Black and White

Chapter 2: Tour Line?

Someone slap me. For all that's sacred, just do it.

I don't even know if I want to tell Harry and Ron about this. I wish I had some more time to deal with this, to separate the problem into its smallest parts and deal with them individually, in order of difficulty, easiest to hardest, in supreme Cartesian style.

But of course I can't. How do you deconstruct the fact that you're stuck with a cold-hearted bastard, an insensitive git, and a lame excuse of a human being? Humph! I'm so bleeding angry! How could I ever let anyone manipulate me like this?

Maybe I could go back, tell Dumbledore I'm not doing it...I care nothing of whom they'll pick for Snape, and they damn better pick me a half-decent human being.

I wasn't that way all along. There was a time in which I firmly believed in authority, and everyone in a position of power was capable and honoured, Christian way - if he's in power, God put him there and He wants him there. It's for the best. Not that I'm Christian, mind you. It was pure and simple idiocy. I believed in following the rules, that being good would eventually pay off. I advised Harry and Ron to take their doubts to Dumbledore...How bleeding stupid am I?

Wow. Someone call the press: Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's - and probably Hogwarts' - Know-it-all, teacher's pet, bookworm of the century, admitted to being an idiot. Of course my adoration for authorities suffered too many hard blows to stand unscathed.

Quirrel. The ultimate proof that when I make a mistake, I make it in style.

Lockhart. Oh, god, I can't remember him without feeling ashamed.

Trelawney. Dropping her classes was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Fudge, not believing Harry out of sheer incompetence and cowardice and therefore putting the whole Wizarding world - hell, the whole world, period - in danger because of it.

Fake Moody. Or Crouch, Jr. Whatever. Hogwarts has a very nasty tendency to put Voldemort's minions on its staff.

Real Moody. For absolutely wasting time in useless quarrels when there are tons of real, dangerous bad guys out there.

Dumbledore. For tricking me into staying with Snape for training. And Mr. Weasley for backing him up.

That's a whole roundaboutway of saying that, once upon a time, I wasn't disrespectful towards anyone in a position of power. I played by the rules. Guess that hanging around the Weasley twins, Harry and Ron finally paid off and took that away from me. Or not. To be absolutely honest, it was a gradual process, a bit of rebellion here, storming Trelawney's classroom there, punching Malfoy then, preparing forbidden potions, cheating the Triwizard tournament by helping Harry... no, that doesn't count, everybody was cheating. No, it does - everybody doing it is not an excuse for me to go along.

I'm digressing again. Okay, so I'm really, really pissed off. But Snape was really a nightmare. Truly. The only ones who didn't hate him were Slytherins, and they merely tolerated him. Someone useful, but not cherished, or loved - geez, the idea of Snape being loved is, God forgive me, laughable. He's the one man I could quote Sabrina on (old movie, Muggle thing, don't worry about it): He's the only living heart donor.

Right, so we established the fact that Snape doesn't have a heart. If that was all, I wouldn't really mind - but he also rejoices in the suffering of others. He's sadistic, I swear.

And now I'm stuck with him. In the Muggle World. No matter what he says in his speech about foolish wand waving and silly incantations, there's no way he's going to be comfortable without using his wand. Or his cauldrons. And I'm stuck with him!

Someone up there really hates me.

Now, the question: do I tell Harry and Ron, or not?

I am so not thinking about Snape and ruining my last day at Hogwarts with the overgrown bat. I'm going to go downstairs, have the time of my life, cry a bit if I feel like it, hug everyone and promise to owl. I'm going to drink and dance and laugh and enjoy every minute of it.

The nightmare can wait for tomorrow.

Oh, haven't I told you? I'm not even going to see my parents. I haven't seen them in years, I stayed at the castle with Harry, Hagrid, Dumbledore, and Filch. I stayed because I have no family beside my parents- and they were hiding, remember? Me going after them would blow their cover. Harry stayed because his protection doesn't work anymore against Voldemort and his relatives wouldn't take him back regardless of what Dumbledore said, and the others stayed because they had to.

Oh, hell.

Hermione left the office dumfounded. Later, she wouldn't be able to tell how she got into the Gryffindor Common Room. The incessant chatter was a welcome drop of sanity in her so violently shaken world.

She hugged Neville and wished him good luck in his application as a herbologist. Lavender and Parvati even cried when they hugged, all mindless conversation forgotten. Seamus and Dean were almost shy - men are not very comfortable with public displays of affection. Ginny embraced her openly and promised to owl every time she could. Kind of hard - she wouldn't be able to receive any owls for a while. For long. For far too long.

Now, the hard part. Her very best friends since first year.

Ron called her, his voice wavering.

"'Mione."

That most definitely undid Hermione's tightly kept façade - god knows, and everyone else as well, that she had had a crush on Ron, and he had had a crush on her. Bad thing that they just didn't meet in the middle ground, both being too proud to act on those feelings, and she had gone for Krum, who did see and respected her for who she was. Had to be something about being a public personality and being sick of people looking at you only for your name. Or about being older and way more mature (but at their fourth year, anyone was more mature than Ron).

She clung to Ron for her dear life, her mind replaying every adventure they had lived together, especially the day in which he had broken her childish heart saying she was insufferable, just to save her life hours later. Hermione felt Harry patting her back sympathetically, and without turning, she pushed him into a collective hug.

It had always been the three of them, the Tenacious Trio, The Dream Team of Gryffindor, and now they'd be apart. Practicalities aside, life was a royal bitch.

No more hmphing at Ron for talking about Quidditch when there were so many other important things to think about. Like the exams. Or O.W.L.s. Or N.E.W.T.s. No more chastising Harry for worrying himself to exhaustion about things he couldn't change, Harry was always worried about everyone, carrying too much weigh on his shoulders for a kid their age. He'd blame himself for the sky being dark if she wasn't around to put some sense back into him. Well, in that particular field, she had a lot of help from Ron, to be honest.

"I love you guys. Never forget this, okay?" Hermione whispered. Ron tightened his grip on her, and Harry gave her another series of circular pattern squeezes.

"Take care, Hermione," said Harry.

The two men of her life- well, there was her father, as well - but she spent more time with them than with her family. Ron was the fiery type: outspoken, short fuse, easily read, hot-blooded, and faithful under any circumstance, from facing spiders, to challenging Voldemort. Harry was a bit more introverted, sensitive, caring and understanding. Well, there had been an occasion or two when he had been difficult, if she was going to be completely honest. Still, he was a tad more responsible than Ron, as well. And being so different, they completed one another. No wonder they were the Dream Team.

"You too," she said, her tears falling shamelessly.

The last feast was bittersweet for them. Most everyone in the room had lost someone over the past three years - family, friends, loved ones, and even family pets. The school itself seemed emptier, colder, as if the students were gone already. And a good number of them were joining the war efforts. They all knew the potential consequences of entering the war, they all had suffered with it already, and yet most would join the army.

"Another year has ended," said Dumbledore, scanning people before him. The dark school robes made the gathering look rather like a funeral. The students were pale and quiet, and few - although Hogwarts had once been considered one of the safest places in the wizarding world- parents preferred to sent their kids to other schools of magic now. Not only Harry and Dumbledore made Hogwarts a Death Eaters' target, but the school had had too many spies within their midst, too many odd incidents, and even a casualty with Cedric Diggory - and now they all fit into one row of tables the way any one of the four houses could before Voldemort's return. "This is an ending, but also a beginning. A beginning of another phase of your lives, of our lives and of history. Remember all you have learned in these walls, but above all remember all you have lived in these walls. Remember the friends you have made, the adventures you have lived," and then he made a quick, but meaningful glance to The Trio, "Some of you are leaving us, some of you will return next year. In these dark times, may your light shine brightly! And now, let the feast begin! And congratulations to Ravenclaw for winning the House Cup this year."

Furious clapping from Ravenclaw students next to them. Damn. They were so close to wining the House cup all their years at Hogwarts. Not that, in light of the recent events, it mattered that much...

The train ride was downright depressing. And the thought that they may get killed and never meet again didn't help matters much. For the first time they didn't play Exploding Snap, didn't talk about Quidditch, didn't pick a fight with Malfoy. The Trio merely stayed in their cabin, talking quietly about all they had lived together, making vows of undying friendship and plans for when they met again.

If they met again.

They so utterly, completely, absolutely have outdone themselves now.

If living with the greasy haired git wasn't enough, they had to move me to South America. Isn't life wonderful?

Now ask me; do I speak Spanish? Do I speak Portuguese? Do I have a chance of communicating with the locals?

Now ask me: am I any happier about this absolute insanity than I was yesterday?

Arthur Weasley himself escorted me to the ministry to take the Portkey. All my belongings reduced and carefully placed in my pockets, I said my very final goodbyes to my friends, and the rest of the Weasley family - gods, Molly almost undid MY little restraint I had managed to compose during the train ride.

Ron and Harry went first to wherever it is they're going to be for the next ten months. My throat contracted and I felt my stomach turning into knots. It was the 15:45 for Aurors. Mine was next, and I was going alone -15:55 for Granger. I took the sock - Dobby would laugh out loud for that - and felt the not-so-familiar feeling of being sucked into another dimension. When I had gathered myself again, I was in what seemed to be a park, grass and trees everywhere and no person in sight. My first panicky thought: 'Oh my god, something's wrong.' Of course something was wrong, everything was wrong, DAMN IT! And then I heard that dreaded silky, low, ice-cold voice behind me.

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Granger."

Have I mentioned he's a sadistic, sarcastic bastard? I do believe I have.

There I was, alone in a deserted wood - may I call that a wood? Or was it just a park? I didn't know then. And he just scared the shit out of me. I'm Muggleborn, okay, I had heard enough stories about young women lost in deserted parks at night and what happens to them to be scared, damn it.

I'm so going to hate the next ten months.

Hermione jumped as she heard him. Wherever they were, it was damn late and damn dark. And deserted. And Snape had terrorized her even when they were in Hogwarts, a castle full of wizards that could stop him from harming her - much.

"Good evening, Professor," she managed to reply, when she calmed herself enough to speak.

"I was wondering if we could go to the house anytime this year, Miss Granger?"

Acid. That's exactly what his voice was. And no doubt was left as to how he was feeling about having her with him in the next months. With a deep, steadying breath, Hermione fixed her cloak around her, unconsciously noticing that it was warm; summer would come early.

Three years apart had changed him a bit. He still had an overly big, hooked nose, greasy hair, and very pale skin. But there was something in him that was a bit ... stretched. Saying he was furious was an understatement like, 'the universe is big.' He was dressed in black - surprise, surprise - both shirt and trousers. The colour really became him.

"If you'd be as kind as to lead the way, professor."

Severus Snape arched an eyebrow and waved his arm, showing the way. They walked together in silence until they reached what looked like a bus stop at the road, and waited for the bus. There was no sound but the cicadas singing, and the sun was setting gloriously - it was a beautiful place, serene and welcoming. Hermione felt irrationally angry at that. How could the scenery be so nice when she was feeling so depressed? She had only visited the Forbidden Forest on occasion, and even then only when it was absolutely necessary. She was a woman who liked her comforts - and that meant a good fire going, a well-stocked library close by, and the convenience of urbanism - so living in the middle of the jungle did not please her. At all. In five minutes, a white bus appeared and stopped by them.

"Welcome to the tourism line. Next stop, Ukrainian Memorial."

Wait a bit. Wait just a bit. Tour line?

"Where are we ... exactly? Professor?" Hermione asked, weighing her words. She wouldn't be able to call Severus by his real name there, as he wasn't able to call her by hers.

"Brazil." He answered succinctly.

"Do you know this place?" she asked, with rising panic.

"No. I was in the training centre until they decided to close it a month ago. Any more questions, Miss Granger? Because I hardly think this will be on your finals."

Lovely. Suddenly the Triwizard tournament sounds amazingly easy.

He has no experience with Muggle life style.

Someone please cast an Avada Kedavra on me.