Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and even some of that is not mine. All belongs to the great JK Rowling.

Summary: Forbidden curses and ancient magic, brooding Potion Masters, manipulative twinkling smiles, dark lords with diabolical connections and, of course, the unforgettable bushy-haired genius. HG/SS

MUST READ AUTHOR'S NOTES AT THE END!

Chapter Four:

There was quiet.

As Hermione fuzzily opened her eyes, the only coherent thought floating through her brain was escape. Stumbling out of bed, she changed out of her nightwear and grabbed her school robes. Hastily conjuring a piece of parchment, she scrawled a quick note to Madam Pomfrey, before leaving both her wand and the note on her bed. The walls of Hogwarts were closing in on her, each crevice between the castle's stones radiating magic – the very thing that had destroyed her family. The passages were silent and mercifully deserted, and she escaped onto the Quidditch pitch and the Grounds beyond. She could hear the sounds of joyous laughter and bubbling chatter emanating from the Great Hall. She could imagine Harry and Ron dining with the rest, carefree grins oblivious to her raw, clenching pain. Ridding herself of her thoughts, she walked as far as she dared to go, eager to leave the magical presence of Hogwarts behind. The night was her humble shawl. It would shelter her for now. And she needed sheltering.

The Forbidden Forest loomed closer, dark trees hiding malevolent shadows. Hermione was cold and tired. She didn't need strenuous exercise, but needed to do strenuous thinking. Hermione looked over her shoulder, at the castle glowing with warmth and life. Golden light, cast by rich fires nurtured by House Elves, escaped from windows and cheery babble echoed within the heart of  the stone walls. The atmosphere, which had made her feel warm and lucky and giddy in the past, was precisely opposite to what she wanted… needed now. Her radiant fires had been snuffed out yesterday, along with everything – she thought – had made her human.

Suddenly feeling as if a black hole would sprout from the ground and swallow her up, Hermione staggered to the nearest, lone tree and collapsed onto the frosty grass, her back resting heavily on the rough, rugged trunk. Only then, when the nightly breeze played with her hair; when the silvery stars shone down from the heavens; when Hermione felt that… something else… was bigger than the dreadful ache in her heart; did the seventh year allow herself to release. Perhaps when the full well of tears and hate and guilt was thrown out into the calm of the universe, the whole scenario wouldn't seem like a life-shattering blow. Perhaps, if she rid herself of every horrible emotion, every memory, the guilt and the helplessness; she'd be able to move on. As racking sobs tore through her body, while images and scenes shredded her brain, Hermione briefly wondered that the Dementor's Kiss would be a welcome haven. Not that she deserved a haven, of course, but after killing one's own parents… what was one more sin to add to the list?

* * * * *

"Four minutes, I swear" said Madam Pomfrey to Dumbledore, wringing her hands in worry. "I left her alone for four minutes, Albus, and when I returned, Miss. Granger had left this for me. Along with her wand."

Dumbledore glanced at the note, and then back at the school nurse. "Don't worry, Poppy. Stay in the Infirmary in case she returns. I have full confidence that Miss. Granger will not act rashly, but, Minerva? Will you kindly fetch Miss. Granger?"

"You know where she is?" Pomfrey asked, astonished.

"The Ministry requires us to cast a Tracking Charm on Miss. Granger, if she is to stay at Hogwarts," McGonagall explained, "But I would advise that we let Miss. Granger return on her own accord. The poor girl will need time to herself."

"I agree." Snape said, walking up to the group. When they waited for him to expand on his comment, he glared and said nothing.

"It cannot be helped," replied Dumbledore, firmly. "Miss. Granger must be told that she cannot run off unsupervised. Go get her, Minerva, and take her to the Towers. Dobby has informed me that they have been rendered habitable."

"Alright," McGonagall sniffed, not taking to the idea of confining her prodigy to one small part of Hogwarts. "When shall she see you?"

"Whenever she feels ready." The Headmaster replied, sinking into his chair and letting Fawkes nibble his right index finger.

McGonagall left the room with Snape at her heels.

"You look tired, Albus." Pomfrey observed, toying with her wand.

"Put that thing down, Poppy." Dumbledore instructed, his eyes twinkling. "I'm fine." He added, seeing the concerned expression on her face.

"I doubt that," She muttered, unconvinced. "I'm not going to get anywhere with you today, am I Headmaster?"

"Not today, you're not," Dumbledore agreed, smiling fondly.

"Take care, you hear?"

"I will. Good night, Poppy."

"And you, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled inwardly. It took friends like Poppy Pomfrey to convince him, that adding another day to his 120 years spent in a pitiful world, might actually be worth the effort.

* * * * *

"Minerva!"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Let me do this."

A pause, "Alright. I'll wait at the front steps."

"You can take over from there, then."

"I intend to."

* * * * *

It was cold. The breeze had morphed into wind. Hardly playful,  the moving air was bitter… and cold… but it had dried her tears. A part of her was glad that she could actually feel something, even though it was just the cold, while the other half said that she'd be better off not feeling anything at all. After all, if she had unfeeling killed the two people whom she had loved and cherished; who had loved and cherished her; then blocking out everything that came afterward shouldn't have been a problem.

The real Hermione Granger who had lived happily as a Muggleborn witch; who had excelled in all of her classes, the real Hermione who had gone on to become Head Girl and was the pride and joy of her parents… she couldn't come to grips with the deed that she had allegedly committed. Allegedly. Because all she had was a letter and Dumbledore's word. It was so easy for her to deny it and she had given into the temptation. Now, while taking in lungfuls of fresh air and staring at the clear night sky, she could at least think. And perhaps, accept.

Hermione had no memories. That's what made it so simple to reject it all. Under the heavy gaze of the twinkling stars, she was reminded of Dumbledore and his wisdom. The kindly old man was leading the Light into battle; the best that the wizarding world had to offer, along with more than 2000 children and staff, trusted Dumbledore. So, why couldn't she? Because the same man had told her that she had killed her parents.

What was it that Snape had said? To face the facts? Had she trusted Snape to give her the facts, that night? To tell her the truth about everything? Because that's what it all boiled down to, Hermione thought, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. Did she trust her Professors – people whom she knew as merely 2 dimensional masks – to completely break her and then, trust them to bring her back? For if her mind tentatively acknowledged the reality presented by these 2 dimensional characters, she would be more than broken.

With a deep shuddering sigh, Hermione's brain accepted. She had killed. No, Voldemort had killed. But it didn't matter, because they had died because of her.

A wave came. It swelled in her chest, surging with indescribable power until Hermione felt that she would burst into a million pieces. Every realization, every memory and thought she had steadfastly blocked from her mind, broke free with a forcefulness that left her skinned and raw and gasping. Somewhere from her swirling depths, rose a shrill cry, the intensity of her wretched emotions fuelling it, leaving her heart empty and hollow in its wake. Slowly, the urge to scream receded, allowing her to breathe.

Then, another waved fueled itself into a climatic peak. And another. And another.

Until Hermione could have died there, alone and engulfed by her misery.

Such was her trust in her two dimensional characters.

* * * * *

"Miss. Granger?" Came the soft voice, as if afraid to intrude upon her silence.

He had heard her scream and cry and wail. It was one of the few occasions when he had been confronted with such stark, pure, unbridled emotion, and he had retreated into the shadows. Severus Snape had waited until his student had come to terms with her loss.

"Miss Granger?" Snape posed the question to darkness, facing the general vicinity where he presumed Hermione to be sitting. His eyes were slowly adjusting themselves to the lack of light, and soon, he could make out the faint outline of a human figure leaning against a tree, head bowed and arms wrapped tightly around slender legs.  Snape wished he could cast a Lumos spell, but it was best, an instinct told him, not to disturb her environment.

Snape had almost given up, when a small, hoarse voice replied: "G-Go away, Professor. I said that I'd return to the castle in my own time, and I will." Hermione didn't ask how the bat had found her. She had seen a blue light around her wrist: the tell tale sign of a strong Tracking Charm.

"I'm afraid that's out of my hands, Miss. Granger." Snape answered smoothly, "Ministry's orders are that you are to be appropriately supervised at Hogwarts, or they shall ensure supervision at Azkaban. Take your pick, girl, because traipsing near the borders of the Forbidden Forest is definitely forbidden."

"Why don't you stay here and watch me from that corner, then?" asked Hermione evenly, "That'd be enough supervision for the Ministry, won't it?"

"Don't argue with me, Granger." Snape said, eyes narrowing in the dark. A part of him was relieved at being confronted with insolence rather than hysteria. "If you have any qualms, take it up with Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd love to humor a fellow Gryffindor, but we Slytherins do not. You will accompany me, so get up! My time is precious."

A pause.

"I-I can't. Not yet."

There was something about her tone.

Snape cursed repeatedly under his breath. He moved towards the small figure and knelt down beside her, until he could see two round eyes staring at him, her pupils reflecting the heavens above.

"You will do this." He said intensely, infusing the same obscure entity in his deep voice as she had done in hers. Snape, balancing on one knee, held out his hand, striving not to break eye contact as he did so.

His statement was met with stillness. An eternity passed before he felt her stir. Hesitantly, a frail soft hand slipped into his outstretched palm. Snape waited in the dark, until their grip became more confident, until he could feel that she was ready.

"You will do this," Snape said again, his voice barely audible, and yet more persuasive than anything Hermione had ever heard before.

His efforts were rewarded by an imperceptible nod. It was a slight, tense jerk of the head detected by his heightened senses. Snape rose, pulling the young Gryffindor with him, feeling the atmosphere change around her as she brushed off her robes and straightened her shoulders. Letting go of her hand, he walked back towards the castle at a slow pace that would give his student much needed time to regain her composure.

* * * * *

"Why me?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence and falling beside Snape as they moved towards Hogwarts. It was the perfect time to ask him, and she dearly hoped that he would answer. Snape was a goldmine of information but he wasn't very generous with his gold. "Why would Voldemort, out of so many candidates, choose me? I know that I'm a Muggleborn and Harry's friend. But still, wouldn't his precious resources be better spent by Cursing a founded, more valuable member of the Order?"

"Think, Miss Granger, and you will realize that you have answered your own question." Snape muttered, casting a Lumos charm to illuminate their path.

She suppressed her exasperation. "If I could think, sir, I wouldn't be asking you something which – apparently – I already know."

A pause.

"If there is one thing you must learn; it is that the biggest things which occur in  life are seldom centered upon the receiving individual." He revealed cryptically, at last, while throwing his student a sidelong glance.

Hermione stared at him. Since when, had a greasy, snarky, Potions-Obsessed recluse, begun sprouting out Dumbledorean pieces of advice?

"Do live up to your reputation as a Know-It-All, Miss Granger." Snape snapped, irked by the disbelieving look on her face when he had shown the slightest iota of compassion. By Merlin! He knew he was a bastard, but really.

"It shouldn't be too hard for a self-acclaimed genius to grasp the real reason behind her own, sorry state. Unless, you are a Lockhart in the making?" He raised an eyebrow, and although his expression was carefully blank, Hermione knew that there was a sneer hovering behind those thin lips.

She glared at him to no avail, especially in the dim light of a Lumos spell. "It's about Harry, I know that." Hermione replied briskly. "But that can't be the whole reason, can it?"

"It is the 'whole reason', as you put." Snape averted his gaze to the front steps of Hogwarts, where his sharp eyes caught movement. Good, he thought, becoming tired with their conversation. He turned back to Hermione.

"The Boy-Who-Is-Destined-To-Destroy-Darkness is at the young age of 17 years. He already holds the deaths of many on his conscience. How do you think Mr. Potter will react if he finds out that you were forced to kill your parents – something that was a direct consequence of your friendship with him?" Snape paused. "The news will destroy him, Miss. Granger. It will break him even more to see your promising future marred by such a catastrophic Curse."

Hermione remained silent. Her Professor continued: "The greatest weapon that fuels the Dark Side has nothing to do with powerful magic. It is their power to create emotional havoc, something that few are immune against. What better opponent that an emotionally unstable one? An opponent unable to clear his thoughts of emotions, and hence an opponent acting under a self-inflicted cloud of irrationality?  What better way, for the Dark Lord to cripple a boy who has thwarted him numerous times?"

Again, there was silence. Snape briefly checked her face and was unsurprised at the sight of tears trickling down her pallid cheeks.

"We have one defense against this internal attack." He said in a quieter tone, seeing the dark figure of Minerva McGonagall move towards them from afar. "You must not yield to the cloud of darkness, Miss Granger. Your task is to be the pillar that your friend undoubtedly needs, for weakness in his resolve signals the destruction of the wizarding world…Ah, Professor McGonagall. I trust that you will escort Miss. Granger to her new rooms?"

"Of course. Of course." McGonagall replied absently, drawing the Head Girl to her. The older woman's eyes hardened at the sight of Hermione's wet face and McGonagall threw a questioning look at Snape.

He shrugged in reply, turned on his heel, and left without a word.

"Come with me child," McGonagall spoke softly, draping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. The younger girl didn't know whether to accept or reject the comfort. "You must rest."

Hermione closed her eyes, and opened them with a shuddering breath. Slowly, she relaxed and allowed her Head to lead her weary body and an equally overwhelmed mind.

Such was her trust in her two dimensional characters, and it was duly rewarded.

 * * * * *

A/N: So, how was that?

MUST READ:

Errrm, yes. Made some big bloopers last time, but thankfully they aren't disastrous to the plot. As of now, Hermione Granger is 17 yrs, as pointed out by my dear reviewers, rather than 18 yrs (which was the age I presumed her to be). If I become less lazy, I might edit the last chapter. But for now, I am focussing on getting Hermione a guardian (*sighs mournfully*) which was something I wanted to bypass. I took my wrongful assumption by judging my cousin's age, who graduated from high school at 18.

Personally thanking the following people for their reviews regrading the last 2 chapters:

Page, Mesawul, Delas, Daxi, Makalani Astral, Kurtfan, Crazy-lil and Dragonmaster: Thanking all of you guys for your ego-boosters. They keep me going and I hope I will not disappoint in the future.

Sadeness: yeah, I noticed that too. Sorry *smiles sheepishly*, but I hope it doesn't deter you from the story.

Emily*Lyef: Thank you. Sorry about the age thing, I know it gets annoying when a fanfic writer messes up canon. And I was hoping that Snape would think it would be healthier for Hermione to be allowed to express her grief (him having experienced its power first hand and all). Unfortunately, as we know, it got out of hand and Snape was forced to give her the potion. Hope that explains it and eases any frustrations.

Jenny Rad: Thanks for your practical, positive comments. I might join WIKTT later.  I hardly have time to write as it is, and I don't think it would be fair to ask people in WIKTT to beta my story if I am unable to give something extra back to the community.

KEEP ALL THOSE REVIEWS COMING!! EACH ONE MAKES MY DAY!