Chapter 2

Disclaimer:: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Melisse

With the password, phoenix feathers, still on her lips, the door to the common room slammed shut behind her and Hermione stepped in amongst her housemates. She was still in a daze from her meeting with Professor Snape, and her head felt stuffed with cotton. She surveyed the scene before her, but nothing she saw registered in her brain.

She was jostled from behind by some first-years who were coming into the room, and she realized that she'd better move or risk looking like a fool, just standing there and clutching her books to her chest. She didn't see Ron or Harry and vaguely remembered that they must still be at Quidditch practice. She eschewed her customary place in front of the fire in favor of a more private overstuffed chair that was turned towards the window. She made her way to the little alcove and settled in with her thoughts.

Hermione traced the skin of her wrist and marveled at the delicate silver seams, which were nearly invisible. Only she knew they were there. She was filled with conflicting emotions. This was a new experience for her; she was usually sure of the right course in everything. With enough evidence, enough research, one could find the answers to just about anything. When she felt so lost and alone, though, nothing seemed to make sense. Always in the past she had been able to turn to Ron and Harry with all of her problems, but this was a new and scary thing, to have to step out of her comfort zone, and now she was beholden to Snape, of all people. He had unexpectedly helped her...but why?

Hermione thought back to their encounter. At the time, she had been in shock, almost unable to participate. It had felt as if it was happening to someone else. Now she went over every moment in her mind again and analyzed it. She had a felt a brief connection with Snape, she was sure, but it had gone almost as quickly. Then the spell that healed her had been unexpectedly personal. Had she known that aspect of it, as he surely had, she would have just let the wound heal on its own, no matter the extra time and subterfuge involved. Now she was uneasy. She would be in obeisance to him for the next long while, and she didn't like it. She would just have to make the best of it and keep her wits about her.

*

"Hasn't anyone told you it's rude to lurk in doorways?" Snape's low voice curled over Hermione all the way over from where he sat at his desk. He knew she was there without looking. She had dreaded this moment all day and had been unforgivably distracted in her classes due to this small matter. She reluctantly stepped into his classroom and mentally chided herself for being such a ninny. As if he could hear her internal chastisement, the corner of one thin lip twitched, but he remained seated and proceeded to ignore her.

Hermione grew uncomfortable and stood before him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He kept at the grading of his papers, so she stole a quick glance at him. He wore his customary black robes, but with the extreme pallor of his skin, they seemed more severe on him than on others. His hair was of course long about his face as always, but as she examined it more closely, she saw that, as yesterday, it appeared less greasy and more soft-looking. The style did nothing, however, to distract from the large, blunt nose on his face, but she couldn't help but notice his hands as he wrote. Snape's fingers were almost skeletally long, but he moved them with such grace that she had the notion that he would be good at the piano. And other things. Her face grew red as the direction of her thoughts turned. That stray thought held a world of interest, but felt like a betrayal. She wanted to fling the unwelcome reverie forcibly from her mind.

"Be still, for pity's sake!" Snape's voice, though not loud, rang out in the quiet room and startled Hermione's already jangled nerves. She jumped guiltily, hoping he wasn't using Legilimency on her. Snape quirked an eyebrow at her, and she blushed darker, knowing that she was acting foolish, but thankful that she had practiced Occlumency and resolving to now remember to do so. If she hadn't been acting like an idiot before, she surely was now!

Snape stood quickly. "I have thought about our ... arrangement, and it occurs to me that it would be a waste of time for you to be stirring up minor potions. Your talents would be well used in other areas, Miss Granger, as you remind me on every occasion what a smart and resourceful witch you are. I have need of an ingredient that you can procure for me, at no little expense to yourself, and we shall call our bargain satisfied. I need not tell you that discretion applies on your part as much as you require it on mine. Are we in accord?" He cracked a wicked little smile.

Hermione looked up at him. "So I am to understand that you will not require my assistance at all, if I just get something for you and I keep it quiet? Then we go our separate ways?"

A slight nod. "Eloquent assessment, as always. Your keen grasp of the situation does you credit as the star pupil of Gryffindor," Snape sneered.

Hermione ignored the jibe and breathed in. "What do you need me to get?" She had a feeling it wouldn't be something easy.

"I need from you the heart of a thestral." Snape's eyes glittered as hard as obsidian.

Time spun out, and Hermione's mouth gaped open as she tried to grasp what he'd said. "You ... need ... what? The heart? You want me to get you ..." Eyes wide, she trailed off, not believing that the request had even been made.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Come, surely Hogwarts' brightest can do better than that! I need it in a fortnight's time. You have your task before you, Miss Granger. I expect nothing but the best from you, as always." His slow words belied the bitter message.

"No." Her brain finally kicked on, thankfully. "I will not do this. It is a repugnant thing, Professor, and you should be ashamed. I will take another task that you set for me, but I will not do this."

Snape had begun to turn away, but at this he whirled toward her with tightly controlled menace. "You will do this, Miss Granger! You have no choice in the matter. I give you none! You will do as I say, in this and all things, until I am satisfied. It seems you don't understand how this works; I thought you a better pupil. You disappoint me. Let me clarify for you." Snape's voice was smooth, and the words were deceptively soothing, almost seductive-sounding, concealing their poisonous rancor. "I have something you want...namely, your reputation...in my grasp, as well as the key to helping you out of any further ... difficulties that should arise in this area. And do not forget the service I performed for you yesterday, at no little cost to myself. You will act at my behest and continue acting until I deem your debt repaid. Otherwise, you are vulnerable to me. You do not have a bargaining chip to decide how to repay this debt. I have all the power here. Do you understand now, or shall I continue?"

Hermione was outraged. "But that's blackmail!"

"Very good, Miss Granger. Lesson learned."

"You can't do that!" Hermione wanted to scratch that smug look off his face.

"I thought we had just established that I can do whatever I want, and what I want is the heart of a thestral. You will procure that for me, however you choose to go about it. Your methods are your own. You have the terms of our deal; now, I will expect to see you two weeks hence with the ingredient. Good day, Miss Granger." Snape brushed a stray lock of hair off of his forehead, settled back into his chair, and proceeded to continue in his work as if she was not there.

Hermione stood stock still for a moment, then turned slowly and left. There was nothing left to do. She needed some time to think this over, alone. There were always students in the Gryffindor common room, so she headed to the place where she was most sure to be left to her own thoughts: the library. Her solace and refuge.

*

After the initial shock of Snape's request wore off, Hermione was able to think. Snape had used the word ingredient when he referred to the thestral heart, so she wondered if she could figure out what he needed it for. Most probably a potion of some sort.

Certainly a thestral heart was a very rare ingredient, so it should be possible to deduce what it was in and what he was up to. Perhaps she could find a substitute, or maybe she could make a visit to Knockturn Alley to get one. He hadn't specified that it had to be fresh, after all, or that she had to be the one to kill the thestral herself.

It seemed important to figure out what he would need such an object for. From Hermione's limited knowledge of the Dark Arts, it seemed like organs from live animals might fall into that category. Maybe she could catch Snape in some nefarious deed.

Hermione reached for the book on the stack closest to her and cracked the spine. A cloud of dust rose from disuse. She sneezed as the air cleared slowly. It was going to be a long night. She had no time to waste.

*

"Mione!" Hermione startled out of a dream, her face flat on the table beside a little book she had been bending over only moments ago. Or had it been longer? She must have dozed off ...

"She's here, Ron!" A voice called above her and she looked up, wincing, a pain shooting through her neck, to see Harry Potter. He grinned a lopsided smile at her. "I knew we'd find you here, Hermione. That must be some important project."

"Mione!" Hermione winced again as Ron bounded up, his voice too loud for the library. Luckily, they were totally alone in this section, but still, she respected the space. "You were here all along with these moldy books? You could have studied anytime! You missed the Quidditch match!"

Regret flooded through her as she suddenly remembered what day it was. "I'm awfully sorry, Ron. I totally forgot. I've been completely wrapped up in this, and, well... it just slipped my mind."

"Slipped your mind! Bollocks!" Ron burst out. "How can some term paper be more important than the game? Can you believe it, Harry?"

Hermione felt her temper rising at his tone. "Listen, here, Ronald Weasley..."

Harry chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's okay, Ron. We didn't win, so she didn't miss anything. Hermione's working hard on something. Maybe we should go and get changed. We'll meet you for supper?" There was a question in his voice.

Her memory came back, and she got excited when she thought of what she had to tell them. "Actually, Harry, I'm glad you found me. There's something I need your help with. And yours, too, Ron," she added, noticing that Ron still had a bit of a scowl on.

"Well, if it involves this kind of work, I don't want any part of it, I can tell you that!" Ron said.

"It has to do with Snape."

Harry sat down in the chair opposite Hermione. "Is this why you've been so secretive lately? You haven't been around much." His thick brows drew together. "What does all this have to do with Snape?"

Hermione rubbed her nose as Ron took the chair right next to her. "Listen. I need your words of honor, both of you, that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone. No matter what."

"Blimey, Hermione, come on, if you can't trust us, who can you trust?" Ron asked plaintively.

"I know, I know, it's just..." Hermione sighed. "You know this stuff. It can't get past the three of us, okay?"

Both boys nodded.

She began. "I had to go to Snape for a ... favor. No, it's..."she interrupted herself by holding up a hand, seeing that they were about to say something, "...not important to the story what for. I just had to. Let's just say I owe him now. In exchange, he asked me to find something for him. A rare item. I've been looking at the uses for this item, and it turns out that there aren't many that I could discover. In fact, there're only two. I thought before I turned the item over to him I could find out what he was up to and stop him. The problem is, there's a time limit on my search. I have two weeks, and I've already used up several days researching the uses for this item." Hermione paused. Their eyes were bugged out.

Harry spoke first. "Why didn't you tell us? You know we can't trust Snape. He's probably up to something bad. What's the item?"

Hermione hesitated, suddenly reluctant. "Thestral heart."

Ron exploded. "That proves it, doesn't it? He's a villain of the worst sort to want something like that! No good comes of a thing like that!" He shuddered.

Hermione found herself in the strange place of having to defend someone she didn't want to. "We can't be absolutely sure, Ron. Remember, I said I found two uses for the ingredient. We don't know which use he intends it for."

Ron snorted. "Who cares?"

Harry sighed. "What are the uses, Hermione?"

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You know what a thestral is, right? The giant horse-like creature that only becomes visible after..."

"Yes, we know, Hermione," whined Ron. "Haven't we all just been in class all day? You don't need to give us another lecture, do you?" Harry kicked him under the table.

Hermione glared at him. "I am telling you this, Ron, to remind you of the link that thestrals seem to have with death."

"So get on with it, will you? What does all this have to do with the two uses?" Ron sat forward.

"If you would listen, you git, I'm getting to it!"

"Well, excuse me for living. Would you get to it already?"

Hermione was ready to scream. "Ron! You are exasperating! Will you please just let me talk? The two things you can do with a thestral's heart..." Hermione realized she was talking too loudly and lowered her voice, "...are these: you can brew a potion to give someone their heart's desire, but in a way that can only be fulfilled if their desire is to see another die."

Harry's eyes snapped with fire. "I knew it! That is exactly the sort of weapon Voldemort could use against us! Doesn't that seem just a little too convenient? Snape is not to be trusted...we have to stop him!"

Hermione held up a hand. "Wait, Harry, there's another use. It allows the person who drinks the potion one hour to resurrect a dead loved one and right a grievous wrong. It allows a conscience to be eased."

"Oh, come on, Hermione. Don't tell me you think Snape is pining away for someone he did something wrong to. It's much more likely that he wants this absolutely convenient weapon that would bring about ... oh, I don't know ... my total destruction!" Harry was nearly shouting.

Hermione held out her hands in frustrated supplication. "Just calm down a minute, Harry, and listen, would you? This other spell, the first one I mentioned? It was really hard to find. I only found it in the..." here she paused, "...restricted section. No, don't ask me how. And even at that, it was only mentioned one time in all the books. It seems to have been completely forgotten, and furthermore, there's a catch. It's more a spell in theory than in practice. It was made, but the bugs were never worked out of it. After one successful brew of the potion, no one was ever able to replicate it, in all the centuries. Eventually a fire destroyed the original scroll, and now all we have is a legend. So I know that it's extremely dangerous, but it's also the most unlikely scenario."

Harry's nostrils flared. "Snape is a known Death Eater. He is a great Potions master. Why shouldn't he have worked it out? And now he has you eating right out of his hand, just going and getting the last ingredient for him? I say it's a bloody brilliant plan on his part, and bold. We have to stop it. I seriously doubt he's got somebody he wants to dig out of the grave to wring a last goodbye from. Come on, Hermione, you know I'm right!"

Hermione felt torn. "Harry, you are blinded by your hatred of Snape! Maybe he isn't all bad!"

"Well, he sure isn't good!" Harry shot back.

Hermione tapped her foot under the table in consternation. "Ron? What do you think?"

Ron looked at her face and then at Harry's. "Sorry, Mione, I have to side with Harry on this one."

"You two aren't making any sense! You aren't looking at reason!" she snapped. "If I'd known you'd just be battering your heads like a bunch of ... bighorned rams at each other, then I wouldn't have bothered asking for your opinion!" Hermione jumped up and gathered her books, shoving them into her satchel.

The boys stared at each other. "Whoa, whoa, Hermione, sorry," mumbled Harry. "I didn't know Snape meant so much to you."

Hermione was horrified to feel the beginnings of tears. "No, it's not that. Of course I hate him. I just want to do the right thing. I think I'm under a lot of pressure. Listen, give me some time to collect my evidence. I still have a week and a half before I have to give him the heart. I just want to find out what's going on. Then I'll let you know, okay?"

"You won't give him anything without first talking to us?" Harry asked.

Hermione felt herself bristle, but reminded herself that Harry was just worried about Snape. She sighed. "No. I just want to poke around and see what I can find out. Maybe he has evidence laying around that can tell me more about which direction he's leaning."

Ron looked skeptical. "C'mon, let's go eat. I'm starving. This place always makes me hungry!"

Harry looked at Hermione. "Are you coming with us?" he asked quietly.

She smiled to let him know everything was okay. "Go on without me; I was just finishing some things up." She tried to make her tone sound light, but as she watched them go, she couldn't explain why it was suddenly so important to her to prove that Professor Snape was not the evil man everyone thought he was. She remembered that he was blackmailing her into getting the heart of a live animal, and cold fingers of dread wrapped around her. She wasn't sure of anything, but she would try her best to find out.