Lie to me (Original)

Hermione stood outside of Hogwarts with a frown on her pretty face. It would be easy enough to get into the building itself - all Order members could come and go - but getting into the dungeons unnoticed and then into Snape’s old rooms was not going to be easy.

She felt bad for her old professor. The Order now knew that Dumbledore was dying anyway and had asked Snape to kill him to save Draco from becoming a murderer, but they were having a hard time convincing the rest of the world that Severus Snape was one of the good guys. Hermione hated that Snape was still a fugitive when he had given so much for so many. She snorted as she climbed the steps to the castle, they were all so ready to judge, but never ready to help.

Hermione had timed her trip so that the classes would all be in session, so she wouldn’t have to bump into any students or staff. Her cover story, if she met anyone, was that she was going to the greenhouses to borrow some fresh plant sprigs from Professor Sprout to use in healing potions. Surely no one would raise an eyebrow at that.

She still hadn’t figured out how she’d actually get into Snape’s rooms. “He could have told me his password,” she grumbled inwardly. She wondered if the omission of information was deliberate, to force her to think like a spy. He’d never given them an impossible assignment in class, so surely there was a way in. Hermione brightened at the thought.

As she made her way down the deserted corridors to the dungeons, she wished for the millionth time that Dumbledore was still alive. She’d always believed that the old wizard knew everything. Heck, he probably had even known Snape’s password. Hermione gasped at the thought and suddenly changed direction.

*****

“Whiskers,” she whispered to the gargoyle statue outside of the headmistress’s office. The statue hopped aside and Hermione hurried up the steps, knowing that the office would be empty since Minerva had mention that there was a schoolboard meeting that morning. Hermione checked her watch and ran faster.

“Headmaster?” she called as she burst into the office.

Every portrait answered her at once. Most were rather cheerful as they were sure that the girl had come to them for advice, but some were rather grumpy at having been woken up.

“Hermione, dear!” Dumbledore called from his frame. He was sitting on a couch with the fat lady from Gryffindor tower, who was pouring tea for another old witch that Hermione didn’t know. The other portraits looked disappointed that the visitor wasn’t for them.

“Hello Headmaster,” Hermione said cheerfully as she climbed up the side of a tall bookcase to get to the portrait. “I’ve missed you,” she said. She gently stroked the painting and the teacups jiggled.

“Watch the tea!” the fat lady sighed.

“Sorry,” Hermione giggled.

“What can I do for you, dear,” Dumbledore smiled. “I’d offer you a lemon drop but it would taste like paint out there.”

Hermione took a deep breath and bit her lip nervously. “Headmaster… I need to get into Professor Snape’s rooms.”

The other portraits gasped in shock. There were shouts of “Girls today!” and “Well I never!” and “That’s just outrageous, Albus! A teacher and a student!”

“I have his permission,” Hermione went on.

“Oh I’ll just bet she does!” a portrait shouted.

“Shut up, you!” the fat lady barked. “Hermione’s always been such a good girl.”

“It’s not like that, Headmaster,” Hermione sighed. “Honestly. He’s helping me brew a potion and I have to collect a few things for him but I don’t know how to get in.”

Dumbledore bit a cookie and brushed some crumbs from his beard. “Well, dear,” he said. “Professor Snape’s rooms are heavily warded, you know. He was… a bit paranoid, perhaps… war does that, you know.”

“So you don’t know his password?” Hermione sighed, suddenly feeling defeated.

“I’d tell you if I knew, sweetie,” the fat lady said. “His rooms aren’t guarded by a portrait though.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “No, I don’t know his password, Hermione. I never did. I always just used the floo in my office to get in there when I had to.” He winked at her and sipped his tea.

Hermione gasped in delight and climbed quickly down from the shelf. She grabbed some floo powder and said, “Professor Snape’s Quarters!” in her clearest voice. A moment later, Hermione was coughing up a cloud of soot and standing in a very dark room. She pulled out her wand and said, “Lumos!”

She was standing on a plush rug in a cozy sitting room. There was a comfortable-looking leather couch in front of her and several large bookshelves scattered around the walls. she ran to the nearest one and started looking for a book with no title.

*****

“What happened to you hand?” Snape asked two nights later as he sat down to his midnight meal.

“Officially, Liam took me to meet his grandmother and her nasty little terrier bit me,” Hermione said as she poured the tea. “Unofficially, it was your bloody book! I pulled it out of the shelf and it grew teeth!”

“But did you get the knife?” Snape asked. The edges of his lips twitched like he found the whole thing amusing, but he didn’t actually smile.

“Of course I did!” Hermione snapped. “I’ve hidden it somewhere else.”

“Good,” Snape said, clearly pleased. He looked up from his stew to meet her flashing eyes and he sighed. “Miss Granger, did you really think that I would leave something like that unguarded?”

Hermione sighed and looked at her bandaged hand. “No, I suppose not… Why won’t the wounds heal? I’ve told Molly that I can’t heal them because then Liam would suspect something… but the skin won’t knit together… it isn’t getting any better at all!”

“It’s the dark magic,” Snape said smoothly. “Give me your hand.” Hermione held it out and watched as he removed the bandage. Then he took her hand and in a cool monotone, chanted an incantation. Hermione shivered at his warm touch. Her skin tingled under his rough fingers and then her wounds began to disappear. She felt good all over as the pain went away and she shut her eyes and shivered again. When she opened them a moment later, the wounds were on Snape’s hand.

“How did you do that?” Hermione gasped. “Why would you do that? Those hurt!”

“They have to be burned off, Miss Granger,” Snape said, “which will hurt much more.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but was at a loss of words. “Thank you,” she said, after a moment, “but I wish you’d healed them on me instead. You suffer enough.”

Snape shrugged and ran his thumb over the back of her smaller, smoother hand without thinking. “Put your bandage back on or they’ll know you’ve been up to something.”

“I um… borrowed a few of your books,” Hermione admitted as she pulled her hand away and wrapped it up again. Snape frowned and looked so annoyed that Hermione stammered, “I’ll take them back… after I read them… I promise!”

Snape waved his hand dismissively. “Read whatever you want,” he said. “I don’t mind you borrowing my books, Miss Granger, but let’s say you’d been looking through someone else’s rooms and you’d taken something… they’d know right away that someone had been there, wouldn’t they? Spies must be like ghosts.”

Hermione shriveled. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she whispered. “That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

“A little,” Snape smirked. “What I used to do was take something from my pocket and transfigure it into a copy of the book, then I’d leave the copy and take the original.”

“Why not take the copy?” Hermione asked.

Snape shrugged. “I like old books.”

“Me too,” Hermione said. “I like how they smell.’

“I like knowing that so many other hands have turned the pages before me,” Snape agreed. “So what could you do in future to keep from being attacked by a dark arts book you’re trying to steal?” The teapot floated over and topped up his cup.

“Wandless magic?” Hermione guessed sheepishly. “I have a book of yours about that.” She sighed again. “It’s hard to do anything around here though. I have to charm all my books just to read them. I don’t know how I’ll ever brew that potion without everyone knowing.”

“So there’s your next assignment,” Snape said with a smirk. “Find yourself a place to hide that no one knows about. You should really have several, but one will do for now.”

“Like an empty apartment?” Hermione asked.

“Perhaps,” Snape said. “I find that the best places to hide are places that no one else wants to be. Think of all the qualities you’d like to have in a home and the find a place that’s the complete opposite.”

“So…” Hermione thought. “Somewhere cold and isolated. A lonely, dark place.” She looked at her master, who nodded grimly. “Somewhere that’s hard to get to.”

“And hard to leave,” Snape added darkly. He set his injured hand on the table and winced as the wood varnish made a wound sting.

Hermione took his hand in both of hers, covering the wounds completely. “When you leave here, do you go to an awful place like that?” she whispered.

“Sometimes, yes,” Snape said, in his silky voice. He moved his eyes from their hands to her face and was quite taken with how the candlelight made the ringlets around her face glow. He was struck by how good and pure she looked - she was a ray of daylight in the dark, dangerous night. Snape suddenly yanked his hand back and clutched his forearm as Voldemort summoned him.

“Be careful!” Hermione whispered behind him as he hurried for the door. It was only as he put his hand on the knob that he noticed that his wounds were gone.