Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 14 ~ A Quick Confrontation

Hermione walked quickly through the Main Hall, not knowing where she was going to go, but knew she needed to lie low for a bit. Pomfrey had certainly told the Professor about the potions she had requested in his name. She’d have to see him in class, but there others would be present. She just didn’t want to face him alone. She headed for the main doors, figuring she’d loiter outside for a bit. The Professor rarely went outside.

She had just placed her hand on the door to push it open when a familiar silky voice called out,

“Miss Granger, I would like a word with you.”

Hermione’s heart dropped to her stomach. She turned around to see the Potions Master gliding toward her, a scowl on his pale face. She stood there, waiting for the storm to break, wondering if he would put his hands on her.

Snape walked up to the witch, and stood closer than necessary to intimidate her, and possibly bring to mind his much closer positions of the night before. She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes.

“You are looking quite fit this morning, Miss Granger. Quite fit,” he said in a low voice.

“That’s because recently I had a good workout, Professor,” Hermione replied, deciding in an instant not to let him cow her. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. She wasn’t in his study now. He didn’t have any power over her. She straightened and her chin set.

“I don’t think it was the ‘workout’ that has you so fit, Miss Granger. I think it is the cure for the workout that has you in such good shape. A cure you illegally requisitioned in my name. Each potion you received is an expellable offense, Miss Granger. And you took several,” he said, his eyes glittering at her.

“You had quite a bit to do with my need for those potions, Professor. It was only right that I acquired them in your name,” Hermione retorted. “You didn’t expect me to totter around the castle today like a bow-legged old woman did you?”

The Potions Master fought back a smirk. Reverse justification for an obviously wrong act. She was turning it around on him. Nice.

“I can have you expelled,” he said quietly, waiting for the explosion of pleading to come. It didn’t. The witch suddenly pushed past him, and whirled on him, her eyes flashing.

“Go ahead! Get me expelled! You’ll probably be doing me a fucking favor!” she spat, storming off up the main stairs and toward Gryffindor Tower without a single glance back.

The Potions Master just blinked after her, not moving. Where the hell had that come from? Plus, she actually cursed when talking to a teacher, not to mention walked away from one before being dismissed.

Damn. He really had turned her out.

The Professor turned and walked slowly toward the dungeons. He never dreamed he’d hear Hermione Granger say, “Expel me.” Not the brightest star of Hogwarts. She sounded like she thought that might be a good thing. Hm. He glided down the dungeon corridor, unaware that a disillusioned Albus had witnessed their exchange.

The Headmaster had left the Great Hall right behind the Potions Master, casting the semi-invisibility charm wandlessly on himself, and followed him. He had been within hearing distance of their exchange, and was shocked at Miss Granger’s response that he might be doing her a favor getting her thrown out of Hogwarts. This was not good. Miss Granger was starting to rebel. He knew the signs. He had invested too much in the young witch to have her bail out now. Her Spell Making skills were already formidable.

The Headmaster had been following her progress closely and the university was quite impressed with her, stating she could be the youngest and most powerful Spells Mistress in the history of the wizarding world and even showed signs that she could be a Primordial, once she reached maturity. This information Albus quickly hushed up. His methods of doing so were less than savory, but required. An obliviate here, an accidental death there and Hermione’s secret was safe. Even from her.

There were only a handful of Spell Masters and Mistress, but there hadn’t been a Primordial for over twelve hundred years. Primordials were wizards or witches that served as conduits for all magical forces, and could gather, manipulate and direct those forces any way they liked using only the force of their wills. Which meant that one day Hermione would, if she were indeed a Primordial, be able to simply think what she wanted accomplished and magic would obey her. She would need neither charm nor spell or wand. Which would also make her the most powerful magical being in existence. If Albus controlled Hermione, he would control the not only the wizarding world but all worlds.

Dumbledore had not revealed this possible ability to Hermione, allowing her to think it was her mind that made her valuable, and it was in part. Her brilliant mind coupled with her increasing magical abilities, gave her, and not Potter the greatest chance of destroying Voldemort. While the Dark Lord focused on killing The-Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore nurtured his real nemesis without disruption. When Voldemort was out of the way, the Headmaster could pursue his own ends, using Hermione to reach them. It had all been going so well. Until now.

Albus cursed under his breath. He knew Snape would pollute her, damn him. By having sex with the young witch, and taking away her innocence, Snape probably hastened her evolution into the mature stage that would trigger her Primordial powers, if she truly had them. And she wasn’t properly conditioned yet. Damn him! Albus would have to get the young woman’s mind back on track somehow. He would call her in for a little talk this afternoon, and get her grounded again while warning her off Snape.

The Headmaster scowled in the direction Snape had taken. The Potions Master was valuable, but he’d better watch his step. He knew better than most that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the ‘greater good.”

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Hermione stormed into the common room. Harry and Ron were there, sitting on one of the comfy sofas, and polishing their brooms. Which they shouldn’t have been doing. They looked up at Hermione and smiled. Their smiles faltered when they saw the dark look on her face.

“Hey Mione, you all right there?” Harry asked, putting down his broom, rising from the sofa and crossing the room to face his friend. “You look as if you’re ready to cast the Killing Curse.”

Hermione looked into Harry’s concerned green eyes, and let out a sigh.

“I’m all right Harry, just a little stressed,” Hermione replied, giving him a small smile.

“Mione, if you’re stressed, there’s a great way I know of to relieve that, you know,” Ron said, waggling his red eyebrows suggestively, “I’d be willing to help you out. You know, being friends and all.” He gave her a goofy grin.

Ron still had a slight crush on Hermione, though he was regularly shagging Padma Patil, his current witch-at-arms. Hermione looked at Ron, her amber eyes slightly frigid. Ron quailed at the look she gave him. He had no idea what she’d been through the night before, or with whom.

“Just joking,” Ron said lamely, “Thought a laugh would cheer you up, is all.”

Hermione sighed again. “I’m just not in a laughing mood, Ron,” she said to the red-haired wizard. She looked at the broom polishing kits on the floor in front of the couch.

“You know you aren’t supposed to be doing that in the common room,” she said, hating she had to be the one to make them follow rules. Who really cared where they polished their brooms as long as they didn’t make a mess?

Both wizards looked at her, then began to gather up the kits.

“Sorry, Head Girl,” Ron said sullenly.

Hermione glowered at him.

“You know Ron, I wouldn’t have to nag at you if you just followed the rules in the first place,” she said tightly.

“Hermione, you like bossing us around and you know it,” Ron retorted, “you like the power. Admit it. Everybody has to listen to you and you love it.”

Hermione’s fists clenched and her face flushed with rage. Harry blinked at her.

“Calm down, Hermione. You look like you’re going to explode,” he said, a worried look in his eyes.

“I’ve been around you for seven years, Ron, and you don’t even know me!” she exclaimed, bursting into tears and running up the stairs. Harry went to follow her, forgetting the staircase’s nature. He almost made it to the top when the stairs went flat, and he slid unceremoniously down the slope and across the common room floor on his belly.

“Shit,” he said, getting up and brushing off his robes, looking at the stairwell and up to where Hermione had disappeared around the corner. He turned on Ron.

“Why do you have to aggravate her so much, Ron? You know how much stress she’s under,” Harry said as he glared at his friend.

“I was just being honest, Harry. She’s like a little, what’s that muggle’s name?…a little Hitler. She rules with an iron wand,” Ron replied, “If you can’t be honest with your friends, who can you be honest with?”

Harry glowered at him.

“You could have chosen a better time to be honest. You saw she was already upset. We didn’t even find out why,” he said, sitting back down on the couch and taking out his polish again. He opened it, and looked at it strangely.

“Hey, what’s wrong with my polish?” he asked, tilting the little tin can. The polish had dried out shrunk and was hard as stone.

“Looks like it dried out,” Ron said, examining it. He opened his own can. His polish was the same way.

“Blimey!” he said, shaking the shrunken block of polish around in the tin.

This was really, really strange.

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A/N: Hm. Some motivations and secrets coming out in this chapter. Hermione, it seems has the potential to become an extremely powerful witch, and Dumbledore wants to be at her ear. Snape is quickly becoming a liability in Albus’ eyes. Our snarky, unredeemable Potions Master better watch his wicked little step. And what the deal with the polish? Please review.