Black and White

This fic becomes AU after the Goblet of Fire.

Warnings: The story may get a bit dark. I'm flirting with notions that some may understand as abuse, and if you're not comfortable with it I suggest you leave the fic. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Also, I have a group of people I must thank. First, Gildorelf for the plotbunny. Second (but not least) to the group of wonderful people who have helped me betaing this fic. Cynthia, Maddy, Alysya, Venefica, Meg, Tawa, Flourishnblotts.
And in 2005 Nevermore joined the ranks and gave the text a final sweep, getting rid of awkward punctuation and plot holes I didn’t even know were there. You were amazing, and not a pain at all. Thanks for helping me get through the way.


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'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.' Hamlet, Shakespeare.

"I was wondering if you would come," Hermione added quietly, not answering Snape's mention of returning to the training. "On the one hand, Unspeakables are hard to come by. On the other hand, you're quite the proud fellow."

Snape did not reply, waiting for Hermione to turn around so they could make eye contact.

While she didn't, he was free to admire her unobserved. She had changed, that much was granted. There was an air of self-confidence that had not been there before. Where before she hid herself behind her bushy hair and large school robes, trying to make the world see her as an unsexed entity, she stood now rather comfortable in feminine clothes, quietly confident of herself as a woman.

"There are some cafes on the first ground where we can speak."

"I did not come here for small chat, Galene," Snape replied at last, trying to keep his voice cool but realising there was a small edge on it. Hermione turned around at that, and Snape found himself in the receiving end of an impressive icy cold stare.

She was supposed to be vulnerable, hurt, broken.

Not like that.

Snape did not like that one bit.

"Now you listen here and you listen well, because I'll tell you only this only once," Hermione stated completely evenly, as indifferent and unemotional as the Airport Service Information. "I'm not the one who needs this to work. I'll make it simple for you: it's my way, or the highway. You choose."

"Are you sure you're not the one who needs this to work? Aren't you friends with some rather reckless Junior Aurors? Aren't you the one who has Muggle parents in danger? Aren't you the one who has something to lose?" Snape remarked cruelly.

Hermione wavered slightly in face of his blows, but caught herself in time.

"No," she said, "I'm the reason why you travelled thousands of miles. I'm the cleverest witch to study in Hogwarts for centuries. I'm the one who organised the students training when I was in my fifth year, I'm the one who's been frustrating the Dark Lord's plans to get Harry Potter since our first year, and I'm the only one who puts up with you apart from Dumbledore."

Hermione paused for effect, watching unsurprised as Snape held an expressionless mask even when she knew she'd scored some points.

"Who are you?"

The question held no contempt, being merely rhetorical.

"I'm the one who trains you. That's all you need to know."

"But that's where you're mistaken. I need to know thousands of things." Hermione turned on her heels and started to cross the path to the stairs, not looking to see if he'd follow. "But I wasn't kidding when I said it will be my way or nothing."

"You think you can find another trainer?" Snape asked, as they both knew Snape was the best option, being a former Death Eater.

"I don't think, I know. They need me. And if I can't find a trainer, I'll solve things my own way."

They reached the first floor and proceeded to walk towards the cafeteria.

"You'll be killed in no time," the Slytherin stated evenly as if he was talking about the weather.

"That's not your problem," the young Gryffindor completed immediately, in the same tone.

They stood in silence till the mugs of coffee were placed before them.

"How did you know I was here?" Hermione asked at last, after taking a sip of her beverage.

"I might study the flaws of your escape another time, Galene," Snape stated flatly, "that's not the important question, and you know it."

"The questions are how did Lily know about the dragon blood, and how she got that information. Whether that ritual can be used as a permanent shield against the Killing Curse, how effective it is, and if we can repeat it. Among other things."

"Exactly."

"But before, we must see if we will continue working as a team. Which means, would you accept my conditions?"

A second of expectant silence.

"Let's see about this. Humour me. Name the conditions."

"We live in separate houses. That's not open for discussion," Hermione said firmly.

"You're that afraid of me?" Snape smiled, a sly boyish grin that did not suit him at all. At all.

Damn it. He really looks good when he smiled like that.

"You wish," Hermione replied stiffly.

"What else?" he asked, still with that irritating smile plastered on his face.

"Whenever you decide to make your bizarre experiments with my mind, you'll ask me first. No exceptions. No bending rules."

"It's nice to know you have figured that one out on your own, Galene--" Snape said, only to be surprised by Hermione interrupting him.

"Sarah McCallister. That's my name now."

Snape continued as if he had not heard her "--because it would be somewhat difficult to explain the concepts to you if you haven't. However, I'm here to make you ready for whatever the enemy might throw your way, and it will be very ineffective if you are aware of what's coming. You must conquer your own fears, reach past your own limitations. If I give your fair warning, I'd be doing you a disservice.

Hermione hesitated, her mug of coffee hanging in the midway between the table and her slightly open mouth. He actually had a point, damn the man.

"I just don't want to get to the end of the line as screwed up as Mad-Eye Moody."

Or you.

Snape gave her an understanding nod, and the warmth behind his eyes caught her completely off guard. Hermione could swear he had heard her unspoken thoughts. "You managed to get out rather undamaged - Sarah."


' Is he complimenting me? What's next, Voldemort doing charity? Harry announcing he's been carrying a torrid affair with Ron--

Ew! That's gross. I'd rather go back to the main track here...

"You will tell me what's expected of me. I'm not an agent yet, I'm under training. You are meant to explain to me the objectives when you give me a task."

Snape rose from his chair, his mug of coffee virtually untouched. "I'll give you a ride to your inn. We cannot waste any more time."

Hermione rose from her own chair, still dizzy and confused over the entirely too easy acceptance of her terms.

"Do you... you accept my conditions?"

Snape allowed himself a chuckle, and he put his black jacket back on. "Sarah, I wouldn't have come this far if I was not able to foresee people's reactions. You'll learn that, hopefully. Your flat is already rented."

All right, things were a bit weirder than they generally are. Even for a member of the Formidable Trio.

First, Snape - and I mean, Severus Snape for pity's sake! - accepted the conditions without even arguing. That just can't be good.

Second, but not least, he complimented me. He actually treated me well. What was that, guilty feelings? Not likely.

So...

Where's the catch?

We went to my inn to get my things and pay the bill - I guess I should be glad because I won't spend much more of my (rapidly dwindling) money.

I don't know why I trust him. I really do not know why I'm doing all this - in the beginning, it was because it was the right thing, and Dumbledore got me cornered. One might think that after living with the bastard for two months I'd know better. He's everything I thought he would be when we were at Hogwarts and more - a cynical, cold-hearted man who, true to the Slytherin reputation would do anything to achieve his ends.

And yet...

There is something lurking behind his eyes - it's almost as if he's afraid or... or ashamed... of showing it. He has actually been good company when we went out together, in his own way, of course. He is doubtlessly a good, intelligent conversationalist. There's no way in hell he'll overlook or forget something important. Which makes him all the more dangerous, because when Severus Snape sets out to hurt someone, he does it in style.

I saw that firsthand, didn't I?

The thing is, there is logic in what he does. It's rude, it's often unfair, but there is logic. Maybe he's screwing with my mind again. He probably is. What's the point in that? To leave me a confused, rancorous bitch?

Merlin's beard, will I turn into a female version of him?

I so refuse to go that way.

He rented me a flat in Boa Vista, which is not really far from Torre,where Mrs. Oliveira's inn is. His own apartment is next door to mine - I did not expect him to keep much of a distance, anyway. The decoration is, well... is there a decoration? Guess I was too used to Hogwarts and its classy old furniture, the impressive columns and all that gothic architecture. This flat is rather simple - living room, kitchen, and suite. The good thing is that there are some facilities in the building, like a mini-shopping centre in the first floor. And laundry. I don't mind doing the laundry but if someone else can do it, I'm not the one complaining.

And on top of all of that, there's still the matter of that dark ritual. And I simply do not have all the pieces of that particular Chinese puzzle - how did Lily know about the ritual, why did no one else know about it, did Dumbledore know there was a possible defence against AK and how come no one ever heard about that?

Too many questions.

Hermione paced in her bedroom, her own report on the Potter's files in her hands. She grabbed her notebook - less suspicious than a roll of parchment in the muggle world, and way less expensive, too - and headed to Snape's flat.

She needed answers.

And she would bet her wand Snape had quite a few of them.

She met no one in the corridors and knocked on the door. Several times. With a final, perfunctory glance to the deserted hallway, she cast a quick Alohomora. Well, she was not supposed to use magic regularly, but Alohomora was such a basic spell, really.

It did not open. Snape had obviously taken some precautions himself.

So much for 'do not use magic unless there is no other way.'

"Looking for someone?" a silken voice demanded behind her. Hermione jumped nervously and only did not hex the shit out of him because she caught herself in the very last second.

Snape seemed very amused with her reaction.

"Never let anyone catch you off guard, Sarah. That could be the death of you," he said, opening the door with a simple key. A key! And she was not able to open the same door with magic!

"We need to talk," she muttered crossly, entering his living room without waiting for permission.

Snape arched one slender eyebrow to her and indicated one of the chairs. Hermione ungracefully threw herself upon the seat and glared at him.

"How did a housewife have knowledge of a secret dark ritual that could deflect the killing curse itself? For all I know Lily was your garden-variety witch, there is no mention of her as a magic genius, an Auror or Unspeakable. Was she Dumbledore's assistant? Did she break into the lab for a midnight snog or what? And why did Dumbledore never tell anyone about it?"

Snape did not answer immediately, although Hermione perceived a slight tension on his shoulders. The silence went on for a long time, and not for the first time in their acquaintance, the lass thought Severus Snape would not deign to answer her. And not for the first time she was wrong.

Apparently Snape liked to remain unpredictable.

"I do not know about Dumbledore," he said, his voice low and even. Hermione had a vague feeling of something out of place, but couldn't quite grasp it then, and her attention was quickly drawn to the more obvious information. Snape went on, "He never told me about that, not clearly."

"I've always thought," Hermione cut in, "that Dumbledore was for some reason incapable of giving straight answers."

Snape chuckled dryly. "He does that, doesn't he? He gives you riddles and clues, and you'll only know what he's talking about days later. If at all.

"I was suspicious, of course," he continued, and Hermione suddenly realised what was unsettling her - that open attitude. It was as if a dam had been broken and things were just flowing out, as much as Snape could let things flow out anyway. He was confiding, and she knew the Potions Master did not confide often. Too risky for a double-agent. "For only one person had researched as much about the dragon blood.

"Lily Potter was an extraordinary witch. Not very powerful, not really. But she had an almost supernatural talent for research and improvisation. She had... insight, I guess that's the word. Intuitive knowledge. You would not see her acing the exams, or having sudden outbursts of magical power. But she had this instinctive knowledge of what should work and what should not. Guess that if she lived a little more she would have created dozens of new spells and potions.

"James was the most gifted of them, you see. I've always resented how he could achieve such high marks with apparently no effort. No late nights studying for wonderboy, no -he'd sneak out to Hogsmeade and to the Forbidden Forest with his friends, the Marauders, and wreak havoc whenever possible."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. The tone of his voice had changed, she realised a series of minute waverings. Definitely guilty feelings. Who would have thought?

Hmmm... well, guess the whole double-agent thing might have given it away, if I had ever though about him as a being that actually had a heart.

"So... Lily conducted some research on the properties of dragon blood, too?" Hermione asked, taking him out of his reverie. Fascinating as seeing a glimpse of the man under the mask might be, it was also exceedingly confusing. And Hermione Granger had enough confusion to sort out already.

"No!" Snape cried impatiently, "Dumbledore did it. But she may have read his notations once or twice. Dumbledore and the Potters were actually very close, or hadn't you known? Dumbledore offered himself to be their Secret Keeper. Too bad they didn't accept his offer."

Hermione knew. She remembered the conversations she had overheard in the Shrieking Shack, how Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had enlightened them about what really happened on that Halloween. Sirius had agreed to be Potters's Secret keeper, but in the last minute he decided to let Peter Pettigrew be it because Sirius would be too obvious a choice.

Sirius did not fear being tortured but he had feared that his friend might be in danger if he was caught. And because of that the traitor, Pettigrew, was chosen. And Pettigrew delivered them to Voldemort.

And Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, because there was no one who could prove he was not the Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew faked his own death and added even more crimes in Sirius's list of offences.

She also remembered what Dumbledore told them in their third year. That he had testified against Sirius Black himself.

That he had offered to be Potter's Secret Keeper.

She just never made the connection. It had been under her nose all the time. Of course Dumbledore had not been friendly only with them. Of course he would be fond of other students as well.

"So... she just jumped to her own conclusions from what she knew of Dumbledore's research?"

"It worked for you quite a few times, as well," Snape countered wryly. Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm; of course she had jumped a few conclusions here and there.

"Dumbledore must have known," Hermione stammered. "How come he never told us? What about Harry?"

"He was never sure," Snape answered, taking off his shoes and massaging the tired toes. "Dumbledore does not have it in him to be cruel, not when he can avoid it. Maybe if he had... but he doesn't."

"Are there pictures of the scene of the crime? We might be able to draw some hypothesis from the pictures--"

"Aurors don't work like the police in those awful movies you take me out to, Sarah--"

"Hermione. When it's the two of us, you may call me Hermione. And I will call you Snape," Hermione cut him in for what felt like the thousandth time, relishing the brief flicker of panic he showed when she said that. She was learning to read him. Little things, but that was a start.

"That's not safe, girl. It's against the rules," Snape countered.

"We've broken the rules before. What's one more among so many?"

Snape stared at her, guarding himself rather carefully. Nothing could be read in his face, except an infinite wariness. His black eyes were endless pits of darkness, and one could be consumed in the nothingness of them. Many a powerful wizard had learned to be watchful under that glare, and few could defy him, openly or not. And yet there was... something.

What the hell am I doing?

"You are correct," he conceded, still eyeing her as if she were a wild dragon that would attack him without a moment's notice. "But still that would cause us to become more familiar than should be allowed. I do not think we can afford that."

"More familiar, Snape? I do not think we could get much closer." She looked down, bit her lips. Did she really want to get close up and personal with the Pot-- Snape, again? Would they even be familiar? He did not seem shaken at all after they had sex. If anyone, it was she who was left moved. Devastated. Confused. Broken and angry. Did she really want that? Was she imagining those flickers within the depths of his eyes, the smallest signs of emotion in his body language? Only one way to find out. And it better be her tutor to teach her, wouldn't it, than a foe later on? Hermione was not quite so naïve as to think there would be never an occasion when she would need to use her body that way. "No, in fact I do. But that would take some time."

They stood still sizing up one another like gladiators about to duel, guessing each other's thoughts and intentions by the smallest tremble of a muscle, the slightest flicker of the gaze. In that game Hermione held much less practice than Snape, but her daring had thrown him off guard for a while. The advantage wouldn't hold.

And she knew that.

"So we have no pictures," she broke before him, as was inevitable. "Dumbledore has no idea what Lily did but he suspects something, which he could not tell Harry. Not that I can blame him, really, I have no idea how I'll act myself." She was rambling and she knew it. Her daring facade had just broken remarkably and left her feeling very much like a frightened child.

Snape stood up. He really was tall. Six feet something, she'd say. Long legs. Slender hands. Greasy hair - would he take offence if she bought him a shampoo for oily hair?

"Hermione," he interrupted her reverie, his voice quiet. "Do you know what you are doing?"

"No," her answer was surprisingly honest. "I just feel like going on like before would be fooling ourselves."

"Then go to your apartment and think about it." His own answer was much more to the point than she'd have thought. "Good night."

He went to his own bedroom and closed the door behind himself. Hermione figured that was her clue to leave.

She had a lot to think about.

And not only about the enigma that was Lily Potter, either.