Chapter 2

Resolutions

1991

Severus was at the Headmaster's desk, sitting at the very chair that he hated most while being appraised by the most annoying pair of twinkling eyes he had ever encountered. It was his eleventh year at Hogwarts as Potions Master, and the position had greatly lost its shine over that time. Worse yet, his life was about to be made even bleaker by what events were about to transpire under his tutelage.

"What do you mean 'he's coming back'?" Severus demanded of the Headmaster, rage pulsing in his skull threatening to give him a heart attack, "Do you expect me to teach him?"

"It is your job's description to teach, Severus," Dumbledore reminded him, a note of chipper enthusiasm tinting his voice in the exact way that made Severus extremely suspicious, "Need I remind you of that fact."

"Of course not, but this is…"

"And need I remind you," Dumbledore continued, beginning to add an accusing tone to his voice, "That Lily's son will need your help. He needs protection. If there is ever a threat at the school…"

"Which there shouldn't be," Severus rose from his seat and twisted around the chair, holding the back of it as his robes billowed around him. He'd recently become accustomed to his long, draping robes, as it seemed to intimidate his students more, and the less he saw of those fools the better. His face was scrunched in rage, "Which also has nothing to do with my teaching him! I can bloody well 'protect' him without having that repulsive responsibility…"

"It is Lily's son, Severus," Dumbledore was instructing him now, making Severus roll his eyes in disdain, "Why wouldn't you want him to be taught by you? To live up to his mother's name...rather than his father's?"

Severus's eyes snapped up to meet the blue eyes of the Headmaster who no longer twinkled with amusement, but now bored into Severus with an icy glare of intention, though it did not make Severus waver as it used to ten years ago, "If he is anything like his mother, then he will not need my help," Severus declared through gritted teeth.

"And what if I told you, Severus, that the decision had already been made?"

"By whom, Albus? Or do have you have the spine to admit it to me?"

"Professor Shyloard has resigned."

Severus's jaw clenched. After a second of silence between the two men, Severus whirled around again, letting go of the chair and beginning to walk out the door, officially too tormented to be able to continue a conversation properly.

Dumble called out to him as he left, "I did nothing about this, Severus, it was all Shyloard's decision."

"I'm certain, Albus, I'm certain," Severus billowed out of the room, letting the door close behind him as he made his way back down to the dungeons to sort out his thoughts. It was August fifth, less than a month until the school year began, and he yet to obtain the time or patience to deal with the Potter boy, not that he had a choice of the first place.

Severus needed a choice, for once.

~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~

The night of the escapade into the dungeons of Hogwarts proved to be a turning point for Hermione and Malfoy, not just as fellow teachers looking to preserve their school, but also as two people greatly interested in how the property of Severus Snape remained untouched in the equally untouched dungeon region of the castle. One might even call them partners in crime.

The next morning, Hermione met Malfoy after finishing her breakfast at the Headmistress's office. He was outside, tapping his foot impatiently while Hermione took her time going up the stairs, "You don't press yourself, do you?"

"Why should I?" she smirked maliciously at him, "You've got enough anxiety for the both of us. Even now, when we're the ones getting students in trouble compared to us being the trouble. There's no point to it really. Besides, those three are still eating."

"They'd better come."

"They will, Malfoy, don't get your wand in a knot over it. I threatened extra detention for them, remember?"

Malfoy grinned mischievously at her, "I'd only be too happy to monitor them."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You and your bloody protectiveness. Must be a syndrome, that's the only explanation."

"It was school property, Granger."

"Can we go in now, please, and discuss it with Minerva so we can decide exactly who's property it is, and not just fantasize about brutalizing children?"

"Fine. But keep your distance from me if they don't show up."

Hermione rolled her eyes again as they began to ascend the spiral staircase up to the Headmistress's office. Malfoy had grown up in a lot of ways since the war, which she supposed was the only reason she associated with him as much as she did. He'd filled out a bit with lanky muscle that gave him the appearance of regality, just as his father before him. However, his hair, usually platinum blond, now showed traces of brown near his ears. His Dark Mark, as he had shown her earlier in the year, still lay underneath his teaching robes, though it had faded to a light silvery-gray since the fall of his previous master. His face was still handsome and sharp-featured, with gray eyes that bored into her much like his godfather's eyes had bored into his students when the pair were in school.

Their friendship was entertaining to say the least. Malfoy constantly picked on, flirted and mocked Hermione at nearly every opportunity, but only in the best sense. They were very much still schoolchildren figuring out a new friendship, making up for the years they had been at odds with each other. He'd apologized, profusely in fact, for calling her a Mudblood practically the moment she began to talk to him as a peer rather than an enemy. It didn't take Hermione long to see that his feelings were, in fact, genuine. Harry had been suspicious at first, but when Hermione included details in an owl to him about the night she'd found him snogging a muggleborn witch, Aurelia Havish, in the Leaky Cauldron in Hogsmeade, and how Malfoy had introduced Aurelia to Hermione not two days later, Harry's doubts in his former nemesis began to subside.

Hermione followed Malfoy into the Headmistress's office at her beckoning. As it was the beginning of Spring, papers were littering the typically pristine desk of Headmistress McGonagall. She was filling out one of them as they walked into the room. Just as she had the other times she'd come into this very office, Hermione took in her surroundings. The office was very nearly like Dumbledore had it before, though it seemed Minerva had gotten rid of a number of the trinkets that had been stashed in what were now empty holes in glass cases and bookshelves. She had wondered, when she first came into Minerva's office, if Snape had left the room as it had been Dumbledore's or if he had gotten rid of the trinkets himself. She remembered hearing that his office had been dark and mysterious just as the dungeons had been to so many, as if he brought the aura of that place with him when he ascended to the Headmaster's office. But now, the office much resembled Dumbledore's in warmth and character, though Minerva's organization had taken over the bookshelves, cases and the desk. As Hermione looked about the room, she cast glances at the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses. They all were whispering amongst each other or watching silently as Malfoy and Hermione approached the desk. She saw Dumbledore, the wanky bastard, silently smiling at her from his frame, his eyes twinkling. A few frames to the left of Dumbledore, closer to the edge of the wall and the banister that nearly blocked the portrait from view, was the silently staring portrait of Severus Snape. She cast him a quick glance, as she always had during her visits to the office, and he locked eyes with her in kind, though his expression did not tell her that her looking at him was neither wanted or invited. She quickly looked away.

"So," Minerva's clipped tone sounded, causing Hermione's eyes to travel back to the subject before her as Minerva looked up from over the top of her glasses from the document she was editing, "You found yourselves some thieves, I hear."

"Correct, Headmistress," Malfoy nodded, and Hermione nodded in kind.

"Professor Granger reported the incident to me via letter which I received this morning, but I would like more details before the accused students come in for their sentencing."

"On patrol last night," Hermione began, stepping over Malfoy's voice to answer first, "We found three students in the dungeons past curfew. We thought at first they were just wandering the abandoned sections of the hall, but upon further investigation, we noticed that they had found Professor Snape's old classroom from when he was Potions Master," Hermione had to stop herself from looking back up to the portrait of the Potions Master in question, "Apparently, they were shopping for memorabilia, as they found old stores of potion ingredients as well as a notebook and textbook belonging to Headmaster Snape."

"There were other belongings of his down there as well," Malfoy interjected, "More textbooks and journals documenting potions work, as well as old gradebooks."

Minerva squinted appraisingly at the two professors as they spoke, then responded, "Did the students manage to lift anything of importance?"

Hermione, though taken aback by the wording of the Headmistress's question, answered anyways, "I don't believe so. We were watching them and they dropped all of what they had when we made ourselves known."

"I also searched them before letting them go to their common rooms," Malfoy added, "They didn't have anything."

"Very good, very good…" Minerva looked thoughtfully down at her desk, also out of character. Hermione watched her as she compiled her thoughts while simultaneously trying to hide her thoughtfulness with a show of restacking the pile of papers next to her. Hermione shot a look at Malfoy, who gave her a small shrug in return. Malfoy was indifferent, but Hermione knew what reasonable suspicion was and what the basis was for it, being friends with Harry all those years at Hogwarts and therefore constantly getting into trouble. Now, with Minerva's odd actions, was a good base for Hermione to have reasonable suspicion.

Hermione shot a look up at the Headmasters of the past, the only ones she was familiar with from life. Dumbledore was the first she could see, and he did not look entirely pleased. He still had the normal twinkle in his eye, as always, but he sat back in his chair, with somewhat of a scowl on his face. Hermione could count on one hand the amount of times she'd seen Dumbledore angry or upset or any other negative emotion ever, and the look on his face counted as another finger, despite the fact that she could tell that he knew something about what Minerva was saying. Dumbledore met her gaze pointedly without turning his head, which only made her suspicions grow. Her eyes drifted from Dumbledore to the very person who last occupied the dungeons that were now supposedly abandoned. Snape sat stoic in his frame, but he was already looking down his nose at Hermione. When their eyes met he cocked an eyebrow, and she wondered if paintings could perform Legilimency. Then he did something that surprised Hermione more than anything else she'd experienced at Hogwarts since her return: he gave her a slight smirk.

She knit her eyebrows, staring at him as though he had just materialized into the real Snape. He made the slightest of motions with his hand, which normally sat perched in the arm of the chair he sat on in the frame, towards the bookshelf below him.

Minerva got up, causing Hermione to look away from the painting and the shelf below him. There had been a knock on the door of the office, "I suppose those are your students?" she chirped, swiftly walking over to the door to let them in. Hermione took this as her chance to look back to the bookshelf, where she saw the entire thing was packed with books, now sorted by subject. In her quick glance she noticed that they were all books on potions, but there, sitting on the top shelf wedged in the middle left of the tightly packed row was Advanced Potion Making, worn out and used. The Half-Blood Prince's copy. Hermione looked back up at the portrait of Snape, looking to find something, anything, to help explain what was going on.

He got up, their eyes met, and walked away, shocking Hermione more. She didn't know any of the portraits, save for Phineas Nigellus Black, could move out of frame in the Headmistress's office. Her attention was wrenched back to reality by the soundings of multiple footsteps on the floorboards. She rallied her focus and made eye contact with each of the students, their glowering or embarassed faces processed by her teacher's instincts that she was truly developing now that nearly a year had past.

She was going to have some words the Headmistress once her students got out. She didn't need her students witnessing the staff go to war with each other. It would make things too complicated.

~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~

Severus sighed as he reached the dungeons, finding some peace. The Headmistress's office upstairs was about to be an absolute wreck, and he hoped nobody of importance, aside from her, had seen him leave. He didn't talk much usually, as was his choice. Minerva had called upon the portraits once or twice, but he'd let every other loudmouth take their turn responding, but he kept his painted trap shut. There was one person who kept intriguing him, though, and that was Granger. Miss Granger had been working at Hogwarts for nearly a year and had just returned for her second. One thing Severus had always noticed about the girl since her return to the school was the small but purposeful look she'd throw towards his painted portraiture each time she was called into Minerva's office. It didn't take him long to figure out why.

There had been several instances where she'd been called in at night or early in the morning where the girl looked absolutely ragged. Not in a way that made one presume that she had yet to shower, brush her hair, or that she had just managed to drag herself away from her bed a few minutes prior. Instead, it was the look of someone who didn't get much sleep, or if she got any sleep, it was not the energizing kind of rest that one needed to complete the day. His hypothesis had been that nightmares were the cause of the dark circles under her eyes and the weary look about her face, and his theory had been proven true when she would refuse to look up at him, unlike the way she would catch his gaze at any other moment when she didn't look like she'd crawled out of hell. The moment that made him realize that her nightmares were probably causing her not to sleep at all was one particular morning, before the school's breakfast, when Minerva had called her in, only to leave Miss Granger alone for a few minutes while retrieving student records of some sort from her chambers. Miss Granger had pointedly not looked anywhere near him. Her eyes had bags and dark circles under them, her hair was more frazzled than usual, and her skin was pale. She already had pale skin, but she looked very unhealthy at that moment. Her eyes had locked onto a spot on the bookshelf, like she'd gone into a trance, and she seemed to be recalling something. Then, much to his intrigue, she'd snapped her head up to his portrait, and stared at him as if he were a monster come to hunt her down and drag her back into some hellish landscape. After her initial fear had waned, she continued to look at him, though not just by meeting his gaze. He'd given her a curious look as her eyes drifted down to his neck, where two small pale dots had been painted onto him, showing in the slightest colored detail the mode of his death. He remembered, as much as a painting that was not his original self could, that she had been there at his death, and wondered if his death had truly made such an impact upon the girl that she'd had nightmares of it.

The more he thought of it, the more certain of this idea he became.

Now, in the dungeons, he would wait. For now, he would wait until he was certain enough time had passed that Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy and their students had left the office entirely, leaving only Minerva for company, aside from his fellow portraits. After the day had passed, he would wander back down to his dungeon frames and wait again. Only this time, he was sure his visitor would have much more to say than she'd had previously.

Now was the time for action.

~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~

Hermione had a theory, and she was certain it was right.

During their free hour, she and Malfoy asked to meet with Minerva about the incident regarding the old Potions classroom the night before, because of which the three students responsible were given detention with her and Malfoy as well as given fines to replace broken property. When Malfoy had asked about the property of his godfather not being relinquished to him, as he was the sole heir to Snape's estate, Minerva had simply stated that it was school property, which was under the custody of the Headmistress, since it was Snape's school property- his journals, his old textbooks (which he had already relinquished to the school after his sixth year, since Harry had been the one to find it in the first place), his notes, his student grades and essays and everything else that could be found in the classroom that once belonged to him. At this statement, Malfoy had fumed like the Hogwarts Express, clearly unimpressed by her explanation which had not changed since that morning's breakfast, when the two had discussed it in private, which was news to Hermione. He began screaming at the Headmistress, telling her that there could be sensitive information in the texts regarding the war or the people involved, given that he served as a spy. He had yelled how irresponsible it was of her to leave the dungeon unguarded, unwarded, and unattended while apparently assuming nobody would break into the area when it was once the classroom and living space of a war hero now immortalized by his tale of woe and service. She knew people would break in and steal his property for personal gain, he claimed, to which Hermione persistently agreed. She couldn't believe how unfair and ridiculous Minerva, one of the brightest witches Hermione had ever met, was currently being.

In the midst of the chaos, however, something caught her gaze out of the corner of her eye. It was Snape's portrait, which he had just stepped into from outside the frame. She chanced a glance over at him while the Headmistress was preoccupied with trying to hush an infuriated Draco Malfoy, only to find that portrait-Snape was holding a book, which he otherwise did not have access to, according to what Hermione had assumed of magical portraits.

It was Advanced Potion Making, Snape's very copy in portrait form.

She hadn't allowed for her shock to register on her face, assuming that Minerva would catch her features moving in such a way and question her, but instead looked immediately down from the portrait to the spot on the bookshelf below it where the book had been sitting that morning.

Gone.

Hermione looked back towards Minerva and Malfoy, allowing her eyes to trace their steps back to the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts. He was already looking at her, his eyes trained and determined as they met hers. He nodded at her, setting the book on his armchair in the portrait before sitting himself on top of it, hiding it away so nobody would know the better. Her eyes began their trek back to the Headmistress while her mind barrelled from thought to thought like a runaway train, but her gaze was caught by the penetrating stare of Albus Dumbledore, who smiled at her with some kind of glee that she hadn't seen on his face since she was in her earliest years at Hogwarts. He looked towards Snape's portrait, who looked in his direction as well, and the two paintings seemed to exchange a knowing look through their frames as Hermione had looked back to the Headmistress and her colleague.

Now it was night, and it was also time for Hermione to find answers.

She charged down the hallways one by one, staircase by staircase, until she found the dungeons once more. They were dark and dank, silent save for the ringing in her ears from her violently pulsing veins. It didn't take long for muscle memory to kick in for her to find the classroom she'd once taken her Potions lessons in.

Inside, she found a portrait hanging on the wall. She hadn't noticed it the night she and Malfoy had found the three students there the night before, but by the amount of dust that had accumulated on it, she assumed it had been there for a good chunk of time, most likely since before school began. The frame, however, was not empty. There he stood, the very Potions Master that once commanded this classroom, looking as composed as ever. He'd been waiting for her.

She stopped in front of the portrait, her wand had been lit, but now that she had found her target, she decided she needed more light. She lit all the torches that lined the walls with a flick of her wand, then shut the door with another flick of her wrist. She was determined to remain uninterrupted.

Finally, she looked back at the painted Snape, who'd been watching her while she performed her magic. She straightened herself and took a deep breath, "Hello, Professor."

His reply came in the same silky voice she'd only heard, recently, in her dreams, though this time there was no clotting blood to crumple the tones, "Hello, Miss Granger."

"You've been expecting me."

"Indeed I have. Perceptible as always," he added with a small sneer. She nearly giggled, how refreshing it was to see him back in his normal state, or rather as normal as one could be in the confines of a portrait frame, compared to the way she remembered seeing him when he was last speaking to her.

"Clearly," Hermione stated, not having the time nor patience to deal with small talk, "Something has been amiss down here. It's very unordinary for Minerva to act the way she has been concerning what should be personal property, especially that of a very important spy whose works are liable to be sought after his death," she made eye contact with the portrait, again wondering if those black eyes could read her mind, "Your actions during our second meeting today proved there is more to the story. Do you mind filling me in, sir?"

Snape scoffed at her, "Your bossy qualities have increased greatly in my absence, Miss Granger."

"As have my teaching skills. I believe they correlate with each other."

He raised a black eyebrow at her comment, which was more blunt than he was used to hearing from her, "Indeed. Well…" He reached into his robes and pulled out the very book she had been waiting to see again, "I suppose your thoughts have been upon this little trinket."

"Yes, sir."

"I will say, it holds no real significance to the real reason I've led you here. It only served as a trinket to better catch your eye, since you noticed it the night those brats came looking through my things."

"You were here?" Hermione gaped at him, but only for a brief moment, "Of course you were. I don't know why I entertained anything different. Please continue, sir."

"I shouldn't have had to stop to begin with," he snapped. He straightened, then proceeded with his narrative while Hermione rolled her eyes in semi-disbelief, "There's a project Minerva and I have been working on. She wanted to keep it under wraps until she could present it to the Ministry, but I believe our findings could be better used elsewhere. The Ministry wouldn't know what to do with something like this, it's better off in more…" he grimaced, forcing the following words out, "...capable hands." Hermione tried not to let her pride swell too much at the fact that the nefarious Severus Snape had just managed to force out what she dared to believe was a compliment directed at her- a nearly unheard of event in wizarding history.

"If you would be so kind as to go to the podium over there, you will find a curtain stuffed in a small crevice underneath the top of the podium. Draw it closed."

Hermione walked to the other side of the room where the podium stood and felt around the underneath of the desk portion of the podium for a crevice, and sure enough there it was, and stuffed with some kind of material that had been sealed to the wood. She pulled the curtain down so it draped over the inner desk of the podium that would typically store the notebooks and texts of the professor using it. Behind her, she noticed, Snape had drawn up a portrait version of the podium that she was standing in front of, as if it had been wheeled out of frame and he had pulled it back, and set the book exactly where Hermione had pulled the curtain.

"The spell is Objectus Incarnatum, Miss Granger, if you will."

Hermione took out her wand again and pointed it at the curtain, chanting, "Objectus Incarnatum!" She heard a small pop, followed quickly by a subtle thud. She opened the curtain after silence began to fill the room once more, lo and behold to find the exact copy of the textbook where there had been nothing save for dust before.

Hermione's eyes lit up with fascination, "I'd never heard of inter-portrait teleportation!" she cried, nearly squealing at the possibilities that the new magic could have, "How long have you known about this? Is this how you communicate with Minerva? Is this older magic or is this of your own discovery? Or perhaps Minerva's? Oh, no, that couldn't be it. She said she doesn't like tampering with…"

"Silence, Granger!"

Hermione jumped from across the room, her old reactions to the Professor's cutting words beginning to kick in again. She silently shook off the remains of her surprise and met Snape's raging eyes as she shoved the curtain closed with more force than was necessary and began to walk back up to his frame.

Snape seemed to compile himself in their short silence, continuing with a but less rage than there had been in his words a moment before, "Your insufferable questioning has no room in this conversation at the moment, so you would do well to silence yourself while you become accustomed to the important part of the situation currently at hand."

Hermione sucked on her teeth with her tongue, pulling it away from her teeth with a pop to let the Professor know she was already sick of his former antics, "Go ahead then, sir. I'm all ears."

He was clearly still mad at her, but he continued anyways with a huff, "I was working on a theory before I died, as a last resort in case the war was lost. There had to be a way to go back and fix whatever was needed in order to ensure the loss of the Dark Lord. So I stole a time turner and made some adjustments and…"

"You stole a time turner?!" Hermione shrieked. She covered her mouth immediately, knowing of, and soon seeing, Snape's dissatisfaction, but she was too shocked to stop her eyes from glittering with giddy delight at his admission.

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am capable of breaking significant rules. My alliance with the Death Eaters and Voldemort's cause should have been proof enough already for you," he pressed his thumb and first two fingers to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if he had a headache, and continued, growing more impatient with each of Hermione's outbursts, "To continue without further interruption," he raised an eyebrow at her with pointed glare, to which she raised her right hand in an unspoken oath of silence, "I made a few adjustments to the time turner, which were tested by Minerva herself while I was still alive. She spent a year in Greece for a vacation because of it," he shook his head, as if to free himself of the developing headache he was no doubt developing from being in a Gryffindor's presence for so long, "The time turner worked then, but she wanted to be sure. Regrettably, my duties to Dumbledore concerning his death, which eventually led me to my own, did not permit me to finish my project. However, upon returning to Hogwarts, Minerva enlisted me to aid her in the continuation of the project. As a portrait dedicated to helping the Headmistress, I had no choice. She believes it can be used in the future to aid in the defeat of any risings of Dark witches or wizards who may try to start a war. I believe that it can be used now anyways, to aid in issues already at hand," with that, Snape looked at Hermione pointedly, "You caught three students in here last night. However, Minerva did not tell you all the details."

Hermione cocked her head at the Professor, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Snape sneered at her, his voice dripping with disdain, no doubt loathing her for not catching on sooner, "They were not the first to find their way into this classroom or my previous dwelling in search of treasure. Nor were all the break-ins that of students' doings."

Hermione was instantly on guard, "You mean to say people have broken into Hogwarts? In search of your belongings? What ever for?"

Snape pointed at the cabinet that the girls had been looting the night previous, where a stack of notebooks as well as a separate stack of textbooks stood on the opened shelves, "There are many notebooks of mine in this room as well as in my private quarters. Some of them I did not have time to hide before my death. And before you ask, Miss Granger, I did not, in fact, change my living quarters to those reserved for the Headmaster. Not truly, anyways. I made a show of acting as if that was where I lived, when in fact I lived in my quarters as I always have, preparing for the war against Voldemort in any way that I could. It did not take long for sympathizers of the Dark to find this out.

"There are notebooks with potions, spells, curses, and hexes of my own design in those journals, as well as secrets about those on the Dark side. Many people want this evidence against themselves destroyed before the Ministry gets their paws on it, while others seek to gain personal wealth from my own discoveries. Or, like your students, they wish to sell my belongings for a profit."

"Why didn't Minerva ward he dungeons?" Hermione demanded, "She knows better than to allow any of this to happen, why didn't she prevent this?"

"I enchanted the entirety of the dungeons myself so only I could raise the wards here," Snape admitted, "It was an ignorant move, in the long run, but at the time it was necessary in case the Dark Lord decided to visit my abode. It was safer than having a Secret Keeper know the true location of my living space or my journals. I knew all too well how badly that could backfire." Hermione's heart ached for him at the mention of Lily, though she didn't let it show. She doubted he would accept her emotion well.

"That said, there are rules about portraits which many do not realize. The first is that we are the echo of our living selves, if we were living at all. All of our prejudices, biases, opinions, beliefs and everything else are painted into us, and are therefore unchanged throughout time after out death. We can still forge opinions on the people around us, usually if they are new to us, and sometimes we can change the opinion we have of another living person we knew before our death, but our personalities and characters never change.

"Second, since we are echoes of our former selves, details get lost in the translation of our former selves to our portraits. Which means, often times, we do not remember significant events in our history, unless they are paramount. For example, I can recall the details of my death, however…"

"However," Hermione filled in for him, her mind churning with ideas at full speed, "You've forgotten the way your enchantments on the dungeons can be lifted or the details of your time turner experiment with Minerva before your death."

He lifted his head while raising an eyebrow, looking down his nose at her while jutting out his chin, "Indeed," he agreed, which was the closest Hermione could get to a proper recognition of her correct conclusion, "Which is why you are here, Miss Granger. I believe you can be helped by this."

"Me?" Hermione's brain nearly grinded to a halt before beginning to work again with all-new thoughts. "Why one earth would I be helped by this?"

"You were in a relationship with Mr. Weasley, were you not?"

Hermione's face darkened, "It is of little consequence, but yes. I was." her reply was low but strong. A better reply than she could've forced out in summer.

"Minerva spoke of what happened to him," Snape recalled, "His death was quite a shock."

"Indeed." Now it was her turn to respond coldly.

"His death was certified as a suicide, if I recall correctly?" A terse nod was the only reply, "Then I have news for you, Miss Granger. I don't know how you'll receive it, but it will be of use to you nonetheless."

She looked up and met the dark eyes that looked at her like they were searching for her response before giving her anything to respond to, "What is it?" she prompted, her curiosity betraying her.

"Ronald Weasley did not commit suicide," Snape informed her formally, without influction, "His death was homicide covered up to look like a suicide."

Hermione's heart stopped pulsing and promptly dropped onto the ground below her. She felt her face pale and her ears begin to ring, "He what?" her voice was barely audible, but it was trembling.

"There are a group of people who have raided my rooms and this classroom while school was out of session," he informed her, this time with purpose in his words, "They are Dark sympathizers. We do not know much about them yet, but we do know they have targeted war heroes who aided in the defeat of Voldemort. Mr. Longbottom has been blackmailed into resigning from his position as herbology professor here at Hogwarts, Miss Lovegood has been threatened with robbery, personal attack, and rape. Even Miss Weasley was attacked not a week ago by people who nearly killed her in Knockturn Alley. They told her it was due to her alliance with the Light during the war. They left one of my journals with her."

Hermione's head was spinning. Why hadn't she heard of any of this before? Why hadn't Harry told her about Ginny? Luna? Neville? Why hadn't she been told? She looked back up at the Professor, who was monitoring her face for reaction as she leaned against a table behind her, holding a shaking hand up to her temple, "And... Weasley?" she croaked, "How did you…?"

"Minerva has connections into the Auror office, I'm assured," his reply was immediate, which Hermione was grateful for, "They let her see the note which was left with Mr. Weasley. It was written on a page torn from the same notebook left with Ginny Weasley a week ago."

Hermione let out a choked sob, though no tears came to her eyes, much to her confusion. She felt her heart rate increase, and she focussed on her breathing in the empty classroom, just as she had practiced in therapy and after every nightmare. She could do nothing but force her breathing to slow, and listen.

"If it is any consolation to you, Miss Granger," Snape's tone was softer now, though still commanding of her attention, even though she did not look at him, "We do not believe they will be a permanent threat to the wizarding community, they cannot be as powerful as the Dark Lord. That said, they are targeting some of the most well-known war heroes of this era. If they… managed to do what they did to Weasley, there is logical reason to believe they are not above doing it again."

"We have to stop them," Hermione stated, her voice commanding while her heart rate continued to be erratic, along with the shaking in her hands, "They can't be allowed to hurt anyone else… Never again. I won't let them."

Snape sighed, leaning against the podium that was still in the frame with him, "I thought you'd say that." he gave a small, uneasy smirk, to which she did not react. Her mind was traveling too fast with far too many vicious thoughts for her to care what look was on the portrait's face, "Minerva believes it is a job for the Ministry. I, however, lost faith in them years ago. They do not trust people with war experience to tell the truth on matters that can easily be chalked up to paranoia. I do not believe they ever will. There are, however, measures that we can take to stop this ourselves, or rather, you can by yourself."

Hermione met his eyes, her own blazing with fire stoked by the wrath she felt towards the killers of a man she had wrongfully demonized for leaving her, "You want me to go back in time to stop this."

Snape nodded, "That's the concept. And not only could you stop this, but you could, potentially, stop the war itself."

Her eyes widened, "Are you trying to kill me from shock, Professor, or have you gone mad?!" she demanded again, her voice sounding feral, "How in the name of Merlin could I possibly be capable of that?"

"If one travels back years, the rules of time change in comparison to traveling back hours or days," Snape recited to her, quickly trying to show his reason to the girl, who was clearly on the verge of an emotional breakdown, "As long as you inform me of the idea that time travel could work in the concept of years, we avoid paradox. You can go back to any year, inform me of your plan, and you can begin your work on defeating the Dark Lord. I will only be too happy to aid you.

"You already know the locations of all seven Horcruxes, you know about Harry being the seventh, you know all the turns the Dark Lord will take along his journey. You can cut him off at the pass before he even gets the chance to begin a new rampage on the wizarding world. And without a war…" Snape trailed off, looking at her with eyes that were lit with a hungry fire, a fire for something different.

"Then no more killings or threats," Hermione finished for him. Snape nodded.

Hermione didn't need any more convincing. Her resolve was set in stone. There were too many people, present company included, who'd had their choices for the turn of their lives taken from them.

Hermione was determined to give them a choice, for once.

~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~SSHG~

A/N: Hellooo again! Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter, it's a long one that's for sure, but I wanted to make sure I got the ball rolling on the story for you guys. I know patience isn't my strong suit, and I can't be alone in that xD Anyways, I have MUCH planned for the future of this fic, so send in those reviews with all your thoughts about what's happening and any ideas you guys have (I'm always open to improvements and constructive criticism!). Also, concerning the smut that I know some of you are looking for, it'll come, I swear! The building blocks have been laid, and once it happens, I'm sure you guys will like it! I wanna give these fave characters of mine a good story with quality fluff and smut and ALLL that juicy goodness. So trust me when I say this: Angst is Near.

Happy reading!

-Cherry