--Part I-- **Disclaimers: The usual pertain. If I owned Severus Snape, do you think I'd spend my time writing crap like this? I think not.** Hermione Granger's seventh year at Hogwart's began much like all the others before it. She sat with her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, at the Gryffindor table and cheered each time the Sorting Hat placed a first- year in their house, then feasted on the wonderful traditional meal that started off the year. This time was slightly different, of course, since Hermione was now Head Girl. Harry had been chosen Head Boy, they learned towards the end of their sixth year, but he turned down the honor, expecting that he wouldn't have time to both study for NEWTs and help manage Gryffindor. After all, with all his adventures at the end of the previous year, Harry had a bit of catching up to do. Headmaster Dumbledore selected a new Head Boy. Neville Longbottom? Despite his borderline-squib performance in Potions and his sub-par performance in... well, just about everything else, with the exception of Herbology, Neville had actually proven to be a star pupil in his sixth-year Muggle Studies elective. Since the truth about his parents' residence in St. Mungo's came to light, he also gained a modicum of respect from his peers. All in all, Harry and his friends thought, he was a pretty good choice for Head Boy. At least it didn't go to that insufferable Slytherin, Draco Malfoy.

There was actually one other thing different about this, Hermione's last year as a Hogwart's student, but Harry and Ron didn't know about it yet. As Voldemort and his Death Eaters once again grew in power, the Order of the Phoenix was busier than ever. Because this meant more work for Professor Snape, he and Dumbledore were looking for someone else to take over teaching Potions to the first-years for the time being. After considering Madame Pomfrey and a few other Hogwart's staff members, they finally decided on asking their new Head Girl to try her hand at teaching. She did achieve a perfect score on her OWL and her NEWT (a year early) in Potions, after all, and she was also planning on a career as a teacher. Never mind that she wanted to teach at Durmstrang, the alma mater of her on-again, off- again boyfriend, Viktor Krum..

After dessert, Hermione and Neville led the first-years to Gryffindor Tower. The new password, a bit of harmless advertising for the Weasley twins' very successful joke shop, was Ton-Tongue Toffee. As the new Gryffindors settled into their lodgings, Harry and Ron joined Hermione for a chat in her suite. All the seventh-years had large rooms-Harry and Ron, now free of other roommates, shared a spacious bedroom and bath-but Hermione, as Head Girl, had a bedroom, bathroom, and study all to herself. It was much better than Gryffindor Common Room for holding private conversations and sneaking trips through the Floo Network. Finally, after lots of catching up, Hermione told the two boys that she would be helping out Dumbledore by teaching Potions instead of taking it with them, and that Snape would tutor her privately as she worked toward her Salamander level. She was worried that Harry and Ron might resent her, but mainly they were just disgusted at the idea of her spending so much time alone with Severus Snape! She felt the same way, she had to admit, but if it would help destroy Voldemort once and for all, she could grin (well, maybe not grin) and bear it.

Hermione's first meeting with Snape was the following evening. She fretted the entire way down to the dungeon, where his office and rooms were, utterly worried that without an entire class to take up his attentions, she would simply break down under his criticism. Steeling herself and trying to blank herself of emotion, Hermione knocked on the door and, upon hearing her instructor ('My colleague?!' she thought, but let it pass) grant her entrance, walked in with as much composure as she could muster.

"Good evening, Professor Snape, sir." She spoke with the deference she knew him to prefer, her gaze directed towards her own shoes.

He replied with his customary icy formality. "A rather poor evening, actually, but 'good evening' is the normal greeting, isn't it. Have a seat, Miss Granger." She quietly lowered herself into the black leather chair he indicated and for a moment looked him in the eye, noticing his unflinching stare. Never was she more grateful for the Hogwart's desks being so unusually deep-across it, he was very far from her indeed. Without any further ado, Snape asked how her first day teaching went-rather well, she said, though of course since it was the first day of class, wands remained in knapsacks. He sneered slightly, seemingly frustrated with her optimism. "And what have you assigned for homework, Miss Granger? You won't gain their respect if you don't make them work harder than the rest of this pathetic staff does! Who do you expect will be your most trustworthy pupil? Your discipline problems? Any near-squibs? No more of those dreadful Weasleys left coming up through the system, are there?" Hermione struggled to provide satisfactory answers to his barrage of questions. She was happy to have merely survived when he was finished. Or when she thought he was finished.

After a pause, during which he stared directly at a potion burn on the top of his desk, he let loose one final question, almost under his breath. "How are you going to teach them, Miss Granger, when you are still a trembling schoolgirl in front of me?" Hearing these stinging words, Hermione felt as though she'd been slapped across the face. Tears involuntarily sprung to her eyes, though she had them quickly under control. It didn't take any knowledge of Arithmancy to understand that tears plus Snape equaled disaster. She rose indignantly and turned on her heel, fearing she would start sobbing if she had to look him in the eye one more time.

"Miss... Hermione... wait." It wasn't even Snape's use of her given name that took Hermione aback as much as his tone: sincere, frantic, almost. repentant. She froze with her hand reaching for the doorknob, her back still to him. Relieved that she hadn't ignored his plea, Snape sighed. "You misunderstood. I didn't mean it that way. I... please, please sit down. I have to tell you something. Please."

Hermione could scarcely believe her ears. Severus Snape, the feared Potions master, begging her to stay and hear him out? She couldn't wait to tell Harry and Ron about this one! More shocked and curious than anything else, Hermione resumed her former seated position, discreetly dabbing at her running nose with a handkerchief. Tentatively shifting her glance toward Snape's face, she cocked her head as he rubbed his temples with his long, slim fingers and exhaled slowly. Slowly, hesitantly, he began to speak, hands still covering his face. "This is all... I am a lie. If anyone could possibly understand, it would have to be you." She, perplexed, opened her mouth as if to speak, but his pause was only momentary. "The frightening professor you know is not me by nature. Just hold on for a minute, and perhaps things will become clearer."