Chasing the Truth
Title: Chasing the Truth
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger (eventually)
Summary: Hermione Granger works for the Ministry of Magic and rather enjoys her job. However, everything is put in danger when she accidentally overhears a conversation not meant for anyone's ears. When she tries to take this knowledge to the authorities, no one believes her. Hermione ends up running for her life. One man is sent to bring her back, along with the documents she's taken with her as proof.
Rating: adult (eventually)
Author: Merry Fae
Warnings: nothing yet, i think. probably not even bad words. how sad is that?
Disclaimer: all of the recognizable characters found within this work of fiction are the sole property of one J.K. Rowling, the goddess of Harry Potter. i own nothing. i only borrowed some people to play with, because i was bored and needed something to do. i'll probably put them back when i'm done with them. i'm so not making money off this unless you count the adoration of... erm... no one. wow. aren't i bummed now? anyhow, its not mine, i'm not getting paid for it. don't bother.
A/Ns: this was first published in 2003. so i'm sure its very rough. and its very short. i've given it a look over and done some base corrections. i also checked the word count. less than 5,000. ohmygods! its so short!
Chapter Two: A Fortunate Run In
----------------------------------------------------
The remaining days passed by slowly. Hermione found herself increasingly unable to give her full attention to her work for the Ministry. The plotting she'd inadvertently stumbled over kept running about her head like a marathon runner. The more she tried not to give it thought, the more it occupied her mind. Consequently, she missed the narrow-eyed looks Snape gave her whenever she was off in her thoughts. Had she been aware of them, chances would have been good that she would have seen first hand what some of the curses they'd been working on could do. As it was, even her lunches with Harry and Ron could not distract her from the thoughts plaguing her.
Friday evening found her in such a hurry to get back to her flat, she forgot to change into her Muggle clothes from the robes she'd worn to the Ministry for work. She ignored the looks of the few neighbors she encountered as she nearly ran to her door. Her owl Nyssa had been waiting for her in her flat on Wednesday when she'd returned home, a scroll of parchment attached to her leg. She'd known who it was from immediately. It had told Hermione that Friday evening would be a perfectly acceptable time to meet. He'd even asked her to join the staff and students for the evening meal.
Now, looking at the watch strapped to her wrist, she saw she had just enough time to freshen up before Apparating there.
Hermione scurried to her bathroom, checking her appearance in the mirror. Her hair, now easier to manage that it had once been, was swept back in a simple bun at the top of her head. A few wispy tendrils had escaped during the day, hanging down to frame her face. Her robes were a rich chocolate brown, and they served to bring out the natural golden highlights her hair bore. She didn't have time to change anything. Instead, she headed into her bedroom and the closet it contained. Swirling her cloak over her shoulders, she cast a silencing spell on the interior of her closet to muffle the loud crack that would sound when she Apparated. After pausing a moment, to draw a breath to steady herself, she cast the Apparation spell and disappeared.
**********************
Hermione was glad to have put on her cloak before leaving, as the wind outside the school was biting and bitterly cold. Winter was just around the corner, it seemed. She could smell the snow in the air, hanging as if it were waiting for the right moment to fall. The holidays were still almost two months away, yet Mother Nature seemed to have her own agenda this year. She could imagine how much fun Quidditch would be for the teams in the snow.
As she opened the gates and stepped onto the school's property, one of the carriages rolled up to the entrance. She smiled, thankful for Dumbledore's thoughtfulness. Careful not to go near the invisible Thestral, she stepped up into the carriage. She had barely settled herself on the seat when the vehicle rolled forward slowly. It seemed the time was nearly at hand.
Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, waiting for Hermione with a broad smile on her face. When the young woman stepped across the threshold into her old school, her former Professor and Head of House dragged her into a tight hug. Hermione reciprocated, glad to see the formidable woman and the place where so much had happened in her youth. Minerva pulled back first, blinking away tears as she stared down at the young woman before her. "It is wonderful to see you, Miss Granger. Wonderful!"
'And you, Professor. I know I haven't been back since the end of my schooling here, but I've been busy with work,' Hermione explained, reaching up to unclasp her cloak. She folded it over one arm and took a moment to glance about the Entrance Hall. Nothing had changed in her years away from the institute of learning. Candles floated and flickered, casting wavering illumination across the stone floor. The Transfiguration teacher nodded and started across the silent entryway, motioning Hermione to follow.
The sound of their shoes clacking along the stone of the floor echoed up and down the hall as Hermione followed Professor McGonagall along the stairs and halls. Nothing had changed, it seemed. The doors to the Great Hall stood open and Hermione couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling. She knew what she would find, but she felt she had to do it. For old time's sake. The dark of night lay over the actual ceiling above her, stars twinkling with the candles as they drifted lazily in the air. A few faint wisps of clouds could be seen against the bright silver light of the moon. It was a thoroughly wonderful sight to behold.
When her gaze returned to the table before her, where every member of staff sat, she was somewhat surprised to find that Snape was among the rest of them. He was scowling at her, looking his snarkiest. She only had a moment to wonder at his presence when she heard Professor Dumbledore's voice flood the room, covering the soft murmur of the gathered students. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, MIss Granger. It's wonderful to see you again."
"Professor Dumbledore!" she smiled at the Headmaster as he stood. He still looked the same, his eyes twinkling merrily at her. His long white beard was tucked into his belt, and she had to wonder if he did it on purpose, or if it had been an accident. "It's so nice of you to invite me to dinner. I am pleased to be here."
"Sit. We have a seat pulled up for you here next to Madam Sprout," he gestured with one hand to the open chair next to the diminutive Herbology Professor. Hermione took her seat, giving a pleasant greeting to the staff around her. The Headmaster clapped his hands twice, and the food for the meal appeared. Hermione filled her plate, feeling some of the tension she'd been feeling the past three days drain away with the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Hogwarts.
**********************
"Lemon sherbert?" Professor Dumbledore held out a bowl of the confections to Hermione as she took a seat on the opposite side of his desk. She shook her head, watching as he set the bowl back on the flat surface before him. The old Wizard leaned back in his seat, linking his hands together in his lap. He stared at her expectantly, waiting patiently for her to tell him why she had come to him. "What is this matter of great importance, Miss Granger?"
Hermione took a deep breath, letting her gaze wander about the room idly. In truth, she was looking the room over to be sure that there was no one else present. She felt her reasons for being there were her own business, and she wanted to be sure that she would be talking to Dumbledore alone. When her gaze came back to Dumbledore, she gave a faint smile that was more grimace and told him why she was there. "Earlier this week, I overheard a conversation that was meant to be private. I thought I should come to you with it straight away."
"I see. And what was this information?" Albus questioned her, watching the way her hands shifted nervously in her lap. He had to believe she was sitting on something important. He smiled at her encouragingly, nodding at her to continue. She went on after a moment of hesitation.
"As I was returning from lunch on Tuesday, I happened to stumble upon a pair of conspirators. They were discussing ways to continue Lord..." she stumbled over the name. Even though the man was dead, killed by Harry and a few others of the Order, she still found she had difficulty saying his name. "These two were talking about continuing Lord V... Voldermort's plans. They intend to see the Mudbloods exterminated. They know where the missing Death Eaters are, and one of them has written proof of this. I thought you would want to know."
"I see," he nodded solemnly, the twinkling gone from his blue eyes now. She waited as he stared at her, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She wasn't a student anymore, but she certainly felt like it when he studied her like that. He spoke finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them and ending her discomfort. "And may I ask who these two conspirators are, Miss Granger?"
"Lucius Malfoy and Percy Weasley," she replied steadily.
"Are you certain? I could believe this of Lucius. But Percy? Are you sure you didn't mistake one of them?" he questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the top of the desk. Hermione shook her head vigorously.
"I'm quite certain, Professor. I heard it myself. I saw them both. The two of them are in league with one another, trying to resurrect Voldemort's plans. The Order has to do something!' she insisted. She put a sense of urgency into her words, then fell silent and watched the Headmaster as he mulled over what she had told him. He seemed to be taking an extremely long time as he thought about what she had told him.
After what felt like a year of silence, Dumbledore sighed. She could already feel her heart plummet, just from the sound he made. He stood, looking down at her with gentle eyes. Hermione muttered a curse, then stood with him. She blanked her expression, deciding that begging would be of no use when he had his mind set. She could see that much by the way he was regarding her. "I appreciate the time you took out of your busy life to journey here and bring me what you felt was important news. I am afraid, though, that it is of no use to the Order."
"And why not? Do you doubt my word? Do you think I would make something so heinous up?" she asked, her voice low to control the level of emotions that flooded into it. Hermione was determined that he would not know how his lack of concern upset her. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to give her a good enough reason as to why he would disregard what she felt was important.
"Miss Granger, I do not doubt your word. Nor d
o I believe you would make something like this up. I am simply saying that the Order has no use for this information. I am sorry you wasted a trip up here," Albus told her softly. Hermione looked at him a moment, her eyes clearly portraying her disappointment.
"So am I," She stepped to the door, then turned the knob. It swung open, and she stepped through. The latch clicked quietly behind her as she shut it again. Dumbledore sighed heavily and lowered himself into his chair once more. With a tired gesture, he lifted the half moon glasses from his nose and rubbed at his eyes. Albus remained silent for several moments before settling the frames upon the bridge of his nose again, then looked up.
"You heard everything. You know what to do, don't you?" he asked the darkened shadows. A lone figure glided out from the depths of the shadows and paused at the door.
"Of course, Headmaster," the quiet reply echoed in the office long after both parties had left the plush interior of the Headmaster's office. Albus stared moodily into the fire, his mind a churning whirlpool of tumultuous thought.
**********************
Hermione was glad of the silencing spell she had cast on her closet. After she had left the grounds of Hogwarts and Apparated to her London flat, she had stood in the small room and screamed, yelled, and done whatever else she could think of to try and vent the frustration she felt. She was sure that, had her neighbors heard her, they would have called the local branch of the police and had them at her door. Then she would have had to explain that she was screaming because of a silly old Wizard and not because she was being raped or murdered.
Why hadn't Dumbledore grasped the information she'd given him? Had she not gone to see him for just that reason? She was at a loss to explain why the one man she thought would have been willing to act upon her news was treating it as if it were yesterday's dirty laundry.She knew what she had heard, no matter what the Headmaster wanted to think or say. Perhaps she should be the one to try and do something about it.
Hermione left her closet, stepping into her living room to try and gather her scattered wits. She started by checking her messages. Another garbled series of noises that told her Ron had called for something. She had to smile at his attempt. No matter how miserably he did at making a phone call and leaving a message, he never quit. A message from her mum, asking her to call. She knew what that meant.
With a roll of her eyes, she decided she would call her parents sometime Sunday night. Just before she knew they were going to bed. She certainly didn't want to be set up on another of her mother's blind dates. Her mother had decided, since Hermione had shown more interest in the growth pattern of mold, that she would take it upon herself to find Hermione men to date. While she appreciated her mother's thought and effort, Hermione found that the men her mother picked lacked something that appealed to her. And, more often than not, Hermione found herself bored with the normal life of the Muggle world.
She stepped into her tiny kitchenette, ran water in the kettle, and put it on to make a pot of tea. She needed something to calm her and help her think. It looked as if she would be getting no help from Dumbledore or the Order, so she would have to come up with some way to stop Percy and Malfoy herself. A tall order, to be sure. But she was tenacious enough to manage, she thought.
She spent her entire weekend locked up in her flat, letting the machine pick up the phone every time it rang. Her mother called six times to find out if Hermione had gotten her previous message. Another muffled sounding call that could only be Ron, which brought a smile to her face. A call from Harry, asking her to call him when she got the opportunity, as he wanted to be sure she was alright. The final call was from an unknown person. There was a moment of heavy breathing in the back ground, which she thought was odd. Her number was unlisted, and very few people knew she had one. Then she heard a mumbled threat, something to the effect that she needed to watch her step. It was unnerving, to say the least.
On Monday morning, she had a plan firmly in place. She had to find some proof of Percy's involvement. She would take that to the Order and then they would have to do something. The only problem would be getting real proof. She was certain that Percy wouldn't be so foolish as to keep that kind of thing laying about the Ministry, where just anyone could stumble upon it. So she would have to find something else that she could use to prove he was behind the missing Death Eaters. She had no idea what she would use, though. Nor how to get it.
Thursday saw her returning back from lunch, late once again. She felt fortunate that she wasn't subjected to a repeat of the previous week. No one lurked in the halls, and there were no conversations to overhear. She was on her way back to her small office/lab when she rounded the corner and walked right into Percy Weasley. The two of them both carried a portfolio, and the collision caused files to spill from both leather bags.
"I'm terribly sorry," Hermione muttered as she knelt to scoop her files back up. Percy did the same, a broad smile on his face as he copied her motions.
"Think nothing of it, Hermione. We should consider ourselves lucky that all that spilled were our files. It would be utterly terrible to have to pick you or myself up off the floor,' he told her, carefully placing his own files back in his case. Hermione nodded, silently marveling at how she managed to keep a friendly demeanor when she knew what he was planning. Percy stood, then offered her his hand. She almost declined, but thought better of it. She didn't want him to be suspicious. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Thank you, Percy," she managed to sound grateful, when she would rather hex him to within an inch of his life and ask him what his bloody problem was. It was a supreme effort to control the urge to wipe her hand on her robes.
"You know, Hermione," he said, looking her up and down. "You and I should have a night out. Really get to know one another. You know... a sort of date."
"I'm sorry, Percy. I don't date people I work with. It's a bad idea to get involved with a colleague. But thank you so much for thinking of me," she told him, then stepped past. "If you'll excuse me, I'm running late and I have a nasty curse I need to work on. Good day, Percy."
"Good day, Hermione," Percy nodded, letting her go by. She didn't look back, because she was certain he would be staring at her in much the same manner a hungry cat watched a fat rat. She made it to her lab without another incident. After putting the portfolio up on her desk, she slipped out of her cloak and into her lab coat. She could feel the piercing black gaze as it followed her motions. Snape was watching her again.
"Late again, Miss Granger? It's a shame I cannot deduct points here," he said, his tone full of some emotion she couldn't name. She ignored the underlying hint of enmity that was always present, moving over to her workbench in silence. His deep-throated chuckled startled her, bringing her brown gaze up to his black one. "I am cut to the quick by your refusal to verbally spar with me. I could be crass and ask you what you needed your case for at lunch, but I'll refrain for the moment."
"How very noble of you,"she retorted, trying to immerse herself in the task at hand. Her mind, though, kept straying to the difficult task she'd set herself of finding some damning piece of evidence to take to the Order. So far, she'd come up with nothing. It was daunting, but she had to believe it was not impossible. She would just have to try that much harder.
Severus watched Hermione as she bent her head to her task. Her work had been suffering this last week. He'd taken every opportunity to gleefully point it out to her. He was not above letting her know that she was not infallible. He had taken the opportunity to study her intently the last week, noting that she had been losing sleep. Her eager little mind was no doubt plotting out all manner of devious things to get into.
Getting into trouble was one of the traits that she hadn't grown out of since her days as a student at Hogwarts. She was still virtually inseparable from Potter and Weasley. So it had come as a great surprise to him to have seen the two masculine members of the Golden Trio in Diagon Ally this weekend without her presence along side them. He'd managed to meet up with the two young men and mete out his normal, acerbic comments about their missing comrade. It had served to get a rise out of both Potter and Weasley, thereby making his entire weekend.
He let his attention wander over her again, noting that she was now chewing on the end of her quill almost absently. She was obviously deep in thought. He'd never before seen her eat her writing utensil as she was now. It was something serious, indeed. He frowned to himself again, then turned back to his work. Hermione Granger and her distractions were, at present, none of his concern.
It wasn't until Hermione got home that she realized there had been a terrible mistake.
She'd taken her portfolio home to do some work in the privacy of her flat and had pulled the files out before she saw that they were not hers. The penmanship was as neat and precise as hers, but far more masculine. The letters were more blocked, more squarish than she made. Then it struck her. She had Percy's files. She was about to stow them away when the name on a sheet of paper that had slipped out of the folder caught her eye.
Antonin Dolohov.
A known, active Death Eater.
A known, missing Death Eater.
She pulled the paper out fully, her eyes scanning over the contents hurriedly. She gasped, eyes going wide! This was it! The proof she needed. It was Percy's list of Death Eaters and the locations of their hideouts. She went through the rest of the files with wanton glee, finding more than enough evidence to show Dumbledore that Percy and Malfoy were involved in a continuing plot to wipe out the mixed bloods of the Wizarding world.
Hermione was glad that the curtains on her fourth floor flat were closed. She was dancing about her living room as if she had lost every ounce of intelligence she possessed. She had in her hands proof that neither Dumbledore, nor the Order, could ignore. All she need do was take it to them. She stopped dancing around as suddenly as she started. Yes, she had proof in her hands. And she would most likely be made to turn it over to the Order.She needed to make copies. She could give them to the Order and keep the originals for herself. As a sort of insurance.
She dashed into her bedroom, changing into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She fished a navy pea coat from her closet, then carefully put all the papers into a file. Which she stuffed into her portfolio and under her arm. She would head down to the nearest shop that had a public copy machine and make a set or two of copies. Then she would go straight to Dumbledore. He had to believe her this time.
**********************
Hermione was back in a bloody foul mood by Friday. It was bad enough that Dumbledore had looked at the papers she'd given to him and shaken his head. He'd made her to feel as if she were delusional. She'd called him a few choice names, something she would have never done if she hadn't been so worked up about the proof she'd found, then stormed out. The night before, her neighbors had gotten into a loud row, and she'd barely slept. The following morning, she'd entered her office to find it an utter shambles. Snape had walked in only a moment or two after her and made some comment regarding her lack of organizational skills. It was not shaping up to be a good day.
At ten minutes until her lunch, a message arrived from Harry, saying he and Ron wouldn't be able to meet her for lunch that day, which only enhanced her foul mood. She was forced to share lunch in the Ministry's cafeteria with Snape, who was nothing more than a thorn in her arse through the entire meal. He'd made snide comment after snide comment about her, as well as Harry and Ron and half of the people who had been in Gryffindor with her for seven years. She'd finally ended up telling him to shut his bloody gob, or she'd hex it shut for him. That had only served to bring laughter bubbling to the surface. She'd realized at that moment how much she actually detested the man.
When five o'clock rolled around, Hermione gratefully packed in her things and got ready to go home. She glanced up from fastening her cloak to find that Snape was regarding her with the kind of gaze she would associate with death squads and man-eating sharks. She cocked a brow at him in question. He stared a moment longer before gliding over to where she stood. His long fingers curled about her arms, locking tight about the soft flesh. She grimaced when his hands closed down even tighter, squeezing her limbs cruelly. "If I were you, Miss Granger, I should be careful who you go talking to. It might get you hexed. Or worse, killed. My advice to you is to stay clear of this whole mess."
Without another word, Snape let go of her and moved off, his black robes billowing silently behind him as if he were walking on a cloud of air. She stared after him a moment, wondering what the bloody hell he was talking about. Then she shook her head and gathered her thoughts. Without a backward glance, she shut off the lights, closed the door, and headed for the elevators so she could go home and spend her weekend debating what her next course of action would be.
It didn't dawn on her that Snape was referring to the business with Percy and Malfoy until she was sliding the key into the lock on her flat door. She was about to begin exploring the reasons why he knew about her chance involvement with the entire mess when her attention was snagged from that to something of far greater importance. Her door swung open, the lights left on to reveal the shambles that someone had made of her apartment.
Books lay scattered across the floor, pages torn from them haphazardly. Other papers of all kinds were tossed about as if a huge wind had blown through. The cushions from her couch and chairs were cut open, the stuffing pulled out and strewn around. Lamps had been knocked over and broken. There was dirt ground into the carpeting from plants that had been tipped and spilt. Someone had ransacked her apartment.
She went into the bedroom, to see what kind of damage had been inflicted there. She stopped short when she saw what had been left for her. The message was scrawled across the wall, written in blood. It was vibrant red, glaringly obscene on the white paint.
You'll be next, Granger. You and every other Mudblood will die!
Her heart clutched a moment as she read it, then her anger spurred her into action.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger (eventually)
Summary: Hermione Granger works for the Ministry of Magic and rather enjoys her job. However, everything is put in danger when she accidentally overhears a conversation not meant for anyone's ears. When she tries to take this knowledge to the authorities, no one believes her. Hermione ends up running for her life. One man is sent to bring her back, along with the documents she's taken with her as proof.
Rating: adult (eventually)
Author: Merry Fae
Warnings: nothing yet, i think. probably not even bad words. how sad is that?
Disclaimer: all of the recognizable characters found within this work of fiction are the sole property of one J.K. Rowling, the goddess of Harry Potter. i own nothing. i only borrowed some people to play with, because i was bored and needed something to do. i'll probably put them back when i'm done with them. i'm so not making money off this unless you count the adoration of... erm... no one. wow. aren't i bummed now? anyhow, its not mine, i'm not getting paid for it. don't bother.
A/Ns: this was first published in 2003. so i'm sure its very rough. and its very short. i've given it a look over and done some base corrections. i also checked the word count. less than 5,000. ohmygods! its so short!
Chapter Two: A Fortunate Run In
----------------------------------------------------
The remaining days passed by slowly. Hermione found herself increasingly unable to give her full attention to her work for the Ministry. The plotting she'd inadvertently stumbled over kept running about her head like a marathon runner. The more she tried not to give it thought, the more it occupied her mind. Consequently, she missed the narrow-eyed looks Snape gave her whenever she was off in her thoughts. Had she been aware of them, chances would have been good that she would have seen first hand what some of the curses they'd been working on could do. As it was, even her lunches with Harry and Ron could not distract her from the thoughts plaguing her.
Friday evening found her in such a hurry to get back to her flat, she forgot to change into her Muggle clothes from the robes she'd worn to the Ministry for work. She ignored the looks of the few neighbors she encountered as she nearly ran to her door. Her owl Nyssa had been waiting for her in her flat on Wednesday when she'd returned home, a scroll of parchment attached to her leg. She'd known who it was from immediately. It had told Hermione that Friday evening would be a perfectly acceptable time to meet. He'd even asked her to join the staff and students for the evening meal.
Now, looking at the watch strapped to her wrist, she saw she had just enough time to freshen up before Apparating there.
Hermione scurried to her bathroom, checking her appearance in the mirror. Her hair, now easier to manage that it had once been, was swept back in a simple bun at the top of her head. A few wispy tendrils had escaped during the day, hanging down to frame her face. Her robes were a rich chocolate brown, and they served to bring out the natural golden highlights her hair bore. She didn't have time to change anything. Instead, she headed into her bedroom and the closet it contained. Swirling her cloak over her shoulders, she cast a silencing spell on the interior of her closet to muffle the loud crack that would sound when she Apparated. After pausing a moment, to draw a breath to steady herself, she cast the Apparation spell and disappeared.
**********************
Hermione was glad to have put on her cloak before leaving, as the wind outside the school was biting and bitterly cold. Winter was just around the corner, it seemed. She could smell the snow in the air, hanging as if it were waiting for the right moment to fall. The holidays were still almost two months away, yet Mother Nature seemed to have her own agenda this year. She could imagine how much fun Quidditch would be for the teams in the snow.
As she opened the gates and stepped onto the school's property, one of the carriages rolled up to the entrance. She smiled, thankful for Dumbledore's thoughtfulness. Careful not to go near the invisible Thestral, she stepped up into the carriage. She had barely settled herself on the seat when the vehicle rolled forward slowly. It seemed the time was nearly at hand.
Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, waiting for Hermione with a broad smile on her face. When the young woman stepped across the threshold into her old school, her former Professor and Head of House dragged her into a tight hug. Hermione reciprocated, glad to see the formidable woman and the place where so much had happened in her youth. Minerva pulled back first, blinking away tears as she stared down at the young woman before her. "It is wonderful to see you, Miss Granger. Wonderful!"
'And you, Professor. I know I haven't been back since the end of my schooling here, but I've been busy with work,' Hermione explained, reaching up to unclasp her cloak. She folded it over one arm and took a moment to glance about the Entrance Hall. Nothing had changed in her years away from the institute of learning. Candles floated and flickered, casting wavering illumination across the stone floor. The Transfiguration teacher nodded and started across the silent entryway, motioning Hermione to follow.
The sound of their shoes clacking along the stone of the floor echoed up and down the hall as Hermione followed Professor McGonagall along the stairs and halls. Nothing had changed, it seemed. The doors to the Great Hall stood open and Hermione couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling. She knew what she would find, but she felt she had to do it. For old time's sake. The dark of night lay over the actual ceiling above her, stars twinkling with the candles as they drifted lazily in the air. A few faint wisps of clouds could be seen against the bright silver light of the moon. It was a thoroughly wonderful sight to behold.
When her gaze returned to the table before her, where every member of staff sat, she was somewhat surprised to find that Snape was among the rest of them. He was scowling at her, looking his snarkiest. She only had a moment to wonder at his presence when she heard Professor Dumbledore's voice flood the room, covering the soft murmur of the gathered students. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, MIss Granger. It's wonderful to see you again."
"Professor Dumbledore!" she smiled at the Headmaster as he stood. He still looked the same, his eyes twinkling merrily at her. His long white beard was tucked into his belt, and she had to wonder if he did it on purpose, or if it had been an accident. "It's so nice of you to invite me to dinner. I am pleased to be here."
"Sit. We have a seat pulled up for you here next to Madam Sprout," he gestured with one hand to the open chair next to the diminutive Herbology Professor. Hermione took her seat, giving a pleasant greeting to the staff around her. The Headmaster clapped his hands twice, and the food for the meal appeared. Hermione filled her plate, feeling some of the tension she'd been feeling the past three days drain away with the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Hogwarts.
**********************
"Lemon sherbert?" Professor Dumbledore held out a bowl of the confections to Hermione as she took a seat on the opposite side of his desk. She shook her head, watching as he set the bowl back on the flat surface before him. The old Wizard leaned back in his seat, linking his hands together in his lap. He stared at her expectantly, waiting patiently for her to tell him why she had come to him. "What is this matter of great importance, Miss Granger?"
Hermione took a deep breath, letting her gaze wander about the room idly. In truth, she was looking the room over to be sure that there was no one else present. She felt her reasons for being there were her own business, and she wanted to be sure that she would be talking to Dumbledore alone. When her gaze came back to Dumbledore, she gave a faint smile that was more grimace and told him why she was there. "Earlier this week, I overheard a conversation that was meant to be private. I thought I should come to you with it straight away."
"I see. And what was this information?" Albus questioned her, watching the way her hands shifted nervously in her lap. He had to believe she was sitting on something important. He smiled at her encouragingly, nodding at her to continue. She went on after a moment of hesitation.
"As I was returning from lunch on Tuesday, I happened to stumble upon a pair of conspirators. They were discussing ways to continue Lord..." she stumbled over the name. Even though the man was dead, killed by Harry and a few others of the Order, she still found she had difficulty saying his name. "These two were talking about continuing Lord V... Voldermort's plans. They intend to see the Mudbloods exterminated. They know where the missing Death Eaters are, and one of them has written proof of this. I thought you would want to know."
"I see," he nodded solemnly, the twinkling gone from his blue eyes now. She waited as he stared at her, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She wasn't a student anymore, but she certainly felt like it when he studied her like that. He spoke finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them and ending her discomfort. "And may I ask who these two conspirators are, Miss Granger?"
"Lucius Malfoy and Percy Weasley," she replied steadily.
"Are you certain? I could believe this of Lucius. But Percy? Are you sure you didn't mistake one of them?" he questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the top of the desk. Hermione shook her head vigorously.
"I'm quite certain, Professor. I heard it myself. I saw them both. The two of them are in league with one another, trying to resurrect Voldemort's plans. The Order has to do something!' she insisted. She put a sense of urgency into her words, then fell silent and watched the Headmaster as he mulled over what she had told him. He seemed to be taking an extremely long time as he thought about what she had told him.
After what felt like a year of silence, Dumbledore sighed. She could already feel her heart plummet, just from the sound he made. He stood, looking down at her with gentle eyes. Hermione muttered a curse, then stood with him. She blanked her expression, deciding that begging would be of no use when he had his mind set. She could see that much by the way he was regarding her. "I appreciate the time you took out of your busy life to journey here and bring me what you felt was important news. I am afraid, though, that it is of no use to the Order."
"And why not? Do you doubt my word? Do you think I would make something so heinous up?" she asked, her voice low to control the level of emotions that flooded into it. Hermione was determined that he would not know how his lack of concern upset her. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to give her a good enough reason as to why he would disregard what she felt was important.
"Miss Granger, I do not doubt your word. Nor d
o I believe you would make something like this up. I am simply saying that the Order has no use for this information. I am sorry you wasted a trip up here," Albus told her softly. Hermione looked at him a moment, her eyes clearly portraying her disappointment.
"So am I," She stepped to the door, then turned the knob. It swung open, and she stepped through. The latch clicked quietly behind her as she shut it again. Dumbledore sighed heavily and lowered himself into his chair once more. With a tired gesture, he lifted the half moon glasses from his nose and rubbed at his eyes. Albus remained silent for several moments before settling the frames upon the bridge of his nose again, then looked up.
"You heard everything. You know what to do, don't you?" he asked the darkened shadows. A lone figure glided out from the depths of the shadows and paused at the door.
"Of course, Headmaster," the quiet reply echoed in the office long after both parties had left the plush interior of the Headmaster's office. Albus stared moodily into the fire, his mind a churning whirlpool of tumultuous thought.
**********************
Hermione was glad of the silencing spell she had cast on her closet. After she had left the grounds of Hogwarts and Apparated to her London flat, she had stood in the small room and screamed, yelled, and done whatever else she could think of to try and vent the frustration she felt. She was sure that, had her neighbors heard her, they would have called the local branch of the police and had them at her door. Then she would have had to explain that she was screaming because of a silly old Wizard and not because she was being raped or murdered.
Why hadn't Dumbledore grasped the information she'd given him? Had she not gone to see him for just that reason? She was at a loss to explain why the one man she thought would have been willing to act upon her news was treating it as if it were yesterday's dirty laundry.She knew what she had heard, no matter what the Headmaster wanted to think or say. Perhaps she should be the one to try and do something about it.
Hermione left her closet, stepping into her living room to try and gather her scattered wits. She started by checking her messages. Another garbled series of noises that told her Ron had called for something. She had to smile at his attempt. No matter how miserably he did at making a phone call and leaving a message, he never quit. A message from her mum, asking her to call. She knew what that meant.
With a roll of her eyes, she decided she would call her parents sometime Sunday night. Just before she knew they were going to bed. She certainly didn't want to be set up on another of her mother's blind dates. Her mother had decided, since Hermione had shown more interest in the growth pattern of mold, that she would take it upon herself to find Hermione men to date. While she appreciated her mother's thought and effort, Hermione found that the men her mother picked lacked something that appealed to her. And, more often than not, Hermione found herself bored with the normal life of the Muggle world.
She stepped into her tiny kitchenette, ran water in the kettle, and put it on to make a pot of tea. She needed something to calm her and help her think. It looked as if she would be getting no help from Dumbledore or the Order, so she would have to come up with some way to stop Percy and Malfoy herself. A tall order, to be sure. But she was tenacious enough to manage, she thought.
She spent her entire weekend locked up in her flat, letting the machine pick up the phone every time it rang. Her mother called six times to find out if Hermione had gotten her previous message. Another muffled sounding call that could only be Ron, which brought a smile to her face. A call from Harry, asking her to call him when she got the opportunity, as he wanted to be sure she was alright. The final call was from an unknown person. There was a moment of heavy breathing in the back ground, which she thought was odd. Her number was unlisted, and very few people knew she had one. Then she heard a mumbled threat, something to the effect that she needed to watch her step. It was unnerving, to say the least.
On Monday morning, she had a plan firmly in place. She had to find some proof of Percy's involvement. She would take that to the Order and then they would have to do something. The only problem would be getting real proof. She was certain that Percy wouldn't be so foolish as to keep that kind of thing laying about the Ministry, where just anyone could stumble upon it. So she would have to find something else that she could use to prove he was behind the missing Death Eaters. She had no idea what she would use, though. Nor how to get it.
Thursday saw her returning back from lunch, late once again. She felt fortunate that she wasn't subjected to a repeat of the previous week. No one lurked in the halls, and there were no conversations to overhear. She was on her way back to her small office/lab when she rounded the corner and walked right into Percy Weasley. The two of them both carried a portfolio, and the collision caused files to spill from both leather bags.
"I'm terribly sorry," Hermione muttered as she knelt to scoop her files back up. Percy did the same, a broad smile on his face as he copied her motions.
"Think nothing of it, Hermione. We should consider ourselves lucky that all that spilled were our files. It would be utterly terrible to have to pick you or myself up off the floor,' he told her, carefully placing his own files back in his case. Hermione nodded, silently marveling at how she managed to keep a friendly demeanor when she knew what he was planning. Percy stood, then offered her his hand. She almost declined, but thought better of it. She didn't want him to be suspicious. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"Thank you, Percy," she managed to sound grateful, when she would rather hex him to within an inch of his life and ask him what his bloody problem was. It was a supreme effort to control the urge to wipe her hand on her robes.
"You know, Hermione," he said, looking her up and down. "You and I should have a night out. Really get to know one another. You know... a sort of date."
"I'm sorry, Percy. I don't date people I work with. It's a bad idea to get involved with a colleague. But thank you so much for thinking of me," she told him, then stepped past. "If you'll excuse me, I'm running late and I have a nasty curse I need to work on. Good day, Percy."
"Good day, Hermione," Percy nodded, letting her go by. She didn't look back, because she was certain he would be staring at her in much the same manner a hungry cat watched a fat rat. She made it to her lab without another incident. After putting the portfolio up on her desk, she slipped out of her cloak and into her lab coat. She could feel the piercing black gaze as it followed her motions. Snape was watching her again.
"Late again, Miss Granger? It's a shame I cannot deduct points here," he said, his tone full of some emotion she couldn't name. She ignored the underlying hint of enmity that was always present, moving over to her workbench in silence. His deep-throated chuckled startled her, bringing her brown gaze up to his black one. "I am cut to the quick by your refusal to verbally spar with me. I could be crass and ask you what you needed your case for at lunch, but I'll refrain for the moment."
"How very noble of you,"she retorted, trying to immerse herself in the task at hand. Her mind, though, kept straying to the difficult task she'd set herself of finding some damning piece of evidence to take to the Order. So far, she'd come up with nothing. It was daunting, but she had to believe it was not impossible. She would just have to try that much harder.
Severus watched Hermione as she bent her head to her task. Her work had been suffering this last week. He'd taken every opportunity to gleefully point it out to her. He was not above letting her know that she was not infallible. He had taken the opportunity to study her intently the last week, noting that she had been losing sleep. Her eager little mind was no doubt plotting out all manner of devious things to get into.
Getting into trouble was one of the traits that she hadn't grown out of since her days as a student at Hogwarts. She was still virtually inseparable from Potter and Weasley. So it had come as a great surprise to him to have seen the two masculine members of the Golden Trio in Diagon Ally this weekend without her presence along side them. He'd managed to meet up with the two young men and mete out his normal, acerbic comments about their missing comrade. It had served to get a rise out of both Potter and Weasley, thereby making his entire weekend.
He let his attention wander over her again, noting that she was now chewing on the end of her quill almost absently. She was obviously deep in thought. He'd never before seen her eat her writing utensil as she was now. It was something serious, indeed. He frowned to himself again, then turned back to his work. Hermione Granger and her distractions were, at present, none of his concern.
It wasn't until Hermione got home that she realized there had been a terrible mistake.
She'd taken her portfolio home to do some work in the privacy of her flat and had pulled the files out before she saw that they were not hers. The penmanship was as neat and precise as hers, but far more masculine. The letters were more blocked, more squarish than she made. Then it struck her. She had Percy's files. She was about to stow them away when the name on a sheet of paper that had slipped out of the folder caught her eye.
Antonin Dolohov.
A known, active Death Eater.
A known, missing Death Eater.
She pulled the paper out fully, her eyes scanning over the contents hurriedly. She gasped, eyes going wide! This was it! The proof she needed. It was Percy's list of Death Eaters and the locations of their hideouts. She went through the rest of the files with wanton glee, finding more than enough evidence to show Dumbledore that Percy and Malfoy were involved in a continuing plot to wipe out the mixed bloods of the Wizarding world.
Hermione was glad that the curtains on her fourth floor flat were closed. She was dancing about her living room as if she had lost every ounce of intelligence she possessed. She had in her hands proof that neither Dumbledore, nor the Order, could ignore. All she need do was take it to them. She stopped dancing around as suddenly as she started. Yes, she had proof in her hands. And she would most likely be made to turn it over to the Order.She needed to make copies. She could give them to the Order and keep the originals for herself. As a sort of insurance.
She dashed into her bedroom, changing into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She fished a navy pea coat from her closet, then carefully put all the papers into a file. Which she stuffed into her portfolio and under her arm. She would head down to the nearest shop that had a public copy machine and make a set or two of copies. Then she would go straight to Dumbledore. He had to believe her this time.
**********************
Hermione was back in a bloody foul mood by Friday. It was bad enough that Dumbledore had looked at the papers she'd given to him and shaken his head. He'd made her to feel as if she were delusional. She'd called him a few choice names, something she would have never done if she hadn't been so worked up about the proof she'd found, then stormed out. The night before, her neighbors had gotten into a loud row, and she'd barely slept. The following morning, she'd entered her office to find it an utter shambles. Snape had walked in only a moment or two after her and made some comment regarding her lack of organizational skills. It was not shaping up to be a good day.
At ten minutes until her lunch, a message arrived from Harry, saying he and Ron wouldn't be able to meet her for lunch that day, which only enhanced her foul mood. She was forced to share lunch in the Ministry's cafeteria with Snape, who was nothing more than a thorn in her arse through the entire meal. He'd made snide comment after snide comment about her, as well as Harry and Ron and half of the people who had been in Gryffindor with her for seven years. She'd finally ended up telling him to shut his bloody gob, or she'd hex it shut for him. That had only served to bring laughter bubbling to the surface. She'd realized at that moment how much she actually detested the man.
When five o'clock rolled around, Hermione gratefully packed in her things and got ready to go home. She glanced up from fastening her cloak to find that Snape was regarding her with the kind of gaze she would associate with death squads and man-eating sharks. She cocked a brow at him in question. He stared a moment longer before gliding over to where she stood. His long fingers curled about her arms, locking tight about the soft flesh. She grimaced when his hands closed down even tighter, squeezing her limbs cruelly. "If I were you, Miss Granger, I should be careful who you go talking to. It might get you hexed. Or worse, killed. My advice to you is to stay clear of this whole mess."
Without another word, Snape let go of her and moved off, his black robes billowing silently behind him as if he were walking on a cloud of air. She stared after him a moment, wondering what the bloody hell he was talking about. Then she shook her head and gathered her thoughts. Without a backward glance, she shut off the lights, closed the door, and headed for the elevators so she could go home and spend her weekend debating what her next course of action would be.
It didn't dawn on her that Snape was referring to the business with Percy and Malfoy until she was sliding the key into the lock on her flat door. She was about to begin exploring the reasons why he knew about her chance involvement with the entire mess when her attention was snagged from that to something of far greater importance. Her door swung open, the lights left on to reveal the shambles that someone had made of her apartment.
Books lay scattered across the floor, pages torn from them haphazardly. Other papers of all kinds were tossed about as if a huge wind had blown through. The cushions from her couch and chairs were cut open, the stuffing pulled out and strewn around. Lamps had been knocked over and broken. There was dirt ground into the carpeting from plants that had been tipped and spilt. Someone had ransacked her apartment.
She went into the bedroom, to see what kind of damage had been inflicted there. She stopped short when she saw what had been left for her. The message was scrawled across the wall, written in blood. It was vibrant red, glaringly obscene on the white paint.
You'll be next, Granger. You and every other Mudblood will die!
Her heart clutched a moment as she read it, then her anger spurred her into action.