FIC for: bottledglory
Title: A Dangerous Choice
Recipient bottledglory
Fic or Art: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Hermione, Snape, Luna and Remus
Summary: Slowly the pieces fall into place and Hermione Granger realises that a man, once her teacher, now her enemy, might not be who he seems.
"You foolish child."
Hermione Granger froze and for a moment was uncertain where she was. Then feeling the cool, hard stone beneath her and the chilly air around her, she remembered.
She was a prisoner of the Death Eaters.
Sitting up, Hermione brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to make her body as small as possible. Small enough so she could disappear.
"Little Miss Know-it-All has nothing to say? My, my, that is surprising."
The room was dark, not allowing Hermione to see who there with her, but there was no mistaking that voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Profes-"
"Do not call me by that title," Snape shot back quickly.
He took several steps towards her, stopping in the light of only candle in the room. Hermione studied him, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, trying to take in as many details as she could. Snape had lost weight. Always thin before, now he was practically skeletal. Heavy bags creased under his eyes and his hair was stringy around his face.
Another set of footsteps made Hermione close her eyes. It was now truly dawning on her what she had set out to do. What if she was wrong? What if Snape wasn't the man she thought he was? What if he was the man that everyone in the Order thought he was? The man Harry thought he was?
She shuddered, knowing what fate await her if she was wrong.
"Will you do the honors?" asked an oily voice from the shadows. Hermione shuddered, recognising Dolohov's voice. Her hand lay unconsciously over the small scar still on her chest, a reminder of the battle at the Department of Mysteries.
"No one will break her but I," Snape said in a deadly voice.
"Surely, an assistant-"
"No one is to touch her," Snape told Dolohov. "Make that known."
"You really need to learn how to share, Severus."
"Get out," Snape said, his voice full of poison.
Dolohov left the room, allowing Hermione to let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. But her breath hitched again, remember that it was now only Hermione and Snape alone in the small room.
With a wave of his hand, Snape conjured a goblet. "Aguamenti," he said in a bored voice. He handed Hermione the goblet. "Drink."
Hermione reached out a shaking hand for the goblet. As he handed her the goblet, their fingers brushed. His hand was so cold that it practically sent shivers down her spine.
Once she had the goblet, she slumped against the wall, simply holding the goblet in her hands.
"I will not tell you again," Snape ordered, the malice in his voice unmistakable. "Drink."
She took a sip, and recoginised at once that the contents of the goblet weren't simply water. There was a truth serum in the drink. Not Veritaserum - that she wouldn't be able to sense - but there was something.
Setting the goblet down, Hermione simply stared at her old Potions professor. She wanted answers, not water laced with a truth serum. She wanted, no needed, her questions answered. And the sooner the better.
"How long have I been here?" she asked in a demure voice. He would not respond to a challenge or threats, which was what Harry would have resorted to. Perhaps she could simply coax the answers out of him.
"A day, perhaps two," he told her. "I only learned of your capture an hour ago."
At once, Hermione realised that he was attempting to access her thought, trying to use Legilimency against her.
Hermione quieted her mind and mediated on the techniques that Remus Lupin had taught her. She had been surprised to learn that Lupin was a Legilimens, but his tutelage proved invaluable. Even Harry had been able to pick up the proper technique under Lupin's careful watch.
"Did you learn this out of a book, perhaps?" sneered Snape. "I wouldn't test my skills, Miss Granger. I will take what I want out of your mind."
"You could just ask me," Hermione said, not believing for a moment that he actually would. If he was going to pick through her mind like a scavenger, she wanted to make him uncomfortable as possible. The images of learning of Professor Dumbledore's death floated to the top.
To her surprise, Snape left her mind immediately. His body made no indication that he was affected at all by what he had seen in her head. "How were you captured?" he asked.
Hermione self-consciously tried to run her fingers through her bushy hair. She hadn't been allowed to shower or bathe since her incarceration, and her pitiful attempts at a wandless Cleansing Charm hadn't done the job.
"There was an attack," Hermione started. "Diagon Alley."
"I'm aware of the attack," Snape said coolly.
"I was running from a Death Eater… I tripped… Dropped my wand…"
"You're lying."
"I'm not," Hermione said in a small voice.
"I have no doubt that the events you described took place. But you expect me to believe that you hadn't bound your wand to you in case that very thing happened?" Snape said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "For a Little Miss Know-It-All, it doesn't seem like you were very prepared."
"I'm not little!" Hermione said, her hands clenching into fists.
"And the majority of the Death Eaters are quite aware of that fact."
Her eyes went wide. She had heard of some of the Death Eaters activities during the first war. The casual rape, the murder for fun, but somehow, that never crossed her mind since she was captured until now.
"They wouldn't," she said in a whisper.
"They would and then they would again, Miss Granger. And again until they have you begging for mercy."
She opened her mouth for a defiant response when Snape clutched his forearm. He turned and over his shoulder called, "We will finish this discussion later."
~~~~~
Her head was covered, not wanting to be seen in Knockturn Alley by anyone she knew. As she walked towards the Apothecary, Hermione wondered how in the world anyone could live in this filthy place. It seemed more like a stereotype for a seedy underworld than an actual area to do business.
Dung had been clear. If Harry wanted his help, then there were certain potion ingredients that he wanted, and only one Apothecary supplied them. Harry and Ron would be too easily recognizable, so Hermione volunteered for the task, hoping she would do a better job than her last acting attempt in a Knockturn Alley shoppe.
The Apothecary door opened and to her amazement there stood Luna Lovegood at the counter. Hermione wanted to turn and leave right then, but the Ravenclaw had already spotted her. Thankfully, Luna said nothing, simply completing her transaction and then leaving the store.
Hermione asked for the ingredients in a low voice, knowing that if she was caught with any of them, she would have a short stay in Azkaban. Chimaera eggs, Pogrebin Pus, Erkling Liver. She certainly had no desire why Dung wanted any of these. As much as Hermione liked having all the answers, perhaps this time it would be best not to know.
The whole ordeal only took a few minutes, the man behind the counter as eager to conclude the transaction as she was. After a quick Shrinking Charm had the ingredients safe in her pocket, Hermione felt like she was able to breathe again.
That was, until she saw Luna waiting for her outside the shoppe. "Hallo, Luna," she said in a very unexcited voice.
Luna nodded, and asked, "Why are you wearing a baklava?"
Hermione said nothing, and instead started walking towards Diagon Alley. Luna followed. Once they were back in familiar territory, Luna said, "Harry's wrong."
"What?" The statement sounded so ridiculous coming from Luna's lips that it took Hermione a deep breath in order not to say anything spiteful in return. "About what?"
Luna looked over at a bench. Sighing, Hermione followed her there, and then quickly cast a Muffliato Charm, annoyed that she needed to use one of Professor Snape's spells, handy as it was.
"What is Harry wrong about?" Hermione asked defensively.
"Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the Headmaster. The month that had passed since his death had not eased the burden or the guilt that Hermione felt.
Luna continued. "Harry thinks that Professor Dumbledore asked for his life."
"He said 'please,'" Hermione reminded Luna. "What else can that mean?"
"Lots of things," Luna said conversationally. "I say please if I want to ask someone to do a favour for me."
Her jaw dropped. "You can't be seriously suggesting that the Headmaster wanted Snape to kill him."
"I'm not suggesting anything at all." Luna turned her head and seemed to stare towards Knockturn Alley. "I'm reminding you about something."
"Why don't you tell Harry, if you think he's wrong?" asked Hermione, annoyed that Luna hasn't exactly gotten to the point yet.
"Oh, I don't think Harry would listen to me," Luna said, not sounding offended at all. "I thought we might be friends once, but he barely spoke to me after the Christmas Party."
"You fought with us when the Death Eaters attacked," Hermione said, her voice softening.
Luna simply shrugged. "Could you tell Harry that I don't think Professor Dumbledore would beg for his life?" Her face betrayed a momentary sadness. "He and I spoke about death every so often. He always called it-"
"The next great adventure," Hermione said, finishing Luna's sentence, her mind reeling. Why would a man not afraid of death beg for his life? "Perhaps he had more to accomplish. Perhaps he didn't think he could die until he finished his task."
That would make sense. Professor Dumbledore hadn't yet located all of the Horcruxes. How could he leave the earth before that was done?
"It would be pretty foolish of him not to have a back-up plan," Luna said thoughtfully. "We have a back-up plan for almost every imaginable situation at the Quibbler. Like Troll attacks or zombies."
Suppressing the urge to giggle at the thought of the Quibbler office being overrun by zombies, Hermione said, "I think he had one." Harry, of course, would have been the back up.
But why would there be so much that the Headmaster left unsaid? Harry barely had any idea where to start the search. Surely Professor Dumbledore had theories about where the Horcruxes could be found. Why hadn't he shared them with Harry. That is…
Unless Harry wasn't the back-up plan. Which meant someone else was. Which meant that Professor Dumbledore went to his death secure in the knowledge that someone else was waiting in the wings.
Then why would he say 'please?' If he had a back-up plan, why bother to speak at all? Why look weak in front of Harry and the Death Eaters?
Luna's words came roaring back to her. "I say please if I want to ask someone to do a favour for me."
Hermione stood up, feeling slightly light-headed. What if Professor Dumbledore was asking for Snape to kill him?
Then whose side was Snape really on?
~~~~~
Several hours or maybe even as much as a day passed before Snape entered Hermione's small prison again. The moment the door slammed behind him, he cast a Cleansing Charm. Hermione felt the grime and dirt wash off her body and the grease out of her hair. Even her clothes felt refreshed.
While part of her felt grateful, another was suspicious. "Why did you do that?" she asked.
"You smell," he said frankly. "It's been three days since you've been captured. Surely you want to be clean?"
Hermione nodded, raising herself up to a sitting position. She felt stronger than she did the last time she saw him. It was now time for answers.
"Are you planning on staring at me all evening?" he asked.
Her eyes glanced away immediately. "Why haven't you hurt me?" she asked, voicing her biggest fear. "I assumed that I would have been tortured by now."
"Do you want me to torture you?"
"No!" Hermione said with a squeal. "Of course not. I just thought… Doesn't Volde-"
"Say his name in this place and you will die," Snape said at once. "Here, you must call him the Dark Lord."
"Where's here?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"You can't honestly expect me to answer that question," Snape said disdainfully. "You are here. That is all you need to know."
Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Hermione asked, "Why hasn't anyone asked me questions? I would have thought that I would have been interrogated."
"You overestimate your importance, Miss Granger," Snape drawled. "The information you can offer is minimal. You are little more than a hostage."
Hermione flushed, and knew at once she had made a mistake.
"But perhaps you don't believe that to be true," Snape said slowly. "You feel you have vital information." He let out a breath. "Remember, Miss Granger, that there are eyes and ears everywhere."
She leaned back her head in frustration. She had to know if Snape was who she thought he was. And soon. Otherwise, she might languish in this small room for who knows how long?
It was time to take a risk. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself. Then in an instant, opened them, making eye contact with Snape. She delved into his mind, trying to find something, anything, before his defenses went up.
She expected him to be furious. Curse her with all of his considerable power. Instead, to her amazement, he opened his mind to her.
Hermione's heart leapt. Snape would never allow this unless there was something he wanted her to see. Another thought entered her mind. This was what he wanted! Why else would he warn her of eavesdroppers?
Her eyes closed naturally, as Snape's memories flashed before her. She saw him kneeling with Narcissa Malfoy, performing the Unbreakable Vow. Snape speaking to the Headmaster, a look of anguish on his face. Snape watching Professor Dumbledore using a Pensieve.
Breaking the connection, Hermione said, "I saw that two weeks ago."
Snape's face betrayed no emotion. "And?"
"That's why I'm here."
~~~~~
"Professor Lupin?"
"Hermione, will you ever call me Remus?" asked Lupin with a smile on his face.
"It doesn't feel right," Hermione admitted. Lupin was a professor - even with a pink-haired witch sitting on his lap - and therefore deserved her upmost respect. "I've a question for you."
"Go ahead," Lupin said with a nod.
Hermione bit her lip. She should have approached him when he was alone. Not that she didn't trust Tonks - she did - Hermione just didn't want her to know what her question was.
Tonks must have sensed Hermione's apprehension, because she jumped off of Lupin's lap and said, "I'm a bit parched. I think I'll go down to the kitchen for a glass of water."
Once the door shut firmly behind Tonks, Hermione turned her attention to Lupin. "You've basically become the leader of the Order, haven't you?"
Lupin winced at the word leader. "There are some who come to me for advice, that's all. We make decision for the Order as a group."
That certainly wasn't the response she expected. Hermione had been to meetings, Lupin led them, even Mad-Eye deferred to him. Why wouldn't he say he was the leader?
She tried another tactic. "But Professor Dumbledore trusted you," she pressed.
"He only trusted me as far as he could throw me, Hermione," Remus said bitterly.
"But-"
"Why do you think I've been exiled with the werewolves since Sirius' death," Remus said, his voice full of venom. "I betrayed his trust your third year and I've been paying the price ever since. Once Sirius wasn't here for me to keep an eye out for, Dumbledore had every excuse to ship me off."
"But you must have done some good with werewolves." Hermione bit her lip. She had never seen her former professor like this. But then she remembered that she actually had. This was the same man, after all, that was willing to kill Peter Pettigrew in cold blood. Wormtail might have deserved death, but he also deserved a trial to determine his fate. Lupin and Black were more than willing to play judge and jury that night, and would have, unless Harry hadn't stopped them.
"Any good I did was erased the moment Greyback went back to the werewolves, announcing his triumph over the Headmaster."
"He didn't cast the spell that killed him," Hermione said quickly.
"No," Lupin agreed. "But he was there when it happened. He was trusted amongst the Death Eaters for the task. It simply goes to show the pack how much power they will have if Voldemort is in power."
"Oh," Hermione said in a small voice. She sat down on the tattered red velvet settee, wishing the Order hadn't chosen to use number 12, Grimmauld Place as their Headquarters again. The memories it forced upon Harry weren't healthy.
Rubbing her temple wearily, she asked, "Did Professor Dumbledore leave any information in his will? Any instructions for the Order?" Remus had been named the executor of Professor Dumbledore's estate.
"No," said Remus with what almost seemed like a pout.
"Surely he informed you his plans?"
"Plans for what?" asked Lupin bitterly. "If Dumbledore had a plan in place on the occasion of his death, he certainly didn't share them with me." He put his hand up when Hermione was about to ask another question. "Nor with any other member of the Order that we know of."
Sighing, Hermione stared into the embers of the recently ended fire. So Professor Dumbledore hadn't told Remus of any plans. Someone had to know. She was convinced of it. But who?
"I would like to look in Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve." Perhaps there was a clue there. Perhaps she might even be able to find some information about Professor Snape.
Lupin let out a deep breath and rubbed his chin. "You certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?" he asked with a sigh. "Why?"
"I can't you tell."
"Harry's already looked through it a dozen times," Lupin reminded her. "He hasn't found anything important."
"Harry doesn't know how to properly use a Pensieve," Hermione pointed out. "I do." When Harry had told her about the Pensieve in Professor Dumbledore's office, she was eager to learn more and read as many books as she could on the subject.
Lupin leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you want to learn more, and then not tell anyone in the Order, is that correct?"
"It's not like that-"
"It's exactly like that, Hermione, and you know it," Lupin told her. "You realise that you have almost thirty witches and wizards at your disposable, all willing to die for Harry, and yet you chose not to share anything."
Hermione looked down at the floor. Right now, she wanted to tell Lupin everything. The man was a Dark Arts Expert, knew almost as much as Professor Snape. He could provide such valuable information about the Horcruxes. "It's not my choice," she said, not able to look at Lupin's face.
"The Pensieve is in my room," Lupin said, standing up with a heavy sigh. Hermione stood up as well, her cheeks red. Lupin put his hand on her shoulder. "Tell Harry we want to help, will you?"
"I will."
~~~~~
Hermione processed the memories Snape had willed her to see, and, making her choice, opened her mind to him as well. Once Snape started truly going through her mind, Hermione had to grab onto the floor; her entire body was tense, wanting to stop him, keep him out of her mind.
She showed him the memory in the Pensieve she had seen, the memory that put her in this cell. The memory where Professor Dumbledore told Snape in a voice colder than she had ever heard from the Headmaster's lips that he must be killed. And that if Snape was there, it must be he who cast the spell, no other.
It could have all been an act, Hermione realised. She knew that there was every chance that Snape only wanted to gain her trust to get as much information he could. She knew that if she was wrong, she had just condemned the Wizarding World to darkness. But it was a risk she was willing to take.
How many times had Snape tried to save hers and Ron's and Harry's life? It was embarrassing how many life debts she must owe the man. He had to be on Dumbledore's side, she refused to believe anything else. And quite frankly, if he wasn't, and all of this was a ruse, this wasn't a world Hermione wanted to be a part of anymore. She had to believe that there was still some goodness in the world.
The types of memories that flashed before Hermione's tightly closed eyes changed. No longer of Dumbledore, they were of Harry. Harry acting out the scene in the Chamber of Secrets for a delighted Hermione and Ron, stabbing Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang. Harry trying not to stare at the ring on Professor Dumbledore's deadened hand. Harry clutching the fake Horcrux during the Headmaster's hand.
The Horcuxes!
Snape left her mind immediately. "You understand what the conversation will be about?"
Hermione leaned forward, afraid she was going to vomit. She was dizzy, so dizzy! She looked at Snape, hoping he might realise the after effects of a mind being invaded like hers had just been, but he simply stood there, arms crossed over his chest, a look of distaste on his face.
"If you're going to vomit, I suggest you do so quickly and get it over with," Snape said in a bored voice.
She did, feeling better instantly. The horrible taste was left in her mouth and more than anything, she wanted to crawl to the bowl of water in the corner, where she could drink. But there was no time.
"You are wasting precious seconds, Miss Granger," Snape said in a dangerous voice.
Wiping the corner of her mouth with her robe, Hermione replied, "I understand." She could try to clean the spot her robe using wandless magic later.
Snape mercifully vanished the vomit a moment later. His eyes bore holes into her soul and Hermione understood that she must not break eye contact.
"There was a boy."
Before her was a memory that could only be a teenaged Snape studying in the library. In front of him was the Potions Book of the Half Blood Price!
"He had a friend."
Lily Evans joined him, swiped the book good-naturedly from Snape and started writing quickly in the margins.
"In a place of beginnings…"
A small cottage in a very industrial town flashed before her. Snape, still a teenager in the memory, walked into the cottage and then the living room.
"There is a chest."
An unimpressive wooden chest lay in the living room of this cottage.
"Only two were supposed to be able open this chest."
She watched as Lily Evans placed a bundle of papers into the chest, closed the trunk and looked into the keyhole, sealing the latch.
"But I believe a third has that power."
In the memory, Harry looked up at Snape with a hateful glare.
Snape broke the connection. "Do you understand?"
Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest and made herself as small as she could. Did she understand? That Snape and Harry's Mum were friends? That they charmed a trunk in Snape's boyhood home? A trunk only to open to those who have specific eyes? Snape's and Lily's eyes? That Harry will be able to open that trunk and perhaps their salvation will lie inside? She certainly understood!
"Yes." She forced her voice to be as unemotional as Snape's.
"Good." Snape turned and started to leave.
"Wait!" Hermione stood up, trying to keep her balance, and not being very successful.
Closing her eyes, she thought of the Order, about how in the world they could contact him, now that Hermione knew that Snape was on their side.
Snape projected another memory towards her. There was a witch with black hair, wearing a dark red blood cloak, waiting in an alley impatiently. A moment later, Snape appeared, and the witch's hair colour changed to bubblegum pink, just for an instant, and then turned black again.
Tonks.
"Only she. Anyone else would get themselves killed."
"How did you know?" Hermione asked, wanting to know how he could have possibly realised that Tonks could morph again after being reunited with Lupin.
Snape smirked. "Because she never could not."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"It's unimportant. There is only one thing of importance at the moment."
She realised it at once. What she needed more than anything, was a plan to escape.
~~~~~
Ron had insisted they go on a proper date, with him paying for everything. Hermione didn't care about the economics of the date, she just wanted to spend time with him, and the sooner Ron realised that, the better.
They walked through Diagon Alley, hand in hand, window shopping, dreaming of everything they would buy if they had a vault full of galleons like Harry did. Hermione would buy the Encyclopedia of Everything, the most expensive tome in existence, where you only had to think of a subject and the pages would tell you everything you ever wanted to know. Ron thought he would buy the Chudley Cannons, and made a note to tell Harry to do just that once the war was over.
A dark cloud seemed to cover the sky in only an instant. Hermione heard a thud behind her, tightened her grip on Ron's hand, and prepared herself for the screams.
"Death Eaters!"
Ron dropped her hand, taking out his wand. Hermione removed hers from her front pocket. She was ready to fight. She was a member of Dumbledore's Army, after all.
A small explosion knocked both of them on their feet. Hermione grabbed her wand, which had stayed next to her due to the sticking charm she cast every time she left the relative safety of Headquarters.
Another scream, and Ron bolted up the Alley towards a group of Death Eaters. Hermione wanted to join him, fight a long side him, besides the Aurors and the Enforcers that were rapidly Apparating into Diagon Alley. But her feet wouldn't move.
There was so much death around her. And here she was. Someone who believed they had the answer, if only she could confirm her theory of Snape's loyalty.
And only she could find the answer.
When she had broached the subject with Ron - she wasn't foolish enough to talk to Harry yet - he laughed at her, said she was mental. She tried again with Professor McGonagall, who angrily ended the conversation.
It was up to her. She realised this now.
With a wave of her hand, Hermione cancelled the Sticking Charm on her wand. She walked slowly into a corridor with a dead end. Soon, a Death Eater would see her standing in this alley way and attack. All she could hope for was that it wasn't a killing blow.
So she prayed. She prayed to a God she had abandoned when she had discovered magic. She prayed to the Goddess, Buddha, Allah, any God that she thought might hear her plea.
"What do we have here?"
There was no mistaking Lucius Malfoy's voice. The prison breakout that led to his escape was well documented. Hermione turned, a look of determination on her face. She would let him capture her. Surely Malfoy would recognise how important she could be? And surely Snape would insist on seeing her if he was who she thought.
And if not… Hermione gulped. Then she would die. And worse, deserve to die for throwing her life away on a man who no one trusted.
Her fight or flight instinct started, causing Hermione to back up slowly. She didn't want to fight Malfoy. She didn't care if Harry was convinced that he could duel any Death Eater to a draw. Hermione knew better. These Death Eaters had decades more experience and a ruthlessness that she didn't possess, but which Harry was beginning to embrace.
Hermione tripped on a rock, either consciously or unconsciously, she didn't know. Grimacing as she hit the pavement, her wand, now without a Charm to keep it near her hand, flew away from her. It was only seconds before she felt a body bind curse throughout her body.
Malfoy walked up to her slowly, each footstep a heavy reminder of everything that Hermione risked. He stood over her, his white-blond hair falling over his shoulders, confirming his identity even while a mask concealed his face.
Poking her cheek with the tip of his wand, Malfoy said in a voice that practically purred, "You certainly will be a prize."
~~~~~
Hermione stood by the door, her muscles tense, waiting for the instant it opened with her daily meal. There was no doubt in her mind that she was condemning whoever stepped into this room a long and painful death, but there was no other choice. She had to step into the corridor where there were no wards that inhibited most magic.
Snape had promised that the one who entered would be young, not a fully trained wizard, who could end the plan before it even begun.
Footsteps could be heard down the corridor and Hermione took a breath, knowing it was time. She was ready; Snape had performed a quick Healing Charm before he left, which helped return her energy.
The door creaked open and Hermione let loose the energy she had built up in her hands. It was a magical energy that only fully trained wizards could control. Hermione might not be a fully trained witch - she might not technically ever be, if she never graduated from Hogwarts - but thanks to her books, she knew what to do.
The young wizard jumped back into the corridor, and started yelling loudly as Hermione ran from her prison. For only a moment, she let herself think that she may fail. Never before had she tried her Animagi transformation under so much pressure, but as she allowed her animal instincts to take over, Hermione knew the transformation would be complete.
The moment Harry had told her and Ron that his Dad had been an unregistered Animagus, along with Lupin, Black and Wormtail, Hermione knew she wanted to be one, too. That desire grew into an obsession when she realised that Rita bloody Skeeter was one as well. It seemed that everyone was an Animagi except for her.
Hermione had told no one when she had perfected the magic - it was illegal, after all - and Harry and Ron would insist that she teach them as well. She rather liked having a secret, and this time, her secret would save her life.
She had been so pleased when her Animagi form turned out to be a Knealze, not a half, like her Crookshanks, but a full one. It made so much sense. Back at Hogwarts, whenever the boys were mad at her, which seemed like all of the time, Crookshanks was her friend. He was her comfort. And now she could be like him in this form.
Running on all fours was something Hermione hadn't attempted very often. Whenever she was in her Animagi form, she mainly simply trotted around, much more proud of herself than she probably ought to have been.
So she wasn't surprised when she fell making a quick turn, giving a Death Eater perfect aim. Thankfully, the aim was off, giving Hermione another chance to run. A ledge leading outside appeared once she made another left, just like Snape had shown her in his mind.
Making the leap onto the ledge- which would have been easy in her human form, but as a Kneazle seemed unfairly high - she looked outside. There was the lake that Snape promised.
Another leap, this time down. Hermione landed awkwardly, sure she had broken an ankle. She would pay the price for this. Every book she had read on Animagi said that if an injury occurred in the animal form, it must heal in the animal form.
But Hermione had no choice. She couldn't Apparate in her Animagi form, though she made a quick decision to learn why and then to figure out how she could.
Luckily, her body adapted, and on instinct, ran on three legs, instead of four. Once at the shore, Hermione closed her eyes and prepared herself. She started to think of Hermione the person, not Hermione the Kneazle and her body started to change.
She couldn't stop the cry from her mouth as her leg changed, as every bone, every muscle, every tendon around her ankle protested. But then, even as she heard the shouts and screams behind her, Hermione felt at peace. She had won.
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she closed her eyes, and gave herself one last second to enjoy the sea breeze on her cheeks, the cool air dusting her skin. She thought of the boy she just condemned to death, a boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She would remember him always. And when a Killing Spell only missed its mark by inches, she thought of destination, determination and deliberation.
Don't splinch, don't splinch, don't splinch
The pressure around her body was practically unbearable, thought thankfully over quickly. Not able to land on her feet because of her ankle, Hermione fell to the ground the moment she reappeared, the pain almost unbearable.
She looked about her, and with a small satisfied smile, saw that she had made her destination. If only Ron could see how useful the three D's really were!
"Hermione!"
Harry and Ron ran towards her, picking her up off of the floor, steering her towards the sofa as she walked with a pronounced limp. "Are you alright?" "What happened?" The boys - no, the men, she had to start seeing them as such - seemed to speak in one voice.
"I'm fine," Hermione said weakly, uncaring of the mess she must have looked like. Only one thing mattered now. She looked at her friend, the Boy Who Lived. "Harry, we need to talk."
He looked at her with a resolve not unlike her own. She knew he would listen to what she had to say.
It was time to start the end the war.
Recipient bottledglory
Fic or Art: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Hermione, Snape, Luna and Remus
Summary: Slowly the pieces fall into place and Hermione Granger realises that a man, once her teacher, now her enemy, might not be who he seems.
"You foolish child."
Hermione Granger froze and for a moment was uncertain where she was. Then feeling the cool, hard stone beneath her and the chilly air around her, she remembered.
She was a prisoner of the Death Eaters.
Sitting up, Hermione brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to make her body as small as possible. Small enough so she could disappear.
"Little Miss Know-it-All has nothing to say? My, my, that is surprising."
The room was dark, not allowing Hermione to see who there with her, but there was no mistaking that voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Profes-"
"Do not call me by that title," Snape shot back quickly.
He took several steps towards her, stopping in the light of only candle in the room. Hermione studied him, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, trying to take in as many details as she could. Snape had lost weight. Always thin before, now he was practically skeletal. Heavy bags creased under his eyes and his hair was stringy around his face.
Another set of footsteps made Hermione close her eyes. It was now truly dawning on her what she had set out to do. What if she was wrong? What if Snape wasn't the man she thought he was? What if he was the man that everyone in the Order thought he was? The man Harry thought he was?
She shuddered, knowing what fate await her if she was wrong.
"Will you do the honors?" asked an oily voice from the shadows. Hermione shuddered, recognising Dolohov's voice. Her hand lay unconsciously over the small scar still on her chest, a reminder of the battle at the Department of Mysteries.
"No one will break her but I," Snape said in a deadly voice.
"Surely, an assistant-"
"No one is to touch her," Snape told Dolohov. "Make that known."
"You really need to learn how to share, Severus."
"Get out," Snape said, his voice full of poison.
Dolohov left the room, allowing Hermione to let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. But her breath hitched again, remember that it was now only Hermione and Snape alone in the small room.
With a wave of his hand, Snape conjured a goblet. "Aguamenti," he said in a bored voice. He handed Hermione the goblet. "Drink."
Hermione reached out a shaking hand for the goblet. As he handed her the goblet, their fingers brushed. His hand was so cold that it practically sent shivers down her spine.
Once she had the goblet, she slumped against the wall, simply holding the goblet in her hands.
"I will not tell you again," Snape ordered, the malice in his voice unmistakable. "Drink."
She took a sip, and recoginised at once that the contents of the goblet weren't simply water. There was a truth serum in the drink. Not Veritaserum - that she wouldn't be able to sense - but there was something.
Setting the goblet down, Hermione simply stared at her old Potions professor. She wanted answers, not water laced with a truth serum. She wanted, no needed, her questions answered. And the sooner the better.
"How long have I been here?" she asked in a demure voice. He would not respond to a challenge or threats, which was what Harry would have resorted to. Perhaps she could simply coax the answers out of him.
"A day, perhaps two," he told her. "I only learned of your capture an hour ago."
At once, Hermione realised that he was attempting to access her thought, trying to use Legilimency against her.
Hermione quieted her mind and mediated on the techniques that Remus Lupin had taught her. She had been surprised to learn that Lupin was a Legilimens, but his tutelage proved invaluable. Even Harry had been able to pick up the proper technique under Lupin's careful watch.
"Did you learn this out of a book, perhaps?" sneered Snape. "I wouldn't test my skills, Miss Granger. I will take what I want out of your mind."
"You could just ask me," Hermione said, not believing for a moment that he actually would. If he was going to pick through her mind like a scavenger, she wanted to make him uncomfortable as possible. The images of learning of Professor Dumbledore's death floated to the top.
To her surprise, Snape left her mind immediately. His body made no indication that he was affected at all by what he had seen in her head. "How were you captured?" he asked.
Hermione self-consciously tried to run her fingers through her bushy hair. She hadn't been allowed to shower or bathe since her incarceration, and her pitiful attempts at a wandless Cleansing Charm hadn't done the job.
"There was an attack," Hermione started. "Diagon Alley."
"I'm aware of the attack," Snape said coolly.
"I was running from a Death Eater… I tripped… Dropped my wand…"
"You're lying."
"I'm not," Hermione said in a small voice.
"I have no doubt that the events you described took place. But you expect me to believe that you hadn't bound your wand to you in case that very thing happened?" Snape said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "For a Little Miss Know-It-All, it doesn't seem like you were very prepared."
"I'm not little!" Hermione said, her hands clenching into fists.
"And the majority of the Death Eaters are quite aware of that fact."
Her eyes went wide. She had heard of some of the Death Eaters activities during the first war. The casual rape, the murder for fun, but somehow, that never crossed her mind since she was captured until now.
"They wouldn't," she said in a whisper.
"They would and then they would again, Miss Granger. And again until they have you begging for mercy."
She opened her mouth for a defiant response when Snape clutched his forearm. He turned and over his shoulder called, "We will finish this discussion later."
~~~~~
Her head was covered, not wanting to be seen in Knockturn Alley by anyone she knew. As she walked towards the Apothecary, Hermione wondered how in the world anyone could live in this filthy place. It seemed more like a stereotype for a seedy underworld than an actual area to do business.
Dung had been clear. If Harry wanted his help, then there were certain potion ingredients that he wanted, and only one Apothecary supplied them. Harry and Ron would be too easily recognizable, so Hermione volunteered for the task, hoping she would do a better job than her last acting attempt in a Knockturn Alley shoppe.
The Apothecary door opened and to her amazement there stood Luna Lovegood at the counter. Hermione wanted to turn and leave right then, but the Ravenclaw had already spotted her. Thankfully, Luna said nothing, simply completing her transaction and then leaving the store.
Hermione asked for the ingredients in a low voice, knowing that if she was caught with any of them, she would have a short stay in Azkaban. Chimaera eggs, Pogrebin Pus, Erkling Liver. She certainly had no desire why Dung wanted any of these. As much as Hermione liked having all the answers, perhaps this time it would be best not to know.
The whole ordeal only took a few minutes, the man behind the counter as eager to conclude the transaction as she was. After a quick Shrinking Charm had the ingredients safe in her pocket, Hermione felt like she was able to breathe again.
That was, until she saw Luna waiting for her outside the shoppe. "Hallo, Luna," she said in a very unexcited voice.
Luna nodded, and asked, "Why are you wearing a baklava?"
Hermione said nothing, and instead started walking towards Diagon Alley. Luna followed. Once they were back in familiar territory, Luna said, "Harry's wrong."
"What?" The statement sounded so ridiculous coming from Luna's lips that it took Hermione a deep breath in order not to say anything spiteful in return. "About what?"
Luna looked over at a bench. Sighing, Hermione followed her there, and then quickly cast a Muffliato Charm, annoyed that she needed to use one of Professor Snape's spells, handy as it was.
"What is Harry wrong about?" Hermione asked defensively.
"Professor Dumbledore."
Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the Headmaster. The month that had passed since his death had not eased the burden or the guilt that Hermione felt.
Luna continued. "Harry thinks that Professor Dumbledore asked for his life."
"He said 'please,'" Hermione reminded Luna. "What else can that mean?"
"Lots of things," Luna said conversationally. "I say please if I want to ask someone to do a favour for me."
Her jaw dropped. "You can't be seriously suggesting that the Headmaster wanted Snape to kill him."
"I'm not suggesting anything at all." Luna turned her head and seemed to stare towards Knockturn Alley. "I'm reminding you about something."
"Why don't you tell Harry, if you think he's wrong?" asked Hermione, annoyed that Luna hasn't exactly gotten to the point yet.
"Oh, I don't think Harry would listen to me," Luna said, not sounding offended at all. "I thought we might be friends once, but he barely spoke to me after the Christmas Party."
"You fought with us when the Death Eaters attacked," Hermione said, her voice softening.
Luna simply shrugged. "Could you tell Harry that I don't think Professor Dumbledore would beg for his life?" Her face betrayed a momentary sadness. "He and I spoke about death every so often. He always called it-"
"The next great adventure," Hermione said, finishing Luna's sentence, her mind reeling. Why would a man not afraid of death beg for his life? "Perhaps he had more to accomplish. Perhaps he didn't think he could die until he finished his task."
That would make sense. Professor Dumbledore hadn't yet located all of the Horcruxes. How could he leave the earth before that was done?
"It would be pretty foolish of him not to have a back-up plan," Luna said thoughtfully. "We have a back-up plan for almost every imaginable situation at the Quibbler. Like Troll attacks or zombies."
Suppressing the urge to giggle at the thought of the Quibbler office being overrun by zombies, Hermione said, "I think he had one." Harry, of course, would have been the back up.
But why would there be so much that the Headmaster left unsaid? Harry barely had any idea where to start the search. Surely Professor Dumbledore had theories about where the Horcruxes could be found. Why hadn't he shared them with Harry. That is…
Unless Harry wasn't the back-up plan. Which meant someone else was. Which meant that Professor Dumbledore went to his death secure in the knowledge that someone else was waiting in the wings.
Then why would he say 'please?' If he had a back-up plan, why bother to speak at all? Why look weak in front of Harry and the Death Eaters?
Luna's words came roaring back to her. "I say please if I want to ask someone to do a favour for me."
Hermione stood up, feeling slightly light-headed. What if Professor Dumbledore was asking for Snape to kill him?
Then whose side was Snape really on?
~~~~~
Several hours or maybe even as much as a day passed before Snape entered Hermione's small prison again. The moment the door slammed behind him, he cast a Cleansing Charm. Hermione felt the grime and dirt wash off her body and the grease out of her hair. Even her clothes felt refreshed.
While part of her felt grateful, another was suspicious. "Why did you do that?" she asked.
"You smell," he said frankly. "It's been three days since you've been captured. Surely you want to be clean?"
Hermione nodded, raising herself up to a sitting position. She felt stronger than she did the last time she saw him. It was now time for answers.
"Are you planning on staring at me all evening?" he asked.
Her eyes glanced away immediately. "Why haven't you hurt me?" she asked, voicing her biggest fear. "I assumed that I would have been tortured by now."
"Do you want me to torture you?"
"No!" Hermione said with a squeal. "Of course not. I just thought… Doesn't Volde-"
"Say his name in this place and you will die," Snape said at once. "Here, you must call him the Dark Lord."
"Where's here?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"You can't honestly expect me to answer that question," Snape said disdainfully. "You are here. That is all you need to know."
Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Hermione asked, "Why hasn't anyone asked me questions? I would have thought that I would have been interrogated."
"You overestimate your importance, Miss Granger," Snape drawled. "The information you can offer is minimal. You are little more than a hostage."
Hermione flushed, and knew at once she had made a mistake.
"But perhaps you don't believe that to be true," Snape said slowly. "You feel you have vital information." He let out a breath. "Remember, Miss Granger, that there are eyes and ears everywhere."
She leaned back her head in frustration. She had to know if Snape was who she thought he was. And soon. Otherwise, she might languish in this small room for who knows how long?
It was time to take a risk. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself. Then in an instant, opened them, making eye contact with Snape. She delved into his mind, trying to find something, anything, before his defenses went up.
She expected him to be furious. Curse her with all of his considerable power. Instead, to her amazement, he opened his mind to her.
Hermione's heart leapt. Snape would never allow this unless there was something he wanted her to see. Another thought entered her mind. This was what he wanted! Why else would he warn her of eavesdroppers?
Her eyes closed naturally, as Snape's memories flashed before her. She saw him kneeling with Narcissa Malfoy, performing the Unbreakable Vow. Snape speaking to the Headmaster, a look of anguish on his face. Snape watching Professor Dumbledore using a Pensieve.
Breaking the connection, Hermione said, "I saw that two weeks ago."
Snape's face betrayed no emotion. "And?"
"That's why I'm here."
~~~~~
"Professor Lupin?"
"Hermione, will you ever call me Remus?" asked Lupin with a smile on his face.
"It doesn't feel right," Hermione admitted. Lupin was a professor - even with a pink-haired witch sitting on his lap - and therefore deserved her upmost respect. "I've a question for you."
"Go ahead," Lupin said with a nod.
Hermione bit her lip. She should have approached him when he was alone. Not that she didn't trust Tonks - she did - Hermione just didn't want her to know what her question was.
Tonks must have sensed Hermione's apprehension, because she jumped off of Lupin's lap and said, "I'm a bit parched. I think I'll go down to the kitchen for a glass of water."
Once the door shut firmly behind Tonks, Hermione turned her attention to Lupin. "You've basically become the leader of the Order, haven't you?"
Lupin winced at the word leader. "There are some who come to me for advice, that's all. We make decision for the Order as a group."
That certainly wasn't the response she expected. Hermione had been to meetings, Lupin led them, even Mad-Eye deferred to him. Why wouldn't he say he was the leader?
She tried another tactic. "But Professor Dumbledore trusted you," she pressed.
"He only trusted me as far as he could throw me, Hermione," Remus said bitterly.
"But-"
"Why do you think I've been exiled with the werewolves since Sirius' death," Remus said, his voice full of venom. "I betrayed his trust your third year and I've been paying the price ever since. Once Sirius wasn't here for me to keep an eye out for, Dumbledore had every excuse to ship me off."
"But you must have done some good with werewolves." Hermione bit her lip. She had never seen her former professor like this. But then she remembered that she actually had. This was the same man, after all, that was willing to kill Peter Pettigrew in cold blood. Wormtail might have deserved death, but he also deserved a trial to determine his fate. Lupin and Black were more than willing to play judge and jury that night, and would have, unless Harry hadn't stopped them.
"Any good I did was erased the moment Greyback went back to the werewolves, announcing his triumph over the Headmaster."
"He didn't cast the spell that killed him," Hermione said quickly.
"No," Lupin agreed. "But he was there when it happened. He was trusted amongst the Death Eaters for the task. It simply goes to show the pack how much power they will have if Voldemort is in power."
"Oh," Hermione said in a small voice. She sat down on the tattered red velvet settee, wishing the Order hadn't chosen to use number 12, Grimmauld Place as their Headquarters again. The memories it forced upon Harry weren't healthy.
Rubbing her temple wearily, she asked, "Did Professor Dumbledore leave any information in his will? Any instructions for the Order?" Remus had been named the executor of Professor Dumbledore's estate.
"No," said Remus with what almost seemed like a pout.
"Surely he informed you his plans?"
"Plans for what?" asked Lupin bitterly. "If Dumbledore had a plan in place on the occasion of his death, he certainly didn't share them with me." He put his hand up when Hermione was about to ask another question. "Nor with any other member of the Order that we know of."
Sighing, Hermione stared into the embers of the recently ended fire. So Professor Dumbledore hadn't told Remus of any plans. Someone had to know. She was convinced of it. But who?
"I would like to look in Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve." Perhaps there was a clue there. Perhaps she might even be able to find some information about Professor Snape.
Lupin let out a deep breath and rubbed his chin. "You certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?" he asked with a sigh. "Why?"
"I can't you tell."
"Harry's already looked through it a dozen times," Lupin reminded her. "He hasn't found anything important."
"Harry doesn't know how to properly use a Pensieve," Hermione pointed out. "I do." When Harry had told her about the Pensieve in Professor Dumbledore's office, she was eager to learn more and read as many books as she could on the subject.
Lupin leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you want to learn more, and then not tell anyone in the Order, is that correct?"
"It's not like that-"
"It's exactly like that, Hermione, and you know it," Lupin told her. "You realise that you have almost thirty witches and wizards at your disposable, all willing to die for Harry, and yet you chose not to share anything."
Hermione looked down at the floor. Right now, she wanted to tell Lupin everything. The man was a Dark Arts Expert, knew almost as much as Professor Snape. He could provide such valuable information about the Horcruxes. "It's not my choice," she said, not able to look at Lupin's face.
"The Pensieve is in my room," Lupin said, standing up with a heavy sigh. Hermione stood up as well, her cheeks red. Lupin put his hand on her shoulder. "Tell Harry we want to help, will you?"
"I will."
~~~~~
Hermione processed the memories Snape had willed her to see, and, making her choice, opened her mind to him as well. Once Snape started truly going through her mind, Hermione had to grab onto the floor; her entire body was tense, wanting to stop him, keep him out of her mind.
She showed him the memory in the Pensieve she had seen, the memory that put her in this cell. The memory where Professor Dumbledore told Snape in a voice colder than she had ever heard from the Headmaster's lips that he must be killed. And that if Snape was there, it must be he who cast the spell, no other.
It could have all been an act, Hermione realised. She knew that there was every chance that Snape only wanted to gain her trust to get as much information he could. She knew that if she was wrong, she had just condemned the Wizarding World to darkness. But it was a risk she was willing to take.
How many times had Snape tried to save hers and Ron's and Harry's life? It was embarrassing how many life debts she must owe the man. He had to be on Dumbledore's side, she refused to believe anything else. And quite frankly, if he wasn't, and all of this was a ruse, this wasn't a world Hermione wanted to be a part of anymore. She had to believe that there was still some goodness in the world.
The types of memories that flashed before Hermione's tightly closed eyes changed. No longer of Dumbledore, they were of Harry. Harry acting out the scene in the Chamber of Secrets for a delighted Hermione and Ron, stabbing Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang. Harry trying not to stare at the ring on Professor Dumbledore's deadened hand. Harry clutching the fake Horcrux during the Headmaster's hand.
The Horcuxes!
Snape left her mind immediately. "You understand what the conversation will be about?"
Hermione leaned forward, afraid she was going to vomit. She was dizzy, so dizzy! She looked at Snape, hoping he might realise the after effects of a mind being invaded like hers had just been, but he simply stood there, arms crossed over his chest, a look of distaste on his face.
"If you're going to vomit, I suggest you do so quickly and get it over with," Snape said in a bored voice.
She did, feeling better instantly. The horrible taste was left in her mouth and more than anything, she wanted to crawl to the bowl of water in the corner, where she could drink. But there was no time.
"You are wasting precious seconds, Miss Granger," Snape said in a dangerous voice.
Wiping the corner of her mouth with her robe, Hermione replied, "I understand." She could try to clean the spot her robe using wandless magic later.
Snape mercifully vanished the vomit a moment later. His eyes bore holes into her soul and Hermione understood that she must not break eye contact.
"There was a boy."
Before her was a memory that could only be a teenaged Snape studying in the library. In front of him was the Potions Book of the Half Blood Price!
"He had a friend."
Lily Evans joined him, swiped the book good-naturedly from Snape and started writing quickly in the margins.
"In a place of beginnings…"
A small cottage in a very industrial town flashed before her. Snape, still a teenager in the memory, walked into the cottage and then the living room.
"There is a chest."
An unimpressive wooden chest lay in the living room of this cottage.
"Only two were supposed to be able open this chest."
She watched as Lily Evans placed a bundle of papers into the chest, closed the trunk and looked into the keyhole, sealing the latch.
"But I believe a third has that power."
In the memory, Harry looked up at Snape with a hateful glare.
Snape broke the connection. "Do you understand?"
Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest and made herself as small as she could. Did she understand? That Snape and Harry's Mum were friends? That they charmed a trunk in Snape's boyhood home? A trunk only to open to those who have specific eyes? Snape's and Lily's eyes? That Harry will be able to open that trunk and perhaps their salvation will lie inside? She certainly understood!
"Yes." She forced her voice to be as unemotional as Snape's.
"Good." Snape turned and started to leave.
"Wait!" Hermione stood up, trying to keep her balance, and not being very successful.
Closing her eyes, she thought of the Order, about how in the world they could contact him, now that Hermione knew that Snape was on their side.
Snape projected another memory towards her. There was a witch with black hair, wearing a dark red blood cloak, waiting in an alley impatiently. A moment later, Snape appeared, and the witch's hair colour changed to bubblegum pink, just for an instant, and then turned black again.
Tonks.
"Only she. Anyone else would get themselves killed."
"How did you know?" Hermione asked, wanting to know how he could have possibly realised that Tonks could morph again after being reunited with Lupin.
Snape smirked. "Because she never could not."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "What?"
"It's unimportant. There is only one thing of importance at the moment."
She realised it at once. What she needed more than anything, was a plan to escape.
~~~~~
Ron had insisted they go on a proper date, with him paying for everything. Hermione didn't care about the economics of the date, she just wanted to spend time with him, and the sooner Ron realised that, the better.
They walked through Diagon Alley, hand in hand, window shopping, dreaming of everything they would buy if they had a vault full of galleons like Harry did. Hermione would buy the Encyclopedia of Everything, the most expensive tome in existence, where you only had to think of a subject and the pages would tell you everything you ever wanted to know. Ron thought he would buy the Chudley Cannons, and made a note to tell Harry to do just that once the war was over.
A dark cloud seemed to cover the sky in only an instant. Hermione heard a thud behind her, tightened her grip on Ron's hand, and prepared herself for the screams.
"Death Eaters!"
Ron dropped her hand, taking out his wand. Hermione removed hers from her front pocket. She was ready to fight. She was a member of Dumbledore's Army, after all.
A small explosion knocked both of them on their feet. Hermione grabbed her wand, which had stayed next to her due to the sticking charm she cast every time she left the relative safety of Headquarters.
Another scream, and Ron bolted up the Alley towards a group of Death Eaters. Hermione wanted to join him, fight a long side him, besides the Aurors and the Enforcers that were rapidly Apparating into Diagon Alley. But her feet wouldn't move.
There was so much death around her. And here she was. Someone who believed they had the answer, if only she could confirm her theory of Snape's loyalty.
And only she could find the answer.
When she had broached the subject with Ron - she wasn't foolish enough to talk to Harry yet - he laughed at her, said she was mental. She tried again with Professor McGonagall, who angrily ended the conversation.
It was up to her. She realised this now.
With a wave of her hand, Hermione cancelled the Sticking Charm on her wand. She walked slowly into a corridor with a dead end. Soon, a Death Eater would see her standing in this alley way and attack. All she could hope for was that it wasn't a killing blow.
So she prayed. She prayed to a God she had abandoned when she had discovered magic. She prayed to the Goddess, Buddha, Allah, any God that she thought might hear her plea.
"What do we have here?"
There was no mistaking Lucius Malfoy's voice. The prison breakout that led to his escape was well documented. Hermione turned, a look of determination on her face. She would let him capture her. Surely Malfoy would recognise how important she could be? And surely Snape would insist on seeing her if he was who she thought.
And if not… Hermione gulped. Then she would die. And worse, deserve to die for throwing her life away on a man who no one trusted.
Her fight or flight instinct started, causing Hermione to back up slowly. She didn't want to fight Malfoy. She didn't care if Harry was convinced that he could duel any Death Eater to a draw. Hermione knew better. These Death Eaters had decades more experience and a ruthlessness that she didn't possess, but which Harry was beginning to embrace.
Hermione tripped on a rock, either consciously or unconsciously, she didn't know. Grimacing as she hit the pavement, her wand, now without a Charm to keep it near her hand, flew away from her. It was only seconds before she felt a body bind curse throughout her body.
Malfoy walked up to her slowly, each footstep a heavy reminder of everything that Hermione risked. He stood over her, his white-blond hair falling over his shoulders, confirming his identity even while a mask concealed his face.
Poking her cheek with the tip of his wand, Malfoy said in a voice that practically purred, "You certainly will be a prize."
~~~~~
Hermione stood by the door, her muscles tense, waiting for the instant it opened with her daily meal. There was no doubt in her mind that she was condemning whoever stepped into this room a long and painful death, but there was no other choice. She had to step into the corridor where there were no wards that inhibited most magic.
Snape had promised that the one who entered would be young, not a fully trained wizard, who could end the plan before it even begun.
Footsteps could be heard down the corridor and Hermione took a breath, knowing it was time. She was ready; Snape had performed a quick Healing Charm before he left, which helped return her energy.
The door creaked open and Hermione let loose the energy she had built up in her hands. It was a magical energy that only fully trained wizards could control. Hermione might not be a fully trained witch - she might not technically ever be, if she never graduated from Hogwarts - but thanks to her books, she knew what to do.
The young wizard jumped back into the corridor, and started yelling loudly as Hermione ran from her prison. For only a moment, she let herself think that she may fail. Never before had she tried her Animagi transformation under so much pressure, but as she allowed her animal instincts to take over, Hermione knew the transformation would be complete.
The moment Harry had told her and Ron that his Dad had been an unregistered Animagus, along with Lupin, Black and Wormtail, Hermione knew she wanted to be one, too. That desire grew into an obsession when she realised that Rita bloody Skeeter was one as well. It seemed that everyone was an Animagi except for her.
Hermione had told no one when she had perfected the magic - it was illegal, after all - and Harry and Ron would insist that she teach them as well. She rather liked having a secret, and this time, her secret would save her life.
She had been so pleased when her Animagi form turned out to be a Knealze, not a half, like her Crookshanks, but a full one. It made so much sense. Back at Hogwarts, whenever the boys were mad at her, which seemed like all of the time, Crookshanks was her friend. He was her comfort. And now she could be like him in this form.
Running on all fours was something Hermione hadn't attempted very often. Whenever she was in her Animagi form, she mainly simply trotted around, much more proud of herself than she probably ought to have been.
So she wasn't surprised when she fell making a quick turn, giving a Death Eater perfect aim. Thankfully, the aim was off, giving Hermione another chance to run. A ledge leading outside appeared once she made another left, just like Snape had shown her in his mind.
Making the leap onto the ledge- which would have been easy in her human form, but as a Kneazle seemed unfairly high - she looked outside. There was the lake that Snape promised.
Another leap, this time down. Hermione landed awkwardly, sure she had broken an ankle. She would pay the price for this. Every book she had read on Animagi said that if an injury occurred in the animal form, it must heal in the animal form.
But Hermione had no choice. She couldn't Apparate in her Animagi form, though she made a quick decision to learn why and then to figure out how she could.
Luckily, her body adapted, and on instinct, ran on three legs, instead of four. Once at the shore, Hermione closed her eyes and prepared herself. She started to think of Hermione the person, not Hermione the Kneazle and her body started to change.
She couldn't stop the cry from her mouth as her leg changed, as every bone, every muscle, every tendon around her ankle protested. But then, even as she heard the shouts and screams behind her, Hermione felt at peace. She had won.
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she closed her eyes, and gave herself one last second to enjoy the sea breeze on her cheeks, the cool air dusting her skin. She thought of the boy she just condemned to death, a boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She would remember him always. And when a Killing Spell only missed its mark by inches, she thought of destination, determination and deliberation.
Don't splinch, don't splinch, don't splinch
The pressure around her body was practically unbearable, thought thankfully over quickly. Not able to land on her feet because of her ankle, Hermione fell to the ground the moment she reappeared, the pain almost unbearable.
She looked about her, and with a small satisfied smile, saw that she had made her destination. If only Ron could see how useful the three D's really were!
"Hermione!"
Harry and Ron ran towards her, picking her up off of the floor, steering her towards the sofa as she walked with a pronounced limp. "Are you alright?" "What happened?" The boys - no, the men, she had to start seeing them as such - seemed to speak in one voice.
"I'm fine," Hermione said weakly, uncaring of the mess she must have looked like. Only one thing mattered now. She looked at her friend, the Boy Who Lived. "Harry, we need to talk."
He looked at her with a resolve not unlike her own. She knew he would listen to what she had to say.
It was time to start the end the war.