Disclaimer: I own nothing, just enjoy expanding my mind from time to time.

Note: It has been far far too long since I posted and I wish it had been different. To answer some questions: 1) No I still don't have a BETA yet so if you know somebody send them my way! If you bitch overly about something in this piece then stop it and offer to fix it. 2) Yes I will finish the other open stories, I just needed a breather from them. I know how they will end, it's just gathering the final umpf to do it. 3) I miss you guys.

As always I hope you enjoy this little beginning. It will take me time to write, life is changing so rapidly at the moment that it's hard to find a moment to really focus on creating.

Update: A super huge thanks to my beta SevmioneAlways for improving my story and finding those embarrassing grammar/ spelling things. I can't thank you enough for teaching me new things and supporting me through this story!

Update Sept 4 2016: Just updating this story with some spelling corrections. Again I don't know how I graduated with a Masters sometimes.

Prologue – Far Away From Here

The Final Battle at Hogwarts

The viciousness of the attack left Hermione's mouth dry and her legs rooted in place. She didn't know how Ron and Harry felt about it, though she could infer from the horrified looks on their faces and the slight smell of urine that permeated her nostrils, that perhaps one, if not both were as horrified as she was. Their hiding place had afforded them a good enough cover to not be seen by Voldemort, Nagini or Professor Snape, but it had not saved them from the almost inhuman screaming that escaped their professor's lips as the snake struck. It could not muffle the sound of blood splattering on the inside of the window, under which they were hiding, watching the attack with a nearly front row seat. It could not shield their eyes from the horrors that had just occurred within the tiny shack at the edge of Hogsmead.

Some time had passed since the screaming had stopped, so Hermione rose slightly and peeked again through the dirty, blood stained window of the Shrieking Shack. Both Voldemort and the snake were gone. All that was left was the gargling, still-alive body of their most hated professor. The man they had collectively despised since the beginning of their academic careers at Hogwarts was lying there in a pool of his own blood, barely clinging to life. Something had changed in those rather brief moments as the trio peered into the shack and overheard a conversation not meant for them. Their whole perspective on this man had changed in an instant, within the short collection of words that had been formed into sentences. This new information changed everything they had taken for granted or had assumed. It had brought to light a neatly packaged and played out lie. Now they all knew how much Severus Snape had done for them. His enormous sacrifice over the last 16 years had been revealed in a mere 5-minute conversation, as Voldemort claimed the Elder wand from him. The trio realized that all he had done, he had done for love and with the hope for a better world – he had wanted them to live and prosper. Something snapped in Hermione then, it was a deep sense of urgency that brought her to action.

"Harry, Ron you go on ahead. I'll catch up." she ordered. Her plan was crazy, but she had to try.

"Hermione are you sure? There's nothing you can do here. He's- he's dying," Harry stuttered, still slightly dazed and overwhelmed with all that had just transpired.

"Yes, now go," Hermione urged him, putting on her best bossy tone. She had to keep them moving. Harry had a battle to win and she had work to do. The two boys looked at each other, nodded, and ran off into the battle, leaving her in the relative quiet of the field. With a quick wave of her wand she sent her patronus, a swimming otter, back to Madam Pomfrey for help. She did not know if help would come, but better to try than not at all.

She steeled herself and went into the small, dusty, ramshackled room where Severus Snape lay dying. The room was a mess, as it had always been, the paint peeling from the walls, the dust thick along the floor. Hermione turned her head toward him, the sight was horrific; he was covered in blood lying on the floor against the wall, his throat torn apart by the snake. This man, who had always been so upright and in control, was sprawled across the floor like a grotesque rag doll. His breathing was forced and erratic, blood flowed freely from his wound and his eyes were only slightly open. She dropped her long and burdening school robes on the floor and rushed to kneel by his side. Hermione yelped when he grabbed her collar suddenly with what little strength he had, and turned his wide, dark, opened eyes to her, as if to protect himself from harm. In his eyes there was a slight acknowledgement, but when he tried to speak, blood flowed from his mouth and neck. He gargled and choked, clearly in distress.

"Don't speak," she said trying to calm him down. She was grasping at his hands that held her collar in an effort to calm him and free herself. He loosened his grip and lay his head back against the wall, his eyes rolling back in his head. The effects of the poison, I have to do something, she thought to herself. 'First the bleeding, I have to stop the bleeding.'

There was nothing lying on the floor that could immediately act as a bandage. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the bottom of her school uniform blouse and ripped it off, wrapping it as tightly as she could around Severus's throat without choking him. His breathing had become weaker due to the sheer amount of blood loss he had suffered, along with the strong poison coursing through his veins. Hermione applied pressure to his wound while she racked her brain frantically trying to figure out what to do next.

'Think Hermione, think. How can you counteract a poison. . . in the middle of fucking nowhere? How can you. . . .?' That was when it struck her. First Year Potions class and then later in the Half-Blood Prince's potions book, she remembered what Severus had both said and written on those occasions. Her thought was like light, shining brightly through a dark cover of clouds.

"A bezoar." She breathed.

A beat passed as her plan became clear in her head, then she ripped through Severus's clothing like a woman possessed. She was frantic, her curly hair falling in her face, ripping through his voluminous robes littered with hidden pockets and vials. She was searching for a long shot, for a chance and no more. Searching for the one thing that might be able to save him. Her fingers passed over vials and ingredients that were spread out and sewn into the inner lining of his teaching robes. Potions Masters were known for this, but she had no idea how many compartments a single robe could have. They were many and all she could do, her whole entire focus, was to find the rounded stone she would need to counteract the poison.

'There's nothing here, shit shit!' Inside she was pulling her hair out and screaming, but on the surface she was efficient and methodical. Finding nothing in his robes she ripped his high-necked and high-buttoned vest open, scattering its uptight buttons to the winds. She inhaled deeply as she examined his next set of hidden pockets. Her fingers traced over the lining of his vest, but found nothing. It was only as she made her way down his chest that she hit something that could be it. It was a small pocket, sewn into the side of the shirt near his underarm that she felt a small rounded stone-like object. With time running out, and at the end of her wits, she ripped the shirt open on his slowly failing body and dug in toward what she suspected to be the stone.

'You lucky bastard.' She smiled to herself. 'Hopefully it's not too late.' It was then that she shoved the bezoar in his mouth, massaging it down his throat as best she could. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but so had his breathing. So she sat there, straddling his lap, almost nose to nose with Professor Severus Snape, waiting for something, quite literally, magical to happen.

Fear started to set in, as he lay there unmoving. She grabbed him by the collar and started screaming, "Wake up professor. Wake up!"

Nothing, he moved as if he were made of jelly. It was then that the tears began to flow down her face, "You can't die. You just can't. I won't let you."

More tears and more of nothing. She was beating on his chest now, her fists balled up with her nails digging into her hands, begging through her helpless shrieks. "You can't leave me you greasy bastard! You CAN'T! I love. . . ."

'What in Merlin's name did I just. . . .'

It was then that he burst back into life, ripping her from her own thoughts. His body jolted violently forward, almost throwing her backwards. He began to shake and foam exited his mouth.

'It's working!'

Her eyes were wide in both shock and amazement. Though something was wrong. It wasn't working well enough. The bezoar had counteracted the poison to some degree, but the snake must have given him an extra large dosage. It was a horcrux after all, who knew how deadly it truly was.

In a moment of desperation, she wrestled the flailing body of her professor flat to the floor so that she could get better access to his neck. It was clear what she had to do now, and it would not be magical this time. She would have to suck the poison out in the Muggle fashion as there was still a chance that at the injection sites there were reserves of poison left. Her father had taught her this once as a young girl, now she would have to do it.

Removing the piece of her bloodied shirt from his neck, she began to suck and spit the poison from the main wound. The copper taste of his blood mixed with the sour taste of the poison made Hermione want to throw up, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. She had to keep going.

It took a moment to ascertain if it was working. When she pulled back, she could see his breathing was stronger and steadier than before, but she had to go further. She had to make sure she had removed enough, all of it if she could. She went back to her task, sucking in the poison and spitting it out on the floor. So focused was she that she hadn't noticed the room becoming blurred or the darkness creeping up on her. All Hermione knew was the more she could remove from his body the better. As her vision became more tunneled and her strength began to leave her, she wondered if she would be able to do enough to save him. The last thing she could remember was the floor rising to meet her and a loud thud as her body hit and darkness as the venom overtook her.

Aseptic smells entered Hermione's nose, telling her she was in a hospital room before she could even be bothered to open her eyes. A hospital room was good. It meant that either they had won, or she was dead and in a dream. Though, as she lay there, her body slowly announcing its aches and pains, she realized that to open her eyes would be to accept whatever reality was out there. 'Can I live in this new world?'

Breathing in, she slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness of the lights hanging above her. She was almost certain she was in St. Mungos, having been there a few times before she knew the style of rooms. Her head was heavy and her body ached as she breathed in again. Using what little strength she had, she sat up so as to better understand where exactly she was.

He was there in the corner and she had to do a double take. "What the . . . ?" she breathed as her eyes focused on the wizard sitting in the corner of her room.

"Now I know I'm dead," she blurted out, not caring who heard.

"No, my dear. I am afraid you are not," came the familiar, calming voice of Albus Dumbledore. His hands were crossed over the handle of a cane, his blue eyes sparkled at her from across the room. His grandfatherly smile was radiant and warm.

Hermione shook her head, "No, it can't be. I was at your funeral. Harry. . . Harry saw Snape kill you on the astronomy tower. You are dead and if we are talking in this room, then we are both dead, sir."

His chuckle filled the room as he slowly stood and made his way to a chair near Hermione's bed. 'Well he does look and act like like Dumbledore, but how can this be?'

"A common parlor trick on the account of Severus and myself, Miss Granger. Nothing more. My death was necessary to speed up certain events." Albus reached out putting his hand on her arm. "Though, I assure you, I am very much alive."

Hermione studied him for a moment, unsure as to how to proceed. "Prove it, sir. I need to know this is not some kind of trick."

Dumbledore smiled at her request. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "I know you polyjuiced yourself into a cat in your second year. You were coughing up fur balls for a week." With that, he sat back with a self-satisfied grin, his blue eyes twinkling.

At this Hermione visibly relaxed, allowing her head to fall back on her pillow. As if reading her mind, Professor Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are well Miss Granger, though they are resting. The battle was more than taxing on all of us."

This seemed to shake Hermione completely into reality. Professor Snape? She turned her head to look at Professor Dumbledore, but before the words could escape her lips he intervened, "Severus will survive, Miss Granger. Thanks to your quick thinking he should be able to make a full recovery. Though, I am not quite sure how immediately grateful he will be, he had not intended to survive this war."

Her moment of euphoria was brief, as her feelings for him began to flood her mind. She wasn't sure what had happened back there, what he had evoked in her. All she knew was that she was ashamed and confused, she had to distance herself from it. Attempting to suppress a blush she said, "Oh well, I'm sure anybody would have done the same."

"No my dear, they would not have. Severus is not well loved by either side. It was an extreme stroke of luck that you happened to find him as you did. Even more so that you acted as you did." His blue eyes penetrated her, and she wondered if he was reading her thoughts and feelings. She quickly looked away, so as not to betray her mixed emotions.

"A letter came for you, Miss Granger. Hence the reason I am here."

Hermione turned back to him suddenly curious as to what it could be and why it would need to be discussed in this moment.

Dumbledore continued, "It's from the Auror division of the FBI Miss Granger. They wanted to deliver it to you personally, but you were still resting. I believe it is an," he paused for effect, "acceptance letter into their program." Fishing the letter from his robes, he handed it to her, careful to observe her facial expressions.

"Oh, I see," she said taking the letter from him, "I just wanted to see if I could get in. But perhaps the opportunity isn't really for me, after all that has happened. I'm sure Harry and Ron would be better suited for such work anyway."

Her mentor studied her with a questioning expression on his face. It was only after a moment, once he had decided how to best proceed, that he spoke.

"Hermione, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley love to run headlong into battle. Now while this may be admirable, it does not qualify one to be an Auror."

At this point, his voice took an authoritative tone, "It is thinking for yourself, knowing magic both inside and out… grace under fire that makes an Auror, my dear." He looked at her directly now, speaking carefully. "Had you not shown all of that when you found Severus, he would not have made it out alive. I would ask you consider this very carefully. It would be a great opportunity for you and a way to get away from England during a very trying time."

Hermione's face contorted into a silent question.

"There will be trials, Miss Granger, and it will take time to bring things in order. There will be a lot of rebuilding I'm afraid, and I would hate for that to impede on your thirst for knowledge in any way. Think about it. Perhaps when the time is right you will return for your own reasons, professional or otherwise."

It was with this that Hermione wondered if the old man knew more than he was letting on. It was the way his lips danced over the 'otherwise' part that made her self-conscious that he had slipped into her mind and saw what she really was, what she really felt. All she could do for now was say, "Yes sir, I will consider it."

"Wonderful. Now, I should let you rest." He smiled and slowly left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Hermione literally threw herself back on the pillow and covered herself to her eyebrows with the comforter. Everything they had just discussed was completely overwhelming. She was thrilled about the victory, which went without saying, but it was her feelings about Snape that bothered her.

'I was going to say 'I love you'. I was going to scream it out in my most helpless moment. I'm turning 17 in a few months and he's old enough to be my father. How could I possibly love him?'

She was ashamed of her feelings. He'd been nothing but cruel to her, nothing but degrading… and yet a part of her was so drawn to him. She thought back, trying to figure out when this could have happened. The problem was, there wasn't a moment she could think of where she hadn't felt somehow attracted to the man. He did carry many of the characteristics she thought she might like in a man; a razor sharp intellect, graceful movements, silky smooth deep voice, his prowess as a wizard and influence as an academic. However for all that, there were so many things she despised; he was conniving, scheming, quick to anger and selfish.

'And yet I still like him.' She kicked her feet in pure frustration, hating the idea that he even appealed to her sexually.

"I am so young and stupid," she said to herself, pulling the blanket down to her chest. "I could never be happy with a man like that." 'And he could never love me either. Perhaps I should get far away from here. Far away from him, from these feelings. . .from all of it.'

With that, she took the letter Dumbledore had given her and opened it. It was indeed from the Auror division of the FBI, an acceptance letter to go to Quantico for her introduction and to start basic training. It was the most elite Auror school in the world, and depending on which subsection she was assigned to, it could be exceptionally interesting.

'I'll do it.' She decided. 'I'll do it and leave this mess behind.'

She reached for a quill and scribbled her response to the letter in the field provided. The letter magically rolled up and disappeared, leaving in its place a card with the coordinates and time for her personalized port key. In three days she would start her new life. In three days she would be far away from here.