Black and White

Chapter 1: I can't believe I did this

I really can't believe I agreed to this.

Okay, so there's the fact that people just don't deny things to Albus Dumbledore, even when they've left school and are preparing to build a life for themselves. And there's always the fact that this damn Gryffindor code of ethics - something that was inherent in me since I was very young - forced me to get in the most ridiculous situations possible. Like being partnered for Potions with, goodness, Neville Longbottom. Trying to get the simple fact that house-elves are beings with hearts and deserve to be treated accordingly through the thick skulls of wizards worldwide. And the fact I've always given Harry and Ron backup in their suicidal adventures - even if I enjoyed it to some extent, but really, they can be so reckless sometimes I am really afraid for them in this war. If I know anything about it, Harry will jump to the front line as soon as he leaves the Auror training centre, and Ronny will, of course, be right after him. Then I'm going to feel guilty that I left Ron and Harry alone, and so I'll go rushing to their side after all, obviously the most dangerous point in the line of fire, since we're the most well known targets in this battle.

Harry is The Boy Who Lived, and it's hard to know who Voldemort wants dead the most, Harry or Dumbledore.

Ron is Harry's faithful friend since the first train ride to Hogwarts, the son of the Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley, and brother to another two Aurors.

And me... I'm Harry's friend as well, since the Mountain Troll Incident. And there is the fact that I have all those high marks, and some people even say I'm one of the most talented witches of this century. Hmmm. I'm not really sure if I'm as excellent as they say, but I know I've got some skill, at least. I worked really hard since the very first day of school for it. Hell, I knew most my books by heart before the first day at school. Honestly, I thought I would end up in Ravenclaw. I never really knew why on earth the Sorting Hat placed me in Gryffindor till Harry, Ron and I went into the third floor corridor in our first year to stop Snape - we thought it was Snape at the time - from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. It turned out the villain was Quirrell, but the intention is what counts, right?

But I'm digressing. And the only time I digress is when I'm really, really nervous. Or upset. Or both. But I'm positive anyone who set foot at Hogwarts in the last thirty years would understand perfectly well why I'm so nervous - you see, you'd be too if you had to live with the Potions Master.

I still can't believe I accepted this.

Hermione Granger put the last of her robes in her trunk. It hurt a lot, it really did. For the first time in seven years they'd be apart for more than a couple of months. Harry and Ron had decided to go on to Auror training, as it was plainly obvious to anyone with half a brain that they were very likely targets of the Dark Side. Hell, they'd be major targets wherever they showed their faces. At least the friends had a knack for survival; Death Eaters and Voldemort had been on their heels since their first year at Hogwarts and still the dream team survived. She recalled all those secret evenings training with DA and how well all the students had learned, but in her heart Hermione knew her path was clear, and solitary. It hurt very deep inside that she wasn't going with them. But, apart from all the things they had lived through at Hogwarts, Hermione knew she wasn't Auror material. Or rather, she would be wasting herself in that job. In all those adventures, she had done the thinking, the planning - she was a natural born strategist. To fight in the field would only get her killed one day or another, wasting a very precious, very gifted mind that could do far more good by deciphering Death Eater plans and codes and planning the counterattacks.

The very idea of being a part of the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable was enough to give her tingles. Nobody knew exactly who they were or what they did, save the Unspeakables themselves, but Hermione Granger had always been able to put tidbits of information together. All she had dug up so far led her to believe Unspeakables were the Spies of the Ministry of Magic - manipulators, bodyguards, gatekeepers, and elite assassins when necessary.

Since the public at large rarely heard anything concerning them, Hermione suspected assassination was a regular Unspeakable task. She was not yet quite sure how comfortable she was with the idea of deliberately setting out to kill someone, but she had resigned herself to the inevitability of it. Mostly, she was looking forward to code-breaking and spying, to passing secret information from place to place and making sure that no Death Eaters infiltrated their ranks or had access to the Order of Phoenix and the government task force's plans.

She had no doubt in her abilities to manage the situation. Hermione knew the Department of Mysteries would not hire her right away in spite of her accomplishments, but that was to be expected. She felt better about having some training anyway, learning the codes and methods from older, more experienced experts before she had to start. After all, she was Hermione Granger - learning was her middle name. She was sure when she graduated she would be invaluable to the cause, even more so than she was now, acting on instinct and logic. It would be hard, yes, and complicated. But she did love a challenge. Hermione was certain she'd have a crucial position in the Unspeakables' ranks and be maneuvering the Auror army from the shadows in no time. In certain ways, she would still be responsible for Harry and Ron's lives, only now they would no longer be aware of it.

She had been approached by the Department of Mysteries, with heavy praise from Dumbledore, McGonagall and Arthur Weasley, the Minister of Magic - the man she could only remember as the wizard who was having the time of his life trying to light a fire with Muggle matches. It had been the beginning of the nightmare: the Quidditch World Cup, the day the Death Eaters made their first official appearance after fourteen years. One year later, Voldemort would rise as powerful as before, with the help of Bartholomew Crouch, Jr.

And after a lot of careful, painful consideration, Hermione Granger, the analytical, practical, logical mind of Gryffindor Tower, had given in to the obvious fact - the logical fact - that she'd be far more useful to everyone in the strategy part than on the field. If she worked hard enough, she could help the war to end sooner. Then her friends would be safe.

Not to mention her Muggle family.

Talk about motivation.

Wiping the stubborn tears from her face, Hermione prepared herself to say goodbye to her friends with a decently brave face. She turned to leave her room. Jesus, she hadn't cried since ... since Harry and Ron had made peace in their fourth year. Males could be so damn stupid! She really hoped her friends would be more mature in Auror training and not spend days without talking to each other, because this time she would not be around to help them make peace. But then there was a knock.

She had been made prefect in her fifth year, and Head Girl in her seventh, so she had her very own room - and it was a blessing to study without the mindless chattering of Parvati and Lavender. God above, couldn't she have an interesting girl in her dorm? Ginny was okay, but the fact that she was obviously, childishly star-struck whenever she saw Harry was really unnerving. Especially because Hermione was one of Harry's best friends and listening to someone talk about him as if he was just an object - very handsome, very popular, very everything, but a damn object anyway - was ... oh bugger. Eventually Ginny would see the light of day. Eventually. She hoped.

"Come on in," Hermione said loudly. The door opened and Professor McGonagall appeared in her stylish emerald green robes - even a wizarding war couldn't stop her from looking like a noblewoman from a child's fairy tale - with a very anxious expression.

Wait a bit. McGonagall doesn't get anxious unless things are really, really nasty.

"Miss Granger, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office."

Unspoken: immediately. Urgent. Very serious.

"Of course, Professor," Hermione answered and, grabbing the robe she had left out of the trunk to use the next two days, walked the long path from her Head Girl quarters to the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office on the fifth floor. In front of the gargoyle, McGonagall muttered "Jelly babies," and the statue stepped aside to reveal the stairs that led to the office.

When Hermione got there, she didn't find Dumbledore alone. Chatting with him, not so animatedly, was the Minister of Magic himself - the man who loved Muggle artifacts, who asked Harry what a plastic duck was for, the one who couldn't light fire without magic. The man who was in charge of the Ministry of Magic in a time of war, the man who held the panic under bearable levels, the man who did what was necessary for everyone's safety, even being the head of a family of nine who could easily be killed to hurt him.

Hermione could see the former Headmasters' paintings did not fake sleep or disinterest this time. They conferred among each other, and Phineas Nigellus left his frame with loud complaints. She wondered what message he had been ordered to carry, or if maybe he was just being difficult. With Nigellus, it was hard to tell. Fawkes was nowhere in sight, and Hermione did not know whether the phoenix was dying, reborn, or away with a mission. If the latest was correct, then Nigellus' angry exit gained more grave meaning, if one of the first, she was going over the limit between cautious and paranoid.

She had to repress a flicker of disappointment at not seeing the Pensieve, knowing it was probably locked in the black closet. After so many 'incidents' with Harry, who had a curious streak a mile long, it was no surprise Dumbledore had decided to be more careful with his magical items. She did notice, however, that the wide circular room now seemed cluttered. Aside from the countless silver instruments she was already expecting, a great number of colored packaged were piled near the windows.

McGonagall locked the door and sat near the headmaster's desk.

"Oh, Hermione, how good of you to answer my calling so promptly. Here, have a seat. Would you like some tea?" said Dumbledore. But Hermione's sense of dread intensified tenfold - the words were right, but there was something in his eyes that didn't match the friendliness in his tone. Dumbledore is worried because of the war, of course he is, the whole wizarding world has been since Fudge finally stepped down and Arthur Weasley assumed the job, and it became more than obvious that the war wasn't the hallucination of a conceited seeker who had been hit by too many bludgers.

We're at war. Oh, god. What if we're not able to stop this before my parents... no. Don't think about that.

"No, sir, thank you very much," Hermione answered, "Minister," She greeted Arthur with a nod, and sat.

"Please, Hermione, call me Arthur. We're among friends here," he replied, and Hermione remembered Ron and Molly saying Arthur could be whatever he wanted, but he had stayed at the Muggle Misuse of Magic Artefacts department because he loved them. A man without ambition. Hermione nodded again, scanning the room. It was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. For pity's sake, McGonagall was nervous! If that wasn't a sure sign of something amiss. What could it be?

"Arthur here told me you have decided to accept a place at the Department of Mysteries," said Dumbledore, his piercing gaze fixed on her. Hermione didn't like it at all; she wanted the merry good old eccentric wizard back. His mood was another sure sign of apocalypse.

But being the practical woman she was, she merely nodded in acquiescence. If hell is going to break loose, let's see what I can do to prevent it.

"You see, Hermione, because most of the training centres are closed for fear of attack, the Ministry's new recruits are being trained separately."

"You mean the trainees are being attacked, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked. McGonagall shifted almost imperceptibly in her chair, and the look on Arthur's face didn't do anything to help soothe Hermione's increasingly wild nerves. Dumbledore seemed to abandon the vague answers and took a deep breath.

"We have had some close calls, but to this day no casualties. Miss Granger, we were all very relieved when we learned of your decision. To know such a great mind will help our cause in these chaotic times is really comforting. And you have much experience on (in) handling dangerous situations, if I do say so myself," he said, with a smile. Hermione was the one shifting on her chair that time. Of course she knew that Dumbledore was aware of her planning the trio's adventures. It had been her idea to get a pass to the Restricted Section and her idea to make the Polyjuice Potion in their second year. It had been her controlling Harry when they freed Buckbeak and Sirius on (in) their third year, and it had most definitely been her helping Harry through the damned Triwizard tournament. She caught Rita Skeeter on her own. She had planned her parents 'retirement' and took them out of Britain for their safety before Voldemort could get them, as she knew he would. And she had asked the faculty for the re-opening of the duelling club, and for advanced healing classes. And she had been the one planning so many other things that, strictly speaking, should have never taken place, breaking a good hundred rules of the school even when she was the prefect and later the Head Girl.

Yes, of course Dumbledore knew all of that. And him reminding her of that fact was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. Arthur was looking rather interested in the way she handled the situations, as well.

Dumbledore went on with his speech, "But we are also aware that Voldemort's," - Arthur flinched - "minions are attacking the Auror training centres and the Unspeakables' training centres. Due to that fact, the Minister," - and Dumbledore pointed to Arthur Weasley - "decided, and I absolutely agree with him, to move the people to more secure places."

"The Muggle world," Hermione answered, her mind jumping to the next links of the chain.

"Exactly. We arranged for the trainees to go to muggle cities, and also got new identities for them while they are under cover."

Hermione figured he meant on the run. She did not like the idea of being trained one on one, as was the impression she was getting. Surely there was safety in numbers? She could not stop thinking about how easily they could be taken down if the information somehow leaked... James and Lilly Potter's case sprang to mind. Although a small group would have a better chance of remaining inconspicuous, and they did want their Unspeakables to be able to graduate and get into active duty.

"So, I'm going to go to a muggle city. No problem on that, Dumbledore. I was raised among Muggles. But how will I be trained?"

"We agreed on pairing you with someone who has some experience in the field. You'd live with him for a specific amount of time, learning how to do the work; he'd be learning how to live like a Muggle. You shouldn't do magic unless it's extremely necessary, so as not to call attention to yourselves."

"Like an apprenticeship?"

"Exactly, an apprenticeship in whatever it is that the Unspeakables do," Dumbledore said, smiling warmly at her. It was a smile that clearly communicated that he knew what the Unspeakables did better than anyone else - the devil.

Minerva McGonagall fidgeted with her wand. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. And in Hogwarts. And in the whole bloody world.

"So far, so good," Hermione forced a smile for the sake of the people present at the room. "But... where am I going to, and who's going to tutor me?"

Professor McGonagall gave up any pretence of control and stood up. "That's not fair, Albus! To put her with--"

"Sit down, Minerva. Miss Granger will be perfectly fine." Hermione was too stunned to reply to that; they were at war, she was going under cover before she had completed training, and Professor McGonagal clearly did not approve of her chosen trainer so things couldn't be quite as fine as Dumbledore said. Then again, wizards in general did not excel at logic, and Dumbledore's in particular was known to be quite different from anyone else's.

McGonagall scowled and sit back down. By then, Hermione was truly scared.

"What isn't fair, Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

"We chose a very experienced man to tutor you, my dear; but Minerva is for the first time doubting my decision." The statement wasn't accusing, but rather sad, and Hermione calmed a bit. Just a bit. "Your tutor has a great deal of experience with the war and the Death Eaters."

Roundabouts. Now and again Dumbledore would do that when he was teasing or having fun at someone's expense, but right then it was scary as hell.

"Dumbledore is trying to say, Hermione, that you're going to be trained by Severus Snape."

"WHAT?"

Damn. Snape is pretty much as dangerous a person to be with as Sirius, only Snape is running from the Death Eaters... I haven't seen him since the night at the infirmary when we were worried sick about Harry, returned from another unbooked meeting with the Dark Lord - a meeting that got Cedric Diggory killed, Voldemort back to his former magical strength and Harry very shaken and without the protection his mother had given him fourteen years ago. We were told Snape was a double agent back then... Professor Melchisedech had assumed the position of Potion professor, even when he wasn't a master like Snape - few people are, Potion Masters are quite rare - and Slytherin's Head of House. But Dumbledore is saying something. What was that anyway?'

"Excuse me professor, but I must side with Minerva, I don't think this is prudent," Hermione said, her voice sounding dull even to herself.

"You must not fear, Hermione. Severus Snape was a double agent for us."

"Yes, yes, I remember that part," Hermione said offhandedly, all rules of etiquette forgotten. They wanted her to live with Severus Snape!

"And we tried to get him inside the circle of Death Eaters again, but Voldemort already knew of his betrayal. He barely managed to escape alive. He's been running since then, but we stay in touch," said Mr. Weasley. "And he continues to do all he can for our cause, training the young. When we started having our training centres under attack, and decided to move our people to Muggle cities, we knew we would need our trainers to blend into the background."

Ah, there.

"Mr. Weasley, let me see if I got this straight. You want me off in a Muggle city because the training centre is too dangerous, but you pair me with one of the Death Eaters' top five most wanted people? When I'm already in that same group?"

Hermione could hardly believe it. Apart, they'd already have huge red targets on their chests, but together, she and Snape were simply too tempting a prize. To her reckoning Voldemort had never tolerated duplicity. Or that one would have the gall to survive his attacks. Snape had done both; Snake-face must be itching to get his hands on him for years now. And what wouldn't the Dark Lord do to have Harry's Mudblood friend in his power? She would be a great emotional leverage against the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione hated that, hated the fact that she might be used to hurt Harry almost as much as she hated the fact many saw her as no more than a sidekick. A glorified, smart sidekick.

"Hermione ..." Mr. Weasley began.

"I'm so dead," she mumbled, with a pout. And those were the people who were meant to protect me and help me become someone who could contribute to the cause.

"Miss Granger," said the headmaster, as a drill sergeant addressing a recalcitrant soldier. Hermione instinctively cowered a bit in her armchair. "You are in no more danger with Snape than without him. He is, indeed, a wanted person, but so are you. And he is the very best person available to train you. We all agreed on that," Dumbledore stated, with a solemn voice. McGonagall dared a muffled 'humph!'

"Face this as a challenge, dear," said Arthur. "You'll teach him how to behave like a Muggle, and he will teach you all you need to know to be an Unspeakable."

"A challenge? That man made my life a living hell for four years! I don't like him, he doesn't like me, and we are very happy to hate each other for the rest of our lives! Why do I need to live with him? I'm sure there are other trainers and other trainees --"

"But we cannot risk any of you, Hermione. He's too important to be with someone we don't trust entirely, and you're too important to be with someone who's not the best."

And there, cornered between my not so goody two shoes ex-headmaster - I think I can refer to him like that, as I'm leaving Hogwarts, can't I? - and the British Minister of Magic, I gave up and resigned myself to living with the infamous Potion Master.

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us.

Have I mentioned I can't believe what I've just done?