(Disclaimer: The characters and world that you find familiar belong to JK Rowling. I do not own them and make absolutely no money off of them. Anything you don't recognize is mine-unless specified later).

Hopefully the corrections have been made!

Thanks to my betas, McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe

Chapter 1

She looked down at the multitude of papers strewn around her library. For hours she had toiled away in this room, working until her body ached, and now it would all be reduced to nothing, and it was all because of HIM. Her hands clenched in rage as she waved her hand, magically gathering all of her hard work and transferring it into the metal box by her feet. Before she could change her mind, she snapped her fingers setting it all on fire. Years' worth of research and hard work, all reduced to nothing but ash.

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood there, smoke curling around her body. "He shall pay for this," she vowed, and she meant it. She would die carrying out that promise.

Wiping her face, she gathered her small bag, filled with only a few coins and clothes, and headed out of her house. Without a backward glance, she stepped into the dark carriage waiting for her on the road.

"It is right to leave," an old voice whispered from the seat across from her. Tears swelled in her eyes again as she took in the kind face of her old friend. He had been serving her family for so long, taking care of her even as a child, always by her side. He was her father and her mother, all the family she had ever needed and he always had been.

His weathered features, wrinkled and worn with age, gentled as he looked upon her with compassion.

"Ben…perhaps he…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish that question. There were so many questions now and so many uncertainties that it was hard to track them all.

"No…" Ben replied, looking out the window at some distant sight. "Do not occupy yourself with the possibilities. We shall give ourselves entirely to the plan and pray to the gods that we prevail. There is little else we can do."

She could not answer him, so she remained silent, looking out her own window. Ben was right. She knew this, but it didn't make the worry lessen, and it certainly didn't cool her anger.

"Rest, child, I shall wake you when we come upon the manor," Ben suggested, patting her clasped hands fondly. Nodding her head, she rested against the cushioned wall and allowed the rocking motion of the carriage to lull her to sleep.

It was a loud THUMP that woke her hours later. The carriage jerked to a stop, as she sat up, taking in her surroundings with wild eyes. "Ben, what─" she began to ask, but her friend's hand covered her mouth, silencing her. He motioned for her to stay quiet as he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand and carefully opened the carriage door to check outside.

Within seconds, Ben reappeared to open her door. His old eyes sharpened, scanning the area for trouble. His wand was poised in a fighter's stance reminiscent of his days as a champion dueler.

Warily looking around, she finally caught sight of their driver. Her hand closed over her mouth to stifle a choked gag at the sight. His lifeless body was slumped over in his seat, and although she could not see any blood, she knew without a doubt that he was dead─she doubted any man could live without a head. The horses that had been pulling their carriage had shared a gruesomely similar fate.

"Dear Merlin," she whimpered, clutching Ben's coat to steady herself. She just knew that somehow, HE had found them already. She knew of no one else who could commit such a crime. What was a death or two to a soulless person like him?

Ben grasped her hands and nodded towards the trees, "The manor lies beyond the ridge. Take the emergency broom and flee." He grabbed the broom from under the carriage and handed it to her. She stepped away, eyeing the broom warily.

"But surely the magic will tell him where I am─"

Ben shook his head. "It is too late for that now. He is already upon us. You must flee. Now!" He pushed the broom into her hands and steered her away.

She quickly mounted the broom, tucking her skirts out of the way. She looked back, holding out her hand. "Come, Ben! Get on!"

"Child…" his soft voice, filled with acceptance, crushed her heart. His calloused hand cupped her cheek as his thumb brushed away her tears.

"Please…Ben," she choked out, grasping at his hand desperately.

Above them, a black cloud gathered menacingly. The gentle winds from only moments before grew vicious, whipping at their skin. Ben broke away from her to look at the coming darkness with wide eyes.

"Leave! I shall hold him back," he shouted, raising his wand.

"Ben, I beg of you! There is time─ come with me!" she called back, hovering in the air.

"Ah, my dear…it is not possible, but you know it already. You are the concern, not an old man that has experienced his fair share of life. Allow me to measure my last breaths as I see fit. Allow me to protect those I love the most." His sad dark eyes pulled at her heart as he pushed at the back of her broom, sending her into the air.

She rose, her tears falling freely as she flew away. She knew Ben was right: if HE got into her mind, it would all be over and countless lives would be lost. Stopping that vile man, that was the only important thing now, and Ben…she would honor his sacrifice, no matter how much it tore her apart to do it.

Refusing to look back, even as she heard Ben's muffled scream behind her, she pressed against her broom to move faster. She could see Lord Trimble's manor now. It was so close. All she had to do was make it past the wards, and she would finally be free.

Darkness soundly fell around her. Her broom jerked to a stop under her as the cloud closed in, wrapping itself around her arms, legs and neck. "No!" she screamed straining against the choking hold, desperately reaching towards the quickly disappearing view of the manor.

The grip around her neck tightened cutting off her oxygen. Her head began to swim as the world spun around her. Just as her consciousness slipped away from her, she heard HIS voice in her ear.

"My dear daughter, it is so good to see you again."

Hermione stared at the ceiling of her four-poster bed as the last shadows of that strange woman's desperate face were swept away with the first rays of dawn. Her head was pounding, as it usually did after one of her increasingly frequent, weird dreams plagued her sleep. They seemed to be getting more and more vivid with each night.

Perhaps they were her mind's way of telling her that she was stressed out or overworked.

"Could be," she whispered, pulling at the seams on her pillow case. And yet...she couldn't shake the feeling that they were so much more.

She got up from her bed, knowing she wouldn't be going back to sleep now. She grabbed her robe and moved to the bathroom to prepare for what she knew would be long day.

She had been right.

Her day had been terrible. Not only had she nearly fallen asleep in TWO of her classes, but by the time lunch had come around, she was ready to pass out on the nearest flat surface. She still didn't know how she had avoided falling into the bowl of peas.

By some fluke, or maybe it was divine intervention, she had made it through Herbology and now there was only Potions to finish before she could call it a day and bury herself under her bed covers. She couldn't wait.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked tentatively, as he walked beside her down to the dungeons.

"I'm good, I'm good," she answered dismissively. Just really looking forward to bed.

Ron came running up behind them, a vial of clear liquid held triumphantly above his head. "I've got it!" He called to them, struggling for breath. He immediately handed over the potion to Hermione who eagerly took it, popped the lid and gulped down the contents. A pleasant jolt of energy whipped through her, chasing away the sleep in her eyes.

"You're lucky that Madame Pomfrey didn't catch on that the Pepper Up was for you," Ron told her, taking the empty vial back and shoving it in his pocket. "She'd have a cow if she knew you were taking more of it."

Hermione waved away his concern. "I'll be fine. It's not like I've had that much. Just a small bottle here and there."

"It's definitively been more than that. You're going to run yourself ragged with the way you're going," Harry said, concerned. "How much sleep did you get last night anyway?"

Hermione shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I got enough. Four hours or so."

"Again?" Harry looked around the hall before leaning in to whisper, "Is it the nightmares?"

She squirmed under her friends' gaze, the thought of bringing up her dream this morning making her uncomfortable. She didn't know why, she had already told them about the others like it, but this one felt different. It felt private, too real to share with anyone else.

"No," she lied. "I was up studying last night for my Charms project."

That was partially true at least. She had stayed up a little later than usual, working on her Spell work for her project. It wasn't big, just a little extra work that the smaller professor had given her to prepare her for her apprenticeship with him. There just weren't enough hours in the day to get her regular work load done and her extracurricular work done, but luckily she had her Time-Turner back. A little twist here and there and she was all set. It left her a little tired, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Or at least, it hadn't been before she started having those dreams.

"Mione, Flitwick's not about to give your apprenticeship away just because you want to get some sleep. Besides, it's not 'til after you graduate. What's the rush?" Ron said, exasperated.

"The rush is that I only have until next fall. Professor Flitwick wants to do a 'pre-apprenticeship' to ease me into the real thing. He does it with all the candidates to see who can handle the workload and who can't."

"Oh come on, Flitwick adores you. There isn't anyone else he wants to be his apprentice," Harry reminded her.

She understood what they were saying. Not to sound conceited, but she was well aware of the fact that she was Professor Flitwick's favorite student. The wizard had said as much to her often enough for her to be confident in that knowledge. She also knew that there really wasn't a rush. Technically, he had given her all summer to complete the assignment he had given her last week, so there was no need to get it done before next Friday. But she already had a Time-Turner again this year to handle all of her extra classes, so she figured; why not use it for her pre-apprenticeship work? If she got it done right away she was sure to impress Professor Flitwick and prove to him that she was the right choice.

She sighed, deflating a little. Harry and Ron were right, she was being a bit silly about all this. Even she knew that she could blow up the charms classroom tomorrow and the professor would still be happy to work with her. He had neglected to take on any apprentices since her fourth year after all, so that she would have a spot for the four year program available when she graduated.

"Alright. I'll take a break," she promised her friends.

The trio headed into the Potions class, the boys taking their seats towards the back and Hermione taking her seat beside Neville, who gave her a shaky smile in greeting. The boy was already trembling, his fingers winding around the frayed thread on the edge of his robe sleeves.

Poor Neville, Hermione thought, shaking her head at her friend's behavior. If only he could calm down before class. She was sure that was the key to his improvement. After all, going into something already thinking about failure was the quickest way to ensure it.

The doors slammed open and the Professor glided in, his face set in a harsh frown. "Listen up!" His voice was like a whip, straightening his students' spines as they obeyed him instinctively. He jabbed his wand towards the chalkboard at the front of the room, and a potion assignment appeared in his familiar spiky writing. "I am in no mood for your usual nonsense. You will complete the potion on the board perfectly and turn it in at the end of the class with your homework."

His black eyes darted to the left, just in time to catch Seamus shooting a note towards Fay Dunbar, the pink shade of it revealing itself to be one of the Weasley Valentine Notes. The professor's wand flicked at it, stopping the paper mid air. Suddenly, it caught fire and disintegrated to ash.

"20 points from Gryffindors, and detention Mr. Finnagan. My class is not a brothel for you to test out your crude charms in." His black eyes roved slowly over the class, glittering with disgust. "And let that be a lesson for all of you. I am feeling very generous today and will happily give every single last one of you urchins detention for the rest of the year if you annoy me."

One of the Slytherins snickered in the back of the class, and Snape zeroed in on him, growling out. "If you think it is so amusing Mr. Rubbins, you may join Mr. Finnegan for detention tonight." Jacob was quick to lower his head meekly. A wave of uneasiness fell over the class. If Snape was dishing out detentions to the Slytherins too, it was going to be a long hour indeed.

Snape gestured to the board behind him. "Now get to work!" The class scrambled to do as he bid.

Aside from his snarky comments in the beginning of class, Professor Snape appeared mellow. Well, as mellow as Professor Snape could be. After the point deduction and detentions he retreated behind his desk where he graded papers and tentatively watched (glared) at his students while they worked. There was a moment when Hermione thought he would strangle Neville, when he, bless him, almost used sliced firefly wings instead of dragonfly wings. The result of which would have been catastrophic. Luckily, she was just able to stop his hand from releasing the wings before he blew the entire class to Hades.

Professor Snape for his part, only snapped his head up from his papers, barked out that Neville was "an incompetent waste of wizarding genes" and deducted twenty points from Gryffindor, before going back to his work. There was no yelling, no threats, and no detentions. To say the class was shocked was an understatement. Neville looked both relieved and scared, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never did.

Slowly, work resumed in the classroom. Most of the students went back to ignoring their professor's odd behavior, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hermione, however, kept finding her eyes drifting back to his dark frame.

He sat in his chair hunched over, with his arms tucked in at his sides. She watched him reach across his desk to grab another folder and immediately stop his movements. His jaw clenched tightly as he took a deep breath then slowly stretched his arm forward. He grabbed his folder and brought his arm back before finally exhaling.

The choppiness of his movements was so subtle that each stiff action could be easily missed. Unless of course, you were staring like Hermione was. She continued to watch him as he slowly got up from his seat and made his way to his storeroom in the back of the class. She pushed her hair forward to block her face, so he couldn't see her. He seemed to pause just as he was opening the storeroom's door. One long arm came up to touch his right shoulder carefully and when he pulled back, there was a dark gleam on his fingers.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Is that blood?

The shock lasted for only a second before she began scrutinizing her Professor's movements, questions bubbling to the surface of her mind, the most frequent one being; how did he get injured?

It only took a second for her to come to the answer. He was a spy, constantly going back into Voldemort's lair, and into danger. There was a possibility that he had gotten the injury from a Potions' accident in class, but really what were the chances of that? The man was a Master in his field and had some of the fastest reflexes of all the professors in the school. So, that only left one other horrifying option.

She shivered as her imagination ran away with her, conjuring up terrifying scenarios, in which he could have been hurt, fighting for them. For the longest time she had an issue reconciling her surly Potions Professor with the work he did for the Order, but there was proof of that work right in front of her, in the form of his blood. What more evidence did she need of his sacrifices?

Snape, wiped off his fingers and waved his wand at his back. Slinking his way back to his chair without his usual grace, he shrugged his robes back on.

Why doesn't he go to Madam Pomfrey? She was completely confused. He was clearly in pain, and injured, and yet he was just sitting behind his desk as if nothing was the matter. She bit her lip. She felt like she had to do something for him, but what?

He'd probably kill her, if she offered to heal him after class. She couldn't see him just stripping off his robes and baring his back to anyone, least of all his student. He would probably hex her all the way to the infirmary, if she did. Offering him a health potion would most likely be met with the same response.

Perhaps, instead, she could drop a hint to Professor Dumbledore. He would, no doubt, be interested in the well-being of his spy and employee. Right?

Satisfied that her with solution, now that she could help him, the young witch went back to her work. As usual, she found herself finished with her potion before anyone else in the class. So she poured a small sample in a vial and placed it on Snape's desk for grading later, then returned to her seat. She pulled out a book to read while she waited, trying to distract her thoughts from her professor. It wouldn't do to stare at him for too long. She didn't want him catching on to her after all.

In a matter of minutes, she was so deeply absorbed with her book that she didn't realize that the class had already finished, and the other students were already running out the door. A shout from the front of the class jolted her away from her book. Her head snapped up like a startled doe's, as she looked around the nearly empty classroom. Professor Snape was glaring down at her from his desk.

"Miss Granger!" he called again, "I said class is over. I have no desire to endure anymore of your insufferable presence than what is required. Remove yourself, so I can finally get some peace!"

"Yes, sir!" Hermione jumped up, grabbing her stuff and running out the door, before he could deduct any points.

A/N: Ok, last time I change it-promise!

Up Next: How did Severus end up bleeding? And the next dream is waiting for Hermione...