Prologue

Prologue:

Hermione:

Hermione didn't know what she was doing. It was the summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts, and she didn't know what she was doing. She was supposed to be studying for her NEWTs. She was supposed to be spending her days reading, practicing wand movements, translating ancient runes... After all, she had started preparing for the OWLs from nearly the moment she arrived home two years earlier. Instead of doing all those things she was supposed to be doing, she was pacing back and forth across her room.

Dumbledore was dead, leaving Harry to finish finding and destroying the horcruxes. And with Dumbledore's fall at Hogwarts, Voldemort's next move had seemed extremely obvious to everyone except the Ministry of Magic. Within days, Voldemort had overturned the Ministry of Magic and appointed one of his Death Eaters as Minister of Magic. Shortly after, the Daily Prophet had announced the appointment of a new Headmaster at Hogwarts: none other than Severus Snape.

And with that, all of Hermione's plans, her dreams of academic grandeur, seemed to fade; with everything that was going on, she didn't even know if she would be returning to Hogwarts in the fall. How could she return to Hogwarts when the man who had murdered Dumbledore would be taking his place? But if not Hogwarts, where would she go? Her place was with Harry, that she knew; but she hadn't heard from him since they left Hogwarts.

And so, she paced back and forth across her bedroom, because she couldn't think of anything else to do at that moment.

Draco:

It was supposed to be a good summer for Draco. With Voldemort's power increasing every day and Severus Snape installed as headmaster of Hogwarts, it was supposed to be a good summer for any loyal to the Dark Lord. And Draco was loyal to the Dark Lord; after all, it's not like he had been given much of a choice about it. He certainly wasn't going to dishonor his family name like that traitor Sirius Black had done.

His father had hosted a great party to celebrate the death of Dumbledore. All of Voldemort's Death Eaters had attended, as well as Voldemort himself. It had been the first time Draco had seen Severus since Dumbledore's death. They had shared hidden moments of intimacy and joy throughout the last year; moments where Draco felt his worth as a person, not just as Lucius's son, the future Death Eater, but as himself, just Draco. And at this party where he had hoped that Severus would take advantage of his new standing within the Death Eaters to make public their relationship, where all Draco had wanted was a dance, a public dance with Severus holding him close, had Severus even spoken to him? No! Severus had avoided him all night, slipping effortlessly into the crowd whenever Draco had approached.

Two days later, Draco received a letter by owl from Severus. All it said was: "It is over." And with that, Draco's summer became rotten.

Severus:

Severus Snape leaned back forcefully into the stone wall of his dungeon. The acrylic taste of the potion lingered in his mouth. He noticed a slight blurriness in his vision, as if he were viewing the world through a misty window. Parts of his shoulders, back, buttocks, and legs were covered by bruises of varying sizes and colors. He knew Madam Pomfrey would've been easily able to heal those, but she would've asked questions that he wasn't willing to answer. Better to suffer silently than to give away any inkling of his secret project to anyone.

He leaned back again into the wall, ignoring the pain radiating from his bruises. Still nothing. He tried again, pushing against the wall even harder. For one moment, he thought he felt a vibration between the wall and his body: but it was gone quickly.

This should have worked, he thought to himself. The vibration he had felt was a good sign, but he hadn't been spending all of his spare moments for a mere vibration. He knew that what he was trying to do was difficult at best and potentially impossible, but he felt strongly that it could be done. And if he could do it, it would give him a power that even the Dark Lord had never dreamed of.