Turncoat                                                  N. R. Brown

The usual mumbo-jumbo gobbledygook and claptrap!

· All Harry Potter concepts belong not to I, but the esteemed J.K Rowling. Which I'm sure you already know. However, I will not take credit for her work, nor do I want to. This is written for entertainment and no assets, money, funds, wealth, nor fame or recognition shall come to me. I just like spending my free time thinking up crazy impossible stories for Severus and Co. (But in all honesty no amount of wishing on bright stars has brought Severus Snape to me yet, although I am hopeful. :0) Well without further ado…

· Oh wait… One more thing… This is also a Hermione and Severus paring… which is probably why you're reading it, nonetheless I thought I'd mention it, and the fact that I do not condone the practice of student and teacher relations even in slightest. But I'm hooked on the SS/HG ship, and I have this horrible feeling that in the Cannon our dear Potion Master will in the end not get the girl… (Although I'd be happy to take away the ache in his heart)

            Prologue-

Hermione Granger sat down in the Great Hall in time for the owls to drop in with the mail. She never was one for large deposits of mail; in fact she rarely paid attention to the deliveries. That is until today, the twentieth of October. She was idly picking through her food while secretly looking out for a small brown non-descript barn owl. The only distinguishing mark would be few stark black feathers on the inside of its wings. As if on cue, said bird flew directly for her and confidently perched on her plate. It dropped an envelope onto her plate sealed with a large black smudge of wax. It nodded in acknowledgement and took off. A small smile tugged at her lips as she pocketed the letter.

            " What's that Hermione?" Ron ever the tactless boy she knew him as, asked through a bite of some unfortunate morsel.

            " Just a letter from my Mum." She sighed leveling her voice with boredom.

            " They haven't written in quite some time?" Harry was more astute than the well-minded redhead.

            " I get a few now and then. They've been really busy with working and all." She smiled. 

            Harry gave her an appraising look and then nodded. She let out a small breath and continued to eat.

            However, three sets of eyes were gazing at her thoughtfully.

                        1.        

                                               The apple falls far from the tree.

            A month and seven years ago, Hermione Granger pulled the tattered sorting hat onto her bushy hair literally willing the hat to speak. It had told her that her loyalty was a force to be reckoned with and that her intellect would set her apart from all who knew her. These facts she would have no problem telling anyone who asked. However, before the hat called its choice it had whispered smugly that her loyalties would be tested significantly due to her impressive intelligence and that by putting her in Gryffindor it felt it could buy her sometime, so as to think more clearly on the idea, and think she did.    

            Seven years she had worked hard and tried to learn as much as she could. She immersed herself in her studies proving to that horrid hat that she was indeed a force to be reckoned with and she could control her life well enough. Head Master Albus Dumbeldore was her king she would follow him into the whims of battle, or so she thought. Little by little she edged away from the twinkling old man and more towards the gray field. She did not appose him nor did she believe him to be altogether suitable. 

            So now came the time to choose. Hermione was all for choices she never did rush into anything without the maximum amount of thought poured through every detail. She had researched what she could on the Dark Arts and she craved for more, but deep down she knew what Voldemort was and what he stood for. From her studies she learned that Tom Riddle was part Muggle and that he despised Muggleborns. Which was what she was. However, she was always a very powerful witch and he knew this. What didn't set well with her was at the very least was the thought of betraying Harry and Ron. She knew that he-who-must-not-be-name would use her friendship with Harry to his benefit, and that was unsettling. Only that even deeper down she wanted to prove to that she was in fact more than just a mud blood; but a brilliant witch with a thirst to learn.

            And now was her chance. Sitting in her hands as she settled into an abandoned corner of the library was her chance.

Dear Ms. Granger,

           

It has come to our attention that you have a desire to apply for one of our prestigious positions. We the council feel your support could prove to be vastly essential for our cause. Therefore, we have scheduled a consultation for the eleventh of November at eight. Please, be prompt when arriving at the Far East end of Hogsmead where you will be escorted to the interview.

Sincerely yours.

            Twenty-two days left till her interview. To say she was nervous was an understatement, however, she believed she could thwart any attention from Harry enough to get what she wanted out of this, Voldemort be damned. With that said she spelled the letter with a strong ward and tucked it into her shirt pocket next to her wand.

            " I mean how hard can it be." She asked herself as she made the way to her room.

            " More than you can possibly know Miss. Granger." Albus voiced whispered sadly as he turned away from her retreating form.

                                                                 ~~~~~*~~~~~~

Okay what do you think?

I hope you like it… it's my first real attempt at this.