A/N: More love and thanks to my dear beta, anogete, for all of her support and assistance. Thank you also to my readers and reviewers; keep up the good work with trying to figure out what's going on!

Obligatory: None of these things belong to me; they all belong to JKR. I just like to have a bit of fun with them, and no profit is desired.

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Hermione stood over a simmering cauldron in the dungeons, watching the potion before her transform from a blood red to a near shimmering ocean blue. She breathed a sigh of relief and wiped sweat from her brow.

Caveo looked up from his notes and watched her gaze into the cauldron. Suddenly, without warning, Hermione clutched at her stomach and slumped over, nearly bumping the cauldron and spilling the potion inside. She lost her balance and fell backwards onto the floor.

"Miss Granger!" Caveo called, rushing to her side on the floor. One of her hands stayed clutched against her stomach whilst the other worried at the fresh bump that was forming on the back of her head. "Are you alright?" he asked, pulling his wand out.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I don't know what happened." She watched through drowsy eyes as he ran his wand over her, performing diagnostic spells. He stopped just over her breastbone and stared at a strange green and red glow that emitted from his wand's tip, his eyes growing wide. "What does that mean?"

Caveo hesitated for a moment before finishing the diagnostic spell. "Nothing at all. I was just using some modified detection spells to see if exposure to the components of the potion had any ill effects. I think that you are perhaps just overly taxed. Are you getting enough sleep?"

Hermione looked into the professor's eyes and tried to read the strange expression that had just crossed his features. "Probably not." She suppressed a laugh.

He paused for another moment as he put his wand away. "Miss Granger, there is something I've been meaning to discuss with you, and now seems as good a time as any."

"Of course, Professor." Hermione pulled herself off the floor and back onto her feet.

"You have far exceeded my expectations in our time together. I believe that you are more than prepared to begin a full apprenticeship with me, and I feel that the more time you spend studying subjects that are well beneath you, the more of your gift you will be wasting."

"Thank you for that, sir." Hermione blushed wildly.

"I have mentioned this to the Headmistress, and I believe that she supports my idea. What would you say to taking your N.E.W.T.s as soon as possible, getting an early Hogwarts degree, and becoming my assistant and apprentice full time?" He sat back at his desk and leaned back into his seat.

Hermione stood before the desk, her mind racing. "Surely you can't be serious, sir! I've not even got half-way through my planned N.E.W.T. revision…"

"Please, Miss Granger." Caveo chuckled deeply. "I am certain that you have been ready for this since your O.W.L.s. Besides, no matter how you do on the rest of your exams, though I am sure you will receive Os, you should know that I am prepared to accept you as my apprentice anyway. You have a natural talent for Potions."

"I shall have to think on it, sir. I appreciate your faith in me. May I tell you my answer after classes tomorrow?" Hermione made to pack her things.

"Of course. I know that it is a big decision, though I hope that you will agree." He inclined his head in dismissal, and Hermione sprinted for the Gryffindor common room.

It had been nearly a week since Harry's destruction of Nagini, and he was more withdrawn than he had ever been. Entering the common room, Hermione spotted him huddled in a chair by the fire, staring at the flames. His eyes had none of their usual sparkle; in fact, Hermione could almost swear that they had grown more dull since the end of their sixth year.

She had spent the last week buried in her books, trying to find just the slightest mention of the Animus Redimio potion, and yet, at every turn, she had failed. She needed to get to Snape, but she had no idea how. All she knew was that she was drawn now to the man they called traitor, but the more she dwelled on everything, the less sure she was that he was as evil as they all suspected. A gut instinct had taken over her entire body, and no matter how she tried, she could not stop questioning Snape's loyalty, a loyalty everyone else was certain lay with Voldemort.

She had to do something. If she was to begin her apprenticeship with Professor Caveo, she would need to settle her mind about Harry, his scar, Snape, the potion, and countless other things before she could even dare to think about her future. She had to get information from someone, and, unfortunately, that was going to be very difficult to do. Rules needed to be broken, and tonight was the night to do it.

"Harry?" she asked, cautiously approaching his chair.

He turned to look at her. "Hey there, Hermione. How are you?"

"I am fine. How are you?"

He pondered her for a moment. "I'm alright. You don't really look so hot. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh!" she gasped with a slight giggle, thinking that after her fainting spell, she must look pretty rough. "I felt a bit sick earlier, but I'm better now. I promise." An uncomfortable silence passed between them. "Could I ask a favor, Harry?"

His face lightened into a rare grin. "Could I really expect to say no?"

"Perhaps not." She laughed, and he joined in. "I was wondering if I could borrow your Invisibility Cloak, though there's a catch."

"You don't want to tell me what you're going to do with it. Is that the catch?" He narrowed his eyes in mock anger.

"Yes, that's it. What do you say?"

With a sigh, Harry pulled the shimmering fabric from the pocket of his school robes. "Sure, only, if you get yourself into trouble, remember that I wasn't really involved this time."

Hermione grinned as she took the cloak. "Of course. You know that I always look out for you. Don't tell anyone you saw me," she whispered, looking about the empty common room. "I will be back before you know it."

Without waiting for Harry to respond, Hermione wrapped the cloak about her and exited Gryffindor Tower.

She trod as lightly as she could through the halls, encountering so few people that she could have sworn she was slipped some Felix Felicis. There was no one near the front doors of the castle to see her slip through them, closing them silently behind her. Feeling safe, she sprinted beyond the gates of the grounds, panting heavily before Apparating wandlessly to Hogsmeade. She hadn't even intended to do it without her wand in hand, but her magic had suddenly taken over and set her on the right path.

The streets of the town were relatively deserted, so Hermione was able to slip the Invisibility Cloak from her body and pull up the hood of her winter cloak to hide her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see, plastered on nearly every building, posters that caused her stomach to lurch. The posters displayed a picture of Severus Snape, taken in the middle of a candid scowl, with the words "Have You Seen This Wizard? Wanted: Severus Snape, for the murder of Albus Dumbledore" beneath it. She shook her head and continued walking.

Moving through the village, Hermione came to a dark side street and eyed the familiar sign that displayed a bleeding boar's head. Her determination increased, and she slowly pushed the door of the Hog's Head tavern open.

Though Hermione had been here before, she was never prepared to see the inside of the place. It was filthy and filled with wizards and witches of the lowest possible reputation. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a hooded hag, ostensibly offering services to a short and stout wizard, and at least three wizards were slumped drunkenly in their stools at the bar. Quickly, she spotted the subject of her highly illegal trip out of the castle and pulled her cloak about her more tightly as she strode to the bar.

"What do you want?" Aberforth Dumbledore grumbled at her, clearly nonplussed by her refusal to lower her hood.

"I want to talk," she replied evenly, not daring to let any hesitation enter her voice.

"Good luck finding that here," he spat before slamming a dusty bottle of butterbeer in front of her. "You're obviously too young for firewhisky."

Hermione summoned her courage as well as her Silent Speech and allowed her words to enter his mind. "I want to talk to you."

He shook his head and looked at her with suspicion before his words entered her head. "What about, girl?"

Hermione was taken aback by his ability to use the obscure communication measure, but continued. "I need to speak with you about your brother. And Severus Snape." She looked directly into his eyes to assure him that she was deadly serious.

"I believe I can give you a room of that type rather cheaply, Miss," he drawled out loud as he motioned her away from the bar. Silently, they entered a small room behind the bar, a room Hermione recognized as the one from the Pensieve memory that McGonagall had given her.

Once they were inside, Aberforth pulled out his wand and cast some Silencing and Locking Charms around the room. He motioned for Hermione to sit down at the table, and he took the seat across from her.

Hermione lowered her hood and drew a leer from Aberforth. "Ah, I know you. You're the Granger girl. Brightest witch of your age ever, they say."

"Well, I don't know about all that," Hermione replied with a chuckle, "but I am Hermione Granger."

"I'd tell yer who I am, but I think you've worked it out, eh?" He smirked, and, for the first time, Hermione could see the trademark Dumbledore twinkle in his eye. "Now, you want to talk about my brother and Snape? Why would you come to me?"

"Sir, do you remember a memory you gave to Minerva McGonagall, one that contained a conversation with Professor Dumbledore right in this very room?" Realizing that this was not a man who liked to beat about the bush, she got straight to the point.

Aberforth's face twisted into a scowl that was shocking on his Albus-like features. "I regretted giving it to her the moment the strand left my head. What's she been doing, letting everyone have a look?"

"No, sir, just me. I went to speak with her, and we ended up talking about Professor Snape, and she gave it to me in the hopes that it would give me some closure about the Headmaster's… murder." Hermione faltered under the intense gaze of the barman.

"That woman calls herself loyal to Albus, yet she hasn't shown one wit of loyalty since he died! Imagine, Severus Snape some cold-blooded killer! It's absurd!" Aberforth waved his wand over the table, and a glass of firewhisky appeared in front of him.

"So you two really were talking about Harry? About Harry turning evil?" Hermione's determination returned.

"Of course we were!" he roared, drowning his firewhisky. "I merely gave her the memory in the hopes that she would be able to work out what to do for yer friend. Obviously, it was a stupid move on my part. I thought that witch would have shown more sense!"

"I know you don't know me, sir, but I need you to be honest with me. The fate of our world could depend upon it." She gazed at him with grave seriousness.

"Albus always talked about yer, you know. Thought of you like a daughter, he did. I'll be as honest as I can, for his sake." He waved his wand over the glass, and it refilled.

"I can't go into great detail, sir, but I think I know why Harry is showing signs of evil, and I think I may know how to change it, but the only person who can help me is Professor Snape. I need you to tell me, to the best of your knowledge…" Hermione took a deep breath. "To whom is Snape really loyal?"

Aberforth chuckled and paused for a moment. "Himself."

"Himself?" Hermione repeated, astounded.

"He's a true Slytherin, he is. Life hasn't been fair to the poor boy. I will tell you this: Albus knew that Snape was going to have to kill him. He never gave me any details, but he knew what was going to happen, and it seemed like he thought everything would be alright as long as someone in the Order understood. However, nothing is alright now, is it?" He stared into his glass.

"No, it isn't," Hermione replied with a sigh, turning her butterbeer bottle about absentmindedly.

"I'll tell you this, because this is all I know for certain: if yeh need Snape, and you can find him and get him away from those Death Eaters, I'm sure you can use some of that Gryffindor persuasive power to get what you need from him. Albus certainly always did." He gazed at the fire for a moment. "He's a complicated man, but he was always loyal to Albus, and they earned each other's trust over the years."

"So you don't think him evil?"

"I don't think that anyone is beyond redemption, Miss Granger." His tone suggested that he had nothing further to say on the matter. "Now, something tells me that you are currently breaking at least five of Minerva's precious school rules?"

Hermione allowed herself to laugh. "At the very least."

"Then I can trust you not to tell anyone that we are about to break another?" He raised his eyebrows at her in amusement.

"I suppose that would rather depend on the rule," she chided dryly.

"Well, being the brother of the most powerful wizard in the world has some benefits, such as this rather useful Floo connection. A Floo connection that just happens to take one wherever they would need to go, such as a Head Girl's room at Hogwarts. Just as an example." He chucked, and they stood to move to the fireplace. He held out a pot of glistening green Floo powder to her. "Whatever you do, be on your guard, and trust no one. This situation is about to get a whole lot uglier before all is said and done."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the drink, and the conversation." She smiled and took a handful of powder.

"Think on what I said. Farewell." He backed away from her.

She stepped into the flames, calling, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Head Girl's room!"

Nearly tumbling from the fireplace, Hermione removed her outer robe and used some simple cleansing spells to eliminate all traces of her Floo travel before reentering the Gryffindor common room. Harry was still sitting there, alone, watching the flames in the fireplace.

"Thanks again, Harry." Hermione walked around to the front of the chair, holding out the precious cloak to her friend.

"No problem," he answered, though any trace of humor he had before she left was gone.

"Where is everyone? Surely not gone to bed already?"

"I don't know. They sort of sauntered off after I got here." He continued staring at the fire. Had he not been speaking to her, Hermione would have sworn he had no idea she was there.

"Oh. Well, I have some studying to do. I'm going to take my N.E.W.T.s early and become an apprentice to Professor Caveo!" Hermione tried to cover over the awkwardness between her and Harry, an awkwardness that grew from the mutual knowledge that the common room had cleared because of a growing fear of Harry's unpredictability.

"Congratulations, Hermione, though we all know you're heads above the rest of us." A small smile passed over Harry's face.

"Thanks, Harry," she replied with a blush. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

He sighed. "Of course. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harry."

As she poured over nearly six and a half years of notes and books, Hermione's problems were not forgotten, but merely pushed to a back corner of her mind. She was going to begin her training for her career, yes, but what was she going to do about the Animus Redimio and Snape? She knew that she should trust what Aberforth had said, but it was difficult to do without hard facts. She had watched Harry's memory of Dumbledore's murder many times recently, trying to read the emotions playing on Snape's face. What sort of rage were his features expressing? Was it rage with himself for what he had to do, or rage with Dumbledore for imprisoning him as a disloyal member of the light for so many years? Was he disgusted with Dumbledore, himself, or the situation in general?

Part of Hermione wanted to believe that Snape was good. After all, if he were, she had more hope of tracking him down to get him to help her with the potion she believed would save Harry's life in a confrontation with Voldemort. She had to find a way to remove Voldemort's soul from Harry. He was becoming too unlike himself to allow him to slip any further down the inevitable path to total darkness.

She climbed into bed, heavy with all that had happened in one day. She was still puzzling over her fainting spell in the dungeons, but she realized that Caveo was probably right: Hermione was under too much stress. Perhaps devoting herself to an apprenticeship would allow her more focus, and perhaps somewhere in her training she would stumble across the formula for the Animus Redimio potion. Then she wouldn't have to wonder about Snape's loyalties, for she wouldn't need his help at all.

As she drifted into sleep, she found herself on the stairs with Dumbledore once again. He looked up at her from his place, prostrate before Snape, and spoke. "They know, Hermione. He knows not what he does. They know."

What did any of it mean? Strangely, Hermione felt that it didn't even matter anymore. There were some mysteries she wasn't meant to solve. All she could do was focus on one at a time.

A week after her conversation with Caveo, Hermione sat for her N.E.W.T. examinations with a select number of special representatives from the Ministry, all of whom were delighted to be participating in the academic triumphs of Hermione Granger, friend of the Chosen One, Harry Potter. She sat for eleven exams and received top marks in all of them. She had insisted on taking all of the possible exams, save Divination, even though she had not been sitting in all of the classes.

No one, least of all Professor Caveo, was surprised that her Potions score was tied for highest marks of all time with just one other Hogwarts student: Severus Snape. Of course, this fact was muttered by all present, and Hermione wondered if her name would simply replace his in the record books.

Hermione was relocated to a set of apprentice rooms in the dungeons to be near Professor Caveo for her training and to assist him with his classes. She thought about how things would change now. She was no longer a student, but she was assured by the Headmistress that her new status would not change her relationships with her friends. This was bollocks, of course, because Hermione knew that their relationship had already changed. Ron was absorbed in trying to gain the affections of some other willing woman, Harry was turning more and more peculiar as the days went on, and Hermione was completely preoccupied, not only in her new studies, but also in her attempts to master wandless magic and Silent Speech. They were drifting apart at a time when they needed to stick together the most.

The words of Aberforth about things getting a whole lot uglier soon played over and over again in Hermione's mind, and she knew that when they did, she, Ron, and Harry would need each other more than ever. The way things were going, however, they would be lucky to be speaking to one another by the time the final confrontation was upon them. It was with these fears that Hermione threw herself into a dark and cold December as a Potions apprentice.