A/N: Hello everyone! Please be kind to me--this is my first fanfic. I hope you are all enjoying it so far, or at least that you are intrigued. Please let me know how you like this with a nice review! (Wow, I'm shameless already.) By the way, this is going to be an SS/HG fic, so if that bothers you… at least you already know. Happy reading! REVIEW!
Chapter One
Hermione sat staring at her tear-stained face, dimly reflected in the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk. Fawkes had perched on her shoulder, and was singing to her softly. Dumbledore had perceptively realized her need for privacy after his devastating news, and had encouraged her to take as much time as she needed to recuperate in his office.
He'd apparated them directly to the gates of Hogwarts, waited for a few moments, and then walked her quickly to his office. Hermione couldn't help noticing, as she followed him, that the halls were clear and silent as the grave.
With typical foresight, the Headmaster must have known she wouldn't want to see anyone. Or that she couldn't see anyone--not if she were to go along with his plan to protect her. Once they were seated on opposite sides of his desk, he looked at her for a long moment, and then began to speak. He hadn't even offered her a lemon drop.
"Hermione," he sighed, "I am so sorry it was I who had to inform you of this. But your parents are dead." Even though this was exactly what she'd expected him to say, Hermione's body was suddenly wracked with sobs.
Dumbledore had shushed her gently, and then informed her that she, too, was supposed to be dead--she'd insisted on taking the train home even though her parents had wanted her home the night before.
Fortunately, Harry and Ron had been the only others to share her car on the train, and there had been few students taking it anyway, as the Hogwarts Express was exceptionally vulnerable to one of Voldemort's terrorist attacks. Her house had simply been blown up. No torture, no unforgivables--only the Dark Mark and a fatal explosion that destroyed everything she held dear. And she, Hermione Granger, was supposed to be dead.
"What do I do now?" had been the only question she could manage through her tears.
"This may hurt you dearly, Hermione," Dumbledore whispered, "but you must press the advantage those bastards have given you." Hermione had started at his language, but she was also comforted by the fact that even the always unruffled Headmaster could feel pain for her loss.
"Until Voldemort is defeated, my dear, you cannot again enter the land of the living. I alone know of your continued existence, and I alone, with your permission, will guard the secret until you are safe again."
"But my classes--"
"They will be taken care of. I am going to give you a choice, Hermione--remain at Hogwarts and do so under my private tutelage or..." He seemed reluctant to offer her the other choice. "We can take this to the Ministry and trust them to protect you."
"I will not be entrusted to the Ministry," she snarled. "But I can't remained cooped up in here forever! I'll waste away and never see my friends again!"
"Have you any other solutions, Hermione?" asked the Headmaster, raising an eyebrow.
"I..." she paused, wondering whether she should surrender her secret. "IbrewedapotionlastyearandIcanturninvisiblewheneverIwantto."
"What?"
"I was brewing an invisibility potion and I...well...I altered it. As an experiment, you know? And then when I tried it, I thought it hadn't worked until I wanted to become invisible so badly that it happened. And it...it didn't wear off. See?" she drifted in and out of the realm of invisibility, watching as Dumbledore stared, shocked for the first time in his years as Headmaster.
Her voice took on an air of desperation when she spoke again.
"Please, Professor Dumbledore, let me attend my own classes. I swear I won't speak to anyone, and I brought a tape recorder that fits in my pocket so I can just record the lectures and--"
"Hermione, it's just not probable!" he exclaimed. "Can you imagine the temptation to speak to your friends? The pain you'll feel while you watch them and can't join them? When you witness their grief as I tell them you're no longer with us?"
"Professor," Hermione insisted, "Being able to see them is more comforting than relying on someone else to tell me how they are. And I need to receive the information offered in those classes--actually watching the lectures is by far more effective than the tutelage of an already busy man who, though of formidable intelligence, cannot be an expert in every field. You can trust me, Professor Dumbledore. I won't reveal myself to another living soul." She smirked, "Nor any of the ghosts, for that matter."
Dumbledore sighed, and nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Hermione. I consent--but only if you can prove your resolve to me. I will call Professor McGonagall to my office now, to inform her of the bad news. And, although I know this will hurt, I want you to watch her and still maintain your composure. If you can't handle the strain, she is one of the few people I could trust to keep the secret, although it would lend authenticity if she still believed you to be dead." Hermione nodded bravely, blinking back fresh tears.
"Ah," exclaimed the Headmaster. "It seems Minerva will not have to be summoned--she is on the way already, along with our dear Professor Snape. Perhaps you should..."
But Hermione had already disappeared.
Chapter One
Hermione sat staring at her tear-stained face, dimly reflected in the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk. Fawkes had perched on her shoulder, and was singing to her softly. Dumbledore had perceptively realized her need for privacy after his devastating news, and had encouraged her to take as much time as she needed to recuperate in his office.
He'd apparated them directly to the gates of Hogwarts, waited for a few moments, and then walked her quickly to his office. Hermione couldn't help noticing, as she followed him, that the halls were clear and silent as the grave.
With typical foresight, the Headmaster must have known she wouldn't want to see anyone. Or that she couldn't see anyone--not if she were to go along with his plan to protect her. Once they were seated on opposite sides of his desk, he looked at her for a long moment, and then began to speak. He hadn't even offered her a lemon drop.
"Hermione," he sighed, "I am so sorry it was I who had to inform you of this. But your parents are dead." Even though this was exactly what she'd expected him to say, Hermione's body was suddenly wracked with sobs.
Dumbledore had shushed her gently, and then informed her that she, too, was supposed to be dead--she'd insisted on taking the train home even though her parents had wanted her home the night before.
Fortunately, Harry and Ron had been the only others to share her car on the train, and there had been few students taking it anyway, as the Hogwarts Express was exceptionally vulnerable to one of Voldemort's terrorist attacks. Her house had simply been blown up. No torture, no unforgivables--only the Dark Mark and a fatal explosion that destroyed everything she held dear. And she, Hermione Granger, was supposed to be dead.
"What do I do now?" had been the only question she could manage through her tears.
"This may hurt you dearly, Hermione," Dumbledore whispered, "but you must press the advantage those bastards have given you." Hermione had started at his language, but she was also comforted by the fact that even the always unruffled Headmaster could feel pain for her loss.
"Until Voldemort is defeated, my dear, you cannot again enter the land of the living. I alone know of your continued existence, and I alone, with your permission, will guard the secret until you are safe again."
"But my classes--"
"They will be taken care of. I am going to give you a choice, Hermione--remain at Hogwarts and do so under my private tutelage or..." He seemed reluctant to offer her the other choice. "We can take this to the Ministry and trust them to protect you."
"I will not be entrusted to the Ministry," she snarled. "But I can't remained cooped up in here forever! I'll waste away and never see my friends again!"
"Have you any other solutions, Hermione?" asked the Headmaster, raising an eyebrow.
"I..." she paused, wondering whether she should surrender her secret. "IbrewedapotionlastyearandIcanturninvisiblewheneverIwantto."
"What?"
"I was brewing an invisibility potion and I...well...I altered it. As an experiment, you know? And then when I tried it, I thought it hadn't worked until I wanted to become invisible so badly that it happened. And it...it didn't wear off. See?" she drifted in and out of the realm of invisibility, watching as Dumbledore stared, shocked for the first time in his years as Headmaster.
Her voice took on an air of desperation when she spoke again.
"Please, Professor Dumbledore, let me attend my own classes. I swear I won't speak to anyone, and I brought a tape recorder that fits in my pocket so I can just record the lectures and--"
"Hermione, it's just not probable!" he exclaimed. "Can you imagine the temptation to speak to your friends? The pain you'll feel while you watch them and can't join them? When you witness their grief as I tell them you're no longer with us?"
"Professor," Hermione insisted, "Being able to see them is more comforting than relying on someone else to tell me how they are. And I need to receive the information offered in those classes--actually watching the lectures is by far more effective than the tutelage of an already busy man who, though of formidable intelligence, cannot be an expert in every field. You can trust me, Professor Dumbledore. I won't reveal myself to another living soul." She smirked, "Nor any of the ghosts, for that matter."
Dumbledore sighed, and nodded reluctantly. "Very well, Hermione. I consent--but only if you can prove your resolve to me. I will call Professor McGonagall to my office now, to inform her of the bad news. And, although I know this will hurt, I want you to watch her and still maintain your composure. If you can't handle the strain, she is one of the few people I could trust to keep the secret, although it would lend authenticity if she still believed you to be dead." Hermione nodded bravely, blinking back fresh tears.
"Ah," exclaimed the Headmaster. "It seems Minerva will not have to be summoned--she is on the way already, along with our dear Professor Snape. Perhaps you should..."
But Hermione had already disappeared.