Chapter 1 of my fan fic, enjoy!
Ch 1: The Prince and I
It had all unfolded that summer. Harry had insisted on defeating Voldemort by himself. He told Ron and Hermione that they could either be the sole members of the wizarding world to assist him or they could abandon him and join with the blundering Ministry instead; she had tried to reverse Harry's decision, it had simply been impossible. So given that choice her path was clear. They began to meet secretly several a week to discuss a strategy for destroying the Horcruxes. Hermione found it increasingly stressful that they did it all secretly, and spent all her days pacing in worry, searching for an better solution.
One night, when her parents were away on vacation and there was no one to talk to, her mind was practically reeling with nerves. When generous amounts of Honeyduke's best chocolate failed to calm her tense mind, she resorted to her favorite activity. She pulled out one of her school text books and lost herself in the sea of words before her. So she didn't hear the commotion raging a few streets away or the scrabbling of hands against the side of her house. She didn't hear a thing until something broke her window with a resounding "CRASH".
She leapt from her chair, drawing her wand as she spun, her text book was flung from her desk and fell forgotten on the floor. Before her, lying on her floor, amid streaks of blood and shards of glass lay a death eater, black robes splayed out like broken wings and face hidden behind a gruesome mask. He had been wounded badly, even before his fall through her window, his black robes covered in splotches of an even darker red-brown. She held her hands up to her mouth, stifling the scream that tore through her throat. Quickly recovering she drew her wand on the death eater.
"Accio mask," she said in a squeaky voice, and the mask flew into her waiting hand. She gasped as the profile of Professor Snape, no, ex-Professor Snape, no, the deplorable murderer-of-Dumbledore Snape, that half blood prince who had revealed himself as Voldemort's pet, Hermione corrected herself. She raised her wand, feeling the anger and hate surge with in her.
"Give me one reason, and it better be a good one, that I should'nt kill you here and now," she whispered with a darkness she did not think she was capable of.
"You pose a difficult question Miss Granger," rasped Snape, voice weak with exertion, "Well, aside from the fact that I believe you are totally incapable of murder, and I am speaking of ability as well as willingness, there really is none."
Hermione's felt her jaw slide open with shock at his words, here he was lying half dead in a pool of blood on her floor, totally at her mercy (which as he pointed out she did have too much of) and he was still capable of making such scathing comments. She quickly snapped her jaw shut, and raised her head high, "I woundn't speak that way if I were you. Tell me now what right do you have to live?"
"Were your fragile ears damaged by my insults, or were you always deaf? I clearly stated there was none, I am loosing my patience with you, Miss Granger."
"YOU'RE losing YOUR patience! You're the one who should be begging for mercy as I lose MY patience."
"Overactive as always are we? Fine. You want a reason, I have one. But I think I shall keep it to myself as an intolerant, headstrong Gryffindor like you would never see the reason in it."
She was shocked that he could still go on like that in his state, though she wouldn't let him see it, she wouldn't give him even one ounce of victory. So with her voice growing tighter with every syllable, she replied, "Well lets hear it then, allowing yourself to get killed because you believe this headstrong person before you is too dull to understand your sole justification for staying alive without even testing that assertion is rather headstrong in itself, is it not?"
He grimaced, and she felt elevated by that small victory. Well she wasn't sure if he was grimacing because of her clever retort or because his shoulder had just started to hemorrhage again, but getting a grimace out of Professor Snape was a victory any day.
"Fine," he said, "I'll give you your reason, seeing as you seem to believe that words are the determining factor on a person's right to life. I killed Dumbledore because he told me to. To keep my cover as a double agent, it was necessary to make some rather… inconvenient promises, the breaking of which would have resulted in my death. I told Dumbledore of this and he said that my life was be more important than his in the upcoming struggle, as he was dying anyway. I was not happy about the deed I performed that night, but it was necessary. Unfortunately, no one from the Order would take my word for it, as they all still hold childish grudges against me. The only one who understood was Minerva, who received a letter from Dumbledore the night before his murder, but all the other Order members refused to believe her, saying that the letter was forged."
Hermione bit her lip, Professor McGonagall believed him, so he must be telling the truth. No, that was what he wanted her to think, he mentioned McGonagall because he knew Hermione would trust anything associated with her. Ha! She thought triumphantly, I caught a sly Slytherin in action. He wouldn't get the best of this Gryffindor. Then again, he could still be telling the truth. There was only one way to know really, and that would be to contact McGonagall herself and ask her. She chomped down harder on her lip. What to do? Oh, what to do? Was he trust worthy or not? Her first instinct told her yes, he was a teacher, he must be, but she quickly dismissed this as false reasoning. Her second instinct told her no, he was Slytherin and therefore untrustworthy, but she quickly dismissed this as false suspicion.
She looked down and saw a glint in his eye and a weak smirk twitching in the corner of his mouth. He was mocking her! His life was on the line and he saw it all as one great big joke!
"Just who are you anyway? To laugh in such a way in the face of death? To mock the one who holds the balance of your life in her hands?" she screeched in indignation.
"Excuse me Miss Granger, I'm so very sorry that I have offended your first experience as a figure of authority and power," he responded, voice steeped in irony, "But the thought of you, the bushy-haired school girl who campaigned for house-elf rights killing anyone is a humorous thought indeed. Not to mention that, though you and your little hero friends might find it a hard concept to wrap your naïve minds about, some people simply do not care if they live or die. I have done things so horrid that they are far beyond your comprehension, and I will take the punishment for it, even if it is death or worse. As I have no strong feelings on the matter of my life or death, I hardly find it worth the embarrassment of getting on my hands and knees before one such as you to beg for my life. As it is, I will likely bleed to death before you come to your decision and as I would prefer to be in good humor when I die, I will get all the joy I possibly can in my last moments by mocking you to the utmost degree."
It was then, staring down at his face, made even paler that usual by his loss of blood, that she made her decision. His face was set in a sort of determined way and his eyes, though glinting with their characteristically derisive humor, were resolute and heroic in their own right. He appeared in such contrast to all other dark wizards at the time they faced their deaths. He was not like Wormtail, whimpering with abandoned dignity while prostrating himself widely on the floor shrieking out pleas for mercy. He was not like Voldemort, roaming about the world seeking out unicorn blood to hold onto one last scrap of power. No he was more like Serious Black when Harry had threatened to kill him or when the dementors had come with their kiss, quiet, calm, with a sort of collected determination to face death with pride. He was more like the Potters, throwing his life away without complaint to save those he wanted to protect. He was dying like the good died, valiantly, and even Ron and Harry would find it difficult to find evil in this death.
She raised her wand and opened her mouth. Snape looked at her with mocking disbelief, a sort of "do it if you dare expression". But this expression was replaced with one of shock as she waved her arm and muttered the most powerful healing incantation she knew. That was enough to staunch the blood, he was still weak, but he would not die, not yet. She followed her healing spell, with an Expelliarmus, just in case. His eyes were now wide, all traces mockery gone, replaced by a look of shocked anger. "Stupid, foolish girl," he muttered.
"Well I hardly expected thanks from YOU, but I must admit, you could be a little more appreciative," she retorted
"Stupidity such as yours could easily cost you your life and the life of your friends, sacrificing this world's last chance at eradicating evil, I should hardly be thanking you for such foolishness. Whether in reality I am evil or not, I am certainly not to be trusted- "
But he was cut off by the sounds of voices outside Hermione's broken window. "Did you see him? Which way did he go? The blood trail goes this way."
"Ah, that will be the Aurors, embarrassingly slow at picking up my trail aren't they?" Hermione just gaped at the window, what should she do, they would go to her house and she would be caught harboring one of the most wanted criminals alive (Snape would probably turn her in just for the fun of it). His words cut into her short state of panic, "Come on now you idiot girl! If you're going to save me, at least do it properly! Hide me somewhere and clean up this room, it's a mess!"
"You say it as if it were my fault," she muttered. But she quickly cast Mobilicorpus on Snape and lifted him into her closet, shutting the door and making it invisible from the outside. "When they're done searching the area I'll be contacting Professor McGonagall and you better hope your story checks out," she shouted to where the closet door was a second ago.
"Finally seems like you have gained some sense," he replied. She quickly busied herself disguising the blood stains on the floor, repairing the broken window, and hiding all traces that this was a house that contained a witch, that way they wouldn't suspect she was hiding anything. She then quickly cast a glamour on herself, making herself appear an older and rather irritable Muggle women.
She had just finished her last hurried preparation when a pounding issued from the door, apparently, she noted with humor, Aurors didn't understand doorbells. She rushed down the stairs and opened the door.
AN: please read and review, if you liked it, I always love compliments! And if you didn't I want to know how I could improve, especially on my writing style and dialog. This is only my first fan fic, so I'm open to tips that could improve my writing. Sorry if there were any spelling or grammar errors. I will be updating soon.