AN: Hi-hi. Here we go with part 2: (hope you like it)
CHAPTER 1
Antonin Dolohov's mask-concealed face, bathed in a haze of electrifying purple light, was the last thing she saw before hitting the mist of unconsciousness which swirled across her eyes. She heard, somewhere in the distance, frantic shouts of "Hermione, Hermione!", and in some alternate dimension there existed a Hermione who was registering the panicked shaking of her distraught friends and allies.
Unable to respond, she simply lay there, time speeding up and slowing down, the smashing of glass, the wails of loved ones, the gut-wrenching cries of battle, echoing inconsequentially around her head, meaning nothing more to her than the current weather conditions.
And then, she heard her name again, this time even more desperate. 'Hermione? Hermione, Shit, Hermione! What happened? Somebody, help! Who did this to you? HELP, please…' he trailed off, despair evident in his voice. Harsh, sharp breathing somewhere nearby and the brush of warm fur snuggled against her cheek were all she registered for a moment, before the voice hardened into silent but decisive. 'Hermione, I have to save you.' She heard an intake of breath, he was almost audibly considering the decision.
An exhale. He had decided.
Somewhere, an arbitrary whisper pleaded for her forgiveness. And then she felt a tinging, starting on her chest, and swirling outwards, smoke curling through her body encompassing everything from her fingertips to the ends of her hair. The warmth and soothing sound of an unfamiliar incantation accompanied it, and again she drifted away from the present, this time into a dreamless sleep.
Hermione started. Snape had jumped out of her mind. He was staring at her with a look of absolute horror on his face.
Hermione shivered at what was clearly disgust at her, words started to tumble out of her mouth, words that she hadn't admitted before, words of regret.
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry that I didn't stop him. It's all my fault. If there was any way I could have communicated to him to stop, I would have. If it wasn't for me, he might have – ' she broke off with a harsh sob '- he might have avoided Bellatrix's curse. He wouldn't be dead. Sirius Black wouldn't be dead.'
When she had finally got her silent weeping under control, when she had finally recovered enough to look up, to her surprise, she was met, not with disgust, or even pity, but with a pensive look.
For a few seconds, they met each other's eyes.
A flash of emotion suddenly lit up his face, his chair clattered backwards, forgotten as he leapt across the room to the bookcase, bat-like robes billowing behind him.
He tore book after book from his shelves, running his hands through his greasy hair and erratically pacing with the look of a madman. Hermione had never seen him like this. Glued to her chair, she had no idea how to react.
His muttering increased in volume and spirit.
'Bloody Gryffindors. So wrapped up in their noble fucking self-fucking-pity that they don't take time to bloody fucking think!'
She looked up, confused.
'Potter, I can understand. He never thinks. But Albus? Albus was there, how – how – did he miss this?'
THUNK. He slammed another creased tome onto the table and flipped it open. She was horrified at the disrespect, especially coming from a man whose esteem for books nearly matched her own, and she therefore recognised the extremity of his emotion.
She gathered her confidence. 'Ummm, sir?'
He spun. He had clearly forgotten her presence. She shivered under his chilling stare. She knew better than to poke a raging bear with a stick.
Here goes nothing.
'What did D-Dumbledore m-miss, s-s-sir?'
The bat swooped back onto the sofa.
'Don't stutter. It's not an attractive trait.' He fixed her with a steely glare. 'Are you familiar with Rennergate?'
'Don't you mean Rennervate?'
'Do you take me for Mr Longbottom? Do you think I would forget a simple reviving spell?' He swallowed a puff of annoyance at her idiocy. 'No, whatever idiot thought to name one of the most powerful spells in existence so similar…' He huffed, cutting himself off.
'Anyway. Rennergate is similar to Rennervate, but much more intense. In fact, I would sooner compare it to the process of creating a horcrux.' She swallowed uneasily, confused. One of the most powerful spells…in existence? Horcrux?
'In much more extreme situations, it is sometimes possible… sometimes when a life is threatened … Sirius Black gave you a part of his soul.'
In any other circumstance, a smirk would have spread across his face at the way her mouth hung open in shock.
'You have to understand. Without him, you would be dead as well. That spell he performed on you - it kept you alive until medical attention could reach you - he saved your life. I'm sure the house-elves are grateful. More importantly, now, do not raise your hopes too high in that nauseating Gryffindor way, but I believe that there may be a way to save him.'
Defying any laws of physics that fancied themselves valid, her jaw dropped even further.
'The part of his soul left in you is still alive, even when the rest of him is dead. Therefore, your friend is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Now, mostly dead is slightly alive.'
Despite herself, she chuckled at the reference.
His face unreadable, he carried on as normal. 'What I mean is, the mutt gave you some of his energy – his life force; hence the name, Rennergate. Luckily for us (or for you, anyway)' he added bitterly, 'we can isolate that part of him, and use it, in theory, to bring him back from the dead.'
'Wh-wh-what?'
'What did I say about the stuttering, Miss Granger? You have been blessed not to find yourself on the same ward as Longbottom's parents, and it would suit you to behave as such…. Now, to the task at hand.'
Snape smiled at the memory and his former self, revelling in the bliss of having temporarily forgotten his current situation. But, he urged, he did not have time to dwell in memory. He yanked himself back to reality, and reality forced him to continue cutting down students' essays.
Anyway, he mused, distracted, a few minutes later. It really all started much before that memory. Perhaps the beginning of 6th year?
No, not right now, he urged again, forcing himself to continue with reality.
^_.v.Y.V.Y.v._^
As Hermione trudged up the stairs to the third floor, and muttered 'treacle tart' at the gargoyle, she tried to think why Dumbledore had requested to speak with her so soon after she had got to Hogwarts for her 6th Year. She wouldn't be surprised if the sole purpose was to break into a new bowl of lemon drops.
But then, wouldn't the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-The-Apple-Of-Dumbledore's-Fucking-Eye be his first choice?
She decided she would soon find out, took a deep breath (climbing Hogwarts' endless stairs took a little getting used to after the relaxing holidays!) and knocked on the door.
'Come in', called the twinkly voice from inside.
She stepped into the room just in time to see the swirl of black robes disappearing angrily into the floo.
'Oh Hermione, dear! Do come in, take a seat. Would you care for a lemon drop?' She knew it!
She graciously accepted one with a tip of her head, and, reaching across the mindless clutter of an absentminded old man's desk for the proffered sweet, started sucking on it pensively. She gestured questioningly towards the floo.
'Oh, Severus and I were just having a little chat. Now, to why I asked you here.' Oh, so there was a reason other than lemon drops, although they were undeniably a bonus for him – she doubted whether Snape deigned to accept something so lighthearted as a lemon drop.
'Now, tell me, surely schoolwork must be getting boring for the brightest witch of her age.' He twinkled down at her with a grandfatherly tone.
Unsure as to why he was asking so obvious she replied: 'Yes sir. Last year I easily came top in everything. Except Potions, of course.'
'I have an extra task for you, a great honour.'
A great honour? What does that mean?
'We both know that this will be an unusual year. There is no denying all of you children will have to grow up faster than would be ideal,' Thanks for the reminder! 'Although, of course you have always been superior in both intellect and maturity to your peers,' He's not wrong. 'and I therefore I offer you the honour of becoming a full-fledged member of the Order of the Phoenix.' Fawkes cooed from his perch.
Wow. Never before had anyone been allowed in who wasn't 17. All three of them, especially Harry, had been pestering the adults for years, but they kept being told they must wait until they were of age. Of course, she only had a few weeks until her birthday, but for Dumbledore to specially request her…. It was like a dream come true. No way was she turning this down.
'Thank you, sir. It will be an honour.'
'I believe yours will be an invaluable opinion in regards to strategy, as you have a certain aptitude for logic that the rest of us lack, and of course, having been raised a muggle leaves you with a more open mind.'
She always knew her intellect would be integral in winning the war, and she couldn't wait to show those stuck-up Pure Bloods how misunderstood Muggles were!
He beamed at her blatant excitement.
'You also show an unusual aptitude for medicinal spells. Would you be interested in taking on Mediwitch training? You could be an even more essential part of the Golden Trio.'
Mediwitch training? It would be a useful skill, as well as interesting background to her lessons, and who was she to turn down an opportunity for gaining more knowledge!
Hang on. That means he thinks it likely there will be situations when they need serious medicinal spells – when they are seriously hurt.
'While very important, it won't be an easy task, are you sure you are capable of it?'
How could he doubt her, the brightest witch of her age?
'Of course I can, sir. I really am rather clever.' The golden trio would be nothing without her!
He chuckled to himself. 'Poppy has already agreed to take you on as an apprentice, and you could devise a schedule to spend time in the infirmary around your lessons. I do believe you are capable of such great responsibilities.'
Well, she was the brightest witch of her age. An extra challenge would be welcome.
'Umm, I suppose so, sir.' She plastered a joyful smile across her face and began musing about the endless possibilities and strategies she could use to win the war.
She gleefully realised how much extra research this could inspire, another new purpose to explore in the library – she couldn't wait to rush down there straight away.
'Miss Granger', he interrupted her, as if reading her mind, 'don't forget to get an early night. I wouldn't want you to stay up too late in the library when you have lessons tomorrow.' his Grandfatherly tone assured her.
She nodded in acquiescence.
Dumbledore cast another bright smile in her direction. 'Good that's decided then. Another lemon drop?'
As she thought about it now, she realised angrily how he had manipulated her. At that time she was so proud but naive that she was easily controlled. She bitterly recalled how quickly that had changed.
Not that she would have said no to the offer, mind you, it would just have been nice for it to be her own choice. Despite the warm persona he tried to present, he did have a cold, calculating streak sometimes.
She suddenly realized what she was thinking.
Don't think ill of the dead. The clichéd shiver ran down her spine.
Of course, she missed him, his damned twinkling and all.
_H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H_
It was nearly curfew when Hermione eventually stepped through the portrait into the Gryffindor common room, greeted by the traditional beginning of year excitement and general chaos. Had there been a small nuclear war between the time she had left the common room and now? It seemed the only logical explanation for how quickly the room had descended into its characteristic messiness. In addition to the half-open suitcases and chocolate stamped into the carpet, there appeared to be a hurricane responsible for the paper debris flying around, some of which was only narrowly missing her face.
She decided that she had spent enough time setting the scene, and decided to actually do something, so, adjusting her armful of books and sighing at the strong Gryffindor personalities swarming around, she began to make her way across the room to the staircase.
'Hermione! Where have you been?' Her friends called out to her jovially.
Waving across the stuffy room, she changed her course and headed towards the gang, dropping a book as she went.
Ginny laughed, 'of course, she's been in the library, where else?' Ginny twirled her apricot hair over her shoulder while glancing at Harry.
Harry added: 'Well it is the only thing she's good at!' Hermione sent a fake death glare and they all laughed at the gentle teasing.
She was itching to discuss what Dumbledore said with somebody, but he didn't mention anything about the others being inducted, so she wasn't sure whether she could tell them. She decided not to as she unloaded her books, and, yawning sleepily, fell into Ron's grateful arms.
(======divider======)
Ironically, Severus Snape, broodily musing in an office hundreds of kilometres away, finally let his own thoughts slip to an event that had happened only a few hours before Hermione's memory.
He fondly recalled the disdainful sneer that settled of his lips at the start of the memory – the welcome feast. It was directed at the students milling around the great hall after the sorting like enthusiastic sheep. It was important to make the right greasy-git impression to the first-years right away, and to remind the rest of them that the dreaded Potions Master hadn't got any softer.
Oh look. The golden boy and his groupies. He supposed that the-boy-who-lived was probably feeling a bit fragile, what with his pet flea-bag having sadly passed on. This was one of the few moments when he felt himself grateful to Bella. Ugh. What a disgusting thought. That sadistic bitch deserved nobody's praise, least of all his. But there was no denying he was relieved to be rid of that cur.
As he drifted away from his thoughts, he realised his gaze was still on the posse, and he mentally jumped when he saw that the only source of brains in the golden trio was staring right back at him, a questioning look on her face.
This awkwardness was thankfully interrupted by Dumbledore, in all his periwinkle glory, gracing the occupants of the great hall with his presence.
As the hall fell silent and expectant, he embarked on his usual waffle concerning rules, interspersed with general platitudes and reassurances to stay strong despite the 'difficult times approaching'.
Snape noticed, with a hint of worry, that his left hand was hidden away in the folds of his robe, not outstretched in its welcoming state like it usually was.
Snape began to zone out, trying to redirect his attention away from the resultant aches from the cruciatus, trying to focus on maintaining his greasy git reputation. His glares successfully severed any threads of chatter that were threatening to bubble up among the dunderheads before him.
Suddenly, his attention was jostled back towards the headmaster as he heard the words, 'and coming out of retirement for our benefit, our new potions master will be the esteemed Professor Slughorn!'
He could feel 500 pairs of eyes simultaneously turn towards him as their hopeful speculations were almost audible.
There hopes were crushed with one line.
'While our very own Professor Snape will move into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.' Hundreds of groans, interspersed with a few nervous whimpers and shouts of protest erupted across the room.
Nice to know I'm appreciated around here, Snape bitterly mused. He shot out even more caustic looks at the ungrateful little shits.
'And joining him', carried on Dumbledore cheerily, seemingly oblivious to the unrest, 'will be Professor Lupin!' He beamed a winning smile across the hall as the cheers outshone the few gasps. 'I'm sure the older among you remember your excellent Dark Arts teacher; he has happily agreed to return for this year. I'm sure I can trust you all to be as open and welcoming and overcome any unnecessary prejudices.' He beamed yet another jolly smile.
The occupants of the Great Hall exchanged looks, the more perceptive knowing exactly the message held behind the bumbling words - ignore his werewolf status.
Dumbledore's words faded away as yet another sharp burst of pain shot through his leg. He winced, but quickly regained himself, building barriers around his weakness.
Again, he forced himself into concentrating on the Headmaster's words. At this point, he was still dotting along about why it was necessary to have double the number of Defence lessons. If only he would hurry up – everybody knew the war had started – even the little firsties. If he stopped dodging the truth with euphemisms then he might finish sometime before breakfast!
Willing himself to calm down he refocused on the hall.
Scanning the little buggers for any hint of trouble, and training his superior hearing in on the Gryffindor table (because let's be honest, they were the only ones likely to be making mischief in the middle of the welcome feast), he heard a little huff of annoyance. And another. Curious, he zeroed in on the noise.
What a surprise. Little Miss Hermione Granger. Of course, she probably fancied herself above all rules.
He tried to work out what it was she was doing. As he watched he realised that the little orange one was involved as well.
Then he realised – both their hands were under the table and he was sitting unusually close to Hermione – they were taking advantage of the fact that everybody's eyes were on the Headmaster, and having a little fun. He was surprised and a little impressed that it had taken him so long to notice – he didn't realise that the Weasleys possessed an ounce of subtlety between the lot of them.
About to embarrass them by calling them out, he noticed the expression on Granger's face. Disgruntled and a hint of upset. She was trying to push him away but he persisted.
Severus bristled in anger. And Gryffindors, always going on about honour and loyalty. Bloody hypocrites – that Weasley could treat any girl – let alone his own friend – in that way –
Again, Severus realised he was letting undue anger cloud his thoughts. It must be the lack of sleep – he rarely let himself get like this. Interesting. Very interesting.
His thoughts were forgotten as the Headmaster clapped his hands and cheerily announced the start of the feast. He decided, perhaps he would allow himself a secret moment of leniency for Hermione's sake and not call Ron out. Though he was making no promises about the rest of the year.
The plates took it upon themselves to feed him, piling up a hearty helping of roast beef, yorkies, potatoes and peas. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he pushed it away.
A little cough came from his side, Minerva pointedly clearing her throat. She cast a meaningful stare at the food before him as it rematerialised into pudding – eclairs, jelly and ice-cream all on one plate. 'You know, the table does have a point. You have been looking a little willowy lately.'
'Honestly, woman! Can we please let it get at least one day into the term before you start mothering me.'
She sighed and turned back to her own meal when he made no move to eat, instead pushing the food around halfheartedly.
Amused, he began to watch the new teachers at the end of the table.
Professor Slughorn was already spreading his influence, talking jovially with those around him and scanning the hall for any student that looked important. No doubt the aptly-named "slug-club" would reappear this year. Severus suppressed an internal sigh at the boring prospect.
Professor Lupin, however was looking a little worse for wear. Confused, Snape mused. Then he remembered that the mutt who had made his own life so difficult, had been very close to Remus. As in – they were fucking. Although they had tried to keep it hidden, being Gryffindors they really weren't very subtle. Snape was surprised that Remus was managing to function at all, let alone take on a new job where he would be inevitably surrounded by such prejudice.
Turning his eyes away from the misery surrounding him, he re-scanned the students.
Across the hall, Snape noticed that at least Hermione seemed to be enjoying the feast. She was already on her second portion, shovelling through a bowl of mashed potatoes with a contented look on her face.
Snape sat back in his chair, closing his eyes, and reached for another gulp of fire whiskey. It had been a long day. He was ready to forget all the duties of running a school, and just relax for a few hours.
But it was not to be. He shoved back his chair and crossed the room to his desk, ready to begin his night's work, surrounded by the warm glow of the fire on the other side of the study. Sparing a glance to Dumbledore's dozing portrait, he allowed himself a moment to reflect in sadness of the life and wisdom of the great Albus Dumbledore.
(0UI~+X+~IU0)
Hermione drifted back into the present as the chilly mist flowed around her, through her hair and under her clothes. She was still thinking of the warmth of the Headmaster's study – and the man that had until recently occupied it. To her disgust, tears came to her eyes as she thought of the last time she had seen him. Well, the last time she had seen him alive.
'Severus, please.'
The glare of the moonlight in his eyes, a green flash, suddenly all she had ever thought to be true – shattered.
A cry unvoiced reverberated through her as she stole away, back into the darkness of the Astronomy tower.
After that, all she could remember was her blood pounding through her ears as she ran and ran – anything to escape the horror that she had just witnessed.
I"I"I"I_I"I"I"I
Sooooooooo, opinions? I know the timeline might seem a bit muddled – but that's the point. Hermione's and Severus's memories are quite confused at this point, so I'm afraid you're also going to have to bear with me to understand what's going on.
Also, I know that lots of things – character relationships, teachers – are a little different to what actually happens in canon, basically I'm picking and choosing what I like and what I don't, and shifting it around to suit me =) So, if it seems like a mistake, it's probably intentional (sometimes)
Btw there was a reference hidden in there - it's quite obscure and doesn't really fit but I just was desperate to include it - I wonder if anyone knows what it's from? (without google)
(I know there's no Bellatrix, but she's coming up sooooon!)
Please review – I'm not really sure whether this story is working so I really need advice – any constructive criticism really welcome! (3 "really"s? Honestly, Xenia)
WOW that was a long author's note - sorry for the unnecessary waffle.