A Turn for the Better

Chapter 11 ~ Seeking Answers and Getting a Few

"Who's there?" the portrait of the Fat Lady demanded when she was unceremoniously pushed open then closed by a shimmering form. "It's after curfew. You have no business wandering about Hogwarts at this hour!"

Disillusioned, Hermione ignored the painting, hurrying down the corridor as quietly as she could, making her way for the shifting stairwells. Thank goodness they were always shifting or it would make a difficult journey even more difficult.

She mounted the first stairwell, her eyes peeled for Harry Potter. He would be on his rounds now if he hadn't pawned them off on a Prefect. She had no doubts he'd love to catch Hermione "Goody-Two-Shoes" Granger out after curfew. There was the Head Girl to watch for too. But once she made it to the dungeon area, she ought to be all right as long as neither heads were down there. The dungeon corridors were rather narrow.

She heard a "meow" and leaned over the railing to see Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, walking through the Entrance Hall. Hermione held her breath. Mrs. Norris might smell her. She watched as the animal rubbed up against the rusted suit of armor several times, then headed in the direction of the classroom area. Hermione missed two stair connections waiting for the cat to disappear down the corridor. She didn't dare make a move.

Finally, she timidly stepped onto the next set of stairs, and the next, making her way down to the second floor, then tiptoeing up the corridor and by professor McGonagall's office, then down the narrow flight of stairs that led to the first floor landing. She peered out of the open doorway and seeing no one, eased down the marble staircase that led to the Entrance Hall.

So far, so good. She was just about to make the left and descend the narrow staircase that led to the dungeons when she heard something. Quickly, she pressed against the wall, holding her breath. Her shimmer would be noticed if focused on.

Her eyes widened as professor Snape emerged. He was doing his own rounds. The wizard walked out a little distance into the Hall, slowed, then stopped. He stood there a moment, Hermione staring at his back, not sure what she should do.

That decision was taken away from her when Snape suddenly spun, strode up to her and grasped her by her shoulder. His face twisted, the wizard pulled out his wand, pointed it at her and hissed, "Finite Incantatem!"

The Disillusionment spell ended, and Hermione melted into view.

Snape looked surprised, and quickly released the frightened witch.

"Miss Granger? Why are you roaming the castle after curfew?" he asked the witch. "You know that offense is an automatic point loss."

Snape looked very disappointed. He had never taken any points from Hermione. She never gave him a reason.

"Yes, sir, I know," Hermione replied, "but . . . I needed to come see you."

Snape blinked at her.

"You were on your way to see me at this hour, Miss Granger? Surely whatever you wanted to ask me could have waited until tomorrow," he said slowly, wondering what in the world was so important she'd risked point loss and detention.

"Not this, sir. I just wanted to ask you a question," Hermione said to him. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep if I didn't know the answer."

Snape furrowed his brow at her.

"You have the Dreamless Draught, Miss Granger. You can sleep through anything if you are taking it as I directed."

Hermione's brown eyes shifted. Snape caught it.

"You are taking it, aren't you, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione sighed.

"No, I haven't taken it yet. I decided rather than try to fight my dreams, just to accept them, to really let them take me where they wanted to go," she replied.

"Damn it," Snape thought.

"I made some interesting discoveries," she said. "For instance, I found out that . . ."

"Professor Snape," a voice called.

Both Hermione and Severus looked up to see Harry Potter descending the marble staircase, his green eyes resting on them suspiciously.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said smoothly as the wizard walked up to them.

"What are you doing out after curfew, Granger?" Harry asked the witch, his eyes shifting to Snape for a moment before he returned to glaring at Hermione.

"Apparently trying to sneak down to the kitchens for a late night snack, Mr. Potter. I caught her before she managed to do so," Snape lied.

Harry smiled nastily.

"So, you've finally been caught dirty, Granger. It's about time a bit of tarnish got on your squeaky clean image," Harry gloated, pulling out his pad and a Muggle pen to record the dirty deed.

"Ah, that won't be necessary Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "I will be writing Miss Granger up personally as well as assigning her punishment. I'm about to take her to my office now to see about the details."

Harry couldn't help letting out a little snort. Everyone knew Snape favored the Gryffindor.

"I hope the punishment suits the crime," he said, unable to help himself.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

"Judge not so ye be not judged, Mr. Potter," he purred, his meaning unmistakable.

Despite having to work with Hagrid every night, Harry had gotten off easy for what he attempted to do to Hermione. By rights, he should have been arrested. Harry flushed and put his pad and pen away.

"All right, professor," he said, giving Hermione one more mean-spirited glare. "I'm done with my rounds, so I'll head for Slytherin house now."

"You do that, Mr. Potter," Snape replied with a nod. "Good night."

"Good night, sir," Harry said, walking down the stairwell and into the dungeons. At first, he considered Disillusioning himself and spying on the pair, but Snape was notorious for being capable of detecting Disillusioned students. It was almost as if he could sense them. It wouldn't be smart to risk being caught spying. It could cause problems between him and his Head of House if he started distrusting Snape.

Harry shrugged. It wasn't any of his business anyway. He was suspicious though. Seeing Granger and Snape together after curfew when he'd witnessed them embracing just the day before made his radar go off. He disliked Granger so much, he'd like to catch her being less than the Princess everyone thought she was and let the world know it. But he wasn't going to do it at the expense of his relationship with Snape.

If there was something going on, it really didn't have anything to do with him. But Harry did believe the dark wizard when he said he didn't get intimately involved with students. Snape was pretty straight, if sometimes shady. He wouldn't risk losing his job.

Harry headed for Slytherin. He needed to get in a bit of late night study for the upcoming exams.

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"Raiding the kitchens?" Hermione said to Snape once she was sure Harry was gone.

"It was all I could come up with in a pinch, Miss Granger, and is actually a very common late night activity, unless you would have preferred me to tell Mr. Potter you were out here at this hour planning to meet up with your 'beau.' Another very common late night activity," the wizard said, smirking slightly.

Hermione colored, her mind flitting back to the erotic dream she had engaging a young Snape. That first dream had been so unfocused and fragmented, she believed it was just that . . . a dream. The other dreams became clearer after the first.

She cleared her throat.

"Um . . . no. The kitchen story was fine," she said, looking rather embarrassed.

Snape studied her reaction to his words with a bit of interest. When he met Hermione in his past, before they engaged, she had told him that she had a crush on his older self. The wizard idly wondered if that crush managed to make it into this timeline as well. He certainly wouldn't throw her out of a turret window if it did.

He gently caught her arm.

"Come to my office, Miss Granger. We can talk there," he said.

"All right," Hermione replied, the butterflies returning in her belly as she let him lead her down the narrow stairs into the depths of the dungeon corridor. He released her once they reached the bottom and they walked silently down the hall, covered in flickering torchlight, the air rather cold and damp. No matter the time of day, the dungeons always looked like this. But knowing it was night made the area just a bit creepier. Suddenly, the Bloody Baron drifted out of the wall in front of them, Hermione squealing in fright and launching herself at the Potions master, landing in his arms as the ghost passed through the opposite wall and disappeared.

Snape looked down at the terrified witch.

"Really, Miss Granger. You have to learn to be more in control," he said as he let her go. "You've attended Hogwarts for seven years. You should be used to ghosts."

"Well, he startled me," Hermione said in her own defense, although she couldn't help but be aware of how hard the wizard's body was. Last time she embraced him, she hadn't given it a thought.

Gods, crushes sucked.

"Well, if you've sufficiently recovered, let us continue to my office," Snape said, gesturing down the corridor. They began to walk again and presently arrived at their destination. Snape opened the door and let Hermione in, followed and closed it behind him. He pulled out his wand and added a cushion and a bit more support to the rickety chair he kept for unwanted visitors.

"Please sit down, Miss Granger," he said, offering her the seat.

Once she was settled in, Snape walked behind his desk and sat down, folding his hands as he looked at the witch.

"Now, what was the question you wish to ask me, Miss Granger? I imagine it must be quite a question for you to go through all of this," he said to her curiously.

Hermione looked down at her hands for several moments, twisting them nervously.

Snape said nothing. Obviously this was a question of some importance and she needed time to frame it. He'd wait.

After a minute or two, Hermione looked up at him, her eyes dark and haunted.

"Professor Snape," she said softly, "am I . . . am I a murderer?"

Snape's eyes widened.

Obviously, Hermione had figured out she had somehow altered the past, but not exactly how. She must have made the connection to Tom Riddle's or Voldemort non-existence in this timeline. Unfortunately, she'd gotten it wrong. But he needed to know how much she knew before he told her anything.

It was clear he was going to have to tell her something, if not everything.

The witch was too damn smart for her own good.

"A murderer? What do you mean, a murderer, Miss Granger? I doubt you could even step on a bug without feeling guilty about it," the wizard replied with a smirk.

Hermione scowled.

"Professor, you know what I'm talking about. The Time Turner. I went back in time and you were there in Harry's room to make sure I returned safely. You knew I was going to be there. What I want to know is how you knew and where I went. It had to be a time so long ago that it affected how I grew up, changed it, which would explain why I don't remember going anywhere. In this time, I never did."

"Paradox,' the wizard said softly.

"Exactly," Hermione said, elated that the wizard didn't try to deny anything.

Suddenly Snape rose.

"Wait here, Miss Granger. I see it is inevitable that I must tell you the story a bit early, otherwise you are likely to create your own storyline, which is starting out quite erroneously. I assure you . . . you are not a murderer. If anything, you are a savior," he said to her softly, walking over to the corner of his office and pulling on a torch.

The wall slid back and to the side, and he entered his private quarters.

Hermione stared after him. A savior? What did she save? Who did she save? Tom Riddle was dead and she was sure she had something to do with it.

But what?

Snape returned with a book in his hand. It was his copy of "Paradoxically Speaking" by Matera Thyme. He handed it to Hermione, who turned it over in her hands, studying the cover, then she looked up at him in askance.

"I think it would be best for you to get some understanding of the theories behind Time Travel. There are several, but the one I believe is most accurate concerning your situation is highlighted and there are notes written in the margins as well. I want you to familiarize yourself with the concept, then I will tell you the story," he said to her.

"When?" Hermione asked him, "I need to know soon, professor. Everything is just so . . . crazy."

"Tomorrow night. I am assigning you detention with me. It will be an adequate cover and give us time alone without interruption. I don't know if you're aware of this, Miss Granger, but being caught out after curfew has a standard punishment of a week's detention and the loss of twenty house points," Snape told the witch.

Twenty points? Oh, no.

"However, being that I am a staff member, I can use discretion when assigning corrective measures. Since this is your first offense, I will only take five points and give you the one detention. However, if you are caught out after curfew again, you will receive the full Monty," he said soberly.

Hermione sighed with relief. The loss of five points wouldn't sully her school record too badly.

"Thank you, Professor," she said to him softly as he sat back down at his desk, picked up a quill and pulled a small piece of parchment toward him. He looked up at the witch.

"You're welcome, Miss Granger. Now I am going to give you a pass back to Gryffindor House in case Mr. Filch should run across you on your return. I want you to read as much about Time Travel and Paradox as you can between now and tomorrow night, then you will report to me at eight o'clock tomorrow evening. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said.

Snape continued to look at her a moment more, then quickly wrote out a pass. He reached over the desk and Hermione stood and took the parchment from him, her hand coming into contact with his for a moment. She flushed and quickly drew her hand away.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her as she looked down at the floor.

"You may go, Miss Granger. I will see you in class tomorrow," the wizard said softly.

Hermione looked up at him then turned and headed for the door. She pulled it open, then looked back at him. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but all she could get out was, "Good night, professor," then exited his office, closing the door behind her.

Snape sat there quietly brooding.

It seemed that little crush had managed to follow the new timeline after all.

Interesting. Very interesting.

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Hermione read as much of the book as she could before falling asleep, the open tome resting against her chest. She was still fully dressed since she flopped right into bed with the book upon her return. She had indeed been stopped by a very happy Filch, but his happiness was short-lived when she showed him Snape's pass. Grumbling, the arthritic caretaker hobbled off, Mrs. Norris in tow.

Hermione began to dream.

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Hermione was standing in the Head Boy room again, dressed only in her bra and knickers. She had her wand, but also a bowl in her hand. This time Harry wasn't there. Instead, a tall, gangly young Snape appeared from a dark corner, his wand trained on her, his eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” the young wizard demanded.

Hermione heard herself say, “My name is Hermione Granger. I’ve come here to help you.”

“Help me?” the wizard repeated, his black eyes sweeping over her.

“Help me how? Talk quick,” he ordered, shaking his wand at her threateningly.

“You’re about to make a terrible mistake and unleash the greatest horror you can imagine on the wizarding world. Thousands are going to die.” she said, “Tom Riddle is…”

Suddenly, young Snape was on her, his black eyes wild. He jabbed his wand into the side of her throat, towering over her.

“What do you know about Tom Riddle?” he hissed.

”I know he is going to torture you within an inch of your life every chance he gets,” she heard herself gasp.

Snape's face contorted.

“You're lying! Tom wouldn’t torture me. I’m going to help him become the greatest wizard in wizarding history. He will be grateful. He will reward me. You know too much, witch…you have to die. No one is supposed to know what is going on,” he said coldly, raising his wand to cast an Unforgivable.

“Wait!” Hermione cried out desperately, “The Pensieve…it’s from you, the future you. It has your memories of what life is like serving Voldemort…Tom Riddle! Please! Please just look at it!”

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Hermione woke up with a start, her eyes wild as she pushed the book off her. The first cycle of dreams over, Hermione's mind returned to the first dream. the one involving young Snape. Hermione might have once again attributed it to her crush, except this time, the dream was clearer. Much clearer.

She did go back in time, but not to kill Voldemort . . . to talk to professor Snape and convince him not to help the despot come into power.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. It must have worked, because there was no Voldemort now. She felt a coldness in the pit of her belly. She wasn't sure, but she'd bet even Galleons that Tom Riddle's death corresponded with professor Snape's last year at Hogwarts. It had to be his last year, because obviously he was Head Boy.

No, she hadn't killed Tom Riddle.

Someone else did. She wasn't sure if it were Snape however. He just might not have helped him and someone else killed him.

Still, if Snape had killed Tom Riddle, then that meant she wasn't a murderer, but an accessory to murder . . . maybe.

Dear gods.

Then, Hermione was hit with the possibility that her first dream, the one she thought was just a wet dream, most likely wasn't. The Snape in this last dream looked just like the Snape in the first one, pale, gangly, dressed only in his boxers.

And the day she "returned" to this reality, her hymen was suddenly broken, her physical body reflecting the loss of her virginity when the timelines overlapped and synchronized. The loss of her hymen was the only physical proof that she had indeed traveled to the past. Her first sexual experience had been with professor Snape, a young professor Snape.

Oh dear gods.

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A/N: Whew. Lol. Thanks for reading. More to come.