No Difference

Hermione sat by Harry's bedside with Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Snuffles. For once, even the usually boisterous Weasleys were quiet. Her head was swimming with the shocking events of the last few hours, just as she was sure theirs were.

There had been the maze itself. Fleur Delacour being pulled out of the third task when the red sparks had gone up, the discovery that Viktor was attacking the other champions, and the clear agitation of the professors and tournament judges when no one else had known what was happening inside the maze. What was happening to Harry. Then, Harry had shown up with Cedric's dead body and it was pandemonium. Screaming, crying, vomiting. People trampling over each other in trying to get a closer look. But Harry was ushered off by Moody before anyone could react. Soon, Dumbledore had sent for her and the Weasleys, Snuffles tagging along, to be with a sleeping Harry in the hospital wing. They caught whispers of You-Know-Who's return and Moody actually being the supposedly dead Crouch junior. They heard snippets of the elaborate plan to use and kill Harry. It had all happened in a blur. Nothing made sense. So, naturally, her brain was working overtime to try and make sense of it all.

She sat in shocked silence as the heavy doors banged open. McGonagall was in near hysterics, compared to her usually composed self, about a Dementor having sucked out Crouch's soul right in front of her. Poor woman. Then, Fudge and Dumbledore were arguing. She couldn't believe how absolutely dim-witted and senseless the Minister for Magic was being! Honestly, the evidence of You-Know-Who's return and the danger they were facing in the months to come was right in front of them! How could the Minister just stick his head in the sand and ignore it all!

And Snape! Snape, who had had enough of the Minister's insanity, pulled back the left sleeve of his robes to reveal the Dark Mark as further evidence of the war that had arrived! And still, the Minister had refused to see reason!

But for her, everything Harry had told them about what he saw this year suddenly made so much more sense. And yet, at the same time, less sense. If Snape had been a Death Eater, why did Dumbledore trust him? Why was the man still here at the school, instead of answering his Lord's summons or fleeing like Karkaroff? Why had he protected them all these years?

Because she still remembered how the dour professor had been trying to save Harry from the jinxed Nimbus 2000 broomstick even while she set his robes on fire when they had come to the wrong conclusion. Oh, how wrong they had been about Snape trying to kill Harry and being after the Philosopher's Stone! And the look of terror for Harry, only visible for half a millisecond in his fathomless onyx eyes, when they all realized that Harry was a Parseltongue. Not to mention the amount of time he had spent on creating a potion to reverse her furry mistake with the Polyjuice Potion. Never punishing her, even though the tightly controlled and silent fury was evident in his every movement. Which let her know that he knew exactly who had stolen the ingredients from his stores but there wasn't enough evidence for him to punish all three of them so he had to let it go. She remembered a slight release of tension in the skin around his eyes when the Mandrake Restorative Draught had worked on her and all the others who had been Petrified that year. The guidance and little kindnesses he had shown her this year, disguised under all the insults. Come to think of it, if she looked deep enough, a lot of his most helpful hints were disguised underneath his acerbic comments. And most significantly, she remembered the way he had flung himself in front of a transformed Lupin to protect them as soon as he was aware of the threat, trying to pull Harry back from following the fighting werewolf and canine Animagus.

Before she knew it, Dumbledore had Sirius, back in human form, and Snape shake hands to recognize that they were on the same side and that both had the headmaster's trust. The tension was still palpable though. Anyone could see that their feud ran deep. She thought that Dumbledore was putting too much faith in the two men being able to work together. At least, this had confirmed her belief that Snape was working for Dumbledore though. And not just as a professor at Hogwarts. Godric knows the man didn't enjoy teaching. It explained why the man had stayed at the school all these years and protected them. But the truly revealing hint for the answers to her questions lay in the next few seconds after Sirius had transformed back into Snuffles and left to carry out Dumbledore's orders.

"Severus," the headmaster addressed the Potions Master. "You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..." (GoF 619)

"I am," Snape answered, face paler than usual with an unidentifiable emotion glittering in his cold eyes. (GoF 619)

"Then, good luck," Dumbledore said, watching apprehensively as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius. (GoF 619)

Hermione knew that exchange was significant and her mind worked furiously at the puzzle. Even when Dumbledore left several minutes later, she had begun pacing as she analyzed the situation. She didn't even realize she had stopped at the window until she was staring at a beetle with suspiciously familiar, red markings around the eyes. Rita Skeeter. She had worked out the horrid woman's secret and here was her chance to get back at Skeeter. More importantly, the reporter couldn't be allowed to publish what she had overheard in the past hour in the hospital wing, for who knew how long the Animagus had been perched on the window and what kind of havoc an article like that would wreak on the war.

Slowly, as if she hadn't noticed the beetle at all, Hermione rummaged in her bag until she found the jar that she had specially prepared with an Unbreakable Charm for this occasion. In one swift motion, she slammed the jar over the beetle and closed the lid. A sudden movement in the corner of her eye, of Harry and Mrs. Weasley breaking apart from each other, made her realize that she had just interrupted a much needed, tender moment.

"Sorry," she whispered. (GoF 620)

As Mrs. Weasley had Harry take the Dreamless Sleep Potion, she winced, guilt gnawing at her stomach. Harry needed all the love he could get, especially in light of the last few hours, and she had just cut short the little bit that had been offered tonight. But, as guilty as she felt, she wouldn't have done anything differently. Catching Skeeter was a form of love for Harry too. It protected him and Sirius. And it protected the rest of the wizarding world. She slipped the jar back into her bag.

Hermione and the Weasleys kept watch over Harry as he slept. Instead of enforcing visiting hours though, Madam Pomfrey checked in from time to time, offering the other beds for them to sleep in when it was sometime past midnight. Ron had taken one of the beds at his mother's insistence and was soon snoring, sound asleep. However, she had politely refused the Weasley matriarch's attempts at getting her to do the same, explaining that she had too much on her mind to be able to fall asleep anyways. She refused the Dreamless Sleep Potion that was pointedly offered to her too. Repeatedly.

Staring off into space as her thoughts returned to Snape, she went through all her memories of the man and recalled his pallid face as Dumbledore made his request earlier tonight. It was a vague request, meant only for the Potion Master's understanding. They had clearly made plans for this beforehand. They had expected You-Know-Who to return one day. And that day had come. All the same, both wizards were concerned. It must be an extremely daunting task to have both of them so visibly worried. But what would that task be?

Hermione mentally listed everything she knew about Snape and this situation. The dark wizard despised children, dunderheads, and teaching. But he had been teaching at Hogwarts since before her first year. How many years was that in total? Why not find another job if he hated it so much? He did want the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, she mused. So perhaps, he just hated teaching any other subject but stayed in hopes of getting his dream job? No, that didn't make sense. It didn't explain his behavior the rest of the time around children. Or most people, for that matter. Which meant he was staying for some other purpose. For the eventuality of this war happening? Why Hogwarts specifically though? Surely there were more useful positions to take up in preparation for a war than being a professor? Unless it was to be close to Dumbledore?

And he had the Dark Mark, automatically making him untrustworthy. So, why did Dumbledore trust him without reservations? As much of a bastard as he was to most people, Snape had proven that he was not one to shirk his duties. Even if he hated every second of performing said duties. She knew that very few people could see it though. The boys certainly couldn't. Too blinded by the man's acidic personality. Even so, that was honour. And Snape's integrity didn't prove his trustworthiness in this war. It only proved that the man would fulfill his promises. No. War required more than just what Snape considered to be his duty. It required loyalty. And surely Dumbledore would have tested a known Death Eater first? So, what had Snape done to prove where his loyalties lie? To prove his change in allegiance?

Assuming that Snape's loyalties lay with Dumbledore, what would be the man's role? It was well-known that he was a professor at Hogwarts and, therefore, under Dumbledore's thumb. Perhaps brewing potions needed to get through the war and assisting with any Dark Arts that Dumbledore's side would come across? No, that couldn't be it. At least, those were not the tasks that had them worried.

Think, Hermione, think. What roles were there in a war? She thought of the two Muggle world wars.

An army of soldiers and weapons. Healers too. Well, Snape definitely wasn't a weapon. But perhaps he could help build one. And he had most of the skills to be a Healer but not the... bedside manners. Besides, those kinds of tasks wouldn't cause this level of concern. And his current position at the school limited his abilities as a soldier too. A terrifying thought popped into her mind, causing goosebumps to sweep through her body. They weren't expecting Hogwarts to be the battlefield, were they? She shuddered to even think about it. The probability of that was unknown. But it certainly wouldn't be happening yet. Their concern was for some immediate event or something in the near future. So, Snape's role wasn't as a soldier either.

What else? Politics. A war needed leaders. To make decisions. To negotiate with the other side, if possible. To be a symbol. But Snape was no leader in his current position as a Potions professor. Politically, no one would even think to listen to him. Fudge certainly hadn't, even with evidence of the Dark Mark, she thought irritatedly. And Snape couldn't even be bothered to pretend being polite most of the time. His prickly demeanor alone would trash any negotiations. Neither would he inspire people. Definitely not a leader. Plus, she was pretty sure that Harry was supposed to be the war's symbol of hope. She felt a pang in her chest at how much responsibility was being placed on her friend's shoulders and vowed that she would always be there to help share the burden.

There had to be something else. What else did one fighting a war need? Information. They needed to know what the enemy's plans were. In fact, considering that they hadn't even known that the Moody they had been seeing all year was an imposter, much less You-Know-Who's plan of action for returning, they were already miles behind on information. Catching up would need the work of scouts, analysts, and spies. Well, they had no information to analyze yet. Neither was it a task that would be cause for worry. And they didn't know where to scout the enemy's movements yet. So, that left spies. Her heart thundered. Spies. Oh Merlin, Snape was their spy, wasn't he?

Former Death Eater. There was no indication that the man had publicly left You-Know-Who's side during the last war. Like so many of You-Know-Who's followers, he probably only denounced the association after that awful night of James and Lily Potter's deaths. He was still in touch with other Death Eaters too. Harry had seen Karkaroff talking to Snape, on a civil first name basis, about the Dark Mark. But he had been publicly, faithfully, serving Dumbledore for years after You-Know-Who's fall. That placed him in the perfect position to be a double agent. Trusted by both sides. Playing both sides. The most dangerous position of all. It made so much sense. No wonder Snape and Dumbledore were so worried! He could die at any moment!

Hermione bit her lip absentmindedly. Where was Professor Snape now? Did Dumbledore send him to finally answer You-Know-Who's summons? Quite probable. The headmaster had said good luck after all. And their first step was to gather information. Had the Potions Master returned from meeting with You-Know-Who yet? Another memory came to her. Earlier tonight, Snape had said something about "the Dark Lord's vengeance" and the Mark being burnt into them. It hinted at absolute obedience being required, with the alternative being pain and death. And Snape would have been a couple of hours late in answering the summons. Ice settled into her stomach. Was he hurt? Was he being tortured?

Unable to stand not knowing, Hermione picked up her bag and rushed out of the hospital wing, barely hearing Mrs. Weasley's alarmed calls for her to come back. She was barely even aware of where she was, but her feet automatically took her down the familiar path to the freezing cold dungeons. There were enough people to watch over Harry. She would hardly be missed. Right now, it was Professor Snape who sorely needed someone by his side. Once she was at his office door though, she was at a loss for what to do. She hadn't been thinking, just reacted to her revelation. And now, she wasn't sure how to reach her professor. If he was back from his meeting and injured, he should have turned up at the hospital wing. He hadn't yet. Did that mean he was fine? That he was sleeping in his private chambers? Or that he hadn't returned? If he had come back to the castle, would he even answer if she knocked? She paced outside his office, vacillating between going straight back to the hospital wing or knocking on the office door and waiting him out if he didn't answer.

A few minutes later, it didn't matter what her choice was. Hearing someone's harsh breathing approach as they stumbled their way down the stairs, Hermione held her breath and tried to hide in the shadows as much as possible. A tall figure appeared around the corner, shrouded in darkness and leaning heavily on the stone wall. As the meager lighting from the fires in the wall sconces illuminated the figure, revealing a wounded and bloodied Severus Snape, she gasped.

Immediately, the sound had the figure straightening, wand out and body coiled like a spring ready to attack. She recognized the body language, the paranoia. It was exactly the kind of response Muggle war veterans had when they were startled. Her parents had a patient that was the same way, tensing with every sudden movement. She would have to be careful with her next actions.

Without moving from her hidden spot, Hermione called out softly, "Professor?"

She watched as the man narrowed his eyes, honing in on her general location. Without relaxing even a bit, he demanded, "Who's there? Show yourself."

"It's Hermione Granger," she said softly, informing the tense spy in an attempt to lessen the man's fight or flight response. "I'm standing near your office and I'm going to come out now."

Praying that his logical brain was stronger than his base instincts, she slowly came out of the shadows with her palms up to show that she wasn't a threat. His wand arm twitched but, to her relief, he only continued to hold it out steadily and didn't attack. After several beats of silence, where they stayed staring at each other like that, he put away his wand.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew, Miss Granger," he snapped. "What are you doing out so late?"

Hermione shook her head, speaking low and fast in a single breath, like she was afraid that someone else would overhear her words and that he wouldn't hear her out. "Ron and I never left the hospital wing. We were allowed to stay with Harry. But I was thinking about your role and what Dumbledore was having you do and I think I figured it out and I was just so worried that you would come back injured without anyone to help you so I rushed out of the hospital wing to see you but - "

"For Merlin's sake, girl, do you ever stop talking?" Snape cut her off in a harsh whisper, striding towards her and taking down the wards around his office. "Get. In."

She scrambled to comply. As soon as she stepped across the threshold into the dark room, Snape pushed her into a chair and put up his wards again. But then, he practically collapsed in his own chair and that was when she realized his breathing had gotten heavier with each passing second, dealing with the wards only taxing his magic and energy further.

Wringing her hands, she said anxiously, "Professor, you're hurt. What can I do to help? Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"And what makes you think you can help? Or that I want anyone's help?" Snape sneered, peering at her in contempt.

Eyes flashing in a glare and slapping her palms flat against the surface of the desk as she stood up, Hermione answered heatedly, "Too bad! You're bleeding, twitchy with adrenaline, stumbling around, and breathing heavily so you're getting my help whether you want it or not! Now, will you tell me what happened and what I can do? Or should I start making assumptions and shoving random potions down your throat that I, in my limited experience, think might help?"

They glared at each other for a minute. When the man continued to say nothing, Hermione broke her gaze impatiently in favour of muttering to herself as she lit the candles and frantically searched the bottles of potions along one of the office walls for what he might need. She ignored his snarling protests, even as he deducted more points, taking his lack of physical or magical interference with her actions to mean that she was correct in assuming his condition was too precarious to heal himself at the moment. But he clearly didn't want Madam Pomfrey involved either, so she would respect that unless he was no longer conscious to make decisions and tell her what to do. Once she finished finding what she needed a few minutes later, she stalked over to her professor and shoved a Blood-Replenishing Potion into his hand. Her own body was shaking as she took in his complexion, which looked even worse in the candlelight.

Blinking up at her with his obsidian eyes, hazy with pain and blood loss, he scowled and sniffed the bottle before downing it. As soon as the bottle was empty, Hermione snatched it from his hand and shoved a Pain Reliever to replace it. She frowned when he shoved it back at her.

"Cursed blade," he rasped in explanation, panting with exertion now. "This... will make it worse... Need to... break the curse first."

Nodding briskly, she switched the bottles to give him an Invigoration Draught instead. He readily downed that one as she asked, "What about Wound Cleaning and Essence of Dittany?"

"Same problem," he replied tiredly, handing the bottle back to her. He looked more alert and gave her a hard stare, contemplating something. Once he came to a decision, Snape slowly pulled himself to sit up straighter and said with a grimace, "You are... not as dunderheaded... as the rest of your peers. I will admit... that I do not have enough energy reserves to break the curse on my own, even with the Invigoration Draught. Since you are here, I will teach you how to help me break it. However, you will follow my instructions to the letter, without question. Not. A. Single. Question. And you will swear on your magic that what happens tonight will never be known by anyone else. No. One. Can know. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione breathed out, eyes wide.

A couple minutes later, with his instructions, she finished swearing on her magic to maintain secrecy. The procedure had been similar to the Unbreakable Vow that she had come across in her light reading. And then, she was listening to Professor Snape as he lectured on the process of what needed to happen in order to purge the curse from his wounds. He had her repeat the instructions back to him to make sure she remembered them. A few more minutes perfecting the incantation and wand movements.

Finally, he reluctantly deemed her ready as she would ever be. But it was clear from his expressionless eyes, clenched teeth, and tensed muscles that he was only letting her do this because he had no better choices at the moment. It pained her to know that there was no one he trusted. No one that had proved themselves trustworthy to him. No one that he could rely on. He walked through life alone. It was no wonder that he was such a bitter man.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, steadying her nerves. She couldn't mess this up. Not just because a life was at stake. But also, because she didn't want to be another person to let him down when he needed it most. She needed to prove to him that he could rely on her, even if it would only be just this once. So, she squared her shoulders and whispered to herself, "You can do this."

Hermione raised her wand and aimed it at the angry gashes in his skin, reaching out with her magic as she chanted the incantation. She felt the hard edges of his magic, like a constant shield, guide hers to the source of the curse. Just having her magic brush against the black knots embedded in the wounds made her gasp. They bucked and lashed out, trying to dislodge her hold and she had to grit her teeth with the effort of sinking the continuously chanted incantation's magic into them. Untangling the curse from itself and her professor's wounds was a kind of battle that she had never experienced before. She wrestled with them, sweat beading on her forehead and down her back. Her world narrowed down to the feel of those black knots, the bleeding flesh that was visible through the torn fabric of Snape's robes, and the low timbre of his voice as he guided her progress. Felt his magic try to tug her away from the curse a few times, but ignored it and continued to push forward. She lost track of time. But finally, after what felt like hours, all the gnarly knots were untangled and expelled from the deep cuts with a flash of blinding white light. The last thing she was aware of was a roar of pain somewhere above her. Then, everything went black.

When Hermione started to regain consciousness, the first thing she felt was a dry and warm hand gripping her jaw lightly. The cold lip of a glass bottle followed. Another moment and a cool liquid, tasting of grass and peppermint that she identified as an Invigoration Draught, slid down her throat. Her eyes shot open and she spluttered, coughing to clear her airways.

"Your wounds, Professor?" Hermione choked out before her lungs were clear, scanning her eyes over his body. It seemed that she had been unconscious long enough for him to change his robes.

"Adequately treated for now," Snape said in a clipped voice, moving away from her to settle into his chair again. He gave her a disdainful look. "You disobeyed me and overtaxed yourself. The amount of energy you put into breaking the curse could have killed you. Tell me, Miss Granger, would that have been worth it?"

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked that it would even be a question. 

"Foolish girl!" Snape snapped. "What is the use of killing yourself to complete a spell?"

She glared at him, asking sarcastically, "So, I should just let you die?!"

"You should be using that oversized brain of yours," he hissed, leaning forward. "You knew this was a dangerous spell to attempt for someone not fully trained. You were to follow my instructions to the letter. You disobeyed. Or were my attempts at pulling you back not clear enough?"

"But I broke the curse! I saved your life!"

"Sacrificing your own life to save another, without any regard for circumstances. How very Gryffindor of you," he sneered. "Dumbledore should be glad that the members of his precious House manage to survive to adulthood. If all of you are this arrogantly reckless, it is a miracle that you are not sacrificing your lives for everyone and their dog any time they happen to be in trouble."

"Just because I care ab - " Hermione cut herself off with widening eyes as her brain caught up to what he was saying. Or, more accurately, deciphering the layers behind what he was saying. He was a Slytherin. And a spy to boot. She already knew that some of his most valuable lessons, whether intended or not, were conveyed through some of the most hurtful words. Which means she needed to stop reacting and start thinking, like he had been telling her to do. Tilting her head, she said carefully, "You want me to weigh the risks against the benefits before jumping head first into danger."

"How arrogant to assume that I would want anything from you," Snape said coldly.

She shook her head, worrying her lip and pacing as she thought. "Fine. Poor choice of words. But for the record, I did weigh the risks and benefits. We're at war. We have next to no information. But you're Dumbledore's spy which means the information will be coming from you. We can't afford to lose you. You're too important."

"You. Absolute. Imbecile!" Snape snarled, body rigid and fists clenched. She nearly flinched at his posture, which seemed as if it was taking everything in him to not launch himself at her even as he plowed on. "This war is centred on your precious Potter. The outcome depends on his success. His survival. And yet, Potter can scarcely tie his own shoelaces without your help! If you think for one moment that your side can afford to lose you over a universally hated, possible double agent, then you may as well hand yourself over to the Dark Lord this instant."

He took a breath and descended into an eerie calm, continuing with a voice that could have frozen over the Great Lake in the middle of summer. "Everyone praises you for your intelligence but, just as I thought, you are only another arrogant brat with no substance between your ears. Regurgitating the information in your textbooks does not equate to intelligence. And if you had a speck of it, you would not have come searching for me tonight, with only a suspicion of my loyalties and role in this thrice-cursed war."

Hermione swallowed hard, eyes prickling with unshed tears, at the realization of just how much she had underestimated everything. She used to think there was nothing that a trip to the library wouldn't answer. But, with each year she spent at Hogwarts, she was beginning to understand that she could read all the books she wanted but there was still so much she didn't know. So much that could not be learned from reading. And it had never been more apparent than now, with the looming war. She was still so... recklessly naïve, as the man before her had put it earlier this year. It appeared that she still had not learned much from the essay on her naivety that he had set after the bubotuber pus incident. She resolved to do better. However, there was one other thing in that speech that was bothering her and she wanted to address it immediately. She needed him to know.

"You're not, you know," she murmured. "Universally hated, I mean."

"Don't. Lie. To. Me." Snape stood up and slammed his hands down on the desk, face twisted into a frightening expression. The venom in his voice made her flinch but she squared her shoulders. She was not backing down.

"I don't hate you," she insisted quietly. Raising the volume of her voice in increasing confidence with each of his attempts at interrupting, she continued. "I never have. Even when you treat us horribly, I have never hated you. You're a talented wizard, who holds himself to exacting standards and expects the same of everyone else. I've always respected you for that. And Professor Dumbledore trusts - "

"Daft girl!" Snape spat, finally succeeding in interrupting her. "Is that all you need to base your character judgements on? Everything is fine as long as Dumbledore approves?"

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed before shifting uncomfortably. "Well, that was what I thought in my first couple of years at Hogwarts. But I've seen some of his... questionable decisions and their results. Like hiring Lockhart, for instance! Professor Dumbledore is brilliant, but I know he's not perfect. He is right to trust you though."

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Snape sneered, eyeing her flaming cheeks suspiciously.

"Because underneath all your bad temper, spiteful behaviour, and blatant favouritism towards Slytherin, you have always put the students first, regardless of House," she answered earnestly, ignoring the heat spreading through her face the moment Lockhart's name had come out of her mouth. "Because you hate the students and don't suffer fools, but there is nothing you wouldn't do to protect those placed under your care from danger. Even if you get bitten by a three-headed dog in your haste to make sure the Philosopher's Stone is still safe. Even if that means risking your life to save the lives of three, pain in your neck, foolhardy Gryffindors. I wouldn't blame you if you cursed our names every time we put ourselves in danger and you end up pulling us out of it."

She gave him an apologetic, self-deprecating smile before carrying on with her answer. "Especially when one of them is Harry Potter, who is the key to the upcoming war and someone you seem to have a particular grudge against. And because you hate teaching but you still stay and, instead of half-arsing it, you do your best to make sure your students learn everything they can. Your teaching methods are not kind, but they are thorough. Because you give your best effort to everything you set out to do."

"You mistake me for a nice man," Snape said icily. "I am no Hufflepuff, doing things for others out of the goodness of my heart."

That last bit was mocking and startled a laugh out of her. "Of course, you aren't," she agreed. "You are not a nice man. No one could refute that. But you are a good man."

He pulled up his left sleeve harshly, revealing the stark brand on his pale arm for the second time that night and spat, "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you have any idea what kind of person I would have to be to bear the Dark Mark? To even have the chance to bear it?"

She stared at the Mark and swallowed hard, whispering, "A Dark wizard. Someone who is capable of causing great harm to others and enjoy doing so."

"Precisely, Miss Granger. In light of that, what makes you think that I am a good man?"

His lips had twisted at the very thought of being a good man but Hermione ignored it. Instead, she looked her professor in the eye and chose her words deliberately. "In other people's cases, the two are mutually exclusive. For you, I see no difference."

They stared at each other for several minutes, barely breathing. She wondered what was going through his mind. If she had gone too far. It was a harsh phrase that should have cut down the person on the receiving end. But somehow, thanks to this man, it meant so much more to her now. However, just because he had made her feel humiliated, comforted, amused, and proud with that phrase at different points throughout this year, didn't mean that he would attach the same importance to the words. It didn't mean that she had a right to throw it right back at him. And he was her professor! Oh Merlin, what had she done? What if he was offended? What if - ?

"Leave. Go back to the hospital wing or your dormitory," Snape said expressionlessly, interrupting her thoughts. He was rigid and motionless in his seat. "Do not let me catch you wandering the corridors."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered. She picked up her bag and headed towards the door, not daring to do anything that might annoy the man further. But, just before she slipped out of the office, he murmured her name and she glanced back at him questioningly.

"Take two vials of Invigoration Draught," he instructed quietly, not looking at her. Instead, he was staring at a spot on his desk. "One in the morning for the next two days. Eat and sleep properly. Limit your magic use. You have overtaxed yourself and will need a week to recover."

Slowly, Hermione approached his desk to retrieve the potions and backed out of the office again. Just before the door closed, she murmured, "Thank you, Professor."

When she was halfway back to the hospital wing and alone in the corridor, with not even a portrait in sight to witness anything, a relieved grin made its way onto her face. She couldn't believe it! Coming from the Potions Master, the parting instructions were as good as an acknowledgement of her words. An understanding. He wasn't offended and she wasn't going to be punished for her impertinence. With a small laugh, Hermione nearly skipped the rest of the way back to the hospital wing.