I don't own anything JKR created, she has simply given my brain something to occupy itself with.

A/N: Wow y'all…this one really took a lot out of me to write. I had started out challenging myself to write a Snape/Hermione romance, but it turned into something completely different. It's sort of a spiritual/angst fic now. With an…I don't know what you would call it, moment between the two of them at the end. I guess it really turned into my theory on the whole, "Is Snape really evil," debate. This is how I picture everything happening…I wonder if I'm even remotely close. A few of the lines at the end of the story were borrowed directly from the book and some of them were written throughout to correspond with JKR's writings. Anything remotely resembling her writing or directly borrowed from it, I give all the credit to her. Two direct lines at the end were borrowed from "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, pages 595 and 596, American Version. I have underlined them to make sure you know they're JKR's and not mine. Thanks for reading y'all and reviews would really be appreciated. I poured my heart into this one and even cried during some of it. Please review… This is the first, last, and only time, I'm ever going to beg for reviews. Enjoy!

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The Last Vestiges of Me

The rain had beaten down upon Hermione's world for days now. Ceaseless clouds roiling in a dark gray turbulent sky drenched the ground with myriad torrents of water, causing pools of the chilling liquid to gather sporadically about in murky puddles. The ground so thoroughly soaked that it was unable to digest another drop of water, spewed it back up to the surface, drowning the life that was supposed to be vibrant during the summer season.

Hermione sat in an old chair she had pulled up next to her bedroom window. Nestled snuggly within it's large billowy cushions, legs tucked tightly against her body, arms enfolding them in a lonely embrace, and chin resting tiredly on her knees; she stared blankly out at the downpour before her. The only outward sign of life was her slow, almost imperceptible breaths, and the shrinking of her iris' during the occasional lighting bolt slicing through the inky sky. She had been in this position for hours, just taking in the scene outside that so perfectly mirrored the scene playing out in her soul.

Thoughts of the past school term ran rampant through her mind as she drifted carelessly through her memories. She had returned home, her Muggle home, after Dumbledore's funeral. Her parents didn't quite know what had really happened, just that there was the unfortunate death of their daughter's Headmaster. They didn't know about all the events leading up to it, how it happened, or what had transpired after. They didn't know what she and her two best friends, Harry and Ron, were planning to do…had to do. They didn't know that she wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts for her seventh and final year, nor that she had chosen a different path; a path possibly leading to her death. They didn't know that a dark force was rising, picking off the champions of the other side, one heart wrenching person at a time. She felt safe in their ignorance, though. It made for two less people that had to worry after her.

She could hear sounds of the television set down in the family room drifting up to meet her ears. Her parents were watching the nightly news, something that didn't interest her as much as it had before she found out she was a witch. Pangs of longing to be back in the Wizarding World tugged at her heart.

"Two more unexplainable disappearances have been reported," came the female news anchor's voice. "Earlier this evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hancock from Oxfordshire county called Law Enforcement with a tale of a strange mark in the air over their neighbors house. When Law Enforcement Officials went to investigate, they found the house torn apart and still locked from the inside, blood spattering the furniture in the upstairs bedroom, and strange burn marks scorching the walls. No bodies were found."

The male news anchor's voice followed suit. "We aren't allowed to release the names of the missing persons at this time, but officials have contacted the family members. This mysterious mark, a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth emitting an eerie green glow, has been spotted throughout England. It has become a harbinger of death and destruction. What it is and where it comes from, have not been discovered. Officials are working round the clock to uncover it's meaning, who's behind it, and how they're doing it. Accredited scientist are being brought into the investigations to see if they can add their knowledge to help find an answer."

The female news anchor took her turn again. "This is nine disappearances and five deaths in the last two weeks, spreading from on county to the other. No one, it seems, is safe anymore. With each instance, the violence of the attacks are growing. The culprits have left no clues thus far, except for the strange scorch marks, and the mark over the place of the attacks. No suspects have even been witnessed, let alone identified. Please, if you have any information on any of this, we urge you to contact your local authorities immediately. In other news, the constant torrential downpours of late…"

Hermione stopped listening at that point, shuddering at what she'd just heard. Pictures of the grisly scenes she envisioned passing over the television screen, and the horrified looks on her parents faces as they feared for the safety of their friends and family, flashed through her mind. Voldemort was getting very brazen, attacking Muggles and Wizards alike, right under everyone's noses. Hmpf, she thought to herself. Even if anyone did go to the Muggle authorities, they wouldn't have the first clue as to what to do. It's up to Harry now…if he makes it that far…

It was late, she knew she should be getting to bed. Gazing at the dismal sky before her one last time, thoughts of Harry's description of Dumbledore's death suddenly ran through her mind. Why? Why did you do it Snape? He trusted you; for some reason I…even trusted you… Tears began to well in her eyes. What was he pleading to you for? Surely not to spare his life, it wasn't in his nature. Why would he want you to end his life? Oh, Severus… I thought I was beginning to understand you, but now I fear I never will… Tears streaming down her face, she solemnly stared out the window. Raising her small, trembling hand, she touched the cold glass. She could feel despair seep through it, threatening to encompass her further. Fighting it, she mentally sent her strength outward.

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Severus Snape sat in a lonely room in a Muggle inn. The room was small, allowing a single size bed, a nightstand, and a rickety old table with one chair positioned in front of a small window. It was a dusty room, as well. There were mice holes in the bases of the walls, spider webs in the corners, and he shuddered to think what he would find under the bed. He had decided he had no desire to find out. He had found this sparsely populated Muggle town after he had completed his mission. Looking for somewhere to rest and collect himself, he had accidentally stumbled upon it. He didn't know the name, but he didn't care either. It was just someplace safe, well, as safe as it could get during these perilous times.

After killing Dumbledore, he had fled with Draco. He had followed the plan that Dumbledore had created by taking the boy to Narcissa and helping to hide them both from Voldemort. When Narcissa had found out that her son had become a Death Eater and what Voldemort had ordered him to do, she had become distraught with fear for her son. She had commissioned Snape to agree to The Unbreakable Vow, to protect Draco, and to finish the act in which the young man had been ordered in his stead, should he fail to do it himself. Little did she know, he had only agreed to it on Dumbledore's orders. He had even managed to fool her sister, Bellatrix, when he had agreed to it. Bellatrix had been his greatest threat, for she, up until that very night, had believed Snape a traitor to the Dark Lord. She was very close to Voldemort and had the potential to sway his trust in Snape.

When the two sister's had come to him at Spinner's End, he had no idea what the Dark Lord's orders were. He had been surprised that Bellatrix hadn't wondered at the vague way in which he had talked about knowing it, for she had expressed her distrust in him very openly that night. Dumbledore had earlier ordered Snape to do anything necessary to keep up the façade that he was still loyal to Voldemort. Anything… Snape had bound himself to Dumbledore's orders. He knew he had to agree to do what Narcissa had asked in order to satisfy Bellatrix's doubts, there had been no other way around it. He had not, until Narcissa had asked him to do what Draco had to do if the boy failed, known that the young man's orders had been to kill Dumbledore. As she had started to recite the vow to him, he had taken advantage of her closeness, her extreme emotional state, and his eye contact with her to delve into her mind through Legilimency, finding out what task the boy had been given. When the horrible truth had come to him through her mind, his hands had twitched, but there was no way he would have been able back out of it then. Bellatrix would surely have known, and ran straight to the Dark Lord, blowing his cover. He couldn't chance it, so he had agreed; binding himself to kill the one person he was loyal to.

Sitting by the small window in his room, his only companions a small candle with melted wax pooling at its base and a mug of tea he'd had brought to him, he gazed at the raging storm before him; much the same way Hermione was so many miles away. He began to think back on the meeting he'd had with Dumbledore after he had made the vow to Narcissa. He remembered sitting before the old Headmaster in a room filled with many wondrous magical gadgets. He hadn't even had to say anything to Dumbledore, for the old wizard had been just as accomplished at Legilimency as Snape was, if not better.

"I understand, Severus," Dumbledore had said. "It seems you have sealed your fate, as well as mine, I fear."

"But, Headmaster-" he had started to protest, but had been interrupted by the wizened old wizard.

"Severus… All these years, and you still don't call me by my name. It's a pity. For you're the one who will take my life, but you can't find it in yourself to call me by my name during it," Dumbledore had finished, as a bemused smile had crossed his face.

Snape had hung his head in shame at those words. He had looked up after a moment, and had said, "I'm sorry…Albus. I had no other choice. I would have ruined everything you've worked for if I hadn't have agreed." On second thought, he had added, "How do you know Draco will fail in his task?"

Dumbledore had studied Snape for a moment before answering, "Draco may not be innocent of the hate and pride his father has instilled in him, but he is innocent of murder. I don't believe he could commit such an act when finally confronted with its reality. He's trying too hard to follow in his father's footsteps, blinded to the fact that his heart isn't as tainted as his father's. Draco truly believes that he hates Muggleborn's and those who protect them, but he hasn't looked into the heart of evil as has Lucius. He hasn't taken someone's life away from them… When he's standing in front of me, faced with taking mine, I'm sure he shall falter."

Snape had just stared at Dumbledore, having had no words to reply with. After a moment of silence, the old wizard had continued. "Draco will feel that he has disgraced his family, his lineage; he will feel like a coward for not being able to do what he knows his father could have done. He may act out on you for…finishing the job, but bear with him, Severus. For what he feels is his cowardice, is only courage in disguise. When it's all over, keep him safe and bring him to his mother. Hide them well, Severus. You and I both know that Voldemort will be wrathful in his vengeance. Continue on with the façade of loyalty to him."

"How shall I explain their disappearance?" Snape had asked. "Voldemort will surely wonder why I haven't brought him back with me."

"Tell him that the boy escaped and is in hiding with his mother," Dumbledore had simply replied.

"He's an accomplished Legilimens, sir. How will I possibly deceive him?"

"That tale is not a lie, Severus. You're just omitting the part with your involvement. Use Occlumency to keep that part hidden from him."

Snape had nodded in understanding.

"I will tell only one other person of our plans, therefore allowing you to pass on information to The Order through her."

"Minerva?" Snape had questioned.

"Yes. She is the only other person I trust besides you with information this important. I also trust that, despite your disdain for each other, you will find a way to put aside your differences and work together. This situation is much larger than any of us or our petty differences, Severus; the fate of the Wizarding World rests on our shoulders…more importantly the shoulders of one lost young man," Dumbledore had answered as a look of deep sadness had passed over his timeworn face.

"What of Pot-…the boy, Albus?"

"The Boy Who Lived…" Dumbledore had said to himself as he had smiled over fond memories of watching him grow. "I will teach him everything I can this school year…at least until my demise. I only hope I have long enough. He has his friends, I'm sure Ron and Hermione would never abandon him, even if it meant their life. Sometimes, all a person has in this life is the family they've made for themselves. I will instruct Minerva to look after him as best she can and give him any information that you give to her." A distant look had then settled in Dumbledore's eyes. "Harry Potter, is our only hope…"

That had been the end of their conversation, the last conversation they'd ever had. A bolt of lightning lit up the small room, bringing Severus back to the present. He took a sip of the tea that had cooled in the mug before him. His mind sent him hurling back to that night on the Astronomy Tower. Severus Snape needed no Pensieve to bring him to his memories, for they were not locked away, they were burned into his heart.

There he had stood before a battered and beaten Dumbledore. Just as the old wizard had said, Draco had faltered. Snape had wondered for a split second how Dumbledore had known. He had been disgusted with himself for what he knew he'd had to do. The thought had passed through his mind to just give up, sacrifice himself for Dumbledore.

"Severus…please…"

He knew Dumbledore had looked into his mind, had seen his resolve start to waver. The old wizard had then pleaded for Snape to finish it, to keep to the plan. He had lifted his wand and spoken the spell that ended the old wizard's life.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Those words had haunted him ever sense. They haunted him now as he heard them over and over again in his mind. Holding his face in his hands, Severus Snape, the unemotional, uncaring, icy school professor that everyone thought him to be, cried. He cried for Dumbledore, he cried for himself, he cried for every evil act he had ever committed. After the uncontrollable eruption of grief had passed enough for him to focus again, he slowly moved his pale hand to the window. I'm so sorry it had to be this way Albus…

As he touched the cold glass pane, he felt strength seep through it. Maybe it was the strength of young woman touching her bedroom window at the exact same time so far away, or maybe it was strength the memories of the old wizard had inspired in him. But as he sent the last vestiges of himself out through the frigid glass, he made one final vow. If he survived, he would pay one last visit to the old wizards grave; the only person who'd ever had enough faith in Severus Snape to finally allow his soul to redeem itself…