white liar

Snape walked out of the fireplace in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and was engulfed by the aroma
of Molly Weasley\'s cooking. Muttering a greeting, he went into the sitting room to wait for the rest
of the Order. He wanted nothing more than to relax in his quarters with some Firewhiskey and a
good book. On second thought, maybe he\'d skip the Firewhiskey. He couldn\'t remember ever being
so drunk. He\'d used to believe he could hold alcohol with all the abandon of a barrel, but hangovers
like that stayed burned into your memory, thought Snape wryly. Too bad his memory was a blank
when it came to remembering the part about actually getting drunk. He remembered sprawling in
front of his fire, then waking up in bed wearing his pants. It was all very confusing. There was also
a strange dream, which Snape acknowledged as the ultimate proof of complete madness.
In his dream, Granger had walked into his classroom and held out a Remembrall. She\'d looked at him
with those big brown eyes and smiled with such amusement that instead of taking the Remembrall,
Snape had grabbed her hand and yanked her to him. He remembered wanting to taste that smile
before kissing her roughly.
If that wasn\'t evidence of temporary insanity, he didn\'t know what was. Better to forget about it before
he found himself distracted.
“Hi Mrs. Weasely!” A familiar voice called from the fireplace.
“Hermione! Ron and the twins will be here soon. Would you like some tea?”
“I’d love some.”
After a minute, Granger walked into the room holding a steaming mug. Seeing him, she blushed
slightly. “Feeling better today, Professor?”
He sneered at her. “How’s the nose?”
“Good as new, no thanks to you!” But she grinned as she said it.
“And why are you smiling? We almost cursed each other to bits!”
“Oh come on! It was a week ago! Besides, it was an accident, I thought you were Malfoy playing a prank.”
Now this was too good. She’d thought he was Malfoy? Well, great minds think alike…
“You punch really hard,” she added.
“So do you.”
“Sorry about that. It must have something to do with being startled in dark hallways.” She didn’t sound
apologetic in the least.


Hermione was distracted from what was promising to be a splendid verbal sparring match by the arrival
of the Weasely twins. Fred and George were almost indistinguishable and tried to plant suspicious
candy in her pockets when they hugged her.
“What’s this one for, then?” She said, holding up a gold-wrapped nugget.
“Oh, that one might set your hair on fire, but we’re not sure yet. Why don’t you try it and see?” Behind
her, she heard a snort.
“I don’t think so. Don’t you pay people to go through that?”
“Yes, but it’s not nearly as much fun.” Said Fred. Or George. She couldn’t tell. “Oi, Snape!”
“Weasely.”
“How’s the job?”
“Passable.”
“Cool. Glad to hear you’re still scaring the wits out of the first years.” Snape smirked. There was a
crash from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry! Must have tripped over that… Here, let me help—sorry!” More crashes.
“Don’t worry about it Tonks, just go.” Came Molly’s exasperated voice. “Here, Harry, Ron—you can bring
these in.” Harry and Ron walked in with tea and cookies. Taking a tray, Hermione kissed them both
on the cheek.
“You’d think Hedwig and Pig both had broken wings! I haven’t heard from you in ages!”
“Sorry, We’ve been incredibly busy. Harry here has something to make up for it though.” Ron slung an
amicable arm over her shoulder.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll show you before everyone else gets here.” Harry set down his tray and led them into
the dark hallway, careful to avoid the painting of Mrs. Black.
“Ok, Hermione, we have a pretty good idea of what you’re doing at school, so… without you having to
tell us anything, we’ve decided that you need this more than we do.” Ron pulled a familiar looking
piece of parchment from his bag.
“You’re giving me the Marauder’s Map?” Hermione had completely forgotten about it. “Thank you! This’ll
be perfect for keeping an eye on… things.” They grinned at each other. “I’m really happy you didn’t turn
it in like I told you to. I would have had a horrible time getting it from Filch.”
“Yes, well… we’re known for breaking the rules, after all.”
“We’re starting! Come on, you three!” Molly called from the doorway.
“Remember, don’t mention that I’m an Auror in front of Snape.” Hermione reminded them quietly. “It’s
best if he doesn’t know some things.”

“Dumbledore, I’d just like to know what you’re doing about Malfoy,” Said Tonks, breaking a teacup. “You’re
not going to let him keep teaching, are you? I mean, he’s obviously in league with his father, and it’s
not safe to have him around the children!” Her round face looked anxious and more than a little suspicious
under the blue hair. Dumbledore smiled cryptically.
“Malfoy is being taken care of. We cannot dismiss him without exposing Severus, and he is not an active
threat to the students. Therefore, I feel we have no choice but to leave him where he is.” Which would
be in his room with the strongest sleeping potion I could find, thought Hermione. Couldn’t have him
wandering around when she wasn’t there to supervise, now could she? Besides, it had been a simple matter
to bribe Dobby into spiking his food; the house elf still harbored bad feelings regarding his old master.
“He sends letters every night.” Snape said suddenly. “Didn’t you notice? Every single night.” His hawklike
features were drawn, dark eyes fathomless.
“He might be writing to his father,” Ron argued sensibly. Lupin shook his head.
“No, prisoners in Azkaban are only allowed an owl a month. Lucius Malfoy may get some special treatment,
but not enough for that kind of communication.”
“Well, I’m willing to bet that owl will be incredibly difficult to intercept, so we must make sure he has
nothing important to communicate. What information has he been allowed to see so far?”
“Nothing that puts any suspicion on you, rest assured.”
Hermione spent most of the meeting silent, watching Snape in the glow of the fire. His face was
studiously blank, one booted foot propped on the table, arms crossed over his chest. She couldn’t stop
thinking about the last time she’d seen him, half naked and without that famous control of his. He acted
as if he didn’t remember any of it, which was perfectly believable.
Dumbledore finally dismissed the group, and Hermione hugged Harry and Ron goodbye.
“Remember to owl, and thanks for the… spare piece of parchment.”
“We’ll come visit if we can,” said Harry. “Got a bit of a tricky job coming up, though, so it might be a while.
Oh, and no problem. Take care of it for me.” He whispered in her ear.
Snape gestured towards the fire. “Go. We can’t show up together or it would be suspicious.” She stepped
into the green flames and was gone.
Malfoy was in the teacher’s lounge when she got back, looking at a painting. His eyes narrowed when he
saw her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little mudblood. You know, I was wondering-- how on earth did Dumbledore
convince the school governors to let him hire you?”
“I might ask the same question, but everyone knows you paid your way in.” Hermione dusted off her robes,
feeling unsettled. The potion she’d given him should have kept him asleep for at least another two hours.
Hopefully he hadn’t done any damage—the meeting had been short.
“Think you’re so clever, Granger?” Malfoy’s pointed face flushed. “Filthy mudbloods like you aren’t
good enough to lick my shoes!”
“Whatever, ferret. Go on, now—I’m sure you have somewhere else to be.” She smiled beatifically,
but something in her expression, or maybe the way she held her wand, made Malfoy turn and leave abruptly.
“It doesn’t bother you to be called that?” Snape’s quiet voice made her jump.
“I didn’t hear you floo in.”
“Obviously.”
Hermione took her time answering. “It’s just a word, Snape. It doesn’t change that I’m a witch.”
“It implies that you have no right to exist, that he’s better than you are.”
“Malfoy?” She chuckled darkly. “I don’t think so.”
Snape’s smile was pained “While I don’t doubt your superior intellect or abilities, I would caution you
not to underestimate my godson. Draco is by no means stupid, and he is desperate to prove himself.
Eliminating the only muggle-born teacher here is not beyond his realm of action.” He caught her gaze
with his. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Granger?”
“That I’m the only muggle-born teacher at Hogwarts?”
“Exactly.”

Maybe he was a fool, but he was starting to be attracted to her. He had not so subtly told her to watch
her back, and she hadn’t even batted an eyelash. Really, he didn’t know what possessed him to
warn her in the first place, except that irrational fear at seeing Malfoy’s eyes narrowed in anger, his lip
curled in disgust. Snape didn’t like seeing them in the same room: Malfoy looked like a snake about to
strike, while Granger had the calm of an unsuspecting victim.
She’d watched him through her lashes for the whole meeting, chewing her bottom lip in concentration.
It had been unsettling, to say the least. His feelings toward Granger, not to mention Potter and Weasely,
had always been rather sour; he hated them, they hated him. Now he was having a hard time remembering
just why he’d hated Granger so much. He hadn’t seen her in more than three years, but her brilliance
stood out in his memory. She’d asked all the right questions and knew all the answers, always waving
her hand in the air… Ah yes, now he remembered the reasons for the hatred. No-- dislike, Snape amended.
She’d been to good for hatred even then.
Now he was finding himself appreciating her steady eyes, the way she held that cup of tea, how her messy
curls were tied back from her face. Yes, he was a fool. Really, he had the most stupid impulses at times…


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sorry it took this long to update. serves me right for writing two stories simultaneously.