Title: The Blackest Night
Author: Pandora
Rating: NC17, eventually.
Pairing: HG/SS. Don't like it? Don't read it.
Disclaimer: they all belong to JKR.
Spoilers: All are fair game, but especially HBP.
Review: Please? Pretty, pretty please? Come on, guys. Don't make me beg.
The Blackest Night
by Pandora
Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her bed in the empty Gryffindor girls' dormitory, sobs racking her slender body. How? How had it all gone so horribly, horribly wrong? And the worst of it was that she had never imagined. Never dreamed. Never seen. And why? Why had he not told her, not warned her? Even after everything she didn't believe that he could have done this voluntarily, so he must have had orders, but orders from whom? Dumbledore, or Voldemort? She hated herself for her own doubts. She knew Snape. She knew he wasn't like this. So why had he done it? The image of Dumbledore's crumpled body at the foot of that tower still burned in her vision every time she closed her eyes. Dumbledore was the strongest of them, the only one strong enough to protect her from Voldemort, but, weakened by that horrid stuff he'd drunk to get at a fake horcrux, a wasted effort anyway—that was the worst of it. The pain Harry had said he'd gone through—poor Dumbledore—and poor, haunted, traumatized Harry. Dumbledore was the father he'd never known. He was still upstairs, meeting with McGonagall and the others... Ron was downstairs, grief-stricken and alone, but Hermione could not face him. Not tonight. Not after--
The rest of her house was still downstairs in the common room, and would likely be there until morning, those that were not in the hospital wing, that is. Or... she forced herself away from the thought that her tortured mind could not face. She did not know which was harder to bear—Dumbledore's untimely death, or Snape's betrayal of them all when they needed him most. He could have saved them—and he had grabbed Draco Malfoy by the arm and run like a coward. Why?
The events of that night came flooding back, the Dark Mark in the air, Voldemort's Death Eaters in the grounds, the attempts on the lives of students that they knew now to be attempts on Dumbledore's life... his deliberate omission in keeping them out of it, protecting them from what was to come, she guessed, but in turn it had left them completely at a loss for what had transpired—and what in the world they were to do now. None of them knew the answers to that question—not even McGonagall. Tonight was the first night she had seen her head of house cry. But then—most people knew that she cared very deeply for the headmaster. Secretly, Hermione suspected she even loved him. As she, Hermione, had loved... someone else.
It had all begun in their fourth year. As she walked to the dorm window, looking out under the now blackened sky at the place where it had all happened, Hermione allowed herself to be transported back in time, to where it had all begun...
It had been the Yule Ball. Viktor Krum (who had later proven something of a dark git; she should have expected as much from the student of a death eater; and Durmstang was known for it's focus on Dark Arts) had left her side, instantly cornered by a gaggle of hopeful girls in an attempt to get them both drinks, and Hermione found herself alone. Making her way to the side of the table she found herself next to a more-sour-than-usual Professor Severus Snape. She nodded in greeting and was watching for Viktor return when she realized that Snape was speaking to her. However, in the loud music and the chatter of the crowd her professor's words were lost to her.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, raising her voice to make herself heard. To her surprise Snape leaned over and spoke in her ear.
"Miss Granger, they are in need of another chaperone at the door. Would you kindly fill in until Madam Hooch returns?" He was very close to her. His breath against the soft flesh beneath her earlobe sent a warm, pleasant tingle of gentle electricity down her spine. Hermione stiffened, surprised at the thrill his closeness had sent through her and equally aware that Snape had noticed, judging by the faintest hint of a smirk on his closed, unreadable features. Definitely more sour than usual.
"Of course, Professor," she said, but doubted he had heard. With a nod to her he returned to the main entrance, where she knew he had been blasting apart rose bushes with his wand, telling people off for snogging and taking house points, even from his own students. Most decidedly more sour than usual. But then, he was Snape. Feeling decidedly grouchy herself as she glanced at Viktor, who was still trying vainly to extract himself from the gaggle of girls, peering over at her above their heads looking as though he were hoping to be rescued, Hermione gratefully made for the door, where the harassed-looking witch who'd been trying to keep track of things looked extremely grateful for her offer of assistance and set her to work at once. Though it kept her mind from wandering to unpleasant places, Hermione didn't help noticing that the skin just below her earlobe was still tingling pleasantly... this was Snape. He was her teacher, and he most assuredly didn't feel anything for her. What on earth was the matter with her? With a few ridiculously mundane words whispered in her ear he had excited her more than being so close to Viktor Krum, held against him in his arms, had all evening...
sorry so short, but I'm doing a change of scene here and this seemed like the perfect place to end the intro... more to come!!