A/N: You all are THE absolute best! Thank you so much for your eager and enthusiastic reviews! I am heading off to the far north for a much-overdue vacation and will be back in a month. In my absence, I leave you with two more chapters, the first of which is this one. I suspect some of you will not be surprised to discover who our interloper is! :)
Ms. Granger, Draw Your Wand: Part II
Hermione recognised the voice immediately.
She had practiced her reaction to this scenario enough times that within a breath, she'd subtly flipped the Archive to her "safety" page and tapped her fingers against the Marauders' Map to close it. Calmly, she leaned back in her chair, smiling guilelessly at Severus Snape's unmistakable dark form. "Oh, Professor!" she simpered with a small giggle, placing a hand over her heart. "You startled me!"
Snape stepped into the room, even at so late an hour clad as impeccably as ever in dark but tasteful clothes. "Once again, Ms. Evans, your ability to utter the obvious astounds," he said sarcastically. Then he paused theatrically, looking confused. "But what's this? Ms. Allergic-to-Books in the library on so hallowed an eve? Doth the Queen of the castle not have unsanctioned festivities to which she must attend? What is it that could possibly be holding her interest so inescapably hostage?"
As he looked toward the projected image, Hermione's mind raced. As far as she knew, Snape didn't have professor patrol that night, but perhaps Sprout had asked him to replace her. It didn't explain how he'd gotten past the Marauders Map — she cast a sidelong glance to her right; there it sat, still uselessly motionless and unflashing on the table beside her — but there was the remote chance he could have been suspicious a student with an Invisibility Cloak was messing about with the projector. She fervently hoped this was the case.
She didn't have time to deduce anything beyond that — Snape turned back toward her, his eyes intrigued; she blinked up at him innocently. "International Wizarding Journal of Fashion Design and Technology, July 1947," he proclaimed dramatically. "Oooo. What stimulating material for your Saturday night."
Hermione glared at him. "Excuse me, I'm actually making an effort to be studious, and you're mocking me? Isn't that against some grand professor code of ethics?"
"If there were a 'grand' code of ethics — which, by the way, there isn't — I can guarantee you I would have never signed it." Snape clasped his hands behind his back, surveying her hawkishly. "Now, let's see… the sheer amount of makeup you're wearing hints at your usual intentions to seduce as many men as possible in as little time as possible; however, your costume is shockingly modest and you're clearly skivving off from the little fête I'm not supposed to know about to conduct 'fashion research.'" He held up his fingers in quotes around these words, which didn't make Hermione feel particularly comfortable. Then he cocked his head at her. "Who are you and what have you done with My Evans?"
Despite the content of the question, it held the sardonically droll edge of humor Snape normally wielded, and that reassured her. She could absolutely pull this off. Though being in the library late on a party night might be a bit out of character, there was nothing incriminating he could extract from this; nothing.
"Not that it's any of your business, but if you must know, I'm planning to start my own clothing line once I graduate," she informed him brusquely.
His eyebrows raised. "Oh, to be young and fickle," he said, his voice now definitely sarcastic. "I think it was — oh, only this August, wasn't it? — that you told Lily and me your lifelong ambition was to begin a reality show with Sirius Black." At this name, his lips curled briefly. "And then to eliminate Black. A move of which I heartily approved."
Her heart suddenly started beating faster.
Bugger it all.
In this universe, Snape was Harry's godfather. Yes, that fact had sunk in when she'd first heard it, but amidst all the planning and hiding, what hadn't had time to sink in were the assumptions that should have accompanied it — such as Snape being on a more intimate basis with My as well, having likely visited the Potter-now-Evans Estate during summers to see Harry.
His dark eyes probed hers. "But it looks like that must have… slipped your mind."
For as dismissively as he threw out the phrase, Hermione suddenly detected a calculating undertone that set all her senses on edge and an uneasy curl of discomfort through in her gut. She didn't fully understand it, but in her time here she had come to trust it as much as — if not, on occasion, more than— her logic.
She had to get herself - or him - out of there.
"I'm an Elite," she informed him haughtily, as if he needed the reminder. "I'm allowed to have multiple ambitions."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, while all we mere peasants must wallow in our singular dreams."
Hermione blew out a rudely loud breath of air. "Professor Snape, I realize my mother finds you… entertaining, but I'd simply like to finish this and get on with the much more important 'unsanctioned festivities' even you know I have tonight. So if you don't mind…" She trailed off, raising her eyebrows pointedly, and when he didn't move, she pointedly waved him away dismissively.
He put a hand over his heart. "Oh, Ms. Evans, you wound me!" Instead, he took a step toward her, a shrewd expression in his eyes. "While your hastiness to get rid of me is ever so obvious, I am just the slightest bit curious. If it is just 'innocent research' you're doing, why ever would you feel the need to do so—" he held up her Invisibility Cloak, "under the cover of this?"
Instantly, thirty alarms went off in her head. The utterly confident, almost mocking gleam in his eye told her he was playing with her. Had Snape seen something the night of Dumbledore's visit after all? Or before then? But why would he wait until now to confront her about it? And why would he do it personally, rather than simply turn her in to the authorities?
Unless the authorities were waiting nearby…
She could only see two options: Play along at whatever game he was playing, which only might give her away… or wandlessly disarm him, which would surely give her away.
"Unless we're talking about the latest edition of Witches' Weekly, no research is innocent when you're me; I would think you'd know that by now," she retorted snottily. "I do have a reputation to maintain, you know."
"Oh, yes, your village idiot act," Snape said with an amused smile. "Yes, I don't doubt that's one reputation you're quite eager to uphold." He was slowly moving closer, and very subtly, Hermione reached her fingers inward toward the dueling bracer's catch at her palm that would propel her wand from storage along her forearm and into her hand. He leaned closer to her face, staring directly into her eyes, his expression unreadable. "Heaven forbid anyone discover that you're… something else entirely."
Hermione returned his gaze, deliberately keeping her mind free of thoughts except her vapid life as Hogwarts' Queen Bee as she felt him search through it with Legilimency. No, she thought, forcing conviction through her brain. She had done nothing. She had nothing to hide. She was just a student here. Just an innocent student…
The blood pounding through her temples began to calm as she sank into the blameless ideas of which she was trying to persuade him.
Five... four... three... two...
She released her wand and jumped to her feet.
"You disgusting man!" she shrilled, shoving him away from her. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you're standing far too close and you're staring and — and it's making me extremely uncomfortable!" She waved her wand at him as she spoke, the tip of it pulsing forward which each accentuation. "This kind of behavior is unacceptable, even for you! I'll report you to McGonagall if you don't stop it!"
Snape blinked rapidly, momentarily thrown off by her sudden attack, but then he quickly regained his posture, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Oh, you are good. No, on the contrary, Ms. Evans, I'd say that my behavior all depends on how you define 'unacceptable.'"
Hermione's lips parted in astonishment at his unconcerned reply. "I'd say your lecherous advances fall well within that realm!"
He actually laughed. "Lecherous advances? Hardly. Though I am exceptionally impressed with the fleetness of your fabrication and the remarkable expansion of your vocabulary." He took a step closer, idly but pointedly drawing his wand and lazily tapping it against his left palm. "No, Ms. Evans, I believe 'unacceptable' much more aptly defines your own behavior over the past few months."
For a moment, her heart stopped, then began pounding frenetically.
Great Godric.
He did know something.
Peruvian Instant Darkness Power, she decided definitively. That would give her the advantage she might need to stun and Obliviate him, and then regroup with Riddle for next steps. Even if she made it out the door and out of this mess unscathed, even if Snape happened to be acting alone in his suspicions, she couldn't take the risk of leaving him to his own devices given the damning double entendres he'd begun dropping like bombs in the past five minutes.
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're insinuating, but whatever it is, I don't like it and find it insulting," she spat at him. Casually, she dropped her hand to her pocket where she normally kept the shrunken bag of Wheezes, her pulse racing now with the same concern she'd felt facing down Ginevra: It had been months since she'd truly dueled for her life. Could she really face Severus Snape successfully?
Her fingers came up empty, and her chest suddenly lurched.
Her bag of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was still with Harry.
Her breathing fought to be panicked, which was making it excessively difficult to appear to be calm. Breathe through your nose; breathe through your nose…
Snape gave her an expression of utmost confusion. "So… blowing up the Hangar… hiding from the Sovereign with your little boy toy… deliberately destroying Lily's ladybug… those wouldn't happen to ring any bells in that very cleverly Occlumens-ed mind of yours, would they?"
Holy hell.
Hermione forced a wave of giggles; the noise was more shrill than she would have liked. "The Sovereign, at Hogwarts? Is this some kind of joke?"
From the sudden, curious intent with which he studied her, she felt like she had turned into a fascinating new strain of Dragon's Bane. "Pretending to be this stupid every day must be exhausting. Is it exhausting?"
This time, she let her mouth fall open, and gave him the most offended of expressions, clutching her wand and readying herself to do what was quickly becoming her only option: an open duel with no Wheezes to support her. "How dare you call me—!"
Click.
Hermione froze.
Click… Click… Click… Click…
It was the unmistakable sound of heeled boots coming up the stone stairs.
Panic exploded through her chest, shooting out her hands in a jerky spasm; she clenched them desperately to hide their shaking. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. Running would give everything away.
My wouldn't run… she'd be furious.
Her eyes shot daggers at Snape. "You called my mother?" she hissed angrily, channeling the raw fear coursing through her blood into fury.
He had taken a few steps away from her, a wide smirk curling across his face. "No need to call her. She's been waiting for this. Who do you think asked me to start this little game of surveillance in the first place? She's known there was something off about you since the day you went to bat on her bug. Blame yourself, Ms. Evans — not me."
Hermione stared at him in shock, forcing herself to breathe evenly, breathe evenly, fighting through the horror and dread clawing through her senses to curl around her every nerve and bone.
Her world was crumbling around her, and she frantically scrambled to grab hold of an edge before she fell along with it.
Click… Click… Click…
She had to keep it together. She had to keep it together. That was the only way she might be able to get out of this alive…
"Ah." Snape smirked. "That's given you pause, hasn't it? Concerned, Lady Evans?"
Hermione straightened her shoulders. "Hardly," she scoffed with a thoroughly unconcerned laugh, breathing through her nose and focusing on recent memories of My. Recent memories, recent memories—
"Hello, daughter."
Oh god!
At the sultry, feminine purr, Hermione's heart dropped from her chest.
Breathe, breathe, breathe…
Lily Evans stepped into the room, clad all in black, her lips blood red and hair smoothed to perfection. For a moment, she glanced with a thin smile at a smirking Snape, who greeted her with a raised eyebrow. Then she turned and prowled closer to Hermione, her own brow arching slightly. "You've played quite the clever game, My. Even I'm impressed."
No, Hermione thought fiercely — she refused to let this happen. Just because they suspected something didn't mean it was all over. She had never done anything to blatantly give herself away. Not in front of Lily, not in front of Snape…
Hatefully, Hermione shoved a shaking finger at the smirking face of the latter. "That filthy Mixed-Blood!" she exclaimed. "I don't know what he's been saying, but you can't believe him! He's obviously—"
"Oh, stop running your mouth; it's over," Lily hissed, approaching her so abruptly she backed Hermione into a chair; Hermione gasped and stumbled, falling hard onto the seat. Lily leaned down until her face was only inches away, her brilliant green eyes boring through Hermione's and into her soul. "Oh, yes. I know who you are and I know where you're from. Hermione Granger."
Please Merlin, no!
The terror in her heart had abandoned all stealth. She clutched her wand and the arms of the chair, entrapped in Lily's ruthless gaze.
"Brightest witch of your age, Light Arts practitioner, animal and human rights sympathizer, confidante of the Chosen One," Lily continued pitilessly. "Oh, your acting was very good. Passable, even, for the short while you had." Her lips curved into a smile. "But it wasn't good enough."
Sweet Morgana, how could she know everything?! Had Harry betrayed them? What proof did she have? Hermione thought frantically.
No, no, Hermione, calm down, breathe — until you see any proof she has about any of this, you can't give it to her yourself now!
She clung to this strategy, and, as My, willingly released very real tears. "Have you both lost your minds?! Who the bloody hell is the 'Chosen One?'" she screeched; meanwhile, her mind raced frantically — she had to destroy Draco and Pansy's leads, which she'd kept on her person in case she needed them to return quickly to the Common Room. "I don't understand what's happening! Why are you doing this to me? He's lying, I tell you!"
Lily shoved her against the back of the chair so hard it - and she - nearly fell over backward. "Stop your pathetic pretending; it's so obvious now," she snarled, as Hermione whimpered pitifully, sniveling, and gripped her wand, surreptitiously tilting it toward the leads —
Before she could complete the spell, Lily reached down, physically ripping the wand from her hand. "I don't think so, you incorrigible girl," she chided condescendingly. "Were you really so ignorant to think you could fool the Phoenix forever? There is nothing you can hide from us that we won't find. Nothing." Her smile widened cruelly. "And because of you, your precious little House-Wizard is dead."
Hermione's heart stopped, then lurched forward erratically.
Lily's words rang hollowly in her ears.
Dead. Dead, dead, dead…
Her head pounded. Had they already gone to the Chamber? Had Riddle been captured? Yes, she could have been lying, but how else would she know all these things? The only person who would have — and could have — given them away was Harry, but how — how could he have done such a thing to Pansy? And — And Draco—
Hot tears burned at her eyes; she wanted to weep, but suddenly, the only thing she had left to fight for was her own survival. Her mind reeled at her one clear, remaining option to possibly escape alive. "Have you all gone insane?" she shrieked, somehow still managing to shove disgust into her words even though her mind was screaming that it couldn't possibly be true. "Precious? I could care less about that filthy—"
"You tiresome girl, your lies are becoming more and more irksome!" Lily viciously struck the side of her face, and Hermione gasped at the sharp pain that exploded from it; for a moment, she was again lying defenseless on the floor in the darkness of Malfoy Manor, screaming as Bellatrix Lestrage tried to torture the truth out of her. "You know as much as I do your emotional weakness for that boy is exactly what got you into this mess! Compromising your cover to save his life, over and over and over. But the truth's out now." Lily leaned toward Hermione, and purred, "They're all dead."
Black spots began to dot Hermione's vision as she fought to breathe, the sound of the ocean roaring distantly in her ears; if Lily didn't kill her, she would surely die from stress alone. An icy sweat soaked her skin; her hands shook violently as she slowly, carefully slipped her left hand toward the right side of her waist. "Stop it! Just stop it!" she screamed, hiccupping once over her tears. "You've gone mad! Who's dead? I don't understand what you're saying!"
"Oh, I think you do." Lily drew her wand, her lips turning upward malevolently. "And now it's time you paid for it."
Hermione took several rapid breaths.
It was time.
With a sharp ring of metal scraping metal, she swiftly drew the fake - but very real - sword of Gryffindor and with both hands shoved it hard into Lily's stomach.
Lily gasped sharply, her eyes going wide. Her head rolled downward, staring at the hilt of the blade protruding from her stomach in shock…
And then she looked back at Hermione and smiled. In the blink of an eye, she'd swooped down, pressing her wand hard against Hermione's neck, the sword still impaled through her abdomen.
"Valiant attempt, but it's too late for you and your filthy insurrectionist conspirators. You have failed on all accounts, Hermione Granger," she purred throatily. "And now, you will never get back to your own world."
Failed.
Hermione's eyes widened.
Failed.
With that small word, everything changed.
With a feral yell, she shoved Lily's wand away from her neck, wrenched her own wand from the first Viceroy's other hand and immediately pointed it at the woman's surprised face. "Riddikulus!"
Crack!
Immediately, Lily's towering form shrank into a bobble head caricature of herself the size of a small doll, her oversized red lips flapping without any audible sound. The sword clattered, bloodless, to the otherwise empty floor beside it where a very human-looking Lily Evans had stood in all her glory only a second before.
Hermione choked in a shallow breath and then released a strangled laugh, blinking numbly at the figurine in disbelief.
It was a boggart.
She slumped in relief.
Thank Merlin and all the angels, it was a boggart—
The reason for the boggart's very presence suddenly cut through the adrenaline raging through her veins.
Snape.
Quick as a Snitch, she sat up straight and swiveled in the chair toward the Potions instructor… but his wand was already pointed straight at her. "Expelliarmus," he said, almost sounding bored, catching her wand as it was yanked from her hands. He tutted at her. "You can't hide your truth from a boggart, Lady Evans." He smirked. "Or should I say… Hermione Granger?"
With a flick of his wand, Hermione was flung flat against the back of the chair; she gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs.
"Incarcerous," he uttered.
Instantly, ropes materialized from thin air, binding her tightly to the arms and legs of the chair. Adrenaline again shot through her system like a drug, and she spluttered and desperately tried to yank herself free, but to no avail — the ropes held tight. Her mind raced. Could boggart-procured evidence really be considered conclusive? she wondered, furiously thinking through several Wizengamot cases involving them she'd read in History of Magic.
Hope lurched through her.
It couldn't, she realized, swiftly recalling the verdict of Eckerbee v. MacGilligan, 1864. Not when the room was shared by two or more persons — which could run the chance of confusing the boggart, and, therefore, tainting the evidence. Though the law might have changed in this world, that knowledge still helped to calm her enough to regain some control over her own panic. Perhaps Lily had sent Snape, but he was clearly acting alone now. Her friends were alive, she hadn't been discovered — well, except for Snape — and with that in mind, Hermione was overcome with a singular purpose:
Escape Severus Snape, and Obliviate the bloody hell out of him.
More lives than hers depended on it.
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes blazing. "How — dare — you," she hissed dangerously, her voice, between Hermione and My, shaking with equal amounts of fear and fury. "You disgusting Mixed-Blood! Attacking an Elite? First with a — a psychotic creature, and now by - by taking me hostage to fulfill some - some sick and twisted need?" Her voice shrilly rose. "There are laws against this! And I will see to it that you are burned."
Snape's eyebrows flew up in amusement. "Ms. Granger, perhaps you may be a tad bit inexperienced, but this is how an interrogation works: I do the threatening. You don't. I ask the questions. You don't. And if you choose not to answer, well…" he smirked and pulled a small, dark bottle of liquid from his pocket. "I have this very useful potion that can be of some assistance."
He strolled closer, peering far too deeply into her eyes as he did, and Hermione forced herself to breathe, breathe, breathe evenly and stare scornfully at his face and not think about anything other than the story that he was lying, that he was mad, that she was completely innocent in all of this and that he was going to see Azkaban for it.
"If my mother suspects me of something, which is ridiculous, why would she have you interrogate me?" she sneered, derogatorily slurring the word 'you.' Inside, she took a breath, steading herself. In Universe A, she'd never practiced the wandless magic on which her plan depended, and certainly not in a situation like this, but she had much more wandless experience here, and trying her damnedest was far better than whatever Snape had planned for her. "Surely she would send someone with a bit more…" she studied him disparagingly, "standing."
Finite incantatum! she thought furiously, sending out her magic through her hands toward the ropes binding her.
Nothing happened.
Damn it!
"Someone with more standing than me? Ha!" Snape let out a loud and very staged laugh, and she jumped slightly, frantic he'd deduced her objective. Instead, he continued, "You seem to have forgotten, I've known your - adopted - mother for far longer than anyone else has. We were frolicking on playgrounds together decades before you were but a twinkle in your birth mother's eye. No, Lily Evans feels no loyalty to you, Ms. Granger — and she's had me watch your very interesting dance for weeks."
Alright, Hermione thought logically, the Finite spell was too difficult to break through the complicated incarceration charm wandlessly. What she needed was a simpler spell…
And her wand.
"Oh, Professor Snape," she said sweetly, trying to distract him verbally while regrouping her magic. "I think I have a very simple explanation for all of this."
He raised his eyebrows, looking thoroughly intrigued and slightly entertained. "Do you now?"
Hermione shook her head, forcing a concerned expression to her face. "It's the potions. You've been inhaling far too many noxious fumes. You should see Madam Pomfrey immediately; I'm certain she can help with that." She smiled encouragingly. "In fact, if you let me go, we can go find her together."
He chuckled uncontrollably. "You are quite possibly the most amusing thing I've witnessed in months. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time to sit here all night."
He held up the bottle and approached her, his expression darkening. "I can but only suppose that somewhere in your inter-dimensional travels, you've come across Truth Serum. Why don't we play a little game of Twenty Questions?"
She took several slow, even breaths, feeling the magic humming through her and directing it forward from the core of her chest to her fingers and toward the wand that had been separated her, sticking partially out of his pocket.
Now! Her mind shouted. Now, now, now!
Hermione pulsed forward her fingers and the magic in them. "Accio wands!"
Simultaneously, both her wand and Snape's zoomed into her open hands with satisfying smacks. Snape's wand careened into the bottle of Veritaserum first; it fell to the ground and shattered. With an angry scowl, Snape physically lunged at her; in a blink, Hermione vanished the ropes around her arms and legs and swiftly raised her wand. "Stupefy!"
He dodged the jet of red light and spun back around, reaching out his hand and clenching his fist in an attempt of the same maneuver she'd done a moment earlier. "Accio wands!" he shouted.
The spell bounced harmlessly off her shield charm, and Hermione leapt to her feet, pointing both wands at the Potions instructor; her hands were so sweaty she nearly dropped his. "Stupefy!" she shouted again; he hauled a chair in front of him to block the spell, narrowly evading it.
Without missing a beat, Hermione exclaimed, "Expulso!", and the chair exploded on contact, before Snape could even blink, she'd shouted, "Locomotor mortis!"
Immediately, his legs locked together. He teetered and grasped the table before turning toward her, his lips pulled back in a snarl. "Accio!"
Hermione easily blocked the spell. "Impedimenta!"
Snape became motionless where he stood.
She knew the jinx wouldn't last long, and she gripped her wand tightly. "Sorry, I don't quite fancy a trip down truth-revealing lane," she said tautly, concentrating on the spell she would need to cast perfectly for it to remain undetected, particularly by Snape himself. His right eye twitched, nothing more, which momentarily reminded her very strongly of Harry Evans. She took a long, slow breath, then lowered her wand on him. "Oblivi—"
"Now — Now," Snape gasped out, his speech slowed significantly from the effects of the jinx. "I don't — think — Tom Riddle would — like that."
Hermione froze.
Then she blinked rapidly, shook her head and refocused on the spell. Very likely, he was still lying to her, trying to goad her into betraying anything of what she knew. "Obli—"
"Harry told me you were smarter, and he was right," Snape cut her off, his words coming more easily now as the Impediment Jinx wore off. "You hit the spell right on the mark: Lily Evans would have never had me interrogate you if she really knew of your little escapades. Oh no — she would have come here and ripped out your heart herself, just like you're afraid she will. No… This is an examination, Ms. Granger. And you've passed."
As Hermione's eyes narrowed in disbelief, he continued more unperturbedly, "Oh yes, his Highness the rogue leader asked me to personally ascertain your ability to withstand interrogation. Which, I'm reluctant to admit, you did rather well — until now, obviously." He raised his eyebrow at her. "I believe that's called premature abandonment of a role. Tends to give you away every time," he lectured patronizingly. "If I had been Sovereignty, you'd be in a Phoenix interrogation cell by now."
Hermione gaped at him, swiftly processing the many improbable — but, at the same time, not so improbable at all — words that had rapidly fired from his mouth.
She suddenly felt sick.
Still, she didn't lower her wand. "Prove it."
He frowned thoughtfully. "Well, the secondary purpose of all of this was to relay a top secret message." He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. "The rebel council will be meeting tomorrow, ten o'clock, in a place that's very secret." His voice returned to a normal volume. "Does that satisfy your oh so suspicious mind?"
Hermione had long since lost all concern this man was technically her instructor and supposedly the elder adult; after everything awful that had been done to this world by 'mature' adults, she found that she as Hermione, not My, didn't give one blasted whit anymore about respecting any kind of hierarchy or upholding any kind of social pretense. Her lip curled, demonstrably showing her lack of amusement. "Hardly," she spat, catching his allusion to the Chamber of Secrets. "What's it look like?"
As if he'd caught a whiff of her thoughts, Snape's face, for the first time she'd known him, became deadly serious. "Like a sanctuary."
For a split second, Hermione's mind darted back to the first time she'd seen the Chamber of Secrets a week earlier.
"This is the only place we can never be found," Peia had said. "This is Sanctuary."
Quickly, she ran through all the evidence she could produce that Snape would side with the conservatives. Yes, he had shown himself to Dumbledore at the perfect moment, yes, he was Harry's godfather, and yes, he must have been the one who'd provided Harry with a — faulty — memory-restoration potion while leading the Sovereignty to believe it wasn't yet completed…
But as Snape himself had reminded her continuously over the past fifteen minutes, he and Lily Evans were also best mates.
Her sharp gaze refocused on him. "Why would you help us?"
"Irrelevant. The fact is that I am." He smirked slightly. "For a quick little witch, I'm rather pleased you didn't see that one coming. Still, I must say, I am impressed. Skewering the most powerful, terror-inducing witch in all the land? Wandless disarmament, all while in character? Immediate Obliviation? That'd be a bit too much for regular My's shallow brain."
The side of her face throbbed.
It was all a bit too much for her brain.
Right. So Snape was a spy in Universe B. Though she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him and needed to determine exactly why Tom Riddle did, that necessarily wasn't so much a surprise to her - he'd been one in her world, after all, and his reasons in this one were just as opaque.
But Riddle, the golden leader of the "good" witches and wizards, had asked Snape to interrogate her. Tom Riddle had asked Snape to terrify her, to assault her, to watch as her deepest fears were ripped from her soul and laid bare before her eyes, to make her believe that the few people about whom she cared about most in this godforsaken universe had been taken from her, that her life was about to be taken from her.
And Snape willingly had.
And it was clear — he had enjoyed it.
"Accio wand!"
She was so lost in her sickened thoughts that Snape's weapon leapt from her hand before she could shield it. She sharply lifted her own wand again, just in case, but he seemed entirely unconcerned with her, un-locking his legs, shaking each one out slightly before tucking his wand in his belt and brushing the dark hair that had fallen forward into his face out of his eyes.
"Scaring the living daylights out of students. What an appropriate way to spend Halloween night," he chortled. Then he looked back at her, and gave her a slight nod. "I do hope we're both mature enough to ensure there's… no hard feelings between us."
The look Hermione gave him was torn between disbelief and disgust; for a moment, she actually wanted to vomit.
He cleared his throat, for the first time appearing the slightest bit uncomfortable. "Right, well then, I'll just leave you to sit here and seethe. Do try not to do anything stupid. Such as, oh, I don't know… blow up half the school."
As he swirled toward the door, Hermione finally spoke, her voice unnaturally even. "Leave my Invisibility Cloak."
Snape stopped, then instantly dropped it to the floor without turning back around.
"And tell me how you knew I was here and overcame the defenses I set."
He glanced at her, smirking. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm just that special?"
She clenched her jaw to keep both herself from verbally lashing out and her tone from overly belaying the sheer amount of emotions raging inside her. "I need to know so I can make bloody well sure it doesn't happen again," she ground out.
He shrugged. "Don't be too hard on yourself. While I do prefer to claim full credit for my brilliance, in this situation some commendation must go to my godson. He showed me your precise location on his nifty little map. He also switched yours with his during your debacle with the she-Weasel. I understand your version has a verrry tricky extra mechanism that would have made it a bit more difficult for me to catch you… well, so abysmally unawares."
He again turned to leave, then paused. "Oh — And I was sure to erect a number of Muffling charms before I entered. In case you're worried the rest of the castle might have overheard your ghoulish shrieks." He smirked and swept down into a low bow. "Sweets dreams. Hermione Granger."
In the deafening silence following his departure, Hermione stared numbly into the darkness straight ahead of her, lit only by the image of the fashion magazine cover.
Through the plentiful remnants of the adrenaline, the shock and fear that had rocked her, rage began to bubble and slowly build.
Harry had betrayed her. Even if it was to someone who ultimately wasn't a threat, he had assisted, probably all too cheerfully, in setting up this entire ruse — just when they finally seemed to be working well together. She could imagine the three of them, him and Snape and Riddle, all sitting around the great circular table of the Chamber of Secrets' 'war room,' merrily chortling over butterbeer and planning all the ways they were going to try to rip her psyche apart.
For a stupid, bloody test.
Her hands began to shake with fury. The very thought of all of it caused her to feel violated to her core.
Wasn't this supposed to be the good side? Wasn't Riddle supposed to be a leader she could trust? Hermione had given up her entire life in her own, much less buggered up universe - and that was really saying something - to join the fight for equality in this one. She had faced Lily Evans, multiple Sovereignty ministers, McGonagall, Snape, and all the professors without detection. She was risking her very future every single second of every single day to continue the subterfuge, to help Pansy and Draco, and keep Peia — Tom Riddle's own daughter — safe… when she could very well hopped on a plane to Australia and disappeared instead like she had certainly thought about doing once or twice in the days following her arrival. But none of that — none of it — was bloody well good enough for him? Oh no, he needed to go off and conduct his own unspeakably terrifying test?
She sprung to her feet. With a heatedly muttered spell, she turned off the projector, scooped up the the Marauders' Map, the sword, and her Invisibility Cloak, and resolutely marched from the library.
Since the moment she'd been mysteriously flung into this Universe, she had swallowed her anger against every atrocity she'd witnessed or experienced time and time again until her repressed emotions had literally exploded forth in the heart of the Hangar.
Now, it was happening again, and this time, she didn't have to pretend she didn't care. That this hadn't affected her. That she wasn't so furious she would have spit fire if she could have. That this hadn't significantly violated her very strained trust in the only two — well, now she supposed it was three — other conservative supporters who had magic and with whom she had no choice but to collaborate.
Infuriated words were clawing to burst from her mouth, and she knew exactly toward whom she wanted to direct them.
She'd had Peia teach her the Parseltongue word for "Open" exactly for moments like this.
A/N: Well!? What do you think? Still #GoodSnape? #BadSnape? #WhysohelpfulSnape? Part III up in a jiffy, once my delightful Beta jesusfreak100percent has finished looking it over! :)