so many years of House rivalry, the school would simply stop trying to pair up Slytherins and Gryffindors,' Hermione thought in frustration. Unfortunately, this had not been the case and in an effort to promote tolerance between the rival Houses, the Headmaster had seen fit to continue the tradition.

"How does Snape manage?" she muttered aloud, searching through her desk drawer for an Anti-Headache potion. 'No wonder he was always grumpy in class,' she thought as her fingers finally clasped around the small vial filled with a deep purple colored liquid. Sending a heartfelt thank you to whatever Higher Powers might be listening, she uncapped the vial and hurriedly downed the foul tasting liquid in one swallow. 'Not that I'd ever tell him that his cranky demeanor may have been slightly justified from time to time.'

Sitting at her desk in her own classroom, she began reviewing her daily lesson plan. It was to be a fairly challenging class detailing several aspects of Invisibility charms. Thankfully, there wouldn't be a Slytherin or Gryffindor student in the bunch. 'I never thought I'd be so happy to see a class full of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs,' she mused, as the seventh year students began entering the room and taking their seats. Two hours later, she found herself back in the dungeons teaching the last Potions class of the day. Luckily, the class consisted of a group of Hufflepuff second years that were quiet, well behaved, and amazingly enough, didn't knock over any ingredients or blow up any cauldrons. Memories of Neville Longbottom invariably flooded her mind whenever she thought of exploding cauldrons and today was no exception. After assigning the class their homework, a three-foot essay detailing the four most popular types of Stomaotiootions, she dismissed the students and straightened up the classroom. Just as she was about to leave and make her way to Professor Snape's quarters to confer with him about the following day's lessons, she noticed a Sixth Year girl standing in the doorway, hesitantly glancing her way.

"Can I help you, Miss Saunton?" she asked the blond haired, blue-eyed Slytherin.

The petite girl glanced back nervously toward the hallway before entering the classroom. Looking around as if searching for something, she asked quietly, "Is Professor Snape here?"

"No, he's taken ill and will be out for the next few days. I'll be covering his classes in the meantime. Can I help you with something, maybe?" Hermione asked kindly, noticing the girl's nervous disposition.

"No thank you, Professor Granger. I just needed to talk with Professor Snape about something, but I guess it can wait. Thank you," she replied, offering a small smile before hurriedly exiting the classroom.

'That seemed a little odd,' the young Witch thought to herself with concern 'She seems so nervous, which is odd in itself since most Slytherins usually walk around as if they own the place. I hope she's alright.' Temporarily placing her concerns regarding the young Slytherin aside, she exited the dungeons and made her way toward the Potions Master's chambers.


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To the average observer, Hermione Granger appeared calm and collected as she neared the personal rooms assigned to Severus Snape. This would prove to be the biggest illusion of all time because the truth of the matter, in the simplest of terms, was that the man scared her to death. He didn't frighten her in a way in which she might fear for her life or that some indefinable harm might befall her. In fact, the exact opposite was true. Hermione truly respected the cranky man and, for reasons unknown even to her, trusted him implicitly. She didn't fear his dark, menacing glances or snide comments. No, oddly enough, she liked the dark, brooding, mysteriousness of the man and she truly enjoyed his quick sardonic wit and the way in which she was usually able to match his every remark. No, she was simply terrified that he would never be able to see beyond her school days to notice the young woman she had become as opposed to the over-eager, know-it-all student she had once been.

'Gods, this is crazy,' she muttered with disgust. 'I've had a crush on this man for how long and he can't even stand me, barely acknowledges that I exist, and probably wishes nothing more than that I were a student again so he could deduct House Points. Why can't I ever be attracted to the nice ones that pay you compliments day in and day out? The normal men whose greatest ambition in life is to be able to sleep late on the weekends?'

Brushing aside such negative thoughts, she took one last deep breath and reached up to knock on the heavily warded door of the Potions Master's quarters. Moments later she found herself standing face to face with the man who had gradually taken up residence in her dreams during the past few years.

"Professor Snape," she began, praying to whichever deity who might be listening, that she sounded more confident than she actually felt. "I was hoping that I might speak with you for a few minutes regarding your lesson plans for the next few days. That is, of course, if you feel up to it."

Severus Snape was not a man who enjoyed company and visitations from anyone were not highly encouraged. So, it was with great surprise that he opened the door to find himself staring at the young woman who had been the bane of his existence for far too many years. 'It isn't bad enough that she haunted me for seven years with her incessant hand raising and traipsing around after Potter and Weasley, or secretly brewing potions that were far too advanced for children her age and could have caused her irreparable harm. No. Now she has the nerve to grow up and return to plague me all over again,' he thought viciously, mentally grimacing as he stared at the young woman standing nervously before him. 'Never mind the fact that she's hailed as one of the brightest Witches of her generation or the fact that, somewhere along the line, she lost the buck teeth or that that frizzball of a head of hair has turned into the most gorgeous, silky mane of soft chestnut curls I've ever seen or that she has a smile that lights up every room she walks into or that a person could get lost in those soft brown eyes indefinitely... That's right. NEVER MIND ALL OF THAT!' his mind all but screamed. Simply put, the fact was that she still managed to disturb his thoughts in one fashion or otheveneven though he had gone out of his way to avoid her since she had returned to Hogwarts two years ago.

"Professor Granger, don't tell me that one day with my Potions classes has proven too much for you already?" he sneered. "And here I was assured that you would have no problems at all. Where is that perseverance and tenacity that you Gryffindors so often boast about?"

"May I come in or would you like to see how tenacious I can truly be?" she asked with a false sweetness underlined with a hint of steel. It was a tone of voice that her closest friends had learned to be wary of as it usually meant her temper was within a heartbeat of exploding.

Snape eyed her momentarily as if seriously considering her question. Having taught her in classes for so many years, he had become familiar with the various degrees of Hermione Granger's temper and while he admittedly took joy in provoking people simply because he could, he would have to admit, and only to himself, that he took exceptional delight in pushing She-Who-Knows-It-All to the limits of her patience. After all, hadn't she done the very same thing to him for seven years straight with her never-ending parade of questions? At least, that was his reasoning initially. Now, he found that he provoked her because she could be counted on to give as good as she got and he truly enjoyed a good sparring match every now and then. Most people couldn't match his rapier sharp wit and those that stood a chance usually were too afraid to risk angering Hogwart's evil Potions Master. 'Plus, she looks absolutely breathtaking when she's all riled up' he thought, frowning as he pushed the unwanted thought aside.

"By all means do come in, Professor," Snape answered smoothly. "After all, we wouldn't want to see you standing in the corridor all night long, now would we?"

"You know, Professor, there are times when I truly believe that you really are the insolent, arrogant, obnoxious excuse for a Slytherin which I believed you to be during my student years," Hermione responded heatedly as her temper quickly kicked into overdrive.

"Really?" he drawled slowly in his silkiest tone of voice. "And what stopped you from ever believing those things in the first place you insufferable, bull-headed, Gryffindor Know-It-All?"

"Oh," the Witch muttered angrily, ready to continue their verbal battle of wills when her conscience intruded to remind her of the reason she had stopped by in the first place. 'He's ill and needs to recover and here I stand, sparring with him like a spoiled child. When will I ever learn to hold my tongue?' she thought dejectedly. Taking a deep, calming breath, she took a good look at her former Potions teacher. His skin was paler then normal, dark circles were visible beneath his eyes and his movements lacked their usual elegance and grace. He was obviously suffering the after-effects of the Cruciatus.

"You needn't worry about your classes, Professor Snape," she said quietly. "Aside from a few minor mishaps today, everything was fine. I merely had a few questions regarding the manner in which you would like for me to present tomorrow's material to the fourth and fifth year students."

Looking back on the incident in the days to come, Snape was never able to decide if it was the weary tone in her voice or the exhausted look in her eyes that made him lower his defenses ever so slightly and usher her into the sitting room. Gesturing for her to take a seat in front of the fireplace, he tossed in some floo powder and called down to the kitchens, ordering the House-Elves to send up a tray of tea and biscuits. Moments later the refreshments arrived and they found themselves sipping the hot beverage while discussing how to proceed with the Potions curriculum for the next few days.

"You mentioned that there were a few mishaps during class?" Severus asked, eyeing her thoughtfully. "What happened?"

Hermione carefully placed her teacup on its saucer and looked up at her former teacher with a small grin. "Oh, nothing too traumatic I guess. One of the Gryffindor boys added too many unicorn hairs to his Aging potion and gained a few more years than he was expecting."

Snape looked at her momentarily with a raised brow and smirked. "Let's see, you said Gryffindor so I'd hazard a guess that our inept young friend must have been Mr. Dallon," he theorized and smiled when he heard her surprised gasp.

"How did you know?" she questioned.

"Because Mr. Dallon is nearly, although not quite, as hopeless in the art of potion making as your friend Neville Longbottom was," he replied with a sardonic grin. "It's just something about Gryffindors and potions that do not mix," he added, knowing that it would raise Hermione's carefully hidden hackles just enough to trip her up.

"Just because Neville made a few mistakes here and there does not mean that he is hopeless," she began hotly but stopped when she heard Severus' deep laugh. "You're baiting me," she accused, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "but you really can't blame me, Hermione, as it is so easy to do."

"Hmmf," she huffed in a very unladylike manner as her mind played back his last sentence. 'Wait a minute,' she thought with absolute amazt, t, 'did he just address me by my name?' Looking straight at the Potions Master, she smiled slyly, "Well, I guess if we were to use your criteria for critiquing potential Potions Masters then the same thing could be said for your Slytherins."

Still angry with himself for letting his defenses slip to the point of casually using her name, he settled for a stern glare as he asked in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"You said that Gryffindors and potions do not mix as is evidenced by the mishaps of Neville and Ryan. So, if we were to continue following this criteria then the same could be said for your Slytherins since it was Miss Larret's mistake which landed her in the Infirmary this morning. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe that Miss Larret is a member of Slytherin. Or am I mistaken, perhaps? Therefore, it would seem that Gryffindor is not the only House at Hogwarts to boast of poor potions skills," she concluded.

There were few instances in Severus Snape's life in which he could point to and say that someone actually succeeded in rendering spe speechless. It was a fact of which he was quite proud. This however, was not one of those instances. Sitting across the table from the petite figure that was Hermione Granger, he silently applauded her application of intellect and wit even if it was at his own expense. The key word however was SILENTLY for he would be damned if he would allow her to walk away frhis his sparring match believing she had outwitted him.

"A typically Gryffindor approach at best," he replied scathingly. "What mishap, pray tell, did Miss Larret find herself faced with that she would be in need of Poppy's services?"

"Rest assured it was nothing too terribly serious. Whereas Mr. Dallon decided to add too much of an ingredient to his potion, Miss Larret decided to add too little of a particular ingredient. In this instance, Powdered Dragon's Claw to be exact," she informed him and smiled as she saw his mouth tighten ever so slightly. "I'm sure she'll be feeling better by tomorrow."

"Undoubtedly," he conceded with a sardonic grin as he thought of the side effects of that particular error. 'I'd be willing to bet a few House Points that she won't make that mistake again,' he thought.

"Were there any other mishaps that I should be aware of or did the rest of my students manage to make it through class unscathed?"

"Oh no, that's about all of it," Hermione assured him. "But there was one thing..." she said, her voice trailing off as she remembered the brief scene in the dungeons with Miss Saunton.

"Well..." Snape prompted when it became obvious that she had become lost in her thoughts.

"What?" she mumbled distractedly, before realizing that her thoughts had drifted away from the conversation. Giving an apologetic smile, she pulled herself back to the present, knowing that the Prsor sor was waiting expectantly for her to continue. "Miss Saunton stopped by and asked after you today. I think she wanted to speak with you about something but she wouldn't say what."

"Did she say anything at all?" Severus asked, and Hermione could hear the worry that had suddenly entered his voice.

"No, merely that she would wait to speak with you until you returned," the Gryffindor answered. "Why? What's going on? Is she alright?"

"Yes, for now, but I don't know how much longer she will remain so," he answered and ran a pale hand over his eyes in a gesture that spoke of weariness and perhaps...defeat?

"I don't understand," Hermione said softly, not failing to notice the slight tremor that had run through his fingers. Obviously, he had suffered more than she had been led to believe.

Pouring himself another cup of tea from the charmed teapot on the coffee table, he leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the young woman sitting before him. Suddenly, as if coming to a decision, he sighed and took a sip from his mug before beginning to speak. "Miss Saunton is from a very old wizarding family that prides itself on its lineage," he began tentatively.

"You mean she's a Pureblood," Hermione stated bluntly.

"Precisely. Edgar Saunton, the girl's father, is one of Voldemort's oldest and most loyal supporters and as is wizarding tradition, he expects his family's loyalties to fall in line with his own," he said, returning the mug to the coffee table.

"He wants her to join Voldemort's cause?" she asked horrified. "But she's so young!"

"Forgive me, Miss Granger, but I thought that I was the one telling this story?" he reprimanded, fixing her with a calculated stare. "Besides, she is no younger than any of the other students that Voldemort and his followers are actively attempting to recruit."

Blushing slightly, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Severus, please continue."

Stopping momentarily at the shock of hearing his name fall from her lips, he nodded tersely and continued his narrative. "Yes, he expects Emily to join Voldemort's 'Cause' by taking the Dark Mark at the next initiation ceremony. Emily has expressed her distaste to me regarding this matter and has been trying to make a decision as to whether or not she will be following her father's wishes this coming summer."

"What will her father do if she decides not to join Voldemort?" Hermione cautiously asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"He will kill her," the Potions Master answered, attempting to keep his emotions from creeping into his voice.

Hermione sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She wished she could honestly tell herself that his answer came as a shock but she couldn't. This was exactly the type of behavior Voldemort would condone in order to maintain order in his ranks and set examples for new and potential recruits. Rule by fear, the very same motto used by dictators throughout time whether in the Muggle world or the magical one. 'But she's so young,' the innocent in Hermione silently cried out once again.

"What can be done to help her?" she asked, stuttering ever so slightly.

Even had she not tripped over her words, Snape would still be able to recognize her inner turmoil. Her struggle to understand the depravity of the darker forces was as clear as if she had spoken directly to him. Although, in a way she had as her thoughts were easily read in the warm brown eyes that looked straight at him.

"There are several options but no guarantees that any of them will work. Voldemort's influence is far-reaching," the Potions Master told her. "The best options, thus far, are to either keep her sequestered here at Hogwarts or to quietly send her somewhere else."

"Would she leave?" the Hermione asked quietly.

"I don't know," Severus responded honestly. "It is a decision which she alone must make. I can only council her as to what her options are and perhaps point out some alternatives which may prove preferable to those she is currently considering."

They sat silently staring into the fire, each lost in their own thoughts, until the tinkling of ceramic dishes was heard once again. Realizing that it was time for dinner, Hermione stood and walked to the door. Turning to Snape, who had risen to show her out, she paused, "Thank you for sharing that with me."

The Potions Master merely inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You do realize that what we discussed must stay in this room? If anyone were to discover that Miss Saunton's loyalties to Voldemort are less than steadfast, she would be in serious danger."

"I know and you have my word that our conversation shall remain here between the two of us. Thank you for your time Professor and I hope we'll you you back in the dungeons soon," she said just before exiting the room and heading toward the great hall to partake of her own evening meal.

Severus closed the door and glanced at the tray of food in irritation. He wasn't hungry. He was confused. And the source of his confusion had just walked out the door in the form of a five-foot-three ex-student turned Hogwart's Professor. What was it that Albus had said that very morning?

** Hermione is a good person, Severus, and an excellent teacher. Perhaps, if you would let yourself see beyond her years as a student in your Classroom, you would be able to see these traits for yourself...**

As much as he hated to admit it, the old Wizard was right. The annoying little Know-It-All, the Gryffindor brainiac, had grown up and in her place now stood a quiet, knowledgeable, confident young woman who no longer felt the need to let the world know that she had all of the answers.

However, whereas the child had annoyed him, the young woman left him feeling unsettled in a way in which no one else ever had. She was his equal on an intellectual level and, while she lacked his years of practical experience, the potential was clearly there waiting to be developed and put to use. And as if that wasn't enough, the woman could certainly hold her own against him in verbal sparring matches. He grinned as he thought back to the lively banter they had exchanged earlier.

** She is an adult now...**

'The Headmaster certainly called that one correctly,' Severus thought, realizing that when he looked at Hermione, he no longer saw the child that had sat in his classes for so many years. The only thing he saw now was a vibrant young woman whom he very much wanted to take the time to get to know.

** Perhaps it is time to leave the past...in the past. Not only for Hermione's sake but for your own sake as well...**

"Dammit, Albus, get out of my head" he snarled as snatches of their morning conversation continued to invade his thoughts. Yes, he could forget Hermione's past. After all, she had been but a child. The problem was forgetting his past. Unlike Hermione, he couldn't fall back on the excuses of childhood to brush away his actions and decisions. No, he had been an adult when he joined with Voldemort. A young adult perhaps but an adult all the same, and therefore he didn't have the excuses that could so easily explain his foolish actions away. 'Nothing could come of it anyway,' he told himself dejectedly as he tried to picture a future that held more than just a working relationship between him and the young Gryffindor Witch. 'How can she ever move beyond my past when I can't move beyond it myself?' he thought in anguish. Muttering a curse, he hurled the teapot to the floor and stared blankly out the window, once again lost in his thoughts.


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TBC