A/N: Well here goes my next poor attempt at a multi-chaptered fic, despite that fact that I already have two running that I never update. Oh well. This one is much different from the other two. Enjoy. -Dani
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to the lovely JKR.
To Be Lost Without Truth
Chapter One
It was warm. He was walking, wandering aimlessly. He felt deathly tired and the side of his neck throbbed. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why he was walking, or tired, or why his neck hurt. Hell, he didn't even know who he was.
He paused in both his walking and his thoughts. It was true, he realized. He didn't have clue who on Earth he was. In the darkness he could see a street lamp up ahead. Beyond it lay a park; a bench; a place to rest his confused, world-weary head.
He trudged onward as eager as he could be in his weakened state. As soon as he reached the bench, he collapsed onto it. He was about to fall into oblivion when he felt something jabbing his thigh.
He groaned and shuffled his hand until it reached the offending object in his pocket. He pulled it out, revealing a slender, ebony rod about a foot long. It sparked without warning, and he lost consciousness, still lying on a park bench in the middle of Merlin-knows-where.
Yes, Severus Tobias Snape was lost. And he didn't even know it.
It was cold, even freezing, and very, very dark. Too dark, she thought, to be outside. She shivered with cold when she realized that she was sitting on a floor that was no warmer than the surrounding air. The floor was extremely slick and she found out the hard way, falling back down numerous times before thinking to find a wall for support.
She rolled off of her back-down falling position, preparing to "army crawl" to a wall or other solid object when she felt something jab her thigh. She felt around her pockets until she pulled out the object in question. Obviously, she couldn't see it, but it felt like a slim wooden rod and it felt right in her hand.
Suddenly an unfamiliar word popped into her head and slipped past her lips. "Lumos!" she called out involuntarily. The tip of the rod lit up, surprising her and allowing her to see where she was. It wasn't a pleasant sight.
She was, apparently, trapped in the meat box of what was probably a butcher's shop. Finally able to see, she scrambled to her feet. She could see her breath condensing in the freezing air as she took in the sight of the frozen carcasses dangling from the ceiling. She shivered again from both revulsion and cold before carefully making her way towards a door on the far end of the container.
She struggled with the handle for a bit before reaching for the rod. Once again, an unfamiliar word came to her. Subconsciously thrusting the piece of wood at the door, she called out, "Reducto!" The door turned to dust, leaving only its hinges. The resounding roar of a veritable pack of Klaxons started. She simply stood there staring at the remains of the door until the police came.
"You there!" one of the officers, a dark-skinned female, called out to her.
She snapped out of her trance and stared blankly at the officers, too stunned to respond. All of the sudden, it seemed she had a pounding headache.
"What did you do?" the same policewoman asked angrily.
She blinked and stuttered out, "I-I don't really kn-know..."
A pale, platinum blonde policeman who vaguely reminded her of someone unpleasant stepped forward, confiscated her still unexplained rod, and clamped her arms behind her back. "You are under arrest for breaking and entering," he intoned. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you..."
A dazed and mind-wiped Hermione Jean Granger passed out, still being read her Miranda rights in Merlin-knows-where, U.S.A.
The Final Battle was finally over. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Had-Far-Too-Much-Luck-For-Any-Human, had killed ol' Moldy Voldy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle. But Voldemort was not the only one who was dead.
So many others had been lost while fighting for the cause. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora "Tonks" Lupin, Colin and Dennis Creevy, Fred Weasley, and Lavender Brown were among the identified dead. Although neither his body nor his wand were recovered, Severus Snape was presumed dead based on the testimony of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger, well, she was, to put it simply, missing. Just gone.
When Harry first realized that his female best friend was not participating in the mourning or the celebration after the war, he though nothing of it. She's probably out searching for survivors or checking if the library's still standing, he'd thought. He knew something had to have happened to her when she failed to turn up ten hours after the battle concluded.
He enlisted all of the remaining Weasleys to search the remains of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and the Forbidden Forest for the missing woman. They found absolutely nothing. No Hermione, no wand, no scraps of clothing, no blood, and no signs of a forced capture. She had disappeared.
They had taken a few more hours to try to magically detect her with a series of complicated spells, but there was nothing, nada, nil. The search was pushed to the back burner as everyone was thrown into the reconstruction of Hogwarts. It was tedious, backbreaking work. Something had happened to the castle that prevented most magic from being used to rebuild it.
Ron in particular had been mortified when he'd been told that he would need to help dig graves - with a Muggle shovel. "I've never even touched one!" he had exclaimed, looking at the tool wearily.
Now the Weasleys were gathered in the Headmasters' office with Professor McGonagall and Harry. "I don't know what could have happened to the girl," Minerva murmured in response to Harry's explanations about Hermione's disappearance.
Harry nodded in agreement. "We've tried everything we could think of, Professor. She's just...gone." He took a glance around the office before his eyes settled on Albus Dumbledore's portrait. Dumbledore was doing a poor job of concealing a rather guilty look.
Minerva noticed it too. Frowning, she confronted the portrait. "Albus, did you have anything to do with this?"
"Perhaps, Minerva, perhaps," he responded listlessly.
Minerva was about to say something else when Harry spoke up again. "Where's Snape?" he questioned, staring at the portrait wall. "He ought to be up there since he was Headmaster and he's now dead, right?"
Everyone froze, realizing that Harry was right. Dumbledore coughed nervously and suddenly nine pairs of eyes were upon him. "About that...it would seem that Severus is still alive."
A/N: Well? Whaddaya think? Review, please, and feel free to take a look at my other stories. :) -Dani