Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.


Chapter Two

For the next few days, Hermione was walking around in somewhat of a daze. Her conversation with the Potions professor played over and over in her mind, until she thought she would go mad. The fact that he had been truthful with her, and all but admitted to participating in the Dark Lord's gruesome work, had done little to alleviate her concerns.

The logical side of her brain was trying to explain away his presence at the raids, but every time she managed to convince herself, a little voice in her head would think up yet another contradiction.

He was only there to maintain his cover. He wouldn't have hurt anyone. He works for the Order... but to maintain his cover, he would have to do anything Voldemort commanded of him. Anything. Without hesitation.

Harry and Ron had spent much of their fifth and sixth year speculating on whether Snape really was on their side, or just biding his time to see who won the war. Hermione had spent just as much time defending their teacher, but now… she didn't know what to think.

A nagging thought in the back of her head kept reminding her that once, as a real Death Eater, he had probably tortured or killed Muggle-borns like her. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

How could she, or anyone for that matter, be sure he wasn't just playing up his role as a spy to indulge his long-repressed needs?

Educating the current generation by day, killing the next generation by night. There was certainly a Jekyll-and-Hyde-like quality to the theory.

On Thursday evening, Hermione went to the Headmaster's office to give her Head Girl report, determined to put her fears to rest. She had spent the last four days trying to study, but mostly ended up staring unseeing at the textbooks, quill in hand, blank parchment in front of her, going over scenario after scenario in her head.

She had planned out three different conversations with the Potions master, should he call on her to discuss the events earlier in the week further.

He didn't.

She thought about asking Professor McGonagall what she knew of Snape's spying work, but her Head of House would want to know why she was asking such questions. She was still trying to justify Snape's alleged actions to herself, let alone explain them to anyone else, so that option was out.

She thought about asking Harry to talk to Remus Lupin, who was not only a member of the Order, but in touch with Snape more often than anyone else due to the Wolfsbane Potion that Snape made for him every month. Again, though, Harry would want to know why she was asking questions.

Also, she had told Snape she wouldn't speak of what she knew to anyone. Hermione didn't take promises lightly, and wished she hadn't made such a generalised statement. Maybe she could talk to the Headmaster. He was already aware of Snape's actions, so she wouldn't be betraying a confidence, as such.

"Canary Cream," she stated to the gargoyle, which immediately sprang aside. Upon her first visit to the circular office as Head Girl that year, she had been highly amused to find the Headmaster had develop a liking for the Weasley twins' creations. She had also made a mental note not to accept any food whilst in his office, harmless-looking or not.

"Miss Granger, come in," the Headmaster said, standing from behind his desk.

The Headmaster gestured her to sit in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, taking the other seat himself and magiking a silver tea service onto the table between them.

"White with two?" he asked.

She nodded.

They spent the better part of an hour discussing the usual matters relating to her Head Girl duties, and in particular her responsibilities to control the festivities should Gryffindor win the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. When they reached the end of their conversation, they both sat in silence for a few moments, before the Headmaster, insightful as always, sensed there was something else she wanted to say.

"Is there anything else you wish to talk about, Hermione? Anything at all?"

She hesitated. Although she had made up her mind about consulting the Headmaster, she had given little thought to what she would actually say.

"I, uh..." she faltered. He was watching her carefully, so she took a deep breath and continued. "I wanted to talk to you about Professor Snape, sir."

"Ah." The Headmaster regarded her with an appraising look and clasped his hands together under his chin. "We had a feeling you might."

She looked up sharply at his choice of words. "We?"

"Professor Snape and I," Dumbledore clarified. "He came to see me regarding your encounter on Monday night, and subsequent conversation after your Potions class. He was... concerned you may take your fears to the wrong person."

Harry and Ron, she thought, feeling incensed. Aloud, she said, "I told him I wouldn't speak of it to anyone. I would have though he respected me enough to trust a promise."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I'm afraid Severus has little cause to trust anyone these days."

The Headmaster stood and began walking slowly around the outer wall of the room. He stopped here and there to look at or touch something; a Sneakoscope lying dormant on a table, a shelf of books which purred as he ran his index finger over the spines, a silver dagger with an intricate design of ancient runes along the hilt.

He reached a large stone basin on a small shelf behind his desk, and Hermione watched as he withdrew his wand and began to place silvery strands into the Pensieve. He began speaking softly as he collected his thoughts, and at first Hermione thought he was casting a spell. As she strained to listen, though, catching a mixture of plain words, spells and other languages, she realised he was merely rambling. Mumbling bits of thoughts and memories, as an old man whose wits go wandering through the years and spells will.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there in silence, watching thought after thought stream into the ancient stone bowl. She didn't like to disturb the Headmaster in his reverie, but was he even aware she was still in his office?

Her question was answered a moment later as he turned from his Pensieve and sat opposite her again.

"Sherbet lemon?" he offered, holding out a bowl filled with the yellow lollies.

She shook her head politely, watching him expectantly as he unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth.

"I apologise for my momentary lapse, Miss Granger," he said gravely. "I needed to think a moment on the implications of what I am about to tell you."

"Tell me what you know of Professor Snape's past, Miss Granger."

Frowning slightly, she outlined all she knew, both from Harry and members of the Order. It wasn't a lot. She told Dumbledore she knew Snape had been a Death Eater by choice, and had changed sides before the first downfall of Voldemort, and that he was now in contact with the Death Eaters again, using the pretence of a loyal follower to gather information for the Order.

"What do you know of his reasons for changing sides?" the Headmaster asked, gazing at her keenly.

She returned his gaze curiously. Harry had told her time and time again Dumbledore refused to speak of his reasons for trusting Snape so implicitly. Harry had tried numerous times since fourth year to lead the Headmaster into such a conversation, only to be rebuked, rebutted and flatly refused at every turn.

"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?"

"I am going to answer, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said after a moment, "the question that has plagued your friend Harry, and many others, for a good long while."

She stared at the old man, wondering if indeed his wits had finally escaped him. True, any explanation by the Headmaster would put to rest her fears, and answer long-asked questions, but it unnerved her that he would so readily divulge such sensitive information to her. As far as she knew, only Professor Snape and the Headmaster were aware of his full reasons for changing sides, and, according to Harry, it would remain that way. She voiced her concerns aloud.

"I have every confidence you will not betray our trust, Miss Granger," the Headmaster replied. "Your handling of this situation so far shows your maturity, and your respect for Professor Snape is unmatched by any other student, even from his own House. He is going to need someone he can rely on before this war is over, and such a person deserves nothing but the whole truth about his past."

Hermione frowned. If she didn't know better, she would think the Headmaster was trying to force them both into some form of association. She could hardly believe the Potions master had given Dumbledore leave to divulge his proverbial dark secrets to the Gryffindor Head Girl, whom he made no effort to hide his distaste for in every lesson.

"Shouldn't Professor Snape be the one to tell me about his past, if anyone, sir?" she asked.

Dumbledore smiled a little. "Severus would not agree with me telling you, Hermione, but at the same time, he trusts both myself and my judgement. He will come to realise, in time, that I made the right decision... as will you," the Headmaster added.

Hermione finally nodded. At her acquiescence, Dumbledore summoned the Pensieve from behind his desk and placed it on the table between them. He motioned for her to come closer as he prodded the silvery liquid with his wand.

"Come, Hermione," he said, taking her by the arm, and she closed her eyes as they plunged headfirst into the Pensieve.

When she opened her eyes again, they were still in the Headmaster's office. She looked around at Dumbledore, who was standing next to her, and then at a slightly younger Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk. She turned, startled, as the door to the office burst open, and Hagrid strode into the room, tossing the limp, black-clad figure in his arms to the floor.


To be continued

A/N:A huge thank you to southernwitch69 and aisforamy for their encouragement and suggestions, and thanks also to everyone who has read and reviewed!