10:30. She was not in the least bit tired anymore and in any case, decided it would be smart to make a quick check on Snape to make sure everything was ok with his injury and all.
Being very careful to keep silent as she went up the stairs, she came to the top and opened the door a fraction to peer inside. Here, she had to also squint in order for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, found the bed to be vacated. For a moment she worried, but then caught herself and shook it away. But she was still curious, naturally, and decided that maybe he was in the office and so she made her way in that general direction, still carrying that strange torn sensation.
Sure enough, when she came through the sitting room and the door to the office which had been left open, she saw Snape standing with his back to her, leaning over the desk with his hands supporting him, head hung low.
Hermione saw the bandage still there, and worried a little less. She was all ready to turn around and go back upstairs when Snape spoke; very quietly, it startled her as it was not his normal tone but softer and more defeated-sounding than anything else.
"What are you doing up," he asked, the question obviously aimed at Hermione even though he had not specified so. "You need to rest."
Surprised, it took her a few moments to answer him. "I—I thought I would make sure everything was—ok..." she finally said, letting it trail off into the air a little nervously.
"Well I'm fine," he said with a bit more of his regular nasty tone, making Hermione wince slightly. "As you can see, I'm quite preoccupied at the moment," he said with an even more crabby voice when Hermione had said nothing to his previous statement, "you would be well advised to leave me alone." It was bitterness that came though the most in his voice as Hermione stared at the back of his head, shocked at him. She had, after all, saved him from bleeding out on the floor of the office instead of running out like she'd planned on.
But something made her fire up as well, making her act far from leaving him alone.
"Oh well perhaps I should have just allowed you to stay bleeding on the floor earlier," she shot back at him, watching the muscles in his back tighten as she said it but he did not turn around. "I could have left you alone then...how would that have been?"
"I do believe," he said in a venomous growl, "that never would have happened if someone hadn't cursed me!" Hermione was ready with her retort though:
"Well what did you expect, you're holding me hostage remember? What was I supposed to think?" she exclaimed incredulously. These words did not sit well with Snape though...
"Hostage?" He said with a questioning tone mixed with disbelief. "You naïve girl," he exclaimed as he finally spun around menacingly to glare at her. "Were you not here, you would surely be dead or worse," he spat.
"Oh, so you're trying to say you have me here for my protection," she said in a ridiculous tone of voice, disbelieving what he was saying in every way. He only gave her an obvious look as an answer to her question, as if to say that's what he'd been saying all along.
"Well if what you say is true," she continued in that same voice, "why am I locked away here? Surely I would just as safe in—"
"The school?" He finished for her, catching her slightly off her guard. She stopped, mid-sentence, her mouth still open slightly as he continued to speak:
"Hogwarts is no longer safe for you. In case you haven't noticed, they are targeting people like you just as heavily as Potter..."
"People like me," Hermione said hatefully and quieter than before, "like Mudbloods, you mean." Snape's expression shifted slightly at the word and then nodded slightly. But something else he had just said had caught her attention.
"You said 'they'," she said before Snape could move on the Mudblood matter any further. She received a half angered, half questioning look. "You said they are targeting people like me...I'm sure you meant to say 'we'," she stated in as cruelest tone she could muster.
Knowing she had been referring to him as a Death Eater, Snape narrowed his eyes and half-glared at her, seeming to choose to not respond to her statement.
"You are safest here," he finished in conclusion. "Safest where they will not expect you to be." Hermione scoffed audibly enough for Snape to frown at her.
"If you want to hide something," he added, "you hide it in plain sight..."
Hermione, who had glanced away, looked back at Snape with mixed thoughts when he said this. She was scared out of her wits, although she wouldn't ever admit it; she was also beginning to become a bit curious. Curious as to what exactly Snape was really up to, why he had saved her back in the forest (or at least that's what she assumed had happened), and in addition, she was actually starting to believe that perhaps she was not in danger here; perhaps Snape really did not mean any harm to her at all. Perhaps all he had been saying so far was the truth...
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Hermione sighed slightly and broke the quiet.
"Perhaps I should take another look at that cut," she said quietly and a little timidly not wanting him to blow up at her.
But Snape only scowled, turning back to the desk. "I don't need your bloody help," he growled. She glared at the back of his head.
"Ok look," she said a-matter-of-factly, "it's only going to get infected if the bandages don't get changed so you may as well just let me do it." Then she waited. It didn't take long for her to see his back heave in a sigh and his head hang a fraction lower as if in defeat. Finally, he turned around, a look on his face as if to say "get on with it if you must."
She half smirked, mostly at her self and triumph and was glad to see that Snape had noticed and frowned harder at her. Now she couldn't help but smile a little at herself as she ushered him to sit at the desk with her hands.
Grudgingly, Snape obliged, sitting down heavily and not looking pleasant in the slightest. Hermione strolled behind him and carefully pulled back the large white bandage from the back of his head where the gash was still issuing sticky red blood. She frowned at it as she conjured a simple curing paste solution out of thin air and stuck her hand in her pocket where she had left the gauze from earlier and began to apply it to his head.
Snape inhaled sharply as the paste came in light contact with the open wound. Hermione ignored it, thinking it must have only been because he hadn't expected it.
She was wrong...
"Arg! —" He shouted, cursing into the semi-dark room ahead of him as she applied more pressure, filling the gash with ointment. She jumped at his outburst and only shook her head annoyingly as he continued to curse and practically yelp in pain.
"My, aren't we being childish," she said, sounding so much like her own mother it startled her somewhat. "Oh, do hold still..."
"It HURTS," Snape growled through tightly gritted teeth.
"Well perhaps if you sat still," she said just as angrily, "it wouldn't hurt so bad now would it?"
Snape only responded with a disgruntled noise, folding his arms angrily. But after a few moments, Hermione could see his shoulders un-tense slightly and he only breathed a tad sharply when she really applied any pressure.
"There," she stated as she applied a fresh bandage which was a little smaller than the first (now that the bleeding was more under control). "Not so bad there, was it?" She didn't expect a response to that and did not receive one.
And then something came out of Snape's mouth; something she thought she would never hear him say, not to her of all people.
"Thank you," he muttered, clearly trying to make it sound quiet so perhaps Hermione wouldn't even hear. But she had. As he said it, she momentarily paused in re-applying the bandage but resumed and finished it off, sighing to herself.
"You're welcome," she said, her words sounding unsure. Snape shifted slightly.
More silence followed that and neither of them moved from where they were situated. The silence ensued for what might have been forever had Hermione not cleared her throat quietly, which meant the announcement of her departure. Snape said nothing for or against the matter; he was still sitting there motionless, staring at his hands.
Hermione was half way across the room when she stopped and turned around, a question burning furiously at her that needed answering immediately. She had asked it before, on the morning she first woke up, but knew it had not been answered in its entirety.
"Because," said Snape in a sigh, having sensed what she was about to say, "I gave Dumbledore my word that I would do all in my power to protect the students of Hogwarts after he had gone..." he trailed off, immobile again, seeming to be thinking and calculating his words to himself. But something just struck Hermione as...odd. Had Snape just said 'after he had gone'? Did that mean there was something more to Dumbledore's death than everyone knew?
It was starting to become clear to Hermione that there just might be another part to the story; that part, that something could possibly be the key to understanding this man who now sat before her, looking so unlike himself it frightened her slightly.
Snape then stirred slightly in his seat, finally standing up and after a moment's hesitation, walked over to the other side of the room. He stopped in front of a large, stone basin, which was glowing a curious light blue color. Hermione instantly recognized it as Dumbledore's Pensive. Snape sighed heavily once, looking down into it and then finally glancing up at Hermione with decisive eyes.
"Come," he said with a beckoning hand towards Hermione, intending her to join him at the edge of the basin.
After thinking about it for a moment, she obliged and walked over slowly, never removing her eyes from where he stood. When she arrived at his side, she gazed down into the Pensive herself, only seeing swirling blue in front of her eyes and she found herself a bit frightened now; it had just dawned on her what Snape wanted her to do: he wanted her to venture into the Pensive, into his memories.
But if she did that, she didn't know what she might encounter in there. What lay ahead terrified her, not only because it was Snape's memories involved, but also her memory of two years previous when Harry had made the mistake of venturing in on Snape's private thoughts. Her remembrance of the subject was it had not been pleasant, and she was all for not repeating that again.
Except, unfortunately for her and her wants, Snape was still looking at her expectantly, as if she would just up and jump into the thing with him. She looked first at the basin, then Snape skeptically, her nerves bouncing off one another like a tennis ball.
He cleared his throat, causing her to look up at him from where her eyes had previously been. "Years from now," he said quietly, "when you're looking back on your life, will you wonder what might have happened if you never saw this for yourself?" Hermione stared at him, calculating very quickly to herself; the risks...the advantages...everything else that could possibly go wrong, but yet, she suddenly found herself understanding that she simply had to do it. And if not for her sake, then for Snape's, who now seemed desperate to make someone see the truth...the real truth.
So she moved forward, closer, with all of her courage to his still beckoning hand, looking up at his black eyes, which seemed to be pleading, but now had a satisfied glint in them.
She gazed down into the Pensive. She knew how this worked: it was like apparation and they would end up in different places, in this case memories, if they weren't somehow connected. Without looking away from the swirling blue that was neither liquid nor gas, she put her small hand in his, which twitched unexpectedly as she did so.
After what seemed to be momentary shock at her taking his hand, he leaned close to the basin and plunged in, pulling Hermione along. The world around her swirled temporarily until they landed with a thud on a cold marble floor, quite unlike the one they had just left.
"...And you expect me to believe you, do you?" Said a much younger Dumbledore coldly, towering over a kneeling, defeated man in a black cloak, whose face was covered with his own hands. But Hermione didn't have to see his face to know who it was.
"Please," said the younger Snape imploringly, finally revealing a tear-stained face, looking up into the blue eyes that were now devoid of the bright twinkle that Hermione had always seen. "He killed them, he killed Lily..." he choked, trailing off.
Hermione's heart missed a beat, realizing that there was only one person he could possibly be talking about.
"And you are telling me Severus," Dumbledore continued just as coolly, "that you are renouncing the dark ways so suddenly?"
"All of them, I swear to you—"
"—Just to avenge Lily Potter's death?"
Snape's memory self flinched at the old man's words. Hermione glanced up sideways at the real Snape whose face was stone, totally unreadable. It frightened her slightly to see the man she had only known to be steadfast and so unnerving cowering on the ground, crying like a child. But she brought her attention back to the scene when Dumbledore continued to speak.
"...Then promise me, Severus Snape, you will help me to protect their son, the son of Lily and James Potter."
There was a deafening silence. Memory Snape was staring at the ground, taking deep breaths, thinking to himself. Dumbledore simply watched him, the most hateful look upon his face Hermione had ever seen before. Finally, he looked up again, the look in his eyes making it quite clear that all he wanted was Dumbledore's help. Dumbledore nodded once and then time swirled again as that memory ended and they landed somewhere new: the Forbidden Forest, by the looks of it.
And sure enough, down the path came a recognizable Snape and Dumbledore, walking slowly, seeming deep in conversation. Hermione noticed, as the two men got closer, that Snape seemed to be limping slightly.
First year...Fluffy...she thought to herself, remembering back to when they had thought it was Snape who had been after the Sorcerer's Stone. She sensed the real Snape next to her had just read her mind, but she ignored it and listened as the two men came closer to them:
"Just like his arrogant, full of himself father—"
"Severus..." Dumbledore cut him off half warningly, but sounded sadly understanding at the same time. "The boy is not his father, you must give him time to define himself." Snape only grunted in response.
"I suspect that he is beginning to uncover a great deal about what you are hiding, Headmaster," Snape said, changing the subject slightly. Dumbledore nodded and smiled to himself.
"He is undoubtedly clever, and yes," said Dumbledore sounding proud, "I believe in time, he will in fact uncover the truth."
"And you think that wise? To let that continue?"
"Just keep an eye on Quirrell, would you," requested Dumbledore, brushing Snape's question off.
The scene changed again, landing them back in the Headmaster's office. Hermione looked around, trying to find someone. It was quite dark in there, with exception of one light on in the corner of the room where Dumbledore sat in a chair, arm outstretched to Snape who was kneeling on the ground examining it.
"You fool," he accused annoyingly, but still extremely worried-sounding, "you put the ring on? You could have died! What on Earth possessed you to—"
But Dumbledore put up his other hand to silence him. Snape only shook his head as he continued to work on the mangled hand. "How long," asked Dumbledore quietly.
It took Snape a few moments to answer. He stood up and looked at his feet before speaking. "My guess...a little less than a year," he said solemnly, not looking up at Dumbledore. "It's lucky I could even stop the curse, but the blockage is only slowing the process."
"Then I must work faster to prepare Harry for what is to come," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, not sounding perplexed in the slightest that he was about to be on his deathbed. But before Hermione could hear any more, they moved again, but not moving locations, only time.
"...So I suppose his plan is for you to finish me off if Draco does not succeed?" Dumbledore inquired of what Hermione assumed was about his murder that was planned by Voldemort. Snape nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, that is, I think, his plan."
"Then you must carry it out, Severus," said Dumbledore, quite calmly. Snape looked at him, horrified.
"I will not...I cannot!"
"You must and you will," said Dumbledore sternly. "Please, Severus," he continued. "We both know the end is near for me. Let it be with dignity that I go, that is all I ask of you."
Snape's horrified, but excepting expression followed Hermione into the next memory, back in the forest. The two men seemed to be arguing.
"You are telling me that after all of this time, all we have done was mold the boy so he could be led to his slaughter by the Dark Lord in the end to save everyone else," Snape asked incredulously of a very calm Dumbledore who looked up at him curiously.
"You have come to care for him then?"
"Him??" Shouted Snape, face now contorted with rage. "Expecto Patronum!" He said suddenly and out of the end of his wand erupted a small, silver doe.
Hermione gasped. It had been him. Snape's Patronus had been what directed Harry to the sword in the pool. She was dumbfounded. But what significance it all had was still unclear to her.
"Still?"
The look on Snape's face told Dumbledore the answer to his question.
The scene again dissolved into a cold evening atop one of the castle towers where Dumbledore was surrounded by Death Eaters, wandless but smiling. Hermione already knew what this was and that she did not want to see it.
It all happened so fast. Snape burst through the doors, Dumbledore's terrifying plead came in contact with her ears. She was shaking and she cried out as the curse hit him in the chest and he fell backwards off the parapet. She could have imagined it but as they were once again lifted away from the scene, she thought she felt the real Snape's hand grip her own slightly tighter.
The next memory found Snape seated at the Headmaster's desk in the office, Dumbledore's portrait now hanging directly above him, giving him instructions, the Sword of Godric Gryffindor laying across the desk in front of him.
"You must keep up pretenses with Voldemort," warned Dumbledore's painting. Snape nodded his head only once to signify he had heard.
"You still will not tell me why Potter needs the sword, then," asked Snape with bitterness in his voice.
"Only that he will, in due course, be in need of its services," replied Dumbledore mistily. Snape scoffed inaudibly, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
"Be cautious when you give it to him, Severus," he warned again. "Do not let him see you. I doubt your presence will be welcomed...under the circumstances."
Snape nodded once. "Don't worry," he said, picking up the sword. "I have a plan..."
The portrait of Dumbledore smiled and Hermione and the real Snape whirled backwards and upward, Hermione knowing that their trip down memory lane had just ended.
Hermione landed hard on her back as she hit the floor of the present-day Headmaster's office. She was breathing hard and tears were falling down what she was sure were ghost-white cheeks.
Snape had landed standing up and didn't move at all, said nothing, just stood there. Hermione stared at his back, unsure whether to be afraid or not, finally understanding him, or at least partially.
She couldn't believe it. All of that time, he really had been on their side; he was good...and he killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore asked him to.
Nothing more was said after they returned that night. Hermione couldn't bring herself to say anything, ask any questions. So, she quietly had gotten up and went back to the couch, saying nothing, as Snape stayed where he had come out of the Pensive, unable to speak.
A/N: Some of this story is very loosely based on the events of DH. The scene in the pensive is somewhat the same idea as the real thing, but it's obviously been changed a little. Thanks for reading!