In An Alternate Universe ~ The Prequel
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,357
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1
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,357
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Harry Potter characters. No $$$$ is being made from the writing of this fanfiction.
Granger's Service
Chapter 3 ~ Granger’s Service
On a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness with the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees, stood the adult Granger. She was panting, turning on the spot, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, waiting for something or for someone. . .
Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air like lightning. Granger dropped to her knees, her wand flying out of her hand.
“Don’t kill me!”
“That was not my intention.”
Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Granger with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.
“Well, Hermione? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?”
“No—no message—I’m here on my own account!”
Hermione was wringing her hands. She looked a little mad, with her bushy brown hair flying around her.
“I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—”
Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Granger faced each other.
“What request could a Death Eater make of me?”
“The—the prophecy. . . the prediction. . . Trelawney. . . ”
“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”
“Everything—everything I heard!” said Granger. “That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means James Potter!”
“The prophecy did not refer to a man,” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—”
“You know what I mean! He thinks it means his son, he is going to hunt him down—kill them all—”
“If he means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare him? Could you not ask for mercy for the father, in exchange for the son?”
“I have—I have asked him—”
“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, contempt in his voice. Hermione seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of his wife and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?”
Hermione said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.
“Hide them all, then,” she croaked. “Keep him—them—safe. Please.”
“And what will you give me in return, Hermione?”
“In—in return?” Granger gaped at Dumbledore, who expected her to protest, but after a long moment she said, “Anything.”
In Dumbledore’s office rose a terrible sound, like a wounded animal. Granger was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over her, looking grim. After a moment or two, Granger raised her face, and she looked like a woman who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.
“I thought. . . you were going. . . to keep him. . . safe. . . ”
“He and Lily put their faith in the wrong person,” said Dumbledore.
“Rather like you, Hermione. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare him?”
Granger’s breathing was shallow.
“His boy survives,” said Dumbledore.
With a tiny jerk of the head, Hermione seemed to flick off an irksome fly.
“His son lives. He has his hair and looks, precisely his looks, except for the eyes. You remember his messy hair and his face, I am sure?”
“DON’T!” shrieked Granger. “Gone. . . dead. . . ”
“Is this remorse, Hermione?”
“I wish. . . I wish I were dead. . . ”
“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved James Potter, if you truly loved him, then your way forward is clear.”
Granger seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach her.
“What—what do you mean?”
“You know how and why he died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect James’ son.”
“He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—”
“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”
There was a long pause, and slowly Granger regained control of herself, mastered her own breathing. At last she said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear. . . especially Evan’s son. . . I want your word!”
“My word, Hermione, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Hermione’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist. . . ”
**************************************
A/N: Thanks for reading
On a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness with the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees, stood the adult Granger. She was panting, turning on the spot, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, waiting for something or for someone. . .
Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air like lightning. Granger dropped to her knees, her wand flying out of her hand.
“Don’t kill me!”
“That was not my intention.”
Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Granger with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.
“Well, Hermione? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?”
“No—no message—I’m here on my own account!”
Hermione was wringing her hands. She looked a little mad, with her bushy brown hair flying around her.
“I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—”
Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Granger faced each other.
“What request could a Death Eater make of me?”
“The—the prophecy. . . the prediction. . . Trelawney. . . ”
“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”
“Everything—everything I heard!” said Granger. “That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means James Potter!”
“The prophecy did not refer to a man,” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—”
“You know what I mean! He thinks it means his son, he is going to hunt him down—kill them all—”
“If he means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare him? Could you not ask for mercy for the father, in exchange for the son?”
“I have—I have asked him—”
“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, contempt in his voice. Hermione seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of his wife and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?”
Hermione said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.
“Hide them all, then,” she croaked. “Keep him—them—safe. Please.”
“And what will you give me in return, Hermione?”
“In—in return?” Granger gaped at Dumbledore, who expected her to protest, but after a long moment she said, “Anything.”
In Dumbledore’s office rose a terrible sound, like a wounded animal. Granger was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over her, looking grim. After a moment or two, Granger raised her face, and she looked like a woman who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.
“I thought. . . you were going. . . to keep him. . . safe. . . ”
“He and Lily put their faith in the wrong person,” said Dumbledore.
“Rather like you, Hermione. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare him?”
Granger’s breathing was shallow.
“His boy survives,” said Dumbledore.
With a tiny jerk of the head, Hermione seemed to flick off an irksome fly.
“His son lives. He has his hair and looks, precisely his looks, except for the eyes. You remember his messy hair and his face, I am sure?”
“DON’T!” shrieked Granger. “Gone. . . dead. . . ”
“Is this remorse, Hermione?”
“I wish. . . I wish I were dead. . . ”
“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved James Potter, if you truly loved him, then your way forward is clear.”
Granger seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach her.
“What—what do you mean?”
“You know how and why he died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect James’ son.”
“He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—”
“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”
There was a long pause, and slowly Granger regained control of herself, mastered her own breathing. At last she said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear. . . especially Evan’s son. . . I want your word!”
“My word, Hermione, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Hermione’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist. . . ”
**************************************
A/N: Thanks for reading