A/N: MAJOR HBP SPOILERS. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

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To Prove The Impossible

by Chibi Animagus

"So…"

The casual voice of the redheaded boy cut through the heavy silence that had fallen upon the Golden Trio as they walked that morning.

"So the wedding was nice." The boy continued to talk, shooting offhanded looks at the bespectacled boy shuffling along beside him, as if his constant chatter would save the boy some grief.

"Yeah, it was…" The first words the Chosen One had spoken all morning. He, like his two companions, knew full well where they would be on this day if not for the shocking events several months prior.

"Ronald, you've said that twice already," Hermione chided him distractedly.

"Oh… right…"

Conversation suffered as the day wore on, and the Golden Trio were soon lost in their thoughts. Three hours, fifteen chocolate frogs, and two stubbed toes later, Hermione decided that lunch was in order, and they sat down a short distance from the road, obscured by a copse of trees.

"You know, Harry, perhaps it would be better if we used some more secrecy," she said over a sandwich.

"Mfuik chmwort?" Ron asked thickly, a piece of lettuce dangling from his lip.

"Well, I thought that Harry should wear his Invisibility Cloak, and that we shouldn't travel on the road, but keep an eye on it so we can--"

"Merlin's sakes, 'Mione, it's not as though they've got Death Eaters on our tail!" Ron said, glowering. Harry's expression was grim.

"Ron…" he said, his voice low, "You don't know that. Hermione's right; I told you this would be dangerous. Voldemort has probably sent out spies by now, to try to follow us. Me, that is. We have no way of knowing how much he's aware of. Snape fed Voldemort the information about my parents, and I have a feeling he might know where I'm going."

The remainder of lunch was silent, and before long they were off again, Ron putting as much distance between himself and the road as possible.

In any other circumstances, Severus Snape would have found the irony of the situation quite entertaining, especially for a man thought to have no sense of humor. Given the events of the previous months, however, he only acknowledged the strangeness of his assignment with a grim twist of his lips that he had meant to be a smile, devoid of any kind of amusement.

Snape had watched the three children from a distance for the past week or so, listened to their strained conversations with only slight curiosity, waiting for the opportune moment to put his plan into action. He had never had any doubt in his mind that it would have to be Miss Granger; she was the only one of the Golden Trio with a working mind. Potter's idiocy had been clear to him the last time he'd had the pleasure of speaking with him (which had taken place with the quaint backdrop of a blazing hut and hooded maniacs running amok), and only two minutes of observing the redheaded boy had told Snape that Ron Weasley had still not managed to produce a single intelligent thought in his life.

So yes, it would have to be to her, the insufferable know-it-all, that Severus Snape would have to attempt the impossible: to explain himself. Gods knew the girl had brains, so she should have been able to pick up the truth herself. Unless Potter had neglected to provide the details of his arch-nemesis's fall from grace, as the three had strayed far from the subject while Snape had been observing them. He had to admit he was surprised. The loss of Albus Dumbledore must have hit Potter especially hard; in any other case, Snape had little doubt that Potter would have reveled in recalling every last detail about his treachery. Merlin forbid that the boy look at the facts.

Snape couldn't help but sneer at the Granger girl's suggestion that they take more caution. Very wise, Miss Granger, he said silkily inside his head, What would the Chosen One and his pet weasel do without you? More caution from you is definitely in order…

… After all, Voldemort may have sent out spies.

It hadn't been the first time that he had watched her from a closer distance. Every night he had crept closer to the three, willing the idiot boys to drop off to sleep before her, so he could catch her alone, and every night she had fallen into a fitful, restless sleep within moments. He could have roused her, of course. But every night something stopped him. He told himself that he was afraid of waking the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Him-Pain and the Freckled Freak Show. After all, if they knew that the second-most wanted man in Britain (the first being a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle) was tailing them, they would not take to it well. They had always hated him, anyway… She was simply the only one who would believe him.

That was the cause of his hesitation to wake the chit. Definitely not the fact that he thought the girl looked peaky as of late. Because she didn't. The girl was living and breathing, and that was all that mattered.

With this in mind, he strode purposefully into the grove that enclosed the three- or two and a half, as the Potter boy's invisibility cloak had slipped off his shoulders- and pulled out his wand from underneath his own invisibility cloak. Snape put a hasty freezing charm on the girl, thought a moment, and cast an extra silencing spell just in case; the chit never shut up.

As quietly as he could, Snape scooped up the Granger girl in his arms, a little more roughly than he'd intended, and set out for a clearing he had passed not long ago.

The first thing Hermione expected to see when she woke up was the dark canopy of leaves she had fallen asleep under. The last thing she had expected to see was the dark figure that loomed above her, his sallow face suddenly more frightening to her than it had ever been, the curl in his lip suddenly bringing forth such an onslaught of emotions that Hermione was ready to jump to her feet and close her hands around his filthy, traitorous neck. Fortunately for the both of them, she could do no such thing.

Hermione lay prone and helpless in the cool night grass, imprisoned by some elementary spell, while a cold-hearted murderer sneered at her from above. Hermione was suddenly aware of exactly what this meant: she was going to die.

Over the past six years, Hermione had been faced with many situations in which she had wondered if she would die. Adventures, most of them, all involving Harry, and always she had been prepared. Now, groggy and disoriented from sleep, Hermione thought briefly that she was lucky for it to have ended this way. Snape was a Death Eater, but unless he planned to torture her (which was a possibility), her death would be quick and painless.

As sleep faded from her mind in a matter of moments, however, Hermione started to realize exactly what death would entail. To never see Ron or Harry again… To never read a book… or curl up on her window seat at home in the sunshine… To never scold Crookshanks again… To never tell the people she loved just how much they meant to her…

"Miss Granger."

The words were soft, but sharp, and the sneer across his features was enough to tell Hermione that he was mocking her inside his head in every way possible. She would have spat out some nasty (and deserved) words back at the man, but her mouth refused to budge. Bloody coward, she screamed inside her head.

"It appears," Snape said in the same dangerously soft voice she had come to fear, "that you have landed yourself in a… predicament. Yes, I have been following you, despite your brilliant attempts at stealth." He raised an eyebrow.

Bloody coward! Damn that mocking sneer of his! I told them we shouldn't have traveled so close together!

"As you may have noticed, you are under a few charms and are unable to move and speak." He paused, as if to savor this fact. "A definite improvement."

What's wrong, you greasy git? Afraid of a student? Or former student, should I say, thanks to you.

"There are some things I feel the need to explain to you, Miss Granger, about the death of Albus Dumbledore."

DEATH? More like cold-blooded murder! Hermione wondered numbly why he was doing this. He had her there, helpless. Why didn't he just snuff her out already?

"I take it your precious Chosen One failed to enlighten you as to the details of the… situation… You are an incredibly capable young witch, Miss Granger, and I fear that you are the only one of your… Golden Trio…" Snape's lip curled with distaste, "… who will have the presence of mind to believe the facts."

Snape's gaze changed from mocking to suddenly intense, as if this were of utmost importance.

"Miss Granger, it is crucial that you listen to me. That you understand… I can help you, and Mr. Potter, now that Albus is gone, in ways I could not before." He leaned in closer, his dark eyes drilling into her own. "My deed has placed me at second in command to the Dark Lord. He trusts me as he does no other. I do not deny that I am guilty of murder- murder of one of the greatest wizards… and greatest men… of all time. But you must understand why. Under other circumstances, I would find explaining myself completely unnecessary as a professor to a student… but if I am to help you, it will require a great deal of trust, and as it were, you have every right not to trust me."

Snape's mouth turned up at the corner, a shadow of his usual smirk. "I only request that you not interrupt me."

Very droll, Professor, very droll. Hermione would have been shaking her head, mouth agape, if she had not been frozen in place. What an attentive audience I am, she thought grimly.

"The Dark Lord gave Draco Malfoy orders to kill Albus Dumbledore, in revenge upon his father, Lucius, for his… failure in the Department of Mysteries, last year. He knew that the boy would be unable to commit such a deed, and assumed that he would die trying. Draco's mother assumed this as well, and came to me in tears, with none other than her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape spat out her name, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Hermione suddenly felt very cold. This was the man who murdered Professor Dumbledore, and here she was, listening and waiting for some crazy cooked-up story to restore her trust in him. It was beginning to sound as though Snape was not about to murder her after all… as though he really did have a legitimate explanation for his actions… as though he really did want to help them. Hermione wanted to believe that he was still on their side, she really did. She wanted to trust Professor Snape again.

And she hated herself for it.

"Bellatrix and I have never seen… eye to eye," Snape continued with a dry tone, "and she has never really trusted me. So when Narcissa begged me to protect her son, she scoffed and tried to convince Narcissa that I was unfaithful to the Dark Lord. That I was a… double agent, of sorts."

It was clear on Snape's features that he prided himself with being able to keep so many stories going. If only I knew which ones to believe…

"To prove my dedication to the Dark Lord, I was forced to take the Unbreakable Vow. Draco's mother made me vow that if it appeared that Draco should fail, that I would carry out the deed that had been assigned to him... You wouldn't know what the Unbreakable Vow is, would you, Miss Granger?"

Snape sneered maliciously, obviously taking great pleasure in her inability to wave her hand about and enlighten him with her all-knowing wisdom. Hermione chanted furiously in her head, 'You can't break it or you die. You evil loathsome git. You can't break it or you die. You evil loathsome git.' Not the exact words of Magical Vows and Binding Spells, but Snape couldn't hear her anyway.

"No? Why, Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you." His eyes glittered, and he began to pace back and forth, like a jaguar stalking its prey. Git. "If you were to break an Unbreakable Vow, you would die. So I found myself in a rather… unpleasant… situation. Now, whether you choose to believe it or not, I did not want to kill Albus Dumbledore. I told him what I had done, and he did not seem bothered by it in the least. It was… unsettling… how easily he brushed it aside. Needless to say, I resigned from my position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher several times over the course of the year, but Albus would hear none of it. He made me promise, that should the situation arise, that I carry out my… task."

Hermione's mind was screaming in protest. Snape could not possibly be telling the truth. This was some wild story of his… a trick, perhaps… But in the back of her mind, Hermione knew that it sounded exactly like something the late Headmaster would do. Sacrifice himself for the good of the wizarding world. And although she was wary of believing him, Hermione couldn't help wanting to trust him. His story was making much too much sense to cast it aside.

"So when Draco cast the Dark Mark over the tower… I knew that I would have to be the one to do it. Albus was adamant that the boy not become a senseless murderer like his father. When I arrived… I saw that the Headmaster was dying. One look at him told me that he had ingested a rare and fatal poison that would kill him slowly, eating him from the inside out."

Snape paused, surprisingly showing no delight at someone being eaten alive.

"Draco was there, along with four Death Eaters, and, as I later deduced, Potter, immobilized and invisible. The Headmaster… spoke to me, I suppose you could say, using Occlumency. He begged me not to ruin everything now, not when this would put me in the perfect position in the Last Battle. If I had not done what I did, Draco and his family would have been murdered by the Dark Lord, I would have been murdered by the Dark Lord, and the Headmaster would have died from the poison he had ingested."

Snape swooped down so that he was eye-to-eye with Hermione's frozen face, his black cloak billowing dramatically against the stars.

"Miss Granger, you are not a fool. Potter is too blinded by his foolish emotions and childish ways. Mr. Weasley has no more intelligence than a snail. I can help you. I have information from the Dark Lord that none of his other servants are aware of, information crucial to your success. However, if I am to help you, I must have your word…"Snape's eyes were intense now, his voice silky, "You must not tell anyone that you have had any contact from me. Do I have your word?"

If Hermione had been able to move and speak, she would have rolled her eyes at Snape's momentary stupidity. Honestly! He appeared to realize it as well, and sighed as he pulled out his wand. Snape hesitated, however, and looked for a moment as if he would cover her mouth against a possible scream. He must have decided to rely on her intellect, Hermione decided, because he drew his hand back from the inch it had extended, and muttered a counter-spell. Hermione felt control flow back into her limbs with a surge of relief. She stretched stiffly, sore from being kept in an uncomfortable position for so long. Snape raised an eyebrow, his impatience obvious on his face. She met his gaze, her eyes as equally intense, as though trying to read whether he were telling the truth or not. His story, Hermione had to admit, made sense. And she had always trusted Severus Snape, crazy though it was.

"You have my word, Professor." Hermione said, before she realized her mistake. She hastily corrected herself with a "That is, er, sir."

Something had flickered across the older man's harsh face when she had said 'Professor', but as soon as Hermione noticed it, it was gone. She suddenly felt very awkward.

"I believe you, sir."

Snape stood up abruptly, and turned away from her.

"You are the only one. Your Order is ready to rip out my traitorous throat," Snape said bitterly, "They never did trust me… But now that I have your word, I need to know… What exactly is it that you and Potter and Weasley are hoping to accomplish?"

Hermione hesitated, the information on the tip of her tongue. Snape turned around to face her, and she was disconcerted at what she saw. No malice or mocking sneer was present in his features- only a strange tiredness. A tiredness she had never before seen him display. Right then, under the harsh relief of the moonlight, the man looked so… weary…

So… human.

It was unsettling, at the very least. Hermione suddenly felt the urge to tell him what he wanted to know. The man was stressed without her doubting him.

"We have discovered that Lord Voldemort split up his soul into seven parts, using very ancient and dark magic, and seven being the most powerful number known to-"

"-Miss Granger," Snape interrupted sternly, "I am not asking for a recitation of the entire library, only what is necessary for me to know. How has the Dark Lord split his soul?"

"By using Horcruxes, sir, he has left six pieces of his soul on inanimate objects of certain value or importance to him or his heritage. This makes him almost immortal, because as long as there is one piece of his soul kept alive, he can keep returning. Harry and Professor Dumbledore-" she stumbled at the name, "-have already destroyed two between them. The night that… that it happened… they had just come back with a third. Harry found out later that it was not the real Horcrux, but that someone had stolen it and left a fake in its place."

Snape had remained unnaturally quiet during her speech, mulling this information over in his head.

"So these Horcruxes… If they are all destroyed, the Dark Lord will be a mortal once more?" Snape asked, in the most civil tone he could muster.

"Exactly, sir. The seventh piece of his soul resides in his body. Harry and Ron and I are searching for the last four Horcruxes, or three, if the stolen one was destroyed. Harry thought we should start at… Godric's Hollow…"

Hermione stopped, feeling awkward yet again. After all, it had been Snape who had given Voldemort the information that had led to the Potters' deaths; so, in a roundabout way, Snape was the reason they were going to Godric's Hollow. Snape, however, only cleared his throat, and nodded.

"I will attempt to delve into this matter without arousing too much suspicion…" Snape said slowly, "If you could leave your… friends… after they have fallen asleep, the night after the next, I will tell you of anything I have learned."

In that moment, Hermione realized that their status to one another had just changed drastically. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she acknowledged.

Snape turned on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him, making it clear he was about to leave, but Hermione called out softly, before he left the clearing.

"Thank you, sir… I'm glad I can still trust you."

The man paused for a moment, his back to her, but left without a word, his dark form barely distinguishable against the night sky. Hermione stayed in the clearing for a while before returning to the grove where her two friends slept on, unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

From now on, through some odd twist of fate, she and the Half-Blood Prince were equals.

A/N: Sorry, I might have seriously botched the HTML, I've been messing with it a bit. Anyhoo, thanks for reading. Tell me what you think!