Evil Did A Good Thing

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CHAPTER THREE


Time It Passes And It Tells Us What We\'re Left With,
We Become The Things We Do


Black.
He knew it would be.
What else would be any better to suit his mood?

The November wind was chilly against his already cold and hardened features, and anything that came within his sight seemed to scurry out of his way, almost as if his presence was felt, and feared.

\"I\'m confused\" Came Nott\'s voice, once again. \"Why are we up here? The Horcrux was supposed to be-

\"- Yes, in a cave, i know Theodore\" Snape said irritably, his eyes searching the grassy mountain tops surrounding him, their snow-peaked caps only serving to give the area a more innocent appeal. one which, when compared to Severus\' mood, was a great contrast between what he was seeing, and how he was feeling.

The blackness of the eerily blowing trees surrounded them both, with the grass just as equally black. This, Snape thought, matched his mood rather alot more these days.

Gone were the days when he worked twice as hard for two people who wanted so much power, they were willing to mentally fight eachother to get it. Gone were the days when he would often have to choose between which side he would have to inevitably have to fight on when the final battle came. Narcissa had chosen his future, and here he stood, working for The Dark Lord, His master, His maker...but the one he had not thought was his first choice.

Did guilt hang above his head over Dumbledores death?
No.
Dumbledore may have been a trusting old-man. But he was a foolish old-man, who took the consequences of entrusting a \'former death-eater\' into his midst.
Dumbledore should of realised the rules of the game before he met his end. He had been proclaimed as a wise wizard, so why had he not seen his misfortune coming?

*He saw the good in people* thought Snape, who was now crouching on the ground, looking and feeling around the black, sodden grass, searching for something he could sense around him.

There was no good inside him. He was black, and black had no other shades that could make anyone think any differently on the matter.

H**P*u*c*k*l*e


Hermione moved around on her matress, the lumpy material making it most uncomfortable for her to get any sleep at all. She could hear the familiar sounds of Harry and Ron\'s unionised snoring, and threw a pillow over her head in dispair.

She was a girl turning into a woman, and the last thing she needed was less speace than she could cope with. She needed her own time to discover how to deal with the changes going on inside her, and she needed to have her own time without Ron and Harry interrupting her every five minutes to ask her a stupid question to which she had started, of late, to give a stupid answer to.
She was sure, if she stayed with her best friends for any longer, that she would inevitably turn into a boy altogether.

She threw both the pillow and the douvet off herself and clambered out of bed, the springs making a squeaking noise as she went. She got dressed into her Muggle jeans and jumper, and put on her parker jacket. She picked up a brown envelope and put it into her coat pocket and opened the door, looking back at hre sleeping friends with a smirk on her face, seeing them drooling on their pillows. She closed the door behind her and made her way through the dark and murky corridor.


Harry and Ron did not know it, but she had been using Muggle ways of writing to The Weasley\'s, to let them know exactly what was going on. Knowing that simple things such as a Muggle Post Box would not to intercepted by anyone from the wrong side, she thought it safest to write to Mrs Weasley and everyone else using this contraption. She had registered The Burrow as a house to the post Office, and then told Mr Weasley to fit a letter box on the front door (Mrs Weasley had presently written back to Hermone, telling her the Mr Weasley had become so overly excited about the prospect of having a Muggle contraption in his house, that he not only put a letter box on his front door, but on every available door within the house, including cupboards and bathrooms) so Hermione could contact her \'second family\' and tell them, not of their whereabouts, but of their health and if they were getting any closer in their quest.

When opening the front door to go into the street, Hermione\'s senses were assaulted by the stench that was coming from the factory half a mile away. Between that, and the smell of Ron\'s feet first thing in the morning, Hermione could not decifer which was worse.

She made her way down the street, the wind, so strong, blowing her off course slightly as she walked. She knew she wasn\'t looking her best, she had looked in a mirror once or twice at her complexion. She looked like she had been in a hard battle, and was suffering from bad health and nourishment.

The second was true. Hardly any of her clothes fitted her properly anymore, the hung off her, giving her a scruffy look. It wasn\'t her fault, they just hardly had anytime to eat these days, always having to be on the move every second of everyday, apart from when they were sleeping.

As she carried on walking down the street, she could hear footsteps behind her. Turning around quickly, she saw nothing but her own shadow. Deciding that she was just to anxious and paranoid these days, she put it down to her own imagination. But when she turned to walk again, there, again, was the sound of footsteps behind her.
Hermione walked quicker, but the footsteps seemed to quicken their pace, also. She looked around again, ready to confront her follower, only to see no one there, yet again.

\"Hello?\" She asked, looking all around her, looking for any sign that there was life within the street.

Silence.

\"Is there anyone there?\"

Only the sound of her voice echoing back at her.

She pulled her coat more tightly around her, and started walking again. She could see the letter box within her sights, at the end of the street.

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Watching her look anxious and scared amused him.

Maybe it was because it showed that she wasn\'t perfect at everything, or maybe it was because it assured him that there was atleast someone other than him in the world that found it hard to let their barriers down, except for the times when they were on their own, or vunerable.
Or both?

The way she walked intregued him. He\'d seen her walk many times before, mostly after slapping him hard in the face before hand. But this was different. She didn\'t have the same swagger he\'d seen in school, the one filled with confidence and pride to be what she was, even though most of the student body dispised her for it. That pride-filled swagger was replaced by something that looked like she\'d lost all pride and confidence within herself.
She looked at the floor, her head bowed. Her back hunched. Maybe it was the weather beating her down, or maybe it was her life at the present moment.
It was amazing how much you could see in one person, just by the way they walked on their own.

She was looking around nervously. She could hear him, but she couldn\'t see him. He was wearing his father\'s old invisibility cloak.
Then she turned around to face him, looking him dead in the eye, but she didn\'t even realise it.

She\'d changed. The full-pouched face he once remember so resentfully was gone. It was replaced by an almost chiselled structure, one he recognised within himself. She\'d lost her baby features she had still managed to maintain whilst at Hog-

He couldn\'t bring himself to say that name.

Her hair seemed to blow almost elegantly in the wind, whipping her across her face, the once bushy mane of fuzzy brown hair giving way to womanly curls framing her face, her hair looking sunkissed as the dim street lamps sprayed her with light.

Now there was something he never thought he\'d hear himself think.
Since when was Hermione Granger womanly?

Then again, doing alot of growing up over the last year and a half had meant that he no longer held grudges for people so nastily as he had once done as a \"child\", and he also had respect for things that he never would of even thought about when he was younger.

He was separate from the person he was then, though sometimes he found himself longing to go back to that part of his life, knowing that what he had then was alot more than he had now.

\"Hello?\" Came her voice.

Again, there was so much difference. It did not sound confident at all, but rather sounded like it was looking for a way out. Was time taking its toll on Hermione Granger?

He very much wanted to say hello back, and see exactly what she would do when she saw no one there. However, he had to put aside silly games and concentrate on exactly what he was doing.
It would take time, and alot of patience. These Gryffindor\'s were no fools, and were not to be taken for granted. They had their witts about them, and any sign of treachery would ruine his plans and force him to go back to The Dark Lord with nothing in hand.
To which, he knew, he would be greatly punished for.

So he would bide his time, and instead, he would watch them and their actions, until the day when he felt it right to show himself.

Only then would his plan really take place.


H**P*u*c*k*l*e


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