Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Darkening Skies
The day had begun as sunny and delightful as an August morning could be. By mid-afternoon, however, the weather drastically changed. The dainty breeze that had so pleasantly tickled the leaves on the trees vanished, leaving an ominous calm in its stead. The temperature had spiked at least twenty degrees, and the humidity quickly followed suit. Threatening dark clouds gathered, plunging the day into a foreboding shade of gray.
How apropos. Hermione Granger, reclining on an old, wooden picnic table, watched the dark clouds form above her. The world was growing darker – and her life was no exception. Sirius Black was dead, and Lord Voldemort had returned to power. The Daily Prophet headlines delivered to her house were depressing, if not downright disturbing. Even the Muggle publications her parents subscribed to reported strange disappearances and sinister happenings throughout the country.
Perspiration dripping down her cheek, Hermione reflected on what had sent her sprinting out the garden door to seek solace within the small, wooded park not far from her home.
“Yes, Dad?” Hermione stepped into the sitting room, having been called down from her bedroom. Her father stood solemnly behind the sofa, where her mother sat wringing her hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Hermione, darling,” Samuel Granger began. “Please sit. We need to have a discussion.”
Eyebrows twisting, she settled into the armchair. She glanced down to see yesterday’s copy of The Daily Prophet on the coffee table. Color fading from her face, she chided herself for not destroying it immediately after reading.
“Hermione, you know that we love you…and that we want to support you in everything.” Jean Granger evaluated her daughter’s reaction. “You’re a bright girl, more talented than we could have imagined. We’ve always wanted you to succeed in whatever you pursue, in this world or the magical one.”
“I know,” the girl nodded.
”But lately… Well, your father and I are uncomfortable with the thought of you out there on your own.”
“What are you saying?” Hermione asked.
Her father cleared his throat. “Your mother and I think it best you not return to Hogwarts this year.”
“Not return?” Hermione felt ambushed. She had expected them to lecture her on being cautious, not to withdraw her from school. “You can’t be serious!”
“Don’t be upset, dear,” her mother sighed. “It’s too dangerous.”
“No, no, no, no….” Gesturing with her hands, the girl paced across the room. “I can’t stay here – I have to go back! My friends –”
“Will still be your friends,” Jean assured her. “You can still write them, and we could arrange visits.”
As Hermione gaped at her mother, Samuel placed both hands on her shoulders in a comforting manner. “We want to do what’s best for you. If things calm down in the world, you can go back next year.”
“Next year,” she whispered.
“Perhaps they might agree to something long-distance,” Jean suggested. “They can do magic, for goodness sake; it shouldn’t be that hard. And we’re willing to pay more in tuition –”
Samuel groaned and received a scathing glance from his wife.
“If it means you’re safe, we are happy to pay whatever it takes,” she reiterated. “And if they won’t work with us, we’ll find an alternative. Maybe you take a gap year? We could take some time off, travel.”
“Gap year?” Hermione heaved a gasp and covered her mouth. Several intense emotions warred within her. She was angry at their suggestion, yet also understood it. She felt guilty for both entertaining and dismissing the idea because she was afraid of disappointing her parents, friends, or teachers.
The confusing mixture made her feel claustrophobic, and she bolted through the kitchen – ignoring her parents’ shouts – in search of air and space.
Hermione sighed, staring into the impending storm. Her parents’ concerns were not without merit. Logically, they would want to protect her from the dark forces invading the wizarding world, but she knew it would not be long before the Muggle world would be just as – if not more – dangerous.
Of course, she was scared, but she had to return to school. Hogwarts was probably the safest place for her. Her friends were there. Dumbledore was there. They would protect her.
But how do I convince my parents of that?
At the sound of crunching leaves, Hermione lurched up into a seated position. Her eyes darted every direction; while she saw no intruder, she could not shake the feeling of being watched.
“Who’s there?!” She climbed off the table. “Show yourself!”
Silence met her command. Her heart raced, and she wished she had been carrying her wand. She was not supposed to use it given her age, but it was undoubtedly stupid not to have it on hand.
The wind picked up, and leaves swirled around her feet. Movement in the corner of her eye made her nearly jump out of her skin. She felt silly a moment later when a small rabbit hopped around the picnic bench.
“Merlin.” Hermione bent over, waiting for the adrenaline to subside. She started to laugh, which startled the rabbit.
"I’m sorry!” she called as it fled for safety. Groaning, she wiped her face. Evil isn’t lurking around every corner. Just most corners.
Checking her watch, Hermione figured it was time to head home. Her parents were already worried enough.
She brushed wood splinters from her shorts and moved away from the table. She stalled, though, when the rustling resumed. And continued growing louder.
That’s not a bunny.
The trees around her waved violently in the wind. A large crack of thunder broke, and the grey clouds darkened into charcoal.
Hermione momentarily froze as black smoke streaked to the ground, revealing two masked Death-eaters. Wandless, she attempted to flee but only managed a few yards before one of their spells immobilized her.
Darkness settled around her as she fell.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Ten low chimes reverberated against stone walls as the clock struck the new hour.
Severus Snape sat in his leather armchair, reading a fraying tome by the firelight and hoping not to be summoned again. Voldemort had already demanded his audience twice that week. Upset with Lucius Malfoy's failed attempt to obtain the prophecy at the Ministry, the Dark Lord sought to ensure his next maneuvers were nothing short of successful. He had called on the spy to reveal everything Dumbledore had done or planned over the summer.
Since the Dark Lord had yet to divulge any strategy with him, Severus had nothing of value to share with the Hogwarts headmaster. While Dumbledore appeared understanding, Severus could sense his disappointment.
What else is new? Severus sighed as he flipped a page nearly transparent with age.
Though anxious to uncover pertinent information that could finally bring an end to his service, he was mentally and physically exhausted. On the evenings he had not attended the Dark Lord's gatherings, he had helped Dumbledore and the other Heads of House prepare the school for the new year.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he let the book flip closed in his lap. Breathing deeply, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. Waves of sleep were about to crash over him when he felt the burning sensation in his arm.
"Fucking hell," he snarled at the Dark Mark . “Can you not entertain yourself?”
Severus Flooed the Headmaster to inform him, then strode angrily out of his quarters to answer his summons.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
He was the last to arrive at the abandoned farmstead. As per usual.
The other Death Eaters hardly ever bothered to hide their disapproval of his perpetual tardiness, but he had managed to avoid extra punishment after reminding the Dark Lord of the Apparition ban whilst on Hogwarts grounds. Voldemort was understanding of this limitation, though only after performing Legilimency and witnessing it for himself, of course.
"Ah, Severus!" Voldemort threw his hands in the air as a sign of welcome and moved through the crowd gathered at the edge of an unkempt field.
"Kind of you to finally join us," Corban Yaxley murmured beside him. "Better late than never, eh?"
Severus curled his lip. “I apologize for my lateness, my Lord. Dumbledore was color-coordinating his sock drawer when I checked in with him after supper.”
“Not another word about the old fool tonight,” Voldemort declared with a grin. He clamped a cold, pale hand down on Snape’s shoulder. "You have always been loyal to me, haven’t you, Severus?”
The spy kept his shields firmly in place. “I have, my Lord.”
The snakelike man patted his shoulder. “I have much in store for you, my faithful servant."
Oh, what the fuck now? Snape raised his eyebrows. “My Lord?"
Voldemort rarely acknowledged his followers' successes in front of the large assembly of Death Eaters – public humiliation for failure was much more common. The personal attention was worrisome.
Either he expects a great amount of service, or he suspects something.
"Everyone, please make our honored brother feel welcome," Voldemort instructed the crowd, then spoke over his shoulder. "Severus, accompany me to the altar."
Ugh, gods. Severus pondered the terrible fate awaiting him as he followed behind the dark wizard. The full moon was weeks away, and he could not think of any ancient holiday demanding a sacrifice. Of course, blood magic did not always adhere to a schedule.
The intense scrutiny he found himself under as he passed by his colleagues revealed nothing as to whether he was to play perpetrator or victim. The maniacal cackle Bellatrix Lestrange emitted made his head pound. If he survived this, he was seriously going to hate himself in the morning.
While Severus attempted not to scowl more than ordinary, Voldemort suddenly faced him again. "Since you are the wizard of the hour, so to speak, I have the most delightful of surprises for you."
The serpentine tyrant stepped aside and gestured to the stone altar that had been erected in the middle of the field. Atop the altar was a lumpy mass covered by a black satin sheet.
Perpetrator, then. His heart fluttered disconcertedly, but Severus kept his face impassive. He knew whatever was under there was something he did not wish to see, let alone possess.
"My Lord?"
With an evil smile, Voldemort motioned him forward.
Fighting the urge to vomit, Severus cautiously crept forward. Think positive. It could still be a pile of vipers poised to take you out of your misery.
"Get on with it, Sevvy!" Bellatrix raised her wand, ready to remove the covering for herself.
"SILENCE!" Voldemort bellowed.
Though annoyed, Bellatrix lowered her wand and curtsied.
Please don’t be a child. Snape grabbed a corner of the black satin and tugged. The sheet slipped to the ground, exposing pale flesh that glowed in the moonlight. He stifled his revulsion at the young woman's naked body presented before him. Her face was turned away, but not knowing her identity did nothing to relieve the churning of his stomach.
Dumbledore knows not what he asks of me. Snape bit back his anger. He had an idea of what performance the Dark Lord was expecting, and he was far from eager to complete it. Frankly, he would have preferred to find the vipers.
Remembering he still had a role to assume and reputation to protect, the spy glanced back. “May I, my Lord?”.
At the dark wizard’s nod, Severus feigned interest in the offering by lazily tracing his fingers along the girl's ivory leg. Though she remained deathly still at his touch, he sensed blood pulsing through her vessels.
She’s alive. For now.
"Does the gift disappoint?"
Severus slowly found his voice, purposefully letting his eyes linger on her form a bit longer than he would have ever wanted. "Not in the least. You are most gracious, my Lord."
Agreeing, Voldemort whirled back to address his followers, "Well then, she must be claimed!"
As excitement rippled through the crowd, Voldemort artfully flicked his wand in the altar's direction. "Rennervate!"
As her body reanimated, the girl coughed and wheezed at the oxygen refilling her lungs.
Snape froze as she turned her head; he was staring into the deeply terrified eyes of Hermione Granger.