Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series or any other trademarked or copyrighted work. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.

Chapter 14

Hermione was quite surprised at how calm she was. But there was nothing to be done now, since this was Snape's memory and there would be no way to escape it until it had run its course or he saw fit to remove her. However, she could do her best to verify what she was seeing. She cast a non-verbal verification charm and the whole scene in front of her glowed blue, indicating that the memory was clear and untampered with. Or, in this case, scenes. A series of snippets were passing in front of her eyes with such speed that she could hardly keep track, but all were bathed in the blue incandescence.

As each memory changed, in the air in front of her, glowing blue letters appeared:

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, DECEMBER 25TH 1965.

A little black-haired boy was cowering in a corner, as his father drank whiskey from the bottle in one hand, and whacked his wife around the face with the other. "Where's your bloody magic now!" he bellowed. Hermione winced.

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, MARCH 6TH 1967.

The boy was older now, greasy hair long and unkempt. He found a box of books in the attic, detailing spells of all kinds, staring at them in wonderment, beginning to read and read and read. The cowed look on his face slowly turned to one of determination. Hermione felt herself smiling in sympathy – her reaction to books had always been the same: to learn as much as possible in as short a time as possible.

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, AUGUST 15TH 1971.

The boy, older now but still gangly and greasy, with the same determined expression. He was holding a Hogwarts letter in his hand, grinning as he showed it to his mother, who smiled weakly, all the fight beaten out of her years ago. The father entered, home from work early, heard the word magic and bellowed like a rampaging bull, hitting and hitting and hitting without remorse.

Hermione looked up at the older version of that boy, who looked more fragile than she had ever seen him. Impulsively, she hugged him tightly, trying, trying to help move the pain away. Death Eater or no, no one deserved that.

He spoke into her hair, voice muffled by the straight brown strands. It was broken, heartfelt. "My father killed my mother that night, for the crime of bearing a magical child. He was taken to muggle prison, and I would have ended up in care if Minerva hadn't come for me. She took me to Hogwarts early, and became the closest thing to family I've ever known."

"I'm so, so, sorry."

He stood up straighter, pushing her away slightly. "You need to see this bit."

Hermione straightened, and looked around. The scene had settled.

Severus appeared beside her. With a slightly apologetic look, Hermione removed her wand from her pocket and moved it in a circular motion in front of her, casting a non-verbal verification charm.

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, JUNE 1ST 1975.

They were in Minerva McGonnagal's classroom, Headmaster Dumbledore sitting at her desk and a teenage Severus standing in front of it. McGonnagal herself was pacing about around them.

"I cannot believe that you're asking him to do this, Albus. It's madness! It's child abuse!" Her thick Scottish brogue echoed through the room.

Teenage Severus stiffened noticeably at that last. She stopped, and looked him in the eye. "You know that I don't mean that, really. I love you as my own, you know that."

There was a pause, then Teenage Severus nodded gravely. "Thank you, Minerva. I do appreciate everything you've done for me."

"An I love you too wouldn't go amiss occasionally, you know," she mock-huffed at him, but enveloped him in a hug anyway, which he returned awkwardly. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't make you say it." Severus was blushing profusely.

Dumbledore was clearly rather irritated at having the attention off him. He cleared his throat.

"Severus, what do you think? I'm worried about this Voldemort, as he's now styling himself. I do need a spy in the ranks, and what with your perfect placement in Slytherin and the Occlumency which I taught you last summer, no one can do it better than you. It's the sixth year where he tends to start recruiting, and your friend Malfoy has already started trying with you. All you have to do is accept, and report to me."

"All!" McGonnagal was off again. "Honestly Albus, you make it sound like a walk in the park! This Voldemort figure's been gathering power, he's dangerous. It could all go horribly wrong, I don't trust him!"

Dumbledore rolled his eyes. Hermione, who had never seen him do so before, thought it made him look rather young. How odd, she thought. She'd never thought of Dumbledore as young before, but he could only be about 80 here, not old for a wizard at all. "No one trusts him, Minerva, that's rather the point. It's hard to set yourself up as a Dark Lord if everyone trusts you. On the other hand, that makes a very good spy." He turned back to the boy in front of him.

The teenage Severus looked up. "I'll do it."

McGonnagal sighed, looking anguished but resigned. Dumbledore looked pleased, Teenage Severus looked rather proud. Next to Hermione, the older Severus' face was a blank, white mask.

The scene changed again:

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, NOVEMBER 1ST 1982.

Severus came into the Great Hall, where there was a feast going on to celebrate the purported death of Voldemort at the hands of the infant Harry Potter. Dumbledore, who had been sitting at the head of the table chatting to Flitwick, caught his eye, and together they proceeded to exit into the small room behind the teachers' table, where the champions had met after the Tri-Wizard Tournament in Hermione's fourth year.

"No sign of anything at Godric's Hollow or any of the usual places," said Severus. "But that doesn't mean he's really dead. The mark remains."

He rolled up his sleeve to show the headmaster the blemish on his arm, dark and ugly against his pale skin.

Dumbledore brushed his hand across it slowly, sadly. "Thank you, Severus. I know that this was a great sacrifice, and that you made it for the side of light may turn out to be fantastically important."

Severus sneered, pulling away his arm. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, the fact remains that the Potter brat, child of his bullying bastard father, has apparently saved the world and no-one but you or I knows different."

"So you will just have to keep playing the evil Potions Master until he returns. And try and be nice to Harry, for his mother's sake. She was your friend."

"Until she fell in love with that Potter bastard."

"I don't think his heritage was ever in question, Severus. Remember, then, the prophecy."

Severus sniffed. "Want me to swear an unbreakable vow not to harm the brat, or something?" It was then that Hermione remembered that this Severus could not be much older than twenty-one, so being flippant had not yet been beaten out of him by years of cynicism. There was still a slight sparkle in those determined black eyes.

Dumbledore smiled happily, apparently completely unaware that Severus had been joking. "What a fantastic idea! Poppy!" He stuck his head around the door and called the Matron in with them.

"I was joking, Albus," said Severus incredulously.

"Ah, well, better safe than sorry!" Dumbledore appeared to be manically cheerful.

Poppy Pomfrey looked faintly irritated at having her dinner distrurbed, but agreed to act as Bonder.

Hermione watched, as, Younger Severus still looking slightly incredulous, the two men knelt and she spoke the spell to bind their promises.

"I swear," said Severus, "that I will help the cause of the light until Lord Voldemort is finally defeated, and that I will aid Harry Potter in his endeavours to do this to the best of my ability and in the way that I think best, and that I will not do anything to jeopardise his destiny in any way."

The violet threads around their hands tightened, indicating that the promise had been undertaken. Severus could not break it without dying on the spot.

The blue glow of Hermione's verification spell still suffused the room, indicating that this was a true memory.

Hermione was gobsmacked, but there was no real time to process that before the scene changed again. She cast the verification spell once more, more to get an idea of timing than because she no longer believed the man next to her.

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, NOVEMBER 22ND 1995.

They had skipped just over fifteen years, and this was his memory from a night near the middle of her sixth year at Hogwarts. The year Dumbledore died, and Voldemort took over.

Now satisfied of its veracity, she nodded at Snape, who had paused the moment for her to take stock. He still looked impassive.

The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. She hadn't really studied it before – in school she'd never been called there, so the only time she'd been in was a quick run with Minerva after the battle, to collect the most important of Dumbledore's artefacts before the Death Eaters descended.

Those artefacts were back in place, now. Golden contraptions whirring on the desk and on shelves, little pendulums swinging in mid-air, apparently without being pushed. Hermione had the sudden incongruous thought that a Muggle physicist would have a field day in here, with all the machines in eternal, constant motion.

His younger self was sitting in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, looking almost the same. The black robes and greasy hair did not appear to have changed in style, nor the rigidly straight back or the almost palpable tension he was exuding. Hermione couldn't really tell any more which one was the more tense – she thought the one in the chair had it, but only by a whisker.

He was starting to speak, now, to Dumbledore, who was in his chair, studying some papers with such care that he was giving the impression of deliberately not looking at Snape.

"Headmaster, I believe I have discovered Malfoy's purpose."

"Really?" the Headmaster looked remarkably disinterested, still studying the papers with irritating officiousness.

"Yes. I spoke to the Dark Lord, convinced him that the attack on Miss Bell in October was making you suspicious, and that you were knew that Draco was behind it."

"And?"

"He told me that the real target was you, Headmaster. Draco is trying to kill you. I think that the Dark Lord expects him to fail, however."

"Unsurprising, really. I expect him to fail."

There was a slight curl of the lip from the younger Severus. Hermione looked across and found an identical one on the face of the older.

"You seem remarkably sanguine for someone who's just been informed that his student is trying to kill you," younger Snape was drawling.

"Well, yes. Since I was expecting that response, and I'm going to die anyway, it hardly seems to matter."

Hermione and younger Severus gasped in unison. The older Severus just winced.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to die. My hand, the curse I accidentally acquired with the Riddle ring, when I still thought that there might be horcruxes?" He pulled his right sleeve up to above the elbow. There was a weird juxtaposition, the black flesh of his dead hand with the ring, which then segued into pink, healthy flesh.

"You said that you'd managed to contain it in one hand! That there was no need to worry, refused to let me examine..."

"I may have needed to stretch the truth, a little."

Younger Snape was shaking now. "But... why? Have you been to St. Mungo's, the Hospital Wing... can I do anything? My dark arts books, I can brew... you can't die!"

Dumbledore waved his hand across his face, and suddenly the glamour dropped. Rather than the white haired, pink-cheeked old man they had been seeing, there was a wizened, grey-faced, elderly man. The black on his hand extended further up the arm than it had before, almost to the shoulder. The Headmaster seemed to have aged about a hundred years instantaneously.

"It's the Morte Corpo Mente curse, Severus."

The younger Severus had slumped back in his chair with a sigh, but it was the elder's face on which Hermione was fixed. It was as pale as paper, even paler than usual, and his eyes were shut as though in a great pain. He began to whisper, for Hermione's benefit, without opening his eyes.

"The Morte Corpo Mente curse, developed by Grindelwald somewhere towards the end of what you would call the Second World War." Severus opened his eyes, staring into Hermione's. "You will not have come across it, Helena. It's very, very dark. Grindelwald had a Muggle prisoner with the disease Alzheimers, which wizards are usually immune to. He managed to isolate the part of the brain which was warped, and created a potion to mimic the effects. Of course, he added his own, evil touch – as the mind of anyone whose skin touched the potion began to deteriorate, so would their flesh. Body and mind, Corpo et Mente. Dying together. There's no cure. The full formula has never been discovered, as it vanishes completely once absorbed even a little. Except that Voldemort must have figured it out. It usually takes about eighteen months to progress to death."

Hermione looked back at Dumbledore. Dear Merlin. She took a step towards Severus, instinctive rather than planned. They observed the scene together.

Dumbledore looked sanguine, the younger Severus looked as though he were the prospective corpse.

"That's enough from there for now, I believe," said Severus. The scene suddenly changed, to a windy evening. When Hermione cast her verification charm, she was informed by the blue lettering that this was

A TRUE MEMORY OF SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE, DECEMBER 29TH 1995.

The Severus Snape was sitting by the fire drinking what looked like Firewhiskey when Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Black came whirling in to the room in a flash of snow and icy wind.

"Severus! I had nowhere else to turn... he's tasked Draco with the impossible..."

Hermione watched as Severus feigned no knowledge of Draco's task, saw Bellatrix's suspicion, Narcissa's desperation. In that moment she felt sorry for all three of them: Severus, hiding what he was, Narcissa, trying to save her son, and Bellatrix, mind destroyed by Azkaban and the ravages of madness.

Hermione watched the second Unbreakable Vow she had seen in these memories. She turned to the man beside her and hugged him tightly, as she heard him coerced into vowing to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Through her tears, Hermione was vaguely aware that they had left the pensive, and that she was now back in her own flat, sitting on the settee and clutching Severus.

He conjured a handkerchief and dabbed at her face gently, smiling a little, though he too looked pained. "I take it you believe me, then?"

She glared. "Of course I do! How Dumbledore could make you do that, I don't know! I always knew he was a scheming bastard, but... maybe his mind was going from the curse, how could he make you kill him..."

"So, we need to decide what to do about the Dark Lord next week." He was back to business now.

Hermione dried her tears with the handkerchief and sat up. "There are some people who need to see this first. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but there is at least one person who needs to see this pensive."

He bowed his head. "I suppose it is inevitable. Go."

Hermione ran to her dresser, pulled out his emergency mobile phone. It was a Tesco Pay-as-you-go, and she'd never needed to use it before, but she knew the number off by heart. She dialled it, hands shaking.

"Harry? It's..." she glanced at Severus. "...Helena. I need you to come round to my flat, right now. But you have to promise, when you get here, to hear me out before you go all guns blazing. Yes, bring him too. No, not enough of an emergency for apparition, we do want to keep our cover intact after this. Broom would probably be best. Twenty minutes, then."

She put down the phone on the hook and turned to Severus. He was looking resigned.

"So," she said weakly. "I guess we've got twenty minutes to wait then. I do have one question."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"How did you figure out that I'm part of the resistance? We're meant to be secret."

"After our fourth date, I checked up on your back story. There's no Helena Andrews of your age on the Ministry registers, which list all magical children born in the UK, as you said you were." She winced, she'd been hoping he wouldn't look at that.

"Also, there's no record of any Helena Andrews attending the Salem Academy in the USA, and there's not even any record of you ever entering or leaving the country through either muggle or magical means. Your muggle persona has apparently lived in England all her life, never been abroad. I presume that's a fabrication, too, though I have to admit it's much better quality. If I hadn't noted the legilimency, I'd never have seen that you're a witch.

"That told me clearly that Helena Andrews didn't exist, so you must have lied about your backstory. However, since I approached you at the ball, not the other way around, you must have known who I was. That means that you knew who I was, in order that you knew that you had to lie to me to hide your identity. The fact that you knew who I was implies that you grew up in the UK, and that you wanted to hide so much implies that you are hiding in the Muggle world, rather than just living, a fact backed up since you refuse to apparate or portkey. Hence, you are part of the resistance against the Dark Lord, and that was probably Harry Potter on the phone. You confirmed it yourself when you understood my references to Death Eaters tonight, which you shouldn't have done if your story had been even partially true."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're a right Sherlock Holmes, you know that?"

He laughed. "Not really, I've just had four months to think about it. I don't think any Death Eater but me has enough contacts in both the Muggle and Wizarding world to figure it out, though, so you should be safe."

She sighed, and went to sit next to him on the settee. "That's a relief."

"I do have one question, though."

Hermione tensed. There could only really be one thing coming, and this was not going to be pretty.

"Who are you?"

She turned and looked at him. "Before I answer, I want you to know that although I started dating you because I was too scared not to, I really, really, like you, and this evening has only confirmed for me that I want to continue this, regardless of the future. Provided we both survive the next week, of course."

"I... rather feel the same way," he said haltingly. "I've bared all my secrets to you this evening, that's the last. But what's yours? How bad can this answer be?"

She bit her lip. "In a former life, you knew me as Hermione Granger."