She was surrounded by mist, unable to see even her own hand in front of her face. It felt like being suffocated or buried alive. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the opaque wall of white, hearing faint whispers in the mist slithering around her body like a slippery eel. "Sasha, na kukhnyu!" a young woman's voice called, she startled and wondering what language it was. A voice she recognized as a young Sirius Black sneering and taunting. An angry young Snape, "Would you have cared if he were Slytherin and I was Gryffindor, sir?"

Suddenly she heard somebody calling to her as the faint echoes of his memories swirled around her, teasing and taunting with mere hints of the story they contained. "Hermione!" She was startled to recognize the voice, and even more startled that he referred to her by her given name.

"Here!" she shouted, desperate to get out of this choking fog. Fumbling towards where the voice had come from, she gave a shout of surprise as a hand grabbed her sleeve and began pulling her along.

"Had to go poking around, didn't you?" he said impatiently. "Couldn't just sit and wait for me, oh no. Not you bloody damn nosy Gryffindors!" She faintly recognized that the voice was of a slightly higher pitch and didn't have the icy, biting quality she was used to.

Once the mist of his memories had thinned to tendrils drifting around, he turned to her. "Welcome," he said, with a wry twist of the lips, "to my mind." She studied him. He was only a little older than she was: tall as she knew him to be but almost willowy, not yet filled out to match his adult height. The hair was even a little longer, the eyes not so cold and haunted, and the lines of care not yet in his face. He was wearing the robes of a Death Eater.

"All right," she said, giving him a nervous smile. "Where to, sir?"

"This way." He turned and stalked off. "And keep up, mind you. I've no patience to go find you again." Onward they marched, mist still shrouding most everything around them. So long as she kept his form in sight, she was safe.

After a time, she was suddenly hit by a blast of icy air and shivered, despite the fact that she was wearing thick woolen winter robes. She looked ahead and saw the gaping maw of a cave, dark and cold. Memory-mist drifted lazily in and out. But it was only in wisps, not the thick cloud they had emerged from.

"I try not to dwell much upon the memories you seek, so they're pretty far buried," he said with a wry smile, drawing his wand and whispering, "Lumos!" He gestured for her to follow him again, into the darkness, and this time he did not have to remind her to stay close by him.

The whispers of the memories echoed eerily in the cavern. Chambers off to the side glowed with mists of stored memory, some separating from the whole and lazily drifting out, others rejoining the mass. She was aware that they were descending, the path taking a steep pitch down beneath her feet. Twists and turns, keeping eyes fixed on the bright sphere of light atop his wand. Much as he said he didn't come to these obviously deeply buried memories often, he was quite sure-footed.

"There," he said, finally, pointing. In a chamber off to the side, the mist was pure black. She took an involuntary step back as one serpentine tendril came towards her, the voice of Voldemort coming from it.

"I cannot tolerate failure, Severus…" The high, hissing tones sent a shudder down her spine.

"Nasty," he muttered, banishing it back to its fellows. "All right, give me a moment here." He closed his eyes and faced the mist, concentrating intently. Before long, a memory came towards him briskly, like an eager puppy frisking towards its master. He muttered a spell she didn't quite hear, and the memory formed itself into…a stuffed bear. He took hold of it, and studied it.

"It's a Portkey," he said quietly. "Touch it and you'll be in the memory. Of course, you can only observe what was, not act to change it."

She smiled humorlessly. "Wasn't that what you were just saying a spy did?"

"If it gets to be too much, just use the Finite Incantatum, and the Mind-Meld will be broken."

"You mean to show me only one?" she blurted.

"Hermione, there is much more where that came from," he said with a trace of sadness, indicating the mist hissing with malicious voices. "I will show you the worst, as you asked, but I shall not show you everything. There will be more if you finish with that one. You'll be returned here once it's played out. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," she said, reaching for the teddy bear hesitantly, barely touching a fingertip to it before she felt a jerking sensation and blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing outside a house, beside a willow tree. They came slinking through the night like shadows, the flat black of their robes blending with the darkness. "Severus!" one hissed when he drew close, and she recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice.

"Yes?" she felt herself answer, and was shocked to hear Snape's voice. I'm seeing it as him… she realized suddenly. "Is everybody here?" he added, and she felt his heart picking up pace.

A smirk from Lucius beneath his half-mask. "Indeed they are. Shall we?" Three others drew closer, and Snape's mind supplied that they were Rosier, Lestrange, and Avery.

"Now," Lucius said, when the five stood together. "Severus and I shall handle Mister Meridius. Simon," he nodded to Avery with a smirk, "I'm sure you'll enjoy the pleasure," the word deliberately accented, "of Mrs. Meridius." Filthy rapist, Snape thought with a shudder, to Hermione's relief. "Desdemona, Evan, you handle the brats," he said curtly. "Three of them. Make certain you get them all. The Dark Lord was not pleased you almost let the LaFeber girl escape."

The woman, Desdemona Lestrange, smoothly assured him that all would go well. On the count of three, Lucius burst down the door with a silent Blasting Charm. They headed upstairs in search of the sleeping family. Lucius turned to Snape and smirked as he put his hand on the knob of the bedroom door and turned it. He peered in and gestured Lestrange to it, telling her to wait a moment, and then making Rosier lie in wait at the next door. The next one proved to be the parents. Lucius smirked and opened the door, silently slipping in. Snape followed, eyes involuntarily turning to the couple asleep in each other's arms in their bed. Business, Severus, business, he thought wildly. They are the enemy. They must be killed. Still, the humanizing image of the two peacefully asleep together burned into his brain.

Lucius shouted the Binding Spell, and the others took their cue. Within moments there was a terrified child's shriek of "Daddy!" from down the hall. Avery was suddenly with them.

"Good evening, Mister Meridius," Lucius said smoothly, to the two thoroughly-trussed adults. "You know what to do," he said curtly to Avery. "Don't make your fun take too long." Avery laughed while Lucius roughly grabbed Meridius and used Mobilicorpus to drag him into the corridor. "Pity," he drawled. "No useful information to obtain from you. Does somewhat dampen the occasion."

One of the children ran into the hallway, dressed in yellow pajamas and clutching a teddy bear. She was probably about four, he realized. "Daddy!" she shrieked, racing for one of the two symbols of safety in her young life. Rosier cursed and leaned out the door after her, taking aim with his wand.

"You damn brat! Avada Kedavra!" he bellowed, and a flash of green light, before Meridius' daughter fell dead, her teddy bear coming to rest by Severus' feet. He stared at it, feeling sick. "Stupid girl," Rosier spat. "Tried to bite me," he laughed.

Meridius stared in horror down at the remains of his daughter, deaf to the screams of his wife suffering Avery's attentions. He was unaware of Lucius casually saying the Killing Curse, slumping over dead without realizing what had hit him. "Mudbloods," Lucius smirked, leading them out of the house with a swagger to his step once Avery reappeared. "Morsmordre!" The Dark Mark floated lazily above the house. "Well, done, gentlemen," he nodded to Lestrange, "and lady. Until next time," he said cheerfully. Snape Disapparated, and…

~~~~~~~~~~

…she was back in the cavern. Trembling a little in sick horror at what she had seen, but she met the younger Snape's eyes with something close to challenge. "Show me more," she said. The scene had only fueled her rage and determination to fight the evil that Voldermort wanted to spread across the world.

He mutely turned another memory to an Auror's robe insignia. She grasped it, and fell into a memory of him torturing a captured Auror for information, feeling distaste, but telling himself it was all for the good of Voldemort's cause. She was there, hearing the screams of torture, seeing its effects first hand. There was almost pity in Snape's mind when the Auror whispered his secrets from between lips bleeding from being bit through in effort to keep silence, broken body drawn taut with pain. A touch of his wand, and he said the Killing Curse. It was almost a mercy by that point, and he was almost regretful for such a brave soul to be misguided to, as he thought it then, the wrong side of the war.

Memory after memory he wordlessly guided her to, she somehow surviving each intact. Rape, torture, slaughter, killing mere children, on the prowl to kill random Muggles for an evening of entertainment…it was a loathsome mural of the life of a Death Eater. Some small part of her was relieved to see that he had kept his involvement from the worse depravities. He killed because he thought they were the enemy tortured if they refused to give the information he sought to help his cause. There was a certain honor to it, however twisted. The abyss hadn't swallowed him and made him a monster as well.

"One last memory," he said, black eyes directly on hers. "I want you to pay close attention to this one." She nodded, mouth dry. The Memory Portkey assumed the shape of a Death Eater's mask. She reached for it.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a gathering of Death Eaters, and Voldemort was present. He looked slightly more human back then, she noticed, but with the same hellish glowing red eyes. A woman stood before the Dark Lord, trying to restrain her trembling. Damn. MacIvor's been caught, he thought with an icy shock. Careful, Severus, else he'll catch you too… This must have been after he turned spy, Hermione realized.

"Perpetua," Voldemort purred, walking back and forth in front of her. "My dear, what on Earth possessed you to turn against me?"

Her shoulders straightened, her head lifted proudly. "Because I was never yours. I joined you only to gain your secrets." There was a slight twist of grief and pride within him at that--there was no use her denying it. She had been caught passing on information, but she would die on her feet, not begging on her knees.

"Very well. You know the price for those we capture spying," he said.

"I am ready. Kill me," she said defiantly, green eyes flashing in the light. "You may kill me, but you cannot kill my cause."

"Oh, Perpetua," he sighed. "Death…that's altogether too easy. No, I think for spies and traitors, I shall let your fellows amuse themselves first." The thin lips curved in a malicious smile. "After all, you've betrayed them as well. Why should only I take recompense?"

Rough hands seized hold of her, ripping at her robes, knocking her into the dirt. What followed had been forever burned into Snape's memory, and now into Hermione's. Despite the rapes that followed, the beatings, the torture, her eyes met Severus', where he stood silent vigil at the back of the crowd while most howled and cheered. I understand, the gaze said. She knew he was a spy, but she did not betray him when asked to name her co-conspirators. Do nothing; you cannot.

She meant to absolve him of his inaction, but that calm acceptance of her fate, and his inability to save her, was even worse damnation for him. She had not revealed him, not betrayed him, but he had betrayed her in his helplessness. In grief, he wanted to turn his eyes, but in debt owed, he watched, so that he could go to her fiancé and tell him his love had died as proudly and honorably as she had lived. To love someone like that, he thought, he is a lucky man… Even if now he was a bereaved one.

After Voldemort finally ended the matter and calmly killed her, he ordered her body mutilated and sent back as a warning. The blood-frenzy dissipating, the Death Eaters slinked off, the consequences of betrayal all burned into their minds anew. He was last to leave, taking one last look at her battered body, whispering a prayer, setting his jaw, and Apparating away.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she came to, she found herself sitting in Snape's quarters, hand still pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes and their gazes locked. "Now do you see?" he rasped.

She nodded, swallowing hard. Being caught meant a grisly death; even simple spying meant seeing horrors no sane mind could even imagine. "I still want to," she said quietly. "There's no honor done to those who…went before," unspoken was the word "died", but it was mutually understood, "if we are all too afraid to take up the banner and march on." She looked at his still somewhat-dazed eyes and thought sadly, He could use a rather large dose of my Memory Erasing Potion himself. She had never had any idea of the man behind the black robes and snarls. She had just the barest glimpse now, but it was wildly different from what she had known.

"Very well, Miss Granger," he said with a sigh. "I will teach you. However, I will stipulate that you must do what I tell you. There will be no disobedience, no seeking glory. I know this game, filthy as it is, and if you are to…partner me, you will listen. One slip-up and it's off."

"Agreed." That was only fair. He understood this much better than she did, but she was willing--no, eager--to learn. She looked at him, sensing that conjuring up the old ghosts of his past left him wanting a little privacy to deal with them. He was trembling and pale, eyes haunted. "Thank you, sir. It's very late, so I had best be going before I'm caught." She turned to go. "Sir?" She turned back. "Would it be asking a bit much to--to work on my potion Monday? That is, if you don't have…plans?"

He let out a somewhat quivering laugh. "I look forward to it, Miss Granger. Good night."

Tosca gave her an approving nod as she went out the door. As she closed it behind her, her knees turned to water and she felt she could barely hold her own weight up. She had broken rules of Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, and even challenged a teacher. She smiled slightly. My, how things do change, she thought.