Prologue:
Hermione couldn't help feeling a bit wistful as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, officially concluding her sixth year. Mrs. Weasley had come to collect Harry and Ron, and after bidding them goodbye, Hermione found a bench where she could wait for her parents to pick her up. Although she was normally a very patient person, and her parents very late, Hermione glanced at her watch with mild irritation.
As the minutes ticked by torturously, she allowed herself to reflect on the previous year, and the way she and her friends had changed. Harry and Ron were a little more mature now, perhaps due to their war-torn childhoods and the pickup in attacks on Muggle households. More than one student had broken down in tears in the Great Hall at mail time in response to insensitive ministry letters sent to notify them of their parents' deaths. She could only fell fortunate that it hadn't happened to her.
And then there was Snape--she had become (after Dumbledore's intervention and a ridiculous amount of begging) his assistant for the second half of the year, and would continue to assist him until graduation. While he still treated Harry and Ron with the same acidity, he and Hermione had developed a sort of comfortable companionship. They worked together with remarkable progress, as Hermione's approach to a problem differed so wildly from Snape's, and yet they always seemed to end up in the same place. Harry and Ron had already begun to comment about the amount of time Hermione spent in the dungeons, teasing her about looking pale and asking her if she remembered what a window looked like. Hermione usually played along--but she admitted, though only to herself, that she enjoyed Snape's company rather too much, considering.
It seemed that Snape felt the same way, because at the end of their last session together, he'd stopped Hermione as she reached for the door, an uncharacteristic timbre in his voice.
"Hermione," he murmured, almost reluctantly. She had looked at him expectantly, trying not to reveal the excitement she felt.
"You've been an... adequate... assistant. I would like for you to join me next year as well, if you're willing." She had smiled, nodded, and left just in time to savor his look of relief.
Coming back to herself, Hermione glanced again at her watch. Her parents were more than half an hour late. Vaguely, she wondered what had held them up--five minutes was characteristic, but anything of this nature smacked of serious trouble. She sat pensively, desperately eyeing the bustling crowd in search of a familiar face. Ticking, her watch continued to remind her of her parents' bizarre tardiness. Another quarter-hour passed, then a half. Hermione was beginning to panic. Something had to be wrong. Her breathing sped up, and tears began to well up in her eyes.
Another hour had passed before she actually began to cry, huddling to herself so no one would see that something was wrong. This was the nightmare she'd always had as a child--her parents promising to pick her up, and then leaving her alone.
Her heart nearly stopped when a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. Whirling to face whoever had intruded on her sadness, she met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore. She opened her mouth to say something, but his expression silenced her.
"Hermione, you'd best return to Hogwarts with me. We have much to discuss."
Hermione couldn't help feeling a bit wistful as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, officially concluding her sixth year. Mrs. Weasley had come to collect Harry and Ron, and after bidding them goodbye, Hermione found a bench where she could wait for her parents to pick her up. Although she was normally a very patient person, and her parents very late, Hermione glanced at her watch with mild irritation.
As the minutes ticked by torturously, she allowed herself to reflect on the previous year, and the way she and her friends had changed. Harry and Ron were a little more mature now, perhaps due to their war-torn childhoods and the pickup in attacks on Muggle households. More than one student had broken down in tears in the Great Hall at mail time in response to insensitive ministry letters sent to notify them of their parents' deaths. She could only fell fortunate that it hadn't happened to her.
And then there was Snape--she had become (after Dumbledore's intervention and a ridiculous amount of begging) his assistant for the second half of the year, and would continue to assist him until graduation. While he still treated Harry and Ron with the same acidity, he and Hermione had developed a sort of comfortable companionship. They worked together with remarkable progress, as Hermione's approach to a problem differed so wildly from Snape's, and yet they always seemed to end up in the same place. Harry and Ron had already begun to comment about the amount of time Hermione spent in the dungeons, teasing her about looking pale and asking her if she remembered what a window looked like. Hermione usually played along--but she admitted, though only to herself, that she enjoyed Snape's company rather too much, considering.
It seemed that Snape felt the same way, because at the end of their last session together, he'd stopped Hermione as she reached for the door, an uncharacteristic timbre in his voice.
"Hermione," he murmured, almost reluctantly. She had looked at him expectantly, trying not to reveal the excitement she felt.
"You've been an... adequate... assistant. I would like for you to join me next year as well, if you're willing." She had smiled, nodded, and left just in time to savor his look of relief.
Coming back to herself, Hermione glanced again at her watch. Her parents were more than half an hour late. Vaguely, she wondered what had held them up--five minutes was characteristic, but anything of this nature smacked of serious trouble. She sat pensively, desperately eyeing the bustling crowd in search of a familiar face. Ticking, her watch continued to remind her of her parents' bizarre tardiness. Another quarter-hour passed, then a half. Hermione was beginning to panic. Something had to be wrong. Her breathing sped up, and tears began to well up in her eyes.
Another hour had passed before she actually began to cry, huddling to herself so no one would see that something was wrong. This was the nightmare she'd always had as a child--her parents promising to pick her up, and then leaving her alone.
Her heart nearly stopped when a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. Whirling to face whoever had intruded on her sadness, she met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore. She opened her mouth to say something, but his expression silenced her.
"Hermione, you'd best return to Hogwarts with me. We have much to discuss."