Chapter 2- New Beginnings

As always, I'm not J. K. Rowling, all you see belongs to her, I just like to play with "what ifs" and "what could have beens."

Hermione Granger awoke groggily, stretching out on her large bed, letting her hands slide idly along the luxuriously silky sheets. She started to push herself up momentarily confused by her crumpled uniform, intending to check up on the boys, when it hit her. Harry. The tower. Dumbledore dying. A grief stricken and worried McGonagall pulling her away from Ron and Harry, ushering her into Snape's quarters, squeezing her hand with a fragile smile. Settling in to his armchair gingerly. Being fascinated by his books initially. Falling into twitchy boredom that had her noticing little details like the cobwebs in the top corners of the room, the handsome cabinets on the wall, the oddly lovely smells of old leather, books, and a slight sharp sweet note she couldn't place. It had been strangely comforting, sitting in the unfamiliar space that clashed so strongly with her view of Professor Snape. Snape. She sat up abruptly in bed; horribly embarrassed by the picture her mind was swiftly assembling for her.

She must have fallen asleep in his chair before he got back. And he must have put her to bed. Magicked her in disgustedly, sick of dealing with bratty children, only to have to go home to one. Hermione fell back onto the cushions with a belated groan. The last thing she needed right now was to have Snape view her as an incompetent child. She needed him to see her as responsible, capable, and maybe even trustworthy if she was ever going to get anything accomplished. With Dumbledore dead, there were things that needed to happen, and his final commands to have her and the boys all squatting in hiding places was not going to be simpatico with her plan. If she could get the austere professor on her side then maybe, just maybe, there might be a way for her to get out of the castle for a little bit…

And whose idea was it anyways to immediately lock down the Golden Trio? Surely people would notice that they had all suddenly vanished overnight. Certainly it would get back to Voldemort one way or another… and maybe the man already knew she was under the Potion Master's thumb. A chill washed through her at the sudden thought. She believed that Snape was on their side- or at least Dumbledore's side- but what if Dumbledore's plans found her to be disposable?

She would have to face that hurdle when she got there, Hermione decided resolutely. The first order of business would be getting out of this surprisingly comfortable bed. As she pushed back the sheets she wondered idly if they were just standard for the teacher's rooms or if it meant Snape usually had this room reserved for someone. She shook her head, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her rumpled uniform. Focus and calm would be the way to win today, and the heavens knew she needed this victory. It could mean all the difference between the margin of victory that ended with saving Harry and the Wizarding World.

Hermione quickly deemed her hair impossible, frowned once more at the slept-in school uniform she was wearing and took off for the door. She would simply have to add access to more of her wardrobe to her negotiation terms as there was no way she was living in the same skirt and blouse for the summer. Or quite possibly, the rest of her life. She would need to find out at soon as possible what Dumbledore's demands were. Prioritize a little.

Her soft entry into the narrow hall was clearly all for naught. Her potions master sat, rather grumpily it seemed (though it was hard to tell with him) in the armchair he had previously vacated her from looking like he had recently been through a trial by fire. With his status as a double agent and the recent events that had transpired, he probably had been.

"Hello, Professor." She ventured cautiously, skirting into the sitting room.

"Miss Granger." He replied tiredly, leaving her with a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach and at a loss for words.

Even as weary as the man clearly was, Professor Snape was not someone who she could simply walk in and strike a bargain with. What had she been thinking? He radiated menace and contempt, even while sitting in an (admittedly surprisingly squishy) armchair.

"As astounding as it is to see you with your mouth shut, you might as well get over here and ask your damned questions, Miss Granger. We have much to go over before we present ourselves for breakfast."

The slight snap in Snape's tone almost made her jump to attention, and she scurried into the sitting room, hastily sitting on the edge of the sofa nearest him. Where's that Gryffindor courage now? She chided herself, quickly clasping her hands in her lap tightly in an attempt to prevent them from shaking.

"We're-we're going to breakfast then?" Hermione winced at the stutter in her voice, noting that it made her seem more childish than ever.

"Was that not clear?" she winced again at the harsh tone, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he began again.

"Miss Granger. Most of the school is still coming to terms with the realities of last night, students and staff alike. There are eyes watching from both sides of this war waiting to see who will slip up first. Image is the first priority, in your case, the only one. While it is simple enough to explain away your cohorts' vanishing act, you will need to be on your upmost guard. You must present no differentiation in your behaviour, give no one any reason to suspect that you will not be returning directly home like all of the other students once Dumbledore's funeral has commenced."

Hermione was unable to stifle a gasp at the thought of the impending ceremony, one she had almost forgotten about in the chaos. Harry, how would he handle it, how could he possibly-?

Almost as if reading her thoughts- and Circe knew he could be, Snape cleared his throat and continued in a milder tone, "I believe it would be prudent for you to remain at Mr. Potter's side throughout the ceremony. His mind will no doubt be less than stable due to the… circumstances."

"So it's true? He killed the Headmaster?" Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Surely even you can recognize a dead body when you see one."

"That's not what I- Was Harry responsible though? For killing him?" the last part spoken in almost a whisper.

"Yes."

"How? He wouldn't say, but he couldn't have- he doesn't- he, he loved him!"

"Do you think that just because you love someone it means you are somehow incapable of murdering that person?"

"N-no, sir. But Harry-"

"Every human in capable of murder, Miss Granger, and that idiot boy you choose to call your friend is no exception."

"You're wrong." The words were out before she could stop them, anger and confusion forcing her thoughts to the forefront before she could force them back.

The silence stretched uncomfortably as Hermione's thoughts raced and the professor's face remained as detached as ever. She shifted, waiting, but Snape just stared, making her feel smaller and smaller.

"About every human being capable, I mean. I wouldn't kill anyone. Ever."

"You will find yourself fighting for your life in the heart of war before the year is out, Miss Granger, and in the midst of the screams and the blood, you will be just as willing to decimate your enemies as they are you. Yes, willing. You won't be the type to throw curses because they are necessary, though that is what you will tell yourself on the other side. Part of you will want it. Part of you will love it."

"I'd never!"

"Oh but you will. You'll say it was just your duty, that you were protecting the people you loved. That under any other circumstances you would have never resorted to such drastic measures. You might even make them believe you. But I will always know, Miss Granger, and so will you."

She was running away before she had fully realized it, hair streaming out behind her, the door to her borrowed bedroom slamming shut after her of its own accord.