FIC: M is for Muggle-born [1/4]

[inspired_ideas]

M is for Muggle-born

Chapter 1

"Of all the presumptuous … idiotic … mad-- Arrgh!" Hermione shot a charm at the library door sealing it closed. Stomping over to the small potions section of the Grimmauld Place library, she frowned at the meager selection all the while fuming over what was going on below in the kitchen. Hermione yanked off the two most promising books and slammed them down on the table. "If they think for one moment that I'll simply rollover and-" She stopped and frowned at the tabletop she'd made use of while waiting for Professor Dumbledore to arrive earlier. Someone had rifled through her things and moved one of her books after she'd been called downstairs. "Accio Crompton's Compendium."

There was a small grunt from the corner. Hermione turned. In her surprise at learning she wasn't alone, she nearly failed to catch the book flying at her. "Professor Snape!"

"Under-age magic outside of school, Miss Granger? Tsk. Tsk," he drawled. "I would have thought Potter's little run-in with the Ministry last summer would have driven home the need to obey the statutes."

"Please," Hermione scoffed. It wasn't as if the Ministry knew that Professor McGonagall had sneaked her out of the castle under Umbridge's toady nose for that ridiculous meeting. "Professor, not only are there a half-dozen adult witches and wizards present downstairs, we're in an unplottable, Fidelius protected house. You and I both know that no one at the Ministry is going to be able to tell that I'm here, let alone casting a few charms, sir." She'd worked the proximity angle out ages ago even if she hadn't shared the information with Ron or Harry. They were hardly likely to behave responsibly if they knew.

Severus pursed his lips in disapproval. It was a neat trick he'd developed over the years to cover moments of inappropriate amusement in front of his students. The know-it-all always had been one for digging up obscure tidbits of information. "Be that as it may, you are still bound by the law-"

"Law," she snorted, not caring at the moment that she'd interrupted him. "Oh, you got that right, sir. Do you know what's being discussed down there, Professor? Of course you do," she answered her own question. "It's why you're up here, isn't it? Thank you for that, by the way," Hermione said with all sincerity. "It's nice to know there's someone who isn't interested in using this mad law to marry me off to the man of his or her choice."

It wasn't the reason. In fact, Severus had no idea there was any sort of meeting at all going on in the kitchen. He'd simply arrived early for his appointment with the headmaster and decided to wait in the library, well out of Black's way. He wasn't willing to admit as much to Miss Granger, however. It would be counter-productive to let on that there was something he didn't know. "You are welcome," he said dryly. "I doubt my opinion of your likely suitors would be appreciated."

"Nor you baiting Sirius into proposing he marry me himself, Professor," Hermione replied with equal dryness. "He managed that all on his own."

"Black did what?"

Hermione would have chuckled over managing to shock Professor Snape if this had been a laughing matter. "Oh, you heard me, sir. Sirius made a grand production of volunteering to be the 'sacrifice on the altar of matrimony'. Apparently, marrying a Muggle-born would have his parents rolling in their graves. I can't tell you, sir, how special it makes a girl feel to know her suitor sees her as a sacrifice he's willing to make to stick one to his family," Hermione rolled her eyes. She wondered if Azkaban hadn't addled Sirius' wits. "He seemed to have forgot that the Ministry was far more likely to send Aurors to the wedding to recapture an escapee from Azkaban than someone to conduct the marriage."

"A failure to think through the consequences of his actions is a benchmark of Black's behavior, Miss Granger."

Hermione silently agreed. Good judgment and Sirius Black rarely seemed to go together. "Sirius' proposal was not the only bizarre one. Mrs. Weasley pronounced that it would 'just have to be Percy'. As if that woman has any say in my life!" Or control over the wayward Percy for that matter, Hermione thought. "But the true highlight of the meeting was the bit of Machiavellian madness proposed by that manipulative old coot masquerading as a harmless, twinkling-" She was cut off by a thoroughly unexpected bark of laughter from Snape.

Severus coughed to cover up his laugh but the shrewd little witch obviously wasn't fooled. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave in to the chuckles. It wasn't often that a Gryffindor managed to sort out that Dumbledore was not the infallible, all-knowing, wise, slightly barmy with age, kindly figure he usually portrayed. Gryffindors usually bought the character whole, although a few bought too far into the barmy bit and believed it had addled a once great wizard's wits. Either way, Albus Dumbledore was rarely seen for what he truly was by anyone, let alone an under-age Gryffindor. Severus decided then that he definitely needed to re-evaluate his opinion of Hermione Granger. There might be more going on in that head of hers than a voracious reading habit and talent for memorization could account for after all.

Apparently he'd laughed too long because the Granger girl had narrowed her eyes and launched into him.

"Find the idea of me being foisted off on Percy the Prat amusing, do you, sir?" Hermione crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against her bicep, misunderstanding the reason for his laughter. "Then you are just going to love this, Professor. When I stormed out of the kitchen to avoid hexing the lot of them for thinking they could decide my future without listening to a word I had to say, Professor Dumbledore had just proposed his choice for the position of husband." She smirked before delivering the news. "You."

If asked, Hermione couldn't have said whether Professor Snape would be more likely to explode at her or storm from the room in search of Professor Dumbledore. She hadn't anticipated at all the dead quiet and dark stare that followed. It took her a moment to realize that Snape was mostly likely trying to determine whether or not she told the truth without actually resorting to Legilimency.

Severus mirrored Granger's posture, crossing his arms to keep himself from gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. Everything about her screamed truth but she'd been willing to lie to her professors before. He couldn't discount the idea that since that pathetic ruse over the troll in her first year her skills in deception might have improved. He had been considering a non-verbal Legilimens when she took a step closer and lifted that determined chin.

Hermione straightened her spine. Taking a step forward, she forced herself to look him straight in the eye. "It's true, Professor."

"It is preposterous! You are a-"

"I would carefully choose what word comes out your mouth next, sir," Hermione said coldly.

"-child, Miss Granger." Severus withheld the sigh that threatened to escape but refused to pretend not to know what she'd been thinking. "Your blood status is immaterial."

After a brief search of his face for the truth, Hermione gave it up as a bad job. The man's face was a mask. It was only on intuition that she believed him. He had no qualms about belittling her, but while he'd taken shots at her looks, taste, intellect, personality, and friends at various times in the past, never had he used the fact that she was Muggle-born against her. Hermione nodded in acknowledgment.

When the fairly constant, but faint, rumblings in the Daily Prophet against Muggle culture, morphed last summer into small articles on the alleged difficulties the Muggle-born and Muggle-raised had adapting to wizard culture, Hermione had taken note. Around the first of the year, she caught the news of a St. Mungo's study of pureblood couples citing lower birth rates and an increase in miscarriages.

It was when the Prophet quoted a speech given by Minister Fudge at a St. Mungo's fundraiser, that Hermione realized the Ministry was considering each being the cure for the other. Two days later, when proposals for this absurd marriage and procreation business started appearing, Hermione hadn't been surprised. Instead, she had been well into sorting out her escape plan. It wasn't long into that before it became clear to Hermione that she would eventually need Professor Snape's help to pull off her scheme. And there was no better time than now to obtain it. "I need your help, sir."

"Have you take leave of your senses as well, girl?" Severus bellowed. "I am among the last men on earth you should consider marrying."

"Please," she snorted. "I'd give us three days of wedded bliss," Hermione spat out the last two words sarcastically, "before you're in the lab brewing an undetectable poison and I'm out nicking someone else's wand so they won't get me with a Prior Incantato on my own when I curse you in your sleep." She tossed up her hands.

Severus wasn't sure what to make of little spitfire. She was certainly annoyed, most definitely angry, but she wasn't weeping over her fate. He also didn't fail to notice that even while railing at him, she had remained, for the most part, respectful. Yes, he was definitely going to have to re-evaluate his opinion of her. "Three days? Surely two would be sufficient?"

"I was counting the wedding day itself as one, sir. That left day two for research, and day three for execution," Hermione stated primly, taking his sarcasm in stride and returning in kind. "Contemplating the murder of one's spouse, however annoying he or she may be, shouldn't be the work of a day."

"Point taken," he said, graciously inclining his head. "As it is not the joy of becoming Mrs. Snape you are after, which unfortunate fool should I warn to sleep with one eye open on the alert for curses following your nuptials?"

"Honestly! Are you channeling Mrs. Weasley now?" Hermione screwed up her face. That witch had absolutely no business being involved in discussions of what was best for anyone not in her family. Molly Weasley was not Hermione's mother, nor did her life choices and opinions resemble the career-minded Helen Granger's in the slightest. "Do you think I'm keen on marrying anyone, sir? I'm sixteen, for heaven's sake." It was absolutely ridiculous that the Ministry was even considering forcing marriages and babies upon anyone, let alone those still at Hogwarts pursuing an education.

"How is it, Miss Granger, that at sixteen this is even an issue for you? Even the most ludicrous of proposals put forth so far has limited itself to those who have come of age." The girl should have months yet before she became eligible even if the Ministry issued the insane decree within the next few weeks, as was likely.

"Time-Turner."

"Time-Turner? How did a school-girl get hold of a Time-Turner?"

"Long story, and one best not gone into at the moment, Professor." She needed his help. If Snape had any idea she was involved in him losing that Order of Merlin Fudge practically promised him for capturing Sirius at the end of her third year, she could kiss his help and her plan good-bye. "The important thing is that I was authorized to have it. Professor Dumbledore believes that the Ministry intends to recalculate my physical age, making me seventeen and eligible for bids sooner rather than later."

Wondering what she wanted if she wasn't after his, or someone else's, hand in marriage, Severus let his curiosity get the better of him and asked.

"This one, I thought, sir." Hermione tapped the recipe for a potion they were to make not long after classes resumed. "It's the second potion on your syllabus for after Easter break. Students are always less attentive right after break."

He snorted but nodded his head. "Plus, it has several ingredients with the potential to become explosive if one is inattentive to detail. The only drawback is that in five years you have yet to melt a cauldron or allow yourself to become distracted to the point of not following direction." Hermione beamed a huge smile at him and Snape scowled. "I fail to see why you are so happy about a major flaw in this scheme of yours." He wasn't sure he would be able to find a way around it short of casting an Imperious upon Crabbe to sabotage her potion.

"You complimented me. You never compliment me, sir." Bugger, her eyes were filling with proud tears. Hermione swiftly looked down at the page so she wouldn't give him more fodder for mocking her. Once she knew she had herself under control, she told him the rest of her plan. "Well … it won't be me who blows us up, Professor. Neville's going to do it."

"Longbottom?!" His eyebrows rose up to his forehead.

"Think about it, sir. Neville melts at least one cauldron a term and he's completely blown up his brews at least twice before. No one will think anything of Neville making a dangerous mistake," she pointed out.

Gryffindors. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your plan is to trust Longbottom to add the wrong ingredients at the right time? You plan to ask Longbottom-"

"Hardly," she sniffed. "I plan to set Neville up. He won't have the faintest idea of what we're doing, Professor. He's far too good a person, and far too afraid of you, to be brought into this knowingly."

"Yet, you are willing to sacrifice your friend's fertility to remove your own? Welcome to the Dark side, Miss Granger."

Snape glared at her and Hermione glared back. "Honestly! You'd think I didn't have two brain cells to rub together or a lick of conscience, sir." He always underestimated her and she was beginning to get annoyed. He'd actually been fun to plot with up to this point. Even his cutting remarks held more dry humor than poison today, but there was no mistaking the censure in his tone now. "It's not unusual at all for me to stick my nose into Neville's business when I see an imminent meltdown. It's not unusual for you to yell at me for it. Nor is it unusual for you to secure the cauldron and the workspace around it when necessary." He didn't always. Sometimes he simply left it to bubble over as a lesson but he never did when it was truly dangerous.

"So Longbottom does what Longbottom does best. You do your obnoxious know-it-all worst. I swoop in, and between the two of us we manage to get Longbottom out of the way and ourselves trapped within the shields long enough to-" Severus trailed off and tapped his chin. It could work.

"-Breathe in the necessary amount of fumes." Hermione opened one of the other books and turned it toward him, tapping another recipe. "If I collect the ingredients for Neville, he'll never know his jar of Styx River water was actually this instead. Then-"

"Yes, yes." He scanned the original recipe again, mentally working out all the nuances with lightning speed. "It won't work. Once Longbottom adds the tiger-beetle carapace-"

"I realized that, sir." Far slower than he did but then that was another reason why she knew she'd need his help. "I was able to work out where things might go wrong … Or rather where they might not go wrong in the right way. What I haven't been able to figure out is what I might legitimately be able to toss into Neville's cauldron following the substituted death-watch beetle carapaces as it starts to spark to-"

"-look as if you're trying to neutralize the meltdown but drive an explosion instead." He reached for the Crompton's Compendium understanding what she'd been doing with it now, the clever girl. The little witch didn't even have her O.W.L. in Potions yet and she had managed to sort out the complexities. Almost.

Hermione watched as he opened the book and withdrew her list of typical neutralizing agents that could turn to catalysts under different circumstances and picked up her fountain pen. He smirked at her look of surprise as he deftly uncapped it. The girl probably had thought him a pureblood unfamiliar with Muggle writing implements.

She'd had no idea her professor knew what a fountain pen was, let alone how to use one. Her surprise faded as he began crossing out her ideas with a word or two on why it wouldn't work, instead, a smile spread across her face. It wasn't because of all the time he was saving her, although he was. It was because he was taking his time to briefly explain his reasoning. She quickly filed away his comments for mental review when she didn't have more pressing matters with which to deal. Hermione would research it all to make certain she understood the subtle science behind what he was saying later but, for now, simple memorization would do.

Severus was two-thirds through her list when he looked up. She'd been uncommonly silent and he'd expected to see her in a snit because he'd been slashing through her work. Instead she had the same intense look she wore during his lectures.

"Sir?" She wondered why he'd stopped talking and crossing things out.

"What was the wrong with this one?" Severus asked her, pointing to an ingredient under one of his first slash marks.

"Potentially deadly interaction, sir," she answer promptly. He pointed at another. "Too slow acting." Snape stabbed at one more. "Unpredictable in the quantity needed."

"You memorized them all?"

"Yes, sir. Wasn't I to have done? I thought that was why you were telling me why they wouldn't work, Professor." Hermione blinked at him in confusion.

Severus blew out a breath. She really was impressive. Enough, he cautioned himself. The girl didn't need another teacher's praise; she was too full of herself by half. "It is what any logical student would have done."

Hermione smiled yet again with pleasure. He thought she was logical. It was a compliment of the highest order coming from someone as methodical and logical as he. Not wishing him to change his mind and think her a dunderhead, she kept her gob shut, returned her attention to the list, and waited for him to resume his perusal.

"There. Do not forget to shove Longbottom out of the way at the same time you toss it in," Severus reminded her. "As much as the mere idea of teaching another generation of Longbottoms sets my teeth on edge, it should be his choice whether or not he will ever procreate." Severus knew better than to count on his own luck to influence Longbottom's choice. The best he could hope for would be a quick death prior to the influx of any progeny of the current crop of dunderheads.

"I won't, sir. It's one thing to do it to yourself but something altogether different to harm someone else."

He crossed his arms and regarded the witch. "Are you certain about this? I could convince the headmaster to marry you to someone closer to your age or get you out to Australia or Canada until this blows over." The loss of fertility in someone like Miss Granger with the potential to produce intelligent magical offspring would be a blow to the magical gene pool. It would have serious ramifications on her future as well. He felt he owed it to her to make sure she had the facts. "Are you aware of the value the majority of wizards place on fertility? If you go through with this, it is unlikely that-"

"I am aware, Professor." She'd done her research into the customs of her adopted culture. She was born among Muggles, but Hermione Granger had embraced being a witch. Everything she could learn about what it meant to be a witch, she had tried to study. Of course she knew. "I know that I'm condemning myself. But at least it's on my own terms. I can't-I won't be treated like a brood mare. Sterile, I may not have any value as a wife but it won't decrease my value as a witch one jot, sir." She lifted a determined chin and Snape nodded. Good. He wasn't going to argue with her over it. He'd said it to make sure she knew. She admired him for it. Truly, he wasn't so bad when he wasn't deliberately doing his best to be foul. "Are you certain you wish to -er- join me in this? We could-"

"I am in, as they say. It solves the problem of being turned stud," he grimaced but her brood mare analogy had been too spot on to avoid adapting for himself, "for someone else at the headmaster's whim." The question remained what to do about Albus Dumbledore. Trying to keep Granger away from the old manipulator until they saw this plan through would be impossible considering Dumbledore was currently in the house and had chosen to involve himself personally in the situation. "Miss Granger," he barked, forcing her eyes to find his. "Legilimens."

Oh, he did not just-Hermione broiled, but quickly shut down everything focusing intently on the ten uses of dragon's blood to clear her mind of all thoughts of anything else. "If there is something you wish to know, sir, I would prefer you simply ask," she ground out.

Severus inclined his head. "My apologies, Miss Granger. What I wanted to know was best answered in that way. I needed to determine for myself whether or not the plan would withstand the headmaster's casual use of Legilimency on the unsuspecting."

"Obviously it has done already or he'd have locked me up instead of allowing me to leave the kitchen earlier," she pointed out. "Well, no harm done, sir. I suppose I would have liked to judge for myself in your place." Hermione could admit that much. "You are putting yourself on the spot as well." She gave him an impish grin as it dawned on her that this was the first time she ever had the opportunity to obtain feedback from an actual Legilimens about whether or not what she'd read about Occlumency and learned second-hand from Harry actually worked or not. "So, sir, how'd I do?"

"One more." Madam Pomfrey spooned yet another potion into Hermione mouth before turning to the next bed and dosing Snape. "You as well, Professor. That will take care of your lungs and liver. I'm afraid there isn't anything that can be done about the reproduc-"

"Hem, hem." Three sets of eyes turned to find Dolores Umbridge smiling in that simpering, sickly way of hers.

"Ugh. Toads," Hermione complained under her breath.

"Now, now, Miss Granger. You must not disparage our … illustrious … High Inquisitor and Ministry appointed headmistress," Severus sneered. Pursing his lips to prevent his lips twitching up at her expression, he drawled on, "I am disappointed. However, there is still time to turn you over to Mr. Filch, as the headmistress first suggested if you do not appreciate the … subtlety … of your punishment."

Looking at her detention a little closer, Hermione bit back a laugh. It truly was a nasty job, dissecting the creatures for the potion stores. But seen in a certain light, dismembering toads might actually be cathartic. An evil grin spread across Hermione's face as she pulled on her gloves and started disemboweling the effigies Professor Snape had so kindly provided.

Hermione winced as her skin stretched along her healing wound as she carefully reached around the bevy of disgusting potions arranged on the table beside her bed. She had thought that the potions she'd been fed after her potions accident tasted vile, but those had been nothing compared to the horrid concoctions she was taking to deal with Dolohov's curse.

With Madam Pomfrey in her office, Ron sound asleep following a dose of Dreamless Sleep, and her other friends healed from the debacle in the Department of Mysteries and released from the hospital wing, it was finally quiet enough for a read. Hermione managed to stretch far enough to pick up the Sunday Prophet she'd set aside earlier. Flipping past the first fifteen pages covering Harry, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and even the destruction of the fountain in the Ministry Atrium, she read again the small article hidden below the fold on page sixteen.

"It appears your fears were well-founded, Miss Granger."

"I'd hate to think I took away my choice to have children for naught, Professor."

"You regret-"

"Hardly, sir." Hermione took a deep breath and met his eyes. "It's the principle of the thing, not a great desire to change nappies. I do regret involving you though. It seems that you are exempt from the decree. There was no need for you-"

"I have never desired children, Miss Granger. It was of little consequence." Severus regarded her for a moment. "How is it you know I am ineligible?" He had never hidden that he was half-blood - after all, many Slytherins were - but neither had he advertised the fact.

Hermione decided it was best not to reveal her source. Madam Pomfrey hadn't meant to give him away. In fact, the matron hadn't actually come out and said Snape was a half-blood at all. The inference had been all Hermione's own. She looked up at her professor and graced him one of her impish grins. "Know-it-all, sir."

"Indeed," he said dryly and continued on his way to matron's office. With luck, the clever chit would manage to think her way out of any future Ministry traps for Muggle-borns as well. Unburdened from the necessity of dealing with a pack of children, and placating some inbred idiot good for little despite claim to a pure bloodline, the witch would have a fighting chance. With the Dark Lord's return and his influence on the rise once again, she would need every advantage within her grasp.

"Severus!" Hermione and Luna stared wide-eyed as Professor Flitwick shouted. The tiny wizard threw open Snape's office door and dashed inside. "Severus! Death Eaters in the castle! You're needed. We must get back and help-"

"Where?" Snape barked.

"The corridor leading to the Astronomy Tow-" Flitwick was cut off and Hermione heard a thud come from Snape's office.

A moment later, Snape flew out of his office, wand in hand. Hermione could actually feel his strength of will as his eyes bored into hers. "Professor Flitwick has collapsed. You and Miss Lovegood are to look after him."

"But, sir-"

"See to Professor Flitwick, Miss Granger," Snape ordered, waving his wand at his office, where Luna was already staring at Flitwick's immobile form. "I must go aid the headmaster. Remain here and keep safe."

"Be careful, sir," Hermione urged, meeting his eyes once more. Snape turned and ran up the stairs to join the fight.

"I'm not saying he didn't kill Dumbledore, Harry," Hermione tried to make her point again. "I'm just saying Snape may not be as evil as you think."

Evil was such a strong word. It was a word that described Voldemort. It was a word that could even describe that vile toad Umbridge. But did it describe Snape? He was often cruel but Hermione couldn't help thinking that Harry was wrong. Snape wasn't truly evil. He couldn't be despite Harry's conviction otherwise.

"He only Stupified Professor Flitwick. You say Snape didn't kill you because Voldemort wants you himself. But why bother leaving Flitwick, Luna, and me alive?" An evil man wouldn't have bothered ordering her and Luna into his office and cautioning them to remain safe.

"You'll never make Snape out to be good. Don't even try, Hermione."

"Harry, I'm not saying Snape is good exactly. He's scary and he can be … vile. I just think we're not seeing the whole picture."

An evil man would have let her die last year instead of brewing nearly a dozen potions to put her back together after she'd been cursed by Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries. An evil man wouldn't have helped her avoid being trapped into a life of little beyond breeding babies for some pureblood who probably didn't want a houseful of half-blood children and a Muggle-born wife anyway.

"Hermione-"

"For heavens sake, Harry! If Voldemort wants you, why didn't Snape stun you and carry you off?" According to Harry, the professor had been lightning fast batting away Harry's spells as Snape fled Hogwarts. An evil man wouldn't have bothered telling Harry to close his mind; he'd have taken advantage of it. An evil man would have incapacitated Harry without a second thought.

"He might have done if Buckbeak hadn't entered the picture."

"Things just don't add up, Harry." Hermione knew this wasn't an answer she was going to find in a book. It wasn't even something she could teach herself through trial and error. She was going to have to rely on her instincts even if they were opposed to Harry's own. And her instincts were telling her that however vile and sinister Severus Snape was, what he was not was evil.

"Leave it Hermione," Harry said with finality.

Hermione gave him a curt nod and turned her attention back to her book. This wasn't a battle she could win.

Hermione screamed and sank to the floor, covering her head, desperately trying to hide from the fleshless, hideous, accusing likeness of Dumbledore rising up from the dust of Grimmauld Place. She'd failed. Not even a day into their quest and she'd already failed to keep Harry safe.

Hermione knew - just knew - that somehow it had been her fault the Death Eaters had found them in that shabby café off Tottenham Court Road. She'd been so sure that they'd be safe among the crowds in the Muggle world that she hadn't even considered any of the magical possibilities when she'd desperately Apparated the three of them away from the Burrow to Muggle London.

How had they been found? If it wasn't a Trace on Harry, which Ron insisted wasn't possible, was it possible there was a Trace on her? Those poor Muggle-borns forced into breeding all had something placed on them to keep them from running off from their pureblood spouses. What if it was a modified sort of Trace? Was it possible one could have been placed on her as well when her claim of infertility had been examined? Wizard law might not allow a Trace to be placed on adults in normal circumstances but the Ministry had shown itself willing to ignore or bend things to suit itself too many times under Fudge and Scrimgeour to suit Hermione. The Ministry certainly couldn't be trusted to do the right thing while under Voldemort's control.

Ron patted her shoulder awkwardly. He offered to help her up and Hermione took his hand gratefully. After that terrible vision of Dumbledore, she almost hoped they might find Snape here after all. Keeping Harry away from Snape and focused on finding Horcruxes didn't seem as important to her right now as being able to seek her former professor's harsh, but useful, guidance. If anyone might be able to tell her where she'd failed, surely it would be Snape. Hermione snorted inwardly. Yes, asking Professor Snape for help would go over so well, she drawled sarcastically in her head, mocking herself for even thinking it. It would be as useful as asking that Professor Dumbledore had not been so blasted cryptic about how to destroy the Horcruxes.

Right then. She'd simply have to muddle on doing as best she could with what she had to work with, and sort the rest later when she was less frightened out of her wits. Raising her wand, Hermione set about checking for the presence of other people in Grimmauld Place before she, Harry and Ron went any farther into the creepy, old house. "Homenum revelio."

Hermione turned green as she read aloud from the Daily Prophet. There wasn't a chance in the world that she'd be accepting any 'invitation' from this Muggle-born Registration Commission to present herself for interview, although it had been incredibly sweet of Ron to offer to pretend she was part of his family. He had grown so much more thoughtful over the past few months that Hermione had started to hope that he might finally begin to return her feelings for him.

In the chaos surrounding Harry's row with Remus Lupin and Kreacher's entrance with Mundungus Fletcher, Hermione hadn't had time to think about the latest travesty against Muggle-born freedom. It wasn't until later that evening that Hermione had time to read through the rest of the Daily Prophet.

She supposed she really should not have been surprised to find that the Marriage and Family Decree had been repealed and all marriages between purebloods and Muggle-borns forced by the decree had been annulled. But it wasn't the surprise of that repeal that caused the sick feeling in her stomach. That was entirely due to the Ministry offering its apologies to the purebloods for any inconvenience the offspring of those marriages might present, and the address it provided of the orphanage where the children could be taken to relieve the purebloods of the responsibility for their care.

Hermione lay awake trying to piece it all together. Had reducing Muggle-borns to little more than breeding stock by forcing them into marriage with purebloods been an experiment in control that hadn't worked? Had the decree been a precursor to the commission? It certainly had given the Ministry an excuse for putting something like a Trace on a number of Muggle-born making it next to impossible for them to escape the Muggle-born Registration Commission survey. What didn't fit was why the Ministry would force the couples to have babies only to later allow them to be given away.

There had to be pieces to this puzzle she was missing.

As August wore on, there were reconnaissance trips, strategizing, maps, and notes for invading the Ministry and finding the other Horcruxes to keep her occupied during the day. Lying awake at night trying to make sense of something that she was in no position to do anything about right now was a futile exercise. Hermione firmly told herself to set her mental puzzles over Muggle-borns and Snape aside. She must stay focused on helping Harry.

Hermione broke free of the Pensieve with a gasp.

She'd left Ron with his family mourning Fred and come in search of Harry to sort out a plan for getting rid of Nagini. When she found the Headmaster's office empty and portrait frames deserted, the only thing she could think to do was view the contents of the Pensieve for clues to where Harry might have gone.

Cursing Dumbledore for his manipulations, Hermione knew that finding Harry was a lost cause. The revelations in the Pensieve made it clear that to end Voldemort poor Harry had to die. Her friend was one of the bravest people she knew. If he thought he had to give his life for others, he would. With luck, he'd be able to take out Nagini first, but if not, it would be up to her and Ron to see that the snake was killed and Voldemort met his end. With the Horcruxes out of the way, supposedly anyone could do it.

Of course, if Voldemort disappeared somewhere they were unable to find him, his rule could continue on for ages before he eventually was killed or died of natural causes. Hermione straightened up. If that happened, Ron and she wouldn't stand a chance of getting near enough to Voldemort to finish him. They'd need someone on the inside. For a moment, she considered Malfoy. She shook her head. The ferret couldn't be counted on for help. No, they'd need someone more like Snape.

Someone exactly like Snape.

A desperate plan of action gripped Hermione. She dashed to Dumbledore's empty frame and pulled it open, rushing to get at the vials she'd got a glimpse of in the Pensieve secreted away with the sword of Gryffindor. Hermione almost sobbed with relief when she found what looked like Phoenix tears.

Hermione ran as fast as she could across the grounds. Her lungs were burning but she had no time. The mad dash through the castle and out to the Shrieking Shack for the second time that night almost pushed her body beyond what it could endure. It was only the knowledge that Snape might be their last hope that kept her going. She owed it to Harry and the sacrifice she was certain her friend had set out to make not to give up.

Later, when dawn rose and Harry stood victorious, Hermione was flooded with relief. They wouldn't need Snape to finish Voldemort after all. But that didn't stop her joy at knowing that not only had Harry Potter lived to see another sunrise, closeted away from prying eyes, Severus Snape had as well.

Continue to Chapter Two