Where Do I Go From Here?

As Hermione gazed down at the face of the man whom many in the wizarding world would have wanted dead at this very moment, she felt an odd sensation pulling at her heart. He looked frightened and on edge, like a man who had been on the run for far too long and was just about out of options. She noticed that his cheekbones were more pronounced than usual, signaling the loss of weight he simply couldn't afford to lose in the first place. His clothes were filthy and torn, and his hair was an utter mess - more tangled than even her frizzy locks. His eyes appeared haunted and hollow. She felt like she was looking down upon a man with an empty soul, and she wanted nothing more than to cry.

But what if I'm wrong? What if he really did murder Dumbledore out of cold blood, on Voldemort's orders?

Casting a half-doubtful look upon Snape's prone form, Hermione couldn't bring herself to think ill of her ex-professor. She may not have particularly liked him, but as she had tried to tell Harry not long ago, there was a lot more to the man than met the eye, and if she was right in her theory, Snape was not guilty of killing Dumbledore out of pure evilness.

What she was about to do was either very brave or very foolish, but mustering up all the Gryffindor-prided courage she had, Hermione released the spell. Snape had a frenzied look about him, like a deer caught in headlights. His reflexes were as good as ever, though, and before she knew it, he had his wand at her throat.

In the darkness, Snape had not realized who his attacker had been, but from the light now emanating from the tip of his wand, he sucked in a breath of shock when he saw Hermione's face.

"Miss Granger?" he asked incredulously, not lowering his wand.

She nodded marginally.

"I apparently underestimated your ability at performing magic without uttering the words aloud," Snape muttered, still not sure what to say.

Hermione was just a shocked. Was he complimenting her?

"Pro- Professor," she said in a shaky voice.

Snape scowled and still kept his wand on her. "I am not your professor anymore, Miss Granger. What are you playing at, anyway? I suppose you have the rest of the Order just on your heels, ready to attack me and bring me to Azkaban?"

"Wh- what?" she stammered. "N- no, sir. I was just taking a walk."

Giving her a withering look, Snape sighed. "Why don't I believe you?"

Hermione found her courage again and inquired, "What are you doing here? I'm not the one who should be answering questions. I'm part of the Order now, but you- you're-"

"I'm what, Miss Granger?" he dared her.

"I- I don't know."

"Bollocks you don't know. What is that supposed to mean? If you had any sense about you, you would be running for your life."

Hermione glared at him. "And what if I were to tell you that I don't think you would harm me?" she challenged.

"You seem awfully sure of yourself." Perhaps Aberforth did tell the Order the truth about me after all? But no, he said he wouldn't... that they wouldn't be ready... "Explain yourself, girl," he insisted gruffly.

"It doesn't add up, plain and simple. From everything I've learned about what happened that day, I still couldn't bring myself to believe that you would have committed such a heinous act. Dumbledore always insisted on trusting you, even when Harry challenged him about it time and again. Everything about the whole incident just seemed so planned. Hagrid even overheard the two of you arguing earlier that year, and from what I remember, what you said to Dumbledore - about not wanting to do it anymore - that fits in context perfectly. I refuse to believe that you are evil. You've always looked out for us, even when we thought you were trying to get the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape marginally lowered his wand. Studying her closely, he finally sighed. "You have more intelligence than your friends and more sense to see the truth, even when it's so hidden. You do realize what a risk you took tonight, Miss Granger, in going outside alone. If I meant you ill, you would have been taken and played with by the Death Eaters, beaten, raped, ravaged until you were nothing but a broken shell, and then you would have died."

"I know, sir. It was foolish of me to have left on my own, but that house - it's just another dead end. The meeting wasn't very productive, either." She stopped herself before going too far. "But you still haven't answered my question as to why you are here, sir."

Finally, Snape lowered his wand. He had been on his guard, but by looking her in the eyes, he knew she was sincere. "Aberforth told me to come, just in case. He and I have been in communication this past month. He knows the truth, but he felt others would not be so ready and willing to concede to the truth regarding me. I am a tainted man, now more than ever, Miss Granger. You are the only other person who believes in my supposed innocence besides Aberforth."

"So that's why he didn't seem angry when you were brought up during the meeting," Hermione muttered thoughtfully. "So, you're still a spy?"

Snape gave a slight nod. "And he has reason to think I still might be useful, although I highly doubt that."

The embittered self-hatred in his tone tore at Hermione's heart. She wanted to reach out to him, but she knew he was bite back like a wounded animal. "You could help us," Hermione whispered. "Harry is trying to find-"

Stopping herself, as not wanting to reveal too much, Hermione was surprised when Snape finished for her: "-to find the remaining horcruxes. Yes, I know. There is much that Aberforth had told me."

Her mouth formed into an "O," and Hermione nodded. "Well, then, yes. You could help us. We've had no luck so far. I'm sure I could convince the others-"

"Do not be so sure of yourself, Miss Granger," interjected Snape, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "You assume far too much. They would never accept me after what I have done, especially Potter."

"But if I talked to him- He wouldn't try to-"

Snape shook his head. "No, this must remain a secret. If I am to help you, it will be in secret. You are clever enough to keep communication with me to a minimum, but I could give you useful information, and you, being the bookworm you are, could pass it along to your friends, as if you had found it. They would never suspect a thing."

He made a good point. Hermione frowned, though, realizing that Snape would once again be playing the backseat role, the role for which he would never be properly recognized. Now she would practically be playing the role of another master to him.

"I- I'm sorry," Hermione said softly, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm.

Snape recoiled as if someone had poured acid on him. "What are you apologizing for, girl? I do not need your sympathy, nor do I want it. It won't do any good in this war, anyway, so why bother wasting it on the likes of me?"

Unable to stop herself from crying, a stray tear rolling down her cheek, Hermione choked, "Because it's mine to give, and I'm not wasting it on you. If I didn't know better, I would say that you need some sort of sympathy, more so that most." Hasn't anyone ever loved you?

Snape gave her a searching look. He could read her vibes and was truly at a loss for words at to why she was suddenly exhibiting these sorts of feelings toward him. He said nothing and stood.

"I will be in contact with you, Miss Granger."

With those words, he apparated away, but as he disappeared, Hermione that she heard the words, "Good luck, Hermione" in the wind.