Chapter 2

Snape's continued silence seemed an ominous sign to Hermione. She hung her head, not wishing to meet what she imagined must be the coldly reproving gaze of her former professor. His next speech stunned her.

"Dumbledore was already dying," Snape said, his voice low, but not at all hesitant.

Hermione's awestruck gaze was on him in an instant. She did not even attempt to hide her shock, and he did not look away.

"Sir?" she whispered and waited breathlessly for further explanation.

Snape, who was still leaning on the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk before Hermione, lowered his eyes to a point somewhere near Hermione's shoulder. She saw his eyes slide out of focus as though he no longer saw her or the room at all.

"He was ill before he and Potter went after the locket Horcrux. He had found and destroyed Slytherin's ring the summer before, but at the price of his health.

"He knew when he cast the necessary counter-curses that would make it possible to destroy the sliver of Lord Voldemort's soul that it carried, he was taking a great risk. He also knew that no other wizard was powerful enough to do it, so he took it upon himself anyway." Snape paused and Hermione saw him squeeze the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk until his knuckles bulged, but his face was unreadable.

"I was there when it happened. I watched as he worked over the ring. I saw him fly backwards when the powerful curses laid upon it threw him time and again. Finally, he broke through, but his wand arm was left withered, blackened and almost useless." Snape looked at Hermione. His gaze was hard, his jaw clenched.

"I did what I could for him with healing spells and potions. Madam Pomfrey exhausted herself looking for the best remedy, but the curse was just too obscure and powerful. It became apparent within a very few days that it would not stop with his arm. It began to creep to his shoulder and chest-- very slowly, mind you." Snape paused again, as his eyes shone malevolently.

"Lord Voldemort is nothing if not a master of the slow and painful death," he spat bitterly, as he resumed staring at Hermione's shoulder once more.

Hermione stared at him, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "How awful!" she choked out, her voice wavering.

She let her gaze fall briefly on Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be occupied studying a spot on her desk, her jaw set and a suspicious wet gleam in her eyes.

As Snape began speaking again, Hermione gave him her full attention once more.

"When I knew Dumbledore was planning to go after the locket, I tried to convince him to let me go in his stead. I argued that he was too weak for such a rigorous adventure, but he would not hear of it. He insisted on doing it himself." Snape frowned, showing his deep disapproval of the former Headmaster's decision. "Ridiculous, stubborn Gryffindor," he muttered under his breath.

"I knew as soon as I saw him in the Astronomy Tower that he had drunk poison. I knew exactly what it was, too, and I could have helped him, if only Draco Malfoy and his band of Death Eaters hadn't chosen that night to attack Hogwarts!"

He was angry now, his voice fairly crackling with wrath. He unconsciously moved away from the desk and toward the hearth a few steps to the left of McGonagall's desk.

There was no fire, since it was July. The fireplace looked like a great black, gaping mouth.

It looks as though it could swallow Snape up, Hermione thought incongruously, as he spun around to face both her and Professor McGonagall.

"As you know, the Headmaster and I had an agreement that I would be the one to take his life, if the time ever came that it must be done." He said the words blandly, but Hermione saw something in his eyes that belied his emotionless delivery. It clearly pained him to speak about his part in this tragedy. He turned his back to the two women, staring instead into the cavernous, empty fireplace. "As he began to succumb to the effects of the poison coursing through his system, he still had the presence of mind to beg me to fulfil my word to him …" A slight shudder appeared to run through Snape as he paused again briefly. "And so I killed him."

The words were clipped, and his voice was devoid of emotion, but Hermione could not bring herself to believe that this meant he was without feeling, not if his shudder was any indication.

Silence reigned heavily in the room for several minutes. Hermione was grateful for it. It was almost like a blanket one hides under in the night when fear and uncertainty comes in oppressing waves. She felt as though those waves were somehow kept from pounding her nearly as senseless as they might have done otherwise. This did not mean that she felt nothing. On the contrary, she felt confused, frightened, sorry, and angry all at once.

Hermione also felt surprised; surprised that part of her anger, small a part though it was, was directed at Professor Dumbledore. She knew it was completely irrational and she was definitely ashamed of it, but it was there just the same.

She felt angry that Snape had been forced into such an untenable position. Certainly the Headmaster must have known what such an assignment would mean to his spy. Besides the guilt of killing his mentor and friend, not to mention the most beloved wizard of the age, it would mean the possibility of being hunted and killed, or locked away for the rest of his miserable life in Azkaban. And, as a side bonus, it would mean the hatred and derision of the entire wizarding world. It was such a heavy burden to carry, and, though Hermione was acutely aware that she knew very little about the wizard before her, she did know that he had carried quite a few such burdens in his lifetime. Why this, too?

Hermione looked up from her musings to meet the eyes of her former Head of House. It was obvious that some of what she had been thinking had played itself out on her face, for Professor McGonagall was eyeing her with understanding.

"I assure you, Professor Dumbledore struggled mightily within himself before asking Severus to do this, Miss Granger, if what I saw in his memory is any indication. He endeavoured to make the best out of an impossible situation. Try to find it in your heart not to judge him too harshly," she said softly.

At this, Hermione furrowed her brow and gave a quick nod of her head in assent. When she looked up at Snape he was staring at her, and not with coolness or contempt. If she had had to identify it, she'd have called it curiosity and/or disbelief. Whatever his look was meant or not meant to convey it made her redden with discomfort, and she found she could not continue to keep her silence.

"You are now a wanted man, are you not, sir?" she asked quietly. His eyes widened slightly, but he did not answer.

"Not at this point, Miss Granger," McGonagall said briskly, as she stood to hand Hermione what turned out to be the previous day's Daily Prophet. "However, Severus will be called in for questioning at some point after the war is over. Have you seen that?" she questioned, indicating the rag now in Hermione's hand.

"No, I've had little time …"

"Look at it now, please, Miss Granger," Snape commanded tersely.

Hermione turned to the paper and immediately caught the front page headline:

'SEVERUS SNAPE, SUSPECTED DEATH EATER AND WANTED MURDERER CAUGHT!'

"Oh!" Hermione gasped in puzzlement.

"Read on," Snape murmured tightly. "Aloud, please."

Hermione nodded and began.

"Captured by Ministry Aurors early this morning, was Severus Snape, former Potions professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Snape was wanted for suspected Death Eater activities and the murder of Professor Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of the school, according to the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

'We are pleased to announce that the dangerous criminal, Severus Snape, has been apprehended and is now incarcerated in Azkaban and awaiting his trial before the Wizengamot,' Scrimgeour stated in a press conference shortly after Snape's capture."

Hermione dropped the paper to her lap in confusion, "But," she began, several questions fairly fighting to her lips at once.

"You see, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, her tone officious, "in Dumbledore's memory, he revealed a secret hideout that he had arranged for Severus and Draco Malfoy to flee to after his death, where they would be reasonably safe, and from which Severus could continue to base his operations as spy for the Order. In other words, he could continue to go to Death Eater meetings, so he could feed me any information that would be helpful to the side of light."

Snape took over, "As Dumbledore had surmised, I was given greater access to the Dark Lord and his plans, as a result of my perceived crime …"

McGonagall interjected again, "I went to the Ministry, per Dumbledore's plan, as gleaned from the memory, showed the officials said memory, and received permission, albeit grudging permission, to continue working with Severus." She let out a deep breath. "So, for several months, whilst living in the hideout Dumbledore had made secure for him, Severus continued to play the loyal Death Eater, attending meetings and passing all pertinent news to me.

"Then, a couple of weeks ago, Severus began to hear rumblings in the Death Eater ranks that their leader was solidifying plans to make his final move against the side of light. I asked him to wait and listen a little longer. And, a short time later Lord Voldemort himself called Severus to him and spoke about the impending attack, thus confirming the rumours.

"At that point, I felt that Severus' work was quickly becoming too dangerous to him, so I made the decision, as head of the Order to remove Severus from his duties as spy.

"Though it was clear to me that the best thing to do would be to bring Severus back to Hogwarts, I knew I would need the help and cooperation of the Ministry to carry out such a plan, so I went back to Minister Scrimgeour with the proposal that he authorise some of his Aurors to participate in a bit of a ruse." McGonagall looked undeniably amused, causing Snape to roll his eyes at her contemptuously.

"Get on with it, Minerva," he spat cuttingly. Hermione stifled a nervous giggle.

"All right, Severus!" McGonagall said with a glare. "Anyway," she continued, still maintaining her slightly excited tone as she turned back to Hermione, "the Minister and I agreed it would be propitious to arrange that Severus be 'caught' by the Aurors and brought, after a brief round of questioning, not to Azkaban, but here to the school, where he could help us prepare for the impending battle. The public was to be kept none the wiser, thus the article you just read in the Prophet.

"For my part, I agreed to keep Severus out of sight, until after the war was over, and to make sure he didn't run off before the Aurors could question him again …" At this point, both Professor McGonagall and Snape snorted their bitter amusement.

Hermione glowered in sympathy.

"Really!" McGonagall exclaimed indignantly. "The man is insufferable! He even had the temerity to infer that the Ministry might be persuaded to 'go easier' on Severus if he does enough to ensure our success at the final confrontation! As if he's not all ready done more than that pompous, politically motivated windbag ever considered doing in this war!" The Headmistress was all but shouting now, much to Snape's apparent amusement.

"Calm yourself, Minerva," he admonished, smirk in place and eyes glittering with hilarity.

"Well, honestly!" she blustered, looking for all the world like a ruffled mother hen.

"I agree with her!" Hermione put in feelingly. "It's insulting!"

Snape levelled her with an appraising look, and this time she let her angry gaze meet his without reluctance.

"You must remember, Miss Granger, Scrimgeour has not been privy to all the evidence, as of yet. For all he knows, I am the criminal I am portrayed to be."

"Perhaps," Hermione admitted sullenly, "But, I …"

But Snape stopped her with a gracefully lifted hand. "When the Aurors brought me to him, he was still suspicious of my motives, even though he had viewed Dumbledore's memory. Thankfully, Minerva and I were able to convince him that I was not an immediate threat. Veritaserum played a large part in that," he murmured, his eyes suddenly downcast and darkening with the memory, as if he had suffered some sort of indignity.

"Under its influence, I stated that I had no intention of fleeing, and every intention of presenting myself before the authorities after the war was over to answer to any and all charges brought against me. I further promised to help in any way I could with the effort against Voldemort, and to submit to Minerva's guidance without resistance." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

"An added benefit of this arrangement is that now Lord Voldemort believes I am sitting in Azkaban, awaiting trial, not here at Hogwarts working against him. He does not know I have been spying on him all this time. He does not think of me as a traitor. And, as he did not reveal to me the exact date of the impending attack, only that it will be soon, it is unlikely he will significantly change his plans for fear of my revealing anything too important to his enemies." He stopped here and studied Hermione impassively.

"I will have my 'day in court', I am sure, Miss Granger, but at least Scrimgeour had the sense to put it off until after the war, so that I could still render my assistance instead of wasting away in a jail cell."

At this, Hermione inclined her head in reluctant acquiescence, but her eyes still burned with resentment.

Snape stared at her again, with that strange mixture of curiosity and disbelief she had noted earlier, and she wondered very much what he might be thinking. But, the look was gone before she could analyse it further.

"At any rate, it goes without saying, that you must tell no one about my presence here at Hogwarts," he said, his tone only slightly derisive, as if to imply she might slip up somehow. "The fewer people who know, the less of a chance Voldemort will find out about it, know of my treachery, and change his plans. We do not wish to find ourselves fumbling around in the dark at this stage of the game."

Hermione ignored his tone and only nodded impatiently. "I appreciate your trusting me with such vital information," she said. "But, it does not explain why I am here, and why it was deemed I be told at all."

"Right," Professor McGonagall said, "Shall I, Severus?" She eyed Snape questioningly.

"It was your dim-witted idea in the first place," Snape said blandly, looking bored. "You might as well do the honours."

"Thank you for your kind permission," the Headmistress murmured sarcastically, as she glared at him over the rim of her spectacles, before turning her attention back to Hermione.

"According to Severus, Voldemort is planning to attack sooner rather than later," she said, a hint of tension in her voice. "I have informed Mr Potter and Mr Weasley that they must find the rest of the Horcruxes and bring them here to destroy them as soon as possible. I believe they've found all but one, is that correct?" Hermione nodded slowly.

"When they return, Severus will be training Mr Potter in Defense in preparation for his final confrontation with the, then, hopefully mortal Tom Riddle." As she took a breath, Hermione jumped in.

"Excuse me, Headmistress, but does Harry know about these training plans?" she asked a bit apprehensively.

"No," Professor McGonagall said firmly, pursing her lips. "I thought it best to wait until he got here to tell him about it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Snape simply smirked.

"Yes, Mr Potter will, no doubt, be so glad to see me, won't he?" he sneered. "Let's let it be a bit of a surprise, shall we?"

"Sir, you'll be lucky if he doesn't hex you into oblivion," she replied with a wry grin.

"Indeed," Snape agreed darkly. "Well, he can try, Miss Granger. He can try."

"Oh, honestly, Severus!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "When will you get over your childish dislike of the boy?"

Snape only snorted derisively and, folding his arms over his chest, looked at her through heavily lidded eyes. She glared at him pointedly before returning her attention to an amused Hermione.

"And now, back to your part in this, Miss Granger," she continued. "I know you were planning to return home to visit your parents soon. But, I would like to request that you stay on here for additional training, and …" she glanced nervously at Snape, "to help Severus brew the many healing potions we will need when the time comes."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she blinked her eyes, stunned. "Me?" she questioned incredulously.

"Come now, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, "false modesty does not become you. You know you have been at the top of your class in Potions since you began attending this school. This request cannot surprise you too much."

Hermione was nonplussed, so much so, that she forgot to take offence at Snape's left-handed compliment.

"What about Malfoy, sir? I assume he was with you in hiding and is with you still. Wouldn't he be better suited …" Suddenly, she noted Snape's tightly angered expression.

"Oh, he is not with you," she amended quickly.

"No, he is not," Snape replied in strained tones. "Mr Malfoy is dead. He would not allow me to convince him that he must remain hidden. He did not believe me when I told him that the Dark Lord would not be merciful in light of his failure to kill Dumbledore."

"Why would he …"

"It became apparent to me that Mr. Malfoy did not trust me at all when I awoke one morning, shortly after we went into hiding, to find him gone," Snape went on, ignoring her. "I do not know if he was headed back to the Dark Lord, or just foolishly striking out on his own and was caught. All I do know is that the next time I was summoned to a meeting, he was the night's entertainment," Snape paused, lowered his head a bit and shook it, with something like regret upon his face. "He was—put to death." he finished tonelessly.

After a brief pause, Snape continued, "It is apparent that Mr Malfoy must have believed I was loyal to the Dark Lord's cause, or he would have revealed my true position, and I would have most certainly shared his fate."

Hermione felt she might vomit, her stomach was roiling so. She knew Snape was sparing her the details, for she had read and heard enough about Lord Voldemort's dealings with those who betrayed him to have a fair idea of how Malfoy might have died.

Malfoy was, by no means, her favourite person, but the thought of his undoubtedly grisly and painful death was too much to contemplate.

"Good God!" she exclaimed softly. "He was a mere boy!"

"He made himself the enemy of the Dark Lord, Miss Granger. His age was not a factor to be considered," the former Death Eater sniped.

"Of course," Hermione countered sullenly.

Professor McGonagall shifted in her seat and eyed Hermione seriously. "So, will you help us?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Hermione said firmly, "I will be glad to. When do we start?"

"Not too eager, are you?" Snape let one side of his mouth quirk up with a sneer. Hermione glared at him.

"I was under the impression that time was of the essence, sir," she rejoindered coolly.

"It is indeed," Professor McGonagall jumped in, standing up abruptly. "Thank you, Miss Granger, for agreeing to help. I am grateful—as is Severus, I am sure." she said, letting her dagger-like glare pierce him.

"Indeed," he said, a touch of acid in his voice. And, he made Hermione an exaggerated, but graceful bow.

"Glad to be of service, sir," she grimaced. "Prat," she whispered almost imperceptibly, as she made a show of standing and brushing off her robes as a cover.

Snape stared at her suspiciously, as though he might have heard the invective, but she only smiled sweetly at him.

"Tomorrow then, sir? I'll just go now and send a letter to my parents to inform them I have decided to remain here for the time being."

Snape's mouth was drawn into a thin line. "Tomorrow at 8 a.m." And he made as if to sweep from the room, with his usual flair. When he got to the door, he stopped, keeping his back to the two women. "Do not be late," he ground out, and was gone before Hermione could reply.

She rolled her eyes at the door and turned to Professor McGonagall to bid her farewell.

"Good luck, dear," McGonagall said meaningfully, a sliver of a smirk playing at her lips.

I'm afraid I will need it," Hermione answered grimly, and did a fair imitation of Snape's dramatic exit, robes billowing and all.

She heard McGonagall's restrained but mirthful cackle as the door closed behind her with a soft "click".

Hermione came back to herself with a giggle. She was still seated on the edge of her bath, elbow on her knees, and chin in the palm of her hand.

"What a difference three and a half months and one cataclysmic final battle can make," she murmured as she stood stiffly to stretch her cramped legs and kinked spine.

Still in a semi-dreamlike state, she went to her sink and, turning on the tap, began preparations to wash. All the while, she thought about the difference between the dynamic that had played out in that long ago meeting with Snape, and the one that had slowly developed between them since.

Then, with a jolt, Hermione came fully back to the present time. "Oh, dear God!" she exclaimed, running out into her room to find her alarm clock, which was still shattered on the floor. "Damn!" she breathed, fumbling for her watch on the bedside table. Focusing on its tiny, time telling hands, she blanched and her stomach dropped to her toes. "I'm late!" she shrieked in panic. "He'll never let me live this down!"

She rushed about to throw on her robes, quickly scrub her face, brush her teeth, and pull a wide-toothed comb through her hair. Pausing only to check the strength of her room's personal wards, she grabbed her bag and dashed out her portrait hole, nearly tripping over her robes in the process.

"Just this once, let Snape be detained somehow …" she pleaded hopelessly with no one in particular.

Yeah, good luck with that, a voice somewhere inside her taunted.

Rolling her eyes and setting her jaw in determination, Hermione ran toward the Potions room as if the back of her robes were on fire.