In the Beginning
Summary: Time Travel with a twist. A man who should have died helps a girl that had died years ago. Hermione Granger and Severus Snape and their role in a war that, for them, cannot end. A story on how The Death Eater was born.
AU
Broken-Handed has inserted a disclaimer.
Will be slow to update.
0 - Soul of a Soldier.
.
.
.
They are alone together, one last time.
"There will be no regrets." He warned, casting a spider web of power from his wand.
"I understand." She whispered, letting the weight of her oath fill her and rob her of herself, only for it travel into his web of power.
"There can be no regrets." He spoke harsher this time, as if hoping to make her stray this from this hard, hard path before her.
"Then there will be none." She reasoned, letting her last bit of logic soothe her. Reason and facts and cold truth, those were her lullabies and comforts of yesterday. She wondered what sort of solace she would be able to find (she prayed to god every night and morning for the past month that she would find a new hope) tomorrow and the next day and the next day and the times after right now.
She did not break her stare with his blinding wand and magical self that seemed to be crouching down on her, but she knew what would have been in his eyes had she broken the spell and looked up. She knows that there would be disgust at the thought of her future (or was it past?) actions, a bit of respect for her and his ever-present morbid curiosity of where her strength came from. And guilt, guilt, guilt. Always, he looked on with guilt. She wonders for a brief moment how she had never noticed until now how guilt and remorse seem to live in his eyes even as he spoke of never to regret and yearn. It was ironic, and if she wasn't going to die so soon, she would have laughed.
She wants to pretend that had she looked up, there would have been more in his gaze, but she is not stupid and so does not entrain those thoughts.
She will die in a few hours, moments, minutes, days, seconds – she will die in a few time away, and she is almost wistful to look, but does not.
Her eyes follow the wand, the magic now facing her and getting ready to eat her up – her meat, her bones, her blood, her magic, her soul. It will eat all of her up, all of her up so that not even the world would be able to touch her again.
"It is time." She doesn't reply because she does not want to. Her affairs had been taken care of: her confused boys were subdued to avoid the risk of them getting reckless and stopping her; her mother and father were sent letters; her mentors were sent little good-byes; and her others that had filled her heart were given the rest of what made her, her.
Really, there was nothing else to do but go away, away, away.
"Good-bye, Miss Granger."
"Good-bye, Professor Snape."
I will see you in the ending.
She was allowed to look up as the magic licked and chewed and ate her up.
Looking back, she wonders why she didn't.
She might have seen him cry if she had.
It had been nine years since the war had ended, and yet her body was still restless while her soul was hurting, hurting, hurting.
On the ninth year after That Man's death, it was a clear day and the birds were chirping and the grass still had morning dew on them and she opened a door to stop a persistent knocking, only to see –
"What is this?" Hermione Granger vaguely recalls the last time her voice was so frigid, Bellatrix was still alive. She recalls the last time her heat wanted to flee from her body in frenzy was when Ron had told her he loved her. That was years ago.
"I need to come in."
"Dead men don't need anything." He sighed before giving her a look. She wondered if this was how Neville Longbottom felt so long ago.
"I still need to come in, child." She gave him a good long stare before opening her house to him, all tall and lanky and dark, even against the early morning sun. She let the old routines of making tea for a guest calm her down. Once all was settled, she questions him if this was a dream. She would not be surprised if it was – not much surprises her now.
"Miss Granger, I need a favor to ask of you…"
"I doubt I can offer any help, Professor." His look almost made her want to take it back. Almost.
"…All I ask of you for now is to listen to my story." His look was stubborn and she sighed.
"…Alright, Professor Snape. Confess away."
Had she promised to not have any regrets, she would have looked back and wished she had slammed the door in his greasy face.
TBC
Oh yea, before I forget - I need a beta. Who wants to help?
This is going to be weird. And…yea. Weird. Lots of eating in the future.