Harry retreated to discuss the situation with Hermione, who was eventually convinced to witness the demonstration. Of course, she would also have to decide whether to consent to the Occlumency plan, or to remain ignorant of the true circumstances.

Harry could easily guess the outcome of the situation.

It seemed all were in for another spectacularly late night.

……………………………………………

Hermione watched skittishly while Draco and, eventually, Harry received the quick, yet somewhat superior, course in Occlumency. By the time three sets of eyes were upon her, waiting for her decision whether or not to trust the professor, she had some semblance of a plan in mind.

“Professor,” she began quietly, “Might I speak with you alone?” She simply could not concentrate, could not pay attention to her own intuition with Harry and Draco in the room. Added to that, the matter of trust was between herself and Snape; she did not want to have an imperfect result.

“Certainly, Miss Granger. I believe I know of an old office that should suffice.”

Once inside the warded office, the conversation quietly continued.

“Sir, what exactly have do you know – about me?”

“In what context, Miss Granger?” Snape answered, rather coolly.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered as she took a choppy breath, deciding to be bravely blunt, even though she felt much more like a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor as of late.

“What have you discerned regarding my situation?” There. The proverbial bludger was on his side of the pitch now.

The professor studied her for a moment, then began, placidly, “Miss Granger, you claimed you sister slapped you. I did wonder how large your younger sister might be, considering the strength behind the blow. You’ve not offered explanation for your other injuries, which, as Mr. Potter has pointed out, are remarkably similar to marks from being viciously thrashed with a strap.” He paused for effect. “Now, what do you truly wish to know?”

Throughout the extremely matter-of-fact, abrupt speech, Hermione had grown rather more pale, and although she was relieved he’d not figured out the whole story, it made her all the more apprehensive when he did discover the memories constantly assaulting her soul.

She whispered, “Will you tell?”

“Fidelus, child. Surely we’ve been through this.”

“Yes, but – ”

“Hermione, I made a promise, both by my word and with my magic.” Not one he wished to, but Severus was rather accustomed to doing things he’d rather not. “No-one shall know unless you deem it so.”

He paused, listening carefully to the questions she wasn’t asking.

“You don’t trust me because I hurt Draco, correct?”

Jaw jerking jarringly, she could not answer.

The professor thought for a moment, then asked, “Miss Granger, have you ever told a friend something you knew might upset him, but would help in the long-term?”

“Ye-es, but –”

“As an example, Miss Granger, do indulge me. You shall find the same premise in my actions. If you do not, after granting to me your trust, find my actions of late honorable, I shall remove any of the experiences I may view during the Occlumency tutelage to penseive vials which you make keep.”

“Why do you wish to teach me?” The emphasis she placed on that last pronoun spoke clearly of her own frame of mind.

The professor had a surprisingly simple answer.

“You wish to know.” He began, simply. Pursing his lips, he continued. “Everyone on our side would do well to learn Occlumency, at any rate, however considering your – friendship – with Mr. Potter –”

At this, Hermione predictably blushed sever shades of vermillion.

Snape cleared his throat. “Considering, he could be in yet more danger should the Dark Lord search your mind.”

“What I’ve already seen could harm you as well?” A realization and statement as much as a question, it was.

The tense manner in which his answering, affirmative nod was frighteningly indicative of the urgency of the situation.

“Right, then.” She’d made her decision. She’d never been known as a coward, and wasn’t about to begin. It was in the pursuit of knowledge at any rate. However, Hermione also knew she desperately needed more help. She had no means to conduct research at present, and others were bound to notice very soon.

…

“Legilimens,” he whispered, and began navigating through an inordinately complex mind. Early memories he found, yes, up to last year, but he had to travel far away, through a darkened corridor of the mind’s eye, to reach some recognizances sheltered by a murky, oily bubble. Here were the beatings, yes, but there was also a tumult of blurred visions which burst into clarity as Hermione began to shout, “Please! Please!” repeatedly.

“You took my wife from me, you filthy little scag, and you’ll damn well do all her duties!” echoed in Severus’ ears.

The professor quickly finished the barriers, which had taken shape as thick, cream-coloured marble walls complete with gothic, vaulted ceilings in the girl’s mind, and pulled away.

“What did you do to her?” Harry hissed, surprised and not a little dismayed. “Hasn’t she been through enough?”

“It wasn’t his fault, Harry,” Hermione gasped weakly, moving away from them all into a corner of the professor’s chambers. She accepted a calming draught from Draco’s outstretched hand. He did not meet her eyes.

“Did it work, at least?” she asked.

“It did,” the professor affirmed in a voice a bit too kindly for its maker.

“Worth it, then,” she whispered, drifting off to sleep in the cradling, worn armchair.

The professor cast Calefacio to warm her, and another silent spell that caused Hermione to clutch her stomach in her sleep. He plucked two thick tomes from his shelf, seated himself at his desk, and absentmindedly suggested Harry fetch some tea.