Author's Note: I own none of the characters in this story. More dialogue and less foreshadowing to come in the next chapter, I promise. I'm starting to think I might have to write a prequel to this!
For whatever reason, I cannot get the italics in the first paragraph of Hermione's dream and the first paragraph of her memory of Dumbledore's speech to italicize. I apologize for the shoddy formatting but QuickEdit isn't being at all cooperative. :)-----------------
--- Six Weeks Later ---
It was dusk, and bulging black clouds roiled noisily across the sky, every so often giving off an ominous rumbling. She trailed after the cloaked figure as quietly as possible, doing her best not to stumble over the long hem of the "borrowed" invisibility cloak. The figure strode past Hagrid's hut and into the Forbidden Forest, crossing the invisible boundary of Hogwarts' grounds, and halted. Her breath caught in her throat as she lurched forward, determined to grasp his sleeve before he Apparated away. However, the figure made no move to disappear. Instead, he produced a silver mask from the folds of his black robes and settled it into place upon his face as shrouded figures wearing identical masks appeared from the surrounding forest.
With a muffled gasp she ducked behind the nearest tree, unsure if any of the Death Eaters possessed the ability to see through the enchanted cloak she wore. Her right hand tightened firmly upon her wand, while her left hand snaked cautiously into an inner pocket of her robe to ensure that the small glass vials were still in place.
The masked figure of
Severus Snape was stooping down now, bowing to a figure who emerged
from the rest. Hermione flinched as she caught her first good look at
Lord Voldemort, the enemy of all that she held dear. His reptilian
features were curled in a pleased sneer as he looked down upon what he
thought was his most faithful spy and servant. Snape murmured
something, most likely a well-crafted praise to his dark lord.
Voldemort nodded dismissively at the kneeling Potions Master, lifting
his head and peering through the fading light towards the castle.
Hermione froze as his head swerved over to her hiding spot, his flat
nostrils flaring outward slightly.
When he spoke, the sibilant
hiss caused each and every hair on her body to stand on end.
"Severus...it appears you have brought Us a gift."
With a loud cry, Hermione bolted upright, clutching her tearstained bedclothes tightly against her chest. She panted softly and squeezed her eyes shut, bowing her head as she waited for the familiar stabbing headache to recede. "I'm home now..." she whispered reassuringly to herself, "...it was just a memory...he's gone and it's over now..."
When
the searing pain in her temples was reduced to a low throbbing, she
stretched out her left hand and groped about on the bedside table in
search of the modified Draft of Peace which would enable her to slip
into a dreamless sleep for the remainder of the night. Her hand closed
around the cut glass bottle and she lifted it shakily to her eyes,
frowning in surprise as she saw only a few drops of the mint-green
liquid clinging to the crystal walls. With a soft sigh, she placed the
bottle back in its place and gingerly levered herself out of the bed,
doing her best not to displace the large ginger cat curled up at her
side. When he lifted his head and slitted his eyes at her in mild
annoyance at being jostled, she reached out and stroked the top of his
head lightly. "Sorry, Crookshanks...if it's any consolation, at least I
won't be here tossing and turning all night."
She picked up her wand and muttered, "Lumos."
The tip of the wand began to glow softly, giving her enough light to
fumble around and pick up her dressing gown and a pair of slippers. On
her way to the door, she tripped over an unfamiliar footstool and gave
out a yelp as she hopped the last few steps to the door. "Bloody hell,"
she muttered, "that's the last straw...tomorrow I'm transfiguring every
stick of furniture in here into a cushion."
Pushing the heavy door open carefully, Hermione peered out into the dark corridor lined with sleeping portraits. She shook her head slightly, chuckling under her breath. "You're off your rocker, Hermione. Too many years of trying to avoid Filch at night. You're nineteen, Dumbledore gave you the run of the castle...no more having to be Head Girl."
The door to the guest chamber which she was gradually beginning to think of as her own latched shut at her back as she began to shuffle down the corridor.
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Hermione
hummed tunelessly as she stared down at the hellebore blossoms and
stems she was mashing to a pulp in a massive stone pestle. With a
practiced eye, she ground her mortar down into the mix, attempting to
make the resultant green paste the correct consistency. She glanced
over at the cauldron simmering to her right, then back down at the
mashed hellebore mixture. Stepping back from the lab bench, she lifted
her wand and swished it delicately through the air before tapping the
rim of the pestle. "Wingardium leviosa."
The pestle
floated into the air and, at her direction, tipped its contents into
the cauldron before returning to its place upon the table. Hermione
moved back to the cauldron and lowered a long silver ladle into it,
stirring its pale green contents with her right hand as she picked up
bottles with her left, idly searching for the moonstone powder.
A
sudden crashing of doors caused her to whirl, her fingers scrabbling
for her wand. She raised it with a shaking hand and pointed it towards
the intruder, but her hand lowered when she saw who the intruder was.
Severus Snape was caught at a loss for words as he surveyed the laboratory. Hermione Granger, clad in a garish plaid cover and neon blue furry slippers that only a Muggle could conceive of, was brewing a potion. At half past three in the morning. In his classroom, no less. His eyes narrowed to observe her more closely as he noted the puffy, red-rimmed state of her tired gaze. Her wand was sitting on the lab bench once more as both hands went to the front of her worn flannel dressing gown, crossing defensively over her chest. He almost snorted aloud as he noticed that the colour scheme of the plaid was maroon and gold. Amazing, he thought, even her nightclothes scream Gryffindor.
Before
he could formulate an appropriate remark, his attention was distracted
by the slight curl of smoke rising up from the abandoned silver ladle.
Hermione groaned softly and whipped about, turning her attention
towards the contents of her cauldron, which were giving off a smell
reminiscent of burning eggs. She stared in wide-eyed dismay at the
rapidly-congealing goop which used to be a promising potion. With a
resigned sigh, she lifted her wand and pointed it at the ruined
contents of her cauldron. "Evanesco."
Even as the botched
potion vanished neatly from within the vessel, Hermione was already
reaching out to measure a new portion of dragon's blood. Finally
finding his voice, Snape cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Might I
ask what brings you down here, Miss Granger, at such a late hour?"
Hermione closed her eyes, her fingers curling tightly about the vial in her hand. On the day Dumbledore had fetched her from St. Mungo's – the day her first memory of who she was surfaced, after nearly a year of lying in catatonia – he had tried to explain to her. In her state of confusion, it had taken him nearly a week of gentle coaxing to get her to understand the most basic explanations.
"Miss Granger, shortly after your graduation from Hogwarts, you made the decision to venture off the grounds in pursuit of Professor Snape. Why you chose to place yourself in such danger, I will never understand...but it is my hope that with time, as your memories return, you will be able to enlighten me.
"You were a captive of Voldemort for nearly two months until his final defeat. We knew you were alive, thanks to Professor Snape's diligence, but Voldemort was clever enough to use the Fidelius Charm. There was simply no way for us to find you until Severus was able to discover who your Secret Keeper was.
"When Remus found you, we weren't sure you would survive your injuries. I did not want you to be sent away from Hogwarts, but we were not equipped to deal with the full extent of the...damage. Miss Granger, I want to be absolutely certain you know that Hogwarts will be your home for as long as you need it. You will be assigned a guest suite, quite close to the hospital wing, and you have but to tell me of anything you will need and I will supply it.
"One thing however, Miss Granger...should you chance to encounter Professor Snape, you may notice that his behaviour towards you is a bit...peculiar. Suffice it to say that all of us have our own painful memories from your disappearance, and Severus carries the most powerful scars."
As the days went by, she had slipped into a peaceful routine. Mornings were spent wandering through the castle, allowing her positive memories of Hogwarts to come pouring in as she re-acquainted herself with the delightful secrets of the castle. She visited the portrait of the Fat Lady quite often, and spent several hours curled up alone in the Gryffindor common room, poring over one of her NEWT-level tomes. Each afternoon there was a meeting with either Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall. They would discuss her resurfaced memories and supply her with the potion which allowed her to sleep undisturbed. Eventually, the conversation would turn to things which Hermione could NOT remember. Try as she might, she could not get either of them to give her information on the period from her disappearance shortly after graduation to her recovery at the final battle two months later. She did learn what had become of several of her former classmates in the aftermath. Harry was a Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, and Ron was engaged in Auror training at the Ministry of Magic. To Hermione's surprise and Dumbledore's delight, Neville Longbottom was also studying to become an Auror. Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown had eloped the day after Voldemort's defeat and were now expecting a child. Hermione delighted in hearing of her friends' happiness, but she also noted the names that were missing from the litany...Justin Finch-Fletchley, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Dean Thomas...several of her fellow non-pureblood witches and wizards.
Dinner was still a rather unnerving event for her, sitting up at the high table with the rest of the staff. The absence of pupils in the castle was a new experience for her – even over the holidays, there had been enough students to fill up at least half of one of the hall's four long tables. During the summer months, with less than a dozen faculty members at the high table, the great hall looked even more barren. Dumbledore was always there, as was Professor McGonagall. Professor Flitwick often came down, his eyes twinkling fondly at Hermione as he engaged her in conversation. There was always one faculty member who, though she knew him to be residing in the castle, never came down to join them.
The man in question was staring at her intently, waiting for an answer.