-Chapter Two-

But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing.

-Kate Chopin

Long, gnarled hands, reaching for her from under a dark cloak, all that was visible save the glowing red eyes...the eyes were always there, of course, watching silently, challenging her; to do what? she asked it, curious in spite of herself. It just looked at her, and then she knew: Give up. What do you need them for? They'll just hinder you, hold you back. You're Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake; brilliant, beautiful, a light in the darkness of the ignorance of others. Come with me; I'll appreciate you. Leave them...

Hermione opened her eyes, blinking wildly in the darkness of her bedroom. She lay still in her large, four-poster bed, her breathing labored and her cheeks flushed. Slowly, she regained her awareness, and sat up, grabbing her wand from the bedside table and conjuring a glass of water, which she gulped greedily. She sat there in her bed for a moment, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Mentally shaking herself out of it, she jumped out of the tall bed, sliding her bare feet into her old, fuzzy slippers and padding her way across the cold hardwood floor to the bathroom.

A splash of water on her face woke her up a bit more, and she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark amber eyes were huge against her pale face. Brilliant, beautiful; Come with me... She shuddered, and turned off the light.

Hermione left the bathroom and went back out into her bedroom, crawling gratefully back into the soft down of her comforter. She glanced blearily at the clock: 3:24. A good three or so more hours of sleep left before she had to get up and get ready for class. She turned on her side and burrowed herself under the covers, trying valiantly not to concentrate on the burning sting of the hot tears that streamed down her face.

-----

Morning came, and a sleepy Hermione lethargically made her way through her daily A.M. routine. She took a quick, scalding shower, scrubbing vigorously at her hair and body; her nightmares made her feel dirty. Twisting her thick, damp hair into a low bun, she put on a little mascara and slipped on her heavy, black teaching robes. She hurried down to the Great Hall for breakfast, which was deserted except for a scattering of bleary eyed students and a few professors.

Hermione settled into the empty seat next to Remus Lupin, who looked up from his newspaper and greeted her cheerfully. "Hallo, Hermione," he said, mouth half full of eggs and toast and light brown hair rumpled in a way that reminded her painfully of Harry. "Morning, Remus," she returned, and eagerly reached over to pour a steaming cup of dark coffee for herself, sipping it gratefully. Remus looked at her closely.

"Rough night?" he asked, in that tone of friendly concern that always brought her dangerously close to bursting into tears and pouring out every little trouble to him. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee and replied in an even tone: "No worse than usual, I suppose."

Remus was about to question her more closely, but was interrupted by the swooping of the daily owl post flying in to deliver the mail. A small, tawny owl dropped a couple of items onto Hermione's plate; Remus received nothing. Hermione reflected sadly that, not only did he not have any family to speak of, but almost all of his friends had died or been killed over the past decade. Hermione felt a pang of pity for the lonely werewolf, but was sadly reminded that her situation was not much better.

She turned to her mail: this month's Gladrag's catalogue and a small cream envelope addressed to her in a neat, spidery handwriting that was strangely familiar to her but she was unable to place. She ripped it open carelessly, and unfolded the short note:

Professor Granger-

The Headmaster has informed me that you have agreed to be of some assistance to me concerning my current... project, so to speak. Kindly meet me in my office tonight at seven o' clock tonight, if convenient. If not, I am sure we can agree on a more opportune time.

Yours sincerely,

Professor S. Snape

She shook her head in amazement. After what Dumbledore had told her last night about Snape's considerable pride, she would have expected a less... gracious invitation from her former Potions teacher. Remus noticed her bemused expression. "What is it?" he asked, curious.

Hermione debated whether to tell him or not. Remus was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; then again, this did seem like the sort of thing that Dumbledore would want to keep under wraps. Remus saved her from having to make a decision, though.

"If it's from Snape, I know all about it," he told her, sotto voce. "Dumbledore told me last night after he talked to you; he said it would ease the pressure if you had someone to blow off steam to, when need be. And I'm perfectly happy to be that someone. If you'll have me, of course."

She gave him a tired smile. "Thanks bunches, Remus. Truly. I promise to come to you if things get to be too much."

He smiled back. "Glad to hear it." With that, he turned back to his newspaper and Hermione to her breakfast and her thoughts.

-----

Hermione's day went by in somewhat of a blur. Her classes, which, under normal circumstances, might have been such a joy to teach, were colored with a sort of anxious gloom and uneasiness, on the part of both the students and the teachers. Even the younger children, as few of them as there were these days, were abnormally subdued, and wandered about the school shrouded with auras of submissive fright and apprehension. Hermione was extremely grateful that Arithmancy was only offered to the older students; she couldn't bear to spend any more time than was necessary seeing the resigned, heartbreakingly sad looks of anxiety on the small, round faces of the first and second years.

Her last class ended at five-thirty, and, instead of going to the Great Hall for supper, she retired to her rooms and took a short nap before going to meet Snape. As 7:00 approached, she changed her robes, redid her hair, and headed reluctantly down to the dungeons. As much as she hated to admit it, she was still mildly afraid of Severus Snape. Even though she hadn't been his student for four years now, she still tense and guarded when in his presence, like she was expecting him to ridicule her at any moment. She told herself how irrational this was; Snape had been nothing but civil to her since she had come back to Hogwarts, treating her with respect and professional courtesy. Still, he was a pretty intimidating figure, well-mannered or not.

She had reached the cool darkness of the dungeons by now, and walked along the wide, hollow corridor in search of Snape's office door. She found it at the end of the hall, a plain wooden door with his name displayed on a heavy bronze plaque. She took a moment to summon up her courage; the gloomy atmosphere certainly wasn't very conducive to feeling at ease with the menacing professor.

Hermione rapped on the door with as much confidence as she could muster, and only had to wait a few seconds before the heavy door was opened slowly by the Potions Master himself. He greeted her coolly but politely. "Please come in, Professor Granger," he said, stepping aside so that she could enter the room. She got close enough to him to catch a faint whiff of the lemon solution that he had presumably been cleaning the lab with, and to notice that he wasn't that much taller than she was, or at least not as much as she always imagined him to be.

The office was dimly lit by a few candles that were scattered strategically about the room, and it smelled of parchment and the distinctive aroma of medicinal herbs. Snape was behind his desk now, and he motioned for her to take one of the wooden chairs that sat facing it. He waited until she had sat down, and then did the same, leaning back slightly.

"I assume you know why I have asked you to meet with me tonight," he said in a mild tone, steepling his long, pale fingers, which, Hermione noticed, were still shaking.

Hermione nodded. "Professor Dumbledore filled me in on the basic details, yes."

"As expected. However, things are considerably more complex than that. The brewing of the Hominis potion is a very complicated and involved process and requires much effort and care. This potion is crucial to the efforts of the Order and the eventual defeat of Lord Voldemort, and my time is waning rapidly. Thus, your presence in the matter."

She morbidly wondered in which sense he meant when he said his time was waning.

He leaned forward, almost anxiously, and looked her straight in the eyes, serious as ever. "Professor Granger, I cannot emphasize how vital it is that the final stages of this potion are completed on time, and, most importantly, correctly. This is the best and only chance we have at the moment of ending this tiresome war and restoring the peace of the wizarding world. I trust you will take on this task with the utmost dedication and gravity."

She nodded, returning his gaze. "You can count on it, Professor. I'll do anything I can to help."

He smirked, not unkindly. "Willing as always, I see. Your devotion will be needed greatly."

She found herself smiling sadly at him, this enigmatic man she had feared as a first-year, hated as a teenager, and now, as a professor, actually had come to respect.

He cleared his throat, obviously a bit uncomfortable with this sudden show of emotion on her part. "Yes, well. I usually begin work on the potion over the weekend so that my classes don't interfere. Would this Saturday night be agreeable for you to meet in the lab?"

"That would be fine," she replied without hesitation, wistfully recalling a time when there were actually things to do on the weekend, and, more importantly, people to do them with.

"I shall see you at 7:00, then," he told her, standing from behind his desk. She rose also, and moved towards the door. He followed.

"Goodnight, Professor Snape," she said, turning to him as she crossed the threshold and opened the door.

"Goodnight, Professor Granger," he replied in an agreeable tone. "Until Saturday."

-----

Hermione walked slowly through the dark, deserted hallways back to her quarters, lost in thought. The night's meeting with Snape had erased her remaining doubts about taking on the assignment. When Dumbledore had first asked her, her only reservation had been the thought of working so closely with moody, irritable Snape on such a regular basis. But his note that morning had been surprisingly gracious, and tonight…well, tonight, he had been so civil and polite that it had been easy to forget that this was the same professor who had taunted her and her friends so mercilessly in her days as a student. His stinging I see no difference quip still echoed bitterly in her head, and she remembered quite clearly those agonizing classes in the dungeon where even she dreaded raising her hand out of fear of his harsh criticisms.

So what had changed in his attitude towards her? Was it her promotion from mere student to colleague? His need for her help on the potion?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her name being resounding off of the walls from behind her. Startled, she turned to see Remus walking briskly towards her, his outline just barely perceptible in the dim light of the eternally-lit candles that weakly illuminated the vast hallway. His footsteps echoed off of the marble floor as he hurried towards her.

"Hello, Hermione" he greeted her quietly when he had caught up with her. "How did it go?"

She was momentarily confused; how did Remus know where she had been? Then their conversation at breakfast came back to her.

"Oh, much more pleasant than expected," she told him. "Snape was quite agreeable, actually."

Remus looked doubtful. "Well, that's…that's excellent. Really, it's great to hear."

They continued walking, side by side. "What, are you so very surprised that Snape has shown he possesses the capacity for civil behavior?" she asked him, detecting the note of disbelief in his voice.

"Oh, no, not at all. He's demonstrated that quite readily in the past. It's just that…" Remus looked uneasy. "Well, he and I do not have the most…affable of relations, stemming back to our schoolboy days, as you know. And surely he's noticed our newfound….rapport," he made a vague gesture, indicating the two of them. "I just thought that perhaps Snape might…oh, I dunno, hold that against you somehow. You know, guilt by association and that sort of thing. But apparently my fears were quite misplaced, and I'm terribly glad of it."

She smiled at him. "Well, it's nice to know you're thinking of my best interests. But really, you don't have to worry about me working with Snape. He's been very…pleasant towards me."

They had reached her room. "Well, I'll say good-night now, Remus." she told him, putting a hand on the wall next to the entrance to her room.

Unexpectedly, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek, lingering a bit longer than was customary. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said softly, his breath warm on her neck. He turned, and walked back in the direction of his own nearby set of rooms.

She stood there for a moment, looking hard in his direction long after he had turned the corner. Then, whispering the password to the sylvan tapestry that guarded her quarters, she stepped into her room, feeling simultaneously slightly nauseous and more at ease than she had in a long time.