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MetroVampire & Rhosymedre

Part 4 - Turnabout Is Hell, or Severus 101

Tea would be very nice - anything to distract him from a rising horror as the reality of the situation forced its way to the surface. Dumbledore and tidying up had kept him busy enough to avoid having to think much beyond the immediate but now, here in Hermione's - or rather, his - room, he was literally surrounded by the consequences of Mr Longbottom's actions - and he had to tutor the boy.

Snape resisted the urge to groan and bury his head in his hands. This public baring of body and soul to Miss Granger was painful enough without adding her concern to it.

He settled for shaking his head slightly once Hermione had turned away to start to make the tea; he shuddered abruptly, as the sensation of long hair brushing his back was startling to say the least. He resisted the temptation to put his hand to it, thinking that he'd have time later to explore ... then shoved all thoughts of exploration very rapidly away, feeling his face redden slightly as his mind strayed from the idea of Miss Granger's - no, his - hair.

Seeking a distraction, Snape looked around the room again and sighed softly, seeing the ginger cat on the bed eye him suspiciously. He almost began to believe in cosmic retribution - this felt suspiciously as though he was being made to pay for everything he had done so far in his life; well, perhaps not everything. But he was certainly paying for something. Being a teenage girl was ... he couldn't actually think of something he'd rather less be. The only saving grace was that she wasn't actually involved with - he shuddered again as the mere idea of having to maintain a relationship with Potter or Weasley arose like a Dementor in his mind.

He gritted his teeth, pushing the idea away, and then spoke to Hermione's back as she made tea.

"The staff meeting - you have the agenda, most of the topics will be obvious from that. I believe you will be aware of some of them in any case, as the Head Girl usually has some familiarity with school administration. I prefer to keep a low profile in these meetings; take a chair by the fire and do not attempt to take part in the incessant chatter before - and after - the meeting.

The only matter that may require you to speak in this meeting relates to Professor McGonagall's protest about Mrs Norris. I believe she had some altercation with Filch's animal last time the Professor took it into her head to go wandering about the school late at night in her cat form."

He paused for a moment, trying not to laugh at the tale he'd been told of McGonagall fleeing Mrs Norris, too concerned with getting away to remember to change back to human form, and he saw Hermione's shoulders twitch slightly. But, when she looked round, there was only curiousity on her face.

"Why will I need to speak?"

"Because Flich, for reasons which I have never understood, always appears to believe that I will support him - he will appeal to you as a result. I would suggest that you simply say that it has nothing to do with you and you have no plans to become involved in these sort of matters. Keep it short and curt, and do not worry about hurting Filch's feelings. Or McGonagall's, come to that."

To his relief, Hermione didn't question his instructions and simply nodded as she brought a mug of tea over to him, steam curling lazily up from the mug. He took it gingerly, still trying to get used to the shortness of his reach now and unfamiliar fingers.

"Thank you," he said, bringing his thoughts back to the point of their being here. She needed some information about him, to be able to pass for him without destroying them both. He hoped her acting abilities were up to the mark - and supposed that he should begin with that.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but he'd been silent too long and Hermione beat him to it. There was a smile on her face; it looked decidedly odd. Probably lack of use of the appropriate muscles - he couldn't remember the last time he'd really smiled.

"So, Professor. Are you romantically involved with anyone?"

Snape froze, then surprised himself - and Hermione - by following her earlier example and simply laughing; he set the tea carefully down on the trunk and sat in the other chair, catching his breath at the unexpectedness of his own response. Matter over mind, it seemed; how many more of his reactions would be coloured by the response of a body not his own? Thankfully, he turned out to have a pleasant laugh, neither giggling nor hysterical, although he was uncomfortably aware that hysterics weren't far off. He quietened, holding a hand up.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. No ... no, I am not involved with anyone. Romantically or otherwise," he added, working his way back around to the topic he had planned to begin with. "My ... life ... has not been conducive to forming such attachments; you will no doubt have some idea as to why."

Hermione nodded, watching him with his own eyes. It was an odd sensation, rather like looking into a mirror all the time.

"Why don't you tell me what you know about me? I can then add any detail you need to know. Fortunately," he drawled, regaining some composure, "my ... desire ... for privacy will mean you have rather fewer people to deal closely with than I will."

"You'd be surprised," muttered Hermione. "Very well. You are Severus Accius Snape - the yearbooks in the library are very informative, Professor," she added, as he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're 38 years old, you have been Potions Master here at Hogwarts ... actually, I don't know how long you've been here. Long enough to teach Bill and Charlie Weasley. You ... you don't suffer fools, you have a, um, unique teaching style. You can referee Quidditch matches but you've only done that once since I've been at school." A moment's pause; he watched Hermione swallow. "And you were a Deatheater. Now you spy for Dumbledore."

Her voice tailed off.

"That is all you know about me?" asked Snape after a moment. Hermione nodded.

"Good. That's all you are supposed to know. At least your nocturnal exploits with Potter and Weasley haven't given you any more information - exploits with Potter's invisibility cloak, Miss Granger, I am not casting doubt on your statement that you are not involved with either," Snape added as Hermione looked mutinous.

"As I was saying," he drawled, then spoke again at a normal speed. Hermione's voice was not entirely suited to drawling - somehow it sounded even more bored and sarcastic than his own voice did. Unfortunately the result was closer to a teenage sulk than intimidation. "As I was saying, I prefer privacy, Miss Granger. It does not suit me to have all and sundry aware of the details of my life, and I do not encourage it. Nor do I plan to encourage it - I have never prattled in small talk, Miss Granger, and it would be safer for both of us if you were not to change that."

Hermione interrupted; Snape noticed that she was beginning to master his intonations. "Professor, I am well aware of the dangers for both of us if anyone should become suspicious of either of us," she bit out. "If we dispense with the mutual insults, this will pass much more quickly."

"Good." Snape almost smiled at the confusion on Hermione's face. "You actually sounded like me, Miss Granger. Do keep it up."

"Insufferable bastard."

Snape decided not to dispute that particular sub-vocal mutter directly; keeping her angry was the fastest way to ensure that she presented a reasonably convincing facade to the school. He focussed again on the conversation, determined to get it over with.

"Details. Well, I doubt you'll have reason to need these but it is just possible that some of the other staff might mention something that you would be expected to know. Your research in the library was correct, I am 38 - I was born on September 13th, 1960. I do not celebrate my birthday and I do not plan for us to still be in this particular situation by the time it next arrives. My parents are both alive and yes, Miss Granger, they were married when I was born; they live in Suffolk, and are not particularly remarkable. No-one on the staff here has met them or, to the best of my knowledge, knows anything about them beyond the fact of their existence. I have a house in Hogsmeade which I inherited from my grandmother. If anyone attempts to ask you about it, just say that you have no plans to spend any time there at the moment. I have no siblings, nor any extended family.

I have been working for Dumbledore for 15 years - in both senses. I joined the school faculty in the summer term of 1983. I was a ... follower of Voldemort for five years before that, from my eighteenth birthday. I do not talk about that time to anyone, so no-one will expect you to refer to it nor will anyone make reference to it."

A low, quiet voice asked "Except Voldemort."

"As you say," Snape replied, nodding curtly. "Except Voldemort. My last meeting with him was ... not very long ago. You are probably safe for now, but we should develop some contingency plans this weekend. We only have to deal with tomorrow and then, at least, we shall have the weekend to plan and to acquaint ourselves properly with our character facades to some extent. There is not enough time now, you will be expected at the staff meeting soon. However, given that neither of our lives appear to be running smoothly at the moment, if the Mark - on your left arm," he reminded Hermione, who had instinctively pulled up a sleeve to look at the skin on her arms. "If the Mark becomes visible, or starts to burn, find me immediately. Do not attempt any Gryffindor heroics, Miss Granger, or we will both be dead."

Hermione bristled, so he hurried on before she could start to complain; better to let her fester and so improve her performance.

"Fortunately, I am not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone - save perhaps Dumbledore - so you will not raise any suspicion if you should need to contact me urgently. All I would ask," he sighed, "is that you dismiss any class you are teaching at the time. I would like my classroom back relatively intact once this is all over."

"Yes, Professor." Hermione finished her tea and stood abruptly. Collecting her mug and Snape's, she headed over to the small sink in the corner. She busied herself, washing the mugs, as Snape watched her back. Suddenly, she spoke, her tone rather acid.

"You know, Professor, your plan to make me angry enough to do a passable impersonation of you does raise a few questions." She paused, and Snape almost jumped in with a flat refusal to discuss his psyche. He was grateful for his restraint when Hermione spoke again.

"The first question being, what do I have to do to make sure you can convince everyone else that you are me?"

Hermione had turned round and was watching him now, tall and silent. Snape noted absently that she seemed to be holding herself carefully, apparently trying to mimic his normal posture. He caught himself sitting upright in the chair and forced himself to slump forwards just a little, like so many of his students did, Miss Granger included. His back would ache before the day was out, he was sure of it.

"I had thought," he said thoughtfully, "that you might perhaps start to become rather obsessed with studying for the NEWTs, Miss Granger. It would not, after all, be entirely out of character even this early in the year."

Hermione's sallow skin flushed slightly, but she nodded and gave the idea some thought before replying.

"You'll have to watch out for Harry and Ron, they get just as obsessed with dragging me out of the library when they think I'm working too hard. Still, it's a good idea; it should be mean that you can be distracted and absent-minded so that any slips are explained away as over-work. And it will give you more time to get used to dealing with the Gryffindors as one of them."

Snape nodded, propping his chin on his folded hands.

"It will also mean that I can shut myself away in here, supposedly studying, and meet you in my rooms to go over your lesson plans for the next day," Hermione blanched as he spoke, the concept of actually having to teach Potions apparently only now sinking in, "and to also give you my notes from classes and pass on your homework, Miss Granger."

"My homework?" she echoed.