Disclaimer: As if J.K Rowling would spend her time writing fanfiction when she makes zillions off of the real thing....

This is my first non-one shot story, and I'm quite excited about it. I'm planning on this being fairly long, at least 10 chapters, all of them approximately this length, probably longer, though. Review and tell me what you think! (This is going to be SS/HG, in case you had doubts...) Yes, I know, this is a much-used plot in SS/HG fandom, but it's my favorite, without a doubt, so I want to write one. Hopefully, you'll find reading this just as worthwhile as the others, and I guarantee it won't be without twists of its own...

This Only

-Diane-

-Chapter One-

Hermione Granger sat stiffly in her straight-backed wooden chair as she gazed soberly round the Great Hall from her vantage point at the Head Table. She wondered idly why it was that the ceiling only reflected a gray, cloudy sky and not the light, peaceful cerulean of her schooldays. The room echoed with the buzz of half-hearted conversations, an effort by those remaining to preserve some semblance of normalcy. It didn't work, of course; in fact, it only added to the uneasy sense of dread and anticipation that hung over the entire school.

Hermione turned her attention to Remus Lupin, who she had made a habit of sitting next to at meals over the past couple of weeks. Recently reinstalled as the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, nine years after his departure in Hermione's third year, he was just as much of a newcomer as Hermione, if not more so. That, and the fact that he was part of the minority that refused to pretend like nothing was wrong, made him an agreeable dinner companion. In addition, he was friendly, sincere, and intelligent, and an easy camaraderie had quickly formed between Hermione and himself.  

"You wonder why they even bother," he said presently, gesturing vaguely to the small scattering of conversing students dining at the large House tables. "It's not like they don't know that their world's going to hell; they don't have to pretend to take interest in the latest Quidditch scores or the weather conditions."

"There's comfort in the mundane," Hermione told him matter-of-factly, absentmindedly swirling around the mashed potatoes on her plate. "What do you propose they talk about instead? How much longer they have 'till they're forced to fight for their lives? How many more of their classmates are planning to leave before all hell breaks loose?"

Remus swallowed a bit of his beef Wellington, and thought for a moment before responding. "Well, yes. That's all that's on their minds anyway; why not just talk about it, get it out in the open? Why make the effort of covering it up?"

Hermione gazed thoughtfully at the dispersion of students, focusing briefly on the spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table where she and her friends had always preferred to sit. "Because they're only children," she responded finally. "Let them have their Quidditch scores, if that's what they want to talk about. Give them a break; they spend the majority of their day learning how to fight for their lives and the lives of the people they love. Talking about it in their spare time will only deepen their depression."

"I guess you of all people should know." Remus conceded softly, covering her hand with his in a small gesture of support. She turned to look at him; his warm, gray eyes were studying her with what appeared to be concern and quite likely sympathy. She looked away.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to sound as non-terse as possible but falling a little short of the mark.

His large, smooth hand still encompassed her smaller one. "You know you can talk to me, Hermione," he said, his eyes still on her. "I know I'm small consolation, but I'm here, should you need me. Talking with someone who shares your pain can be therapeutic; a word of advice from someone who knows."

Hermione turned again, her brow furrowed a bit. She had a tendency to forget that, in terms of death of a loved one, Remus had been through just as much as she had. She squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Remus," she whispered. "I know how much he meant to you, too."

He squeezed back, and let go of her hand. Hermione was grateful he hadn't pressed the issue. She took comfort in his concern for her, but she hated getting maudlin, especially in public; she greatly preferred to deal with her emotions in private. 

Just then, the main door to the Great Hall opened with a swish, and through it walked a scowling Severus Snape. He strode briskly down the center aisle, robes flapping around his legs and lank, black hair hiding the sides of his face. His arrival was not accompanied by a total lack of surprise; it had been at least a week and a half since he had last made an appearance at dinner, and not a few students glanced up from their dinners to send curious glances at their Potions professor.

The Headmaster himself stood up from his place in the center of the Head Table, breaking off his animated conversation with Professor Flitwick and stepping down to meet Snape at the end of the aisle. Dumbledore took the younger man's arm, and they spoke briefly in hushed undertones. The two broke apart, and Dumbledore went back to his chair, while Snape took the empty seat on the other side of Hermione.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she said quietly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Professor Granger." He greeted her with a curt nod, moving to pick up his fork and begin eating. She noticed his hand was shaking rather badly, but had the tact not to comment on it. She and Snape were on fairly amicable terms, but she still didn't know him well enough to feel justified in prying into his business. She turned her attention back to her plate of food, and finding that she had no appetite whatsoever, excused herself to Remus, stood up, and left the Great Hall.

Once out of the Hall, she ambled slowly down the corridor, making her way to her room near the Ravenclaw dormitories. She hadn't been walking long when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned and came face to face with the Headmaster. "Professor Granger," he greeted her warmly, motioning for her to take his arm. She complied, and they strolled down the hall together.

"So how have you been, my dear? It's been so long we've really talked; how are you settling in?" he asked her, holding up the side of his trailing purple robes with his free hand to keep from tripping over the hem.

"Everything's marvelous, Professor; the staff's been very accepting, really. I couldn't ask for more," she replied sincerely. "Now, I assume there is something you wish to discuss with me, Professor?"

He chuckled grimly. "Never one to put up with small talk, were you, Hermione," he asked rhetorically, more to himself than to her.

Her eyes widened fractionally. He had never called her anything but "Miss Granger" or "Professor Granger" before. Strange.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, there is indeed something I wished to speak with you about. You noticed Professor Snape's rather unexpected appearance at dinner tonight, I'm sure."

She nodded. "He was shaking rather profusely, actually. I wondered what the matter was, but most likely he would have taken offence at my asking."

Dumbledore agreed. "You were correct in not asking. Severus doesn't respond well to the concern of others, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Hermione snorted. She would have had to have been blind not to notice that. She remembered one particularly memorable incident last month in which, upon Professor Sprout's gentle inquiry concerning his health, Snape had simply walked out of the staff room, slamming the door behind him. Temperamental bat, she had thought at the time. She certainly didn't like other people poking around in her business, either, but she at least had the inherent courtesy to not storm out on them, especially when asked a question as innocuous as Sprout's had been.

Dumbledore continued. "Anyway, Severus was obviously not in ship-shape condition tonight. And, as you may not be aware of, his health, and no doubt his sanity, has been declining steadily for the past month or two."

As little as Hermione encountered Snape apart from staff meetings and the occasional mealtime, she actually had noticed a growing change in both his manner and appearance. He had been very vitriolic with the students as of late, even more so than usual. He seemed to always be on his guard, and he was obviously very tense. Not that that was anything unusual for Snape, but he normally wasn't this bad.

"I've noticed...changes in him, lately. He's much more on edge than usual," she told Dumbledore. "Is something the matter with him?"

The Headmaster stopped walking and turned to face her, his blue eyes solemn. "You know that Severus works as a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix, do you not?" he asked her cautiously.

She nodded. "Harr-" she stopped suddenly and studied her shoes. She mentally pulled herself together and lifted her chin, looking straight into Dumbledore's piercing eyes. "Harry told me about it," she finished quietly, pinching her hand hard and willing herself not to tear up.

Dumbledore put his hand on her shoulder and gazed at her sadly. "You can say his name, you know. It's a disservice to his memory not to acknowledge him, and I hope you won't fall into the trap of refusing to talk about him."

"Yes, I know. I'm okay. Everything's fine." she reassured him with a shaky smile.

He nodded at her. "That's my girl," he said, squeezing her shoulder and then letting her go.

"Back to what I wished to tell you. Severus joined the Death Eaters after his seventh year at Hogwarts, something you may not have known. He left soon after and came into the service of the Order, for reasons which are his alone to tell you, when and if he is ready. For approximately 25 years, he has been a spy on our behalf, going to Death Eater meetings and reporting back to us. It's not an easy job, as you can imagine; it certainly has wreaked irrevocable damager on Severus, both physically and mentally. He thinks that Voldemort suspects where his loyalties truly lie, which would explain why he lets the other Death Eaters torture him so mercilessly."

"Wha-What kind of torture?" Hermione stammered out, her mind overwhelmed by this overload of new information about Snape.

"The basics-Cruciatus, mainly, but sometimes they get more creative...I can't even begin to guess the extent of it. Severus is quite closemouthed on the subject, as anyone would be."

Hermione was mildly horrified. She remembered quite vividly her single, brief encounter with the Cruciatus; she simply couldn't imagine the pain of being subjected to it on a regular basis, for presumably longer intervals. 

She struggled to regain her focus on the conversation. "So...so what does this have to do with me?" she asked, her tone expressing complete bewilderment.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "There is a way for all of this to stop," he told her. "As we've seen from previous encounters, Voldemort isn't completely invincible. He's been defeated more than once, just not permanently. But it's about time we vanquish him for good.

He paused. "According to Professor Snape's accounts, which are extremely reliable considering his proximity to Voldemort on a regular basis, Voldemort has been growing stronger and stronger. With Harry's...demise and the ignorance of the Ministry, he has been almost totally free of major opposition. He has almost completely assumed the form of a human being, and is able to function as such. Of course, being a human comes with the various physical weaknesses that all humans are susceptible to."

Even in her present state of shock, Hermione's mind was whirling. "So that means..."

"So that means that once Voldemort is fully human, it would be possible to do something as simple as casting an Avada Kedavra to kill him for good. This brings me to your potential involvement in all of this. As you have probably guessed by now, Severus has been the one supplying Voldemort with the means to assume a human form. For the past year, he has been presenting him with an obscure potion called the Hominis potion. For the full effects of the potion to take place, it must be consumed once a week for almost a year. It's brewing becomes increasingly more complex in the final stages, which is why Severus has been so drained as of late.

"Voldemort's need for the potion is the only thing keeping Severus alive, but he takes sadistic pleasure in toying with Severus, pushing him to his limits. Though the man himself would never admit to it, I fear Severus won't be able to take much more of this. He's barely getting by as it is, and the pressure is doubtlessly going to increase over the next few weeks."

The old man looked at her searchingly. "Hermione, you were the best Potions student in your year. In fact, you were one of the best Potions students at Hogwarts for the past half century or so. It's only been three years since you've graduated. Surely you haven't lost that ability."

She looked at him incredulously. "You want me to help Professor Snape with the potion that could potentially bring the downfall of one of the most notorious wizards ever to live?" she asked him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"I know it would be placing a lot of pressure on you," he began. Hermione snorted inwardly. Understatement of the year...

"But all you would have to do is follow Severus' instructions. I know you and he have not always had the most...easygoing of relationships. But he needs help, Hermione. The problem is, he's way too proud to ask for it himself."

He took her hand and focused his honest, blue gaze on her. "Please, Hermione. This is crucial to the success of the Order. We're relying on Severus, and I don't know how much more of this he can take."

"But my classes, my duties- how will I make time for all of it?"

"It will all be taken care of, I swear on it. Madame Pince, believe it or not, was an Arithmancy scholar at university; she'll be perfectly able to take over classes for you whenever need be."

Hermione frowned and bit her lip, an old childhood habit that signified that she was wrestling with something in her head. Finally, she sighed. "I'll do it. Fine. Anything that will bring any form of harm to Voldemort, I'll do it."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I wish I didn't have to ask this of you, child. The last thing I would ever want is for harm to be brought to another one of you."

At that, she teared up a bit. "I'll do my best, sir," she told him, and meant it.

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Next chapter might be coming a bit late....exams and such. You know how it is.

Hominis literally means "of man" in Latin.