The Fine Line Between

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, plots, or places affiliated with him. They are the sole creation of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a poor artist with entirely too much time on her hands.

Chapter One: In Which the World Turns Upside Down

The day that Hermione Granger found her life irrevocably changed began as any other. Per usual, it was the scent of coffee that first alerted her to the arrival of morning. Heady and rich, the aroma invaded her sleep-clouded senses with merciless abandon, drawing an irritable sigh from her lips before she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. It was an utterly useless action, she realized after a moment, as the smell still managed to seep through and into her nasal passages.

In her half-conscious state, she vaguely noted the fact that she hated coffee; an inane notion, perhaps, considering that she consumed at least four cups of the stuff a day, but that particular detail was the furthest thing from her mind. Instead, all her present thoughts centered solely on just how much she despised the drink and its accompanying odor if only for the reason that it disturbed her slumber when she so desperately wished to remain abed.

So preoccupied was she with trying to ignore both the strong odor and the light of early morning that she failed to noticed the sound of her bedroom door opening or the soft pad of footsteps across the carpet until something prodded her roughly in the shoulder and an amused voice inquired, "You gonna get up some time today, Granger?"

Heavy with the sultry drawl so often heard in the voices of American southerners, the voice was low and feminine and its owner currently leaned over her. "Or just sleep all day?"

Following the question, there was a long stretch of silence and Hermione released a quiet breath into the eiderdown while hoping she'd been left in peace. She had just begun to drift off again when the interloper returned with a vengeance and ripped away both pillow and duvet in a flurry of ruby red fingernails and fluttering bedclothes. Brilliant sunlight suddenly spilled across her face and, with an indignant curse, Hermione was forced to reconcile an abrupt return from the land of nod.

"Well, I never thought I'd ever hear that word come out of your mouth," her assailant continued with a chuckle. Hermione, meanwhile, merely groaned, flopped backwards onto the mattress and tugged the remaining sheet over her head. "Oh, no, you don't. Up and at 'em, cupcake." The sheet soon followed the path of her pillow and joined the heap of linens on the carpet.

Scrunching up her nose, Hermione slung an arm across her face. "Go 'way, Jules," she ordered darkly. With her voice still slurred with the last dregs of sleep, however, the words emerged sounding more like the wailing of a dying animal than the intended phrase.

And, much to the younger woman's annoyance, "Jules" was quick to point out the resemblance. "Sorry, darlin', but you'll have to repeat that," the girl informed her casually. "Preferably in English; I don't understand Sleepyhead."

Sighing in irritation, Hermione allowed her arm to fall listlessly back to the bed prior to prying her eyes open and glowering furiously into the laughing grey-green gaze of her housemate. Jules' pale eyes glittered mischievously as her lips lifted into what Hermione knew could only be considered an absolutely feral smirk before she said, "Mornin,' Sunshine."

"Oh, shut up," was Hermione's irritable response as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Jules flopped down unceremoniously beside her and laughed. It was a light, musical sound that, in spite of her less than chipper mood, made Hermione's lips twitch into a grin.

Noticing the lack of response, her roommate nudged her with an elbow and said, "Ah, c'mon, Granger, perk up. It's only seven in the mornin.'" Grimacing at the patronizing use of her surname, Hermione inwardly marveled at the unfortunate creature known as the "morning person." Julia, or "Jules" as she preferred to be called, certainly fell into that category, much to her housemate's grief.

Resting her head in her hands, Hermione blinked the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes and groaned, "Don't remind me, Jules."

Jules chuckled good-naturedly and offered Hermione a light pat on the shoulder before asking, "Late night?"

"Yes," replied Hermione shortly. "I didn't get in until nearly three o'clock."

Well acquainted with late nights on the job, Jules pulled a sympathetic face. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"Jones happened," groused Hermione. "Bloody fool nearly blew us up. It took Toliver and me nearly two hours to clear the lab of smoke and make repairs. Then we had to re-brew the Wolfsbane base and you know how long that takes. The boy's a menace in the lab, Jules. He's going to kill somebody one day!" Then, as if realizing she'd been taking out a great deal of her vitriol on her friend, she subsided with a huff and grumbled, "Sorry."

"Eh, no problem. Sounds like you had a rough night," Jules commiserated and then smiled wryly. "Damn. I take one night off and miss all the fun."

Faintly horrified by this statement, Hermione merely stared at the other woman prior to saying, "You and I have a very different definition of 'fun,' Julia Blackridge."

Julia merely grinned and shrugged. "Well then," she began, rising from the bed and stretching, "I guess I better go and let you get dressed. Erin Floo'ed about ten minutes ago and asked that we come in 'round eight thirty. I'm thinkin' that she wants to have a team meeting before we start the daily grind." With that, the brunette sashayed out the door and back down to the kitchen.

Shaking her in exasperation at her friend's early morning antics, Hermione pushed herself to her feet and made her way across the hall to the bathroom. There she proceeded to strip and climb into the shower as she hadn't had the opportunity to bathe before practically collapsing into bed upon arriving home a scant four hours earlier.

Standing under the hot spray, she worked shampoo through her riotous mass of curls and thought about the state of her life. She knew she shouldn't complain about her present existence: Her life was good. She had a nice house, great friends, and a wonderful job, the likes of which she would have likely never encountered in Britain, if only because she was Muggleborn. Even so, she found herself missing England sometimes, though its magical community had never been particularly welcoming.

She had lived in the States for nearly a decade now, having spent four of those years earning her Potions Mastery at the prestigious Giles Institute for Advanced Magical Study followed by two under the tutelage of Potions Master Talbot Franklin. The last three years she had spent in the potions research facilities at the Hollinworth, working alongside a team of fellow potioneers led by Potions Mistress Erin Montgomery-Reed. It was a challenging vocation with long hours spent researching and hovering over experimental and often temperamental elixirs that possessed the potential to explode in one's face at any given moment.

Perhaps it was this unpredictable element that made Hermione enjoy her occupation so thoroughly. In fact, it oftentimes took her by surprise how much she loved working with potions, considering that, during her formative years, she had never really envisioned herself becoming a Potions Mistress-Charms or Transfiguration perhaps, but never Potions. Of course, her Potions professor might have had much to do with her lack of zeal for the subject. Not that said subject hadn't intrigued her during her Hogwarts days, but Severus Snape had never been one to inspire his students to great heights, as it were. Truthfully, most were simply content to survive his constant ill temper.

All the same, she couldn't bring herself to think badly of the man. Instead, she felt sympathy, if not outright pity, for her former teacher whenever he chanced to cross her mind, which was more often than not these days as April drew to a close and May approached. This time of year always brought with it a tide of memories that were, in Hermione's opinion, better left forgotten-recollections of blood and battle, of friends and innocence lost.

Over the years, she had managed to lay the majority of her demons to rest; however, she sometimes found that when spring was in full bloom and the air grew warm with the promise of summer, ghosts from the past would return to haunt her. The events of that awful day were, even now, firmly etched into her memory. At times, she could still smell the smoke from curse fire and blood on the air; hear the screams of the wounded and dying; see the faces of her friends-of Tonks, Lupin, Colin, Fred, and so many others-so still and white in death.

Worst of all, she could still remember the terrible rasping, gurgling noise that issued from Snape's torn throat as he demanded Harry to "Take...it...Take...it..." while silvery wisps of memory spilled forth like his very life's blood onto the floor of the Shrieking Shack. She only vaguely recalled conjuring a flask for capturing the memories that would later help exonerate Severus Snape, but the memory of watching the light fade from his eyes would remain with Hermione until the end of her days.

He spent almost his entire life fighting for us, she mused unhappily, fighting against Voldemort. He was forced to do things that no man should have to endure, all in the name of defeating the Dark Lord and protecting Harry. Hermione's brow furrowed. Harry...the son of the man he hated and the woman he loved more than anything. It just doesn't seem fair. She shook her head and didn't bother to stifle the sympathy that welled up within her at the thought, even though she could fairly hear the Potions Master's silky voice in her head, berating her for directing compassion where it was neither wanted nor needed.

"You haven't drowned in there, have you, Granger?" Jules' voice suddenly burst forth from the other side of the bathroom door and Hermione realized with a start that she stood under a spray of water that had since grown rather chill. "You've been in there for ages and I need to brush my teeth."

Shutting off the water, Hermione grabbed a towel from the rack just outside the shower cubicle and began to rigorously dry herself. "I'll be out in just a minute, Jules!" she called back as she bound her hair up in the towel and pulled on her bathrobe. Opening the door, she slipped by her housemate, who cast her a strange look before stepping into the bathroom, and padded across the hall to her bedroom.

Some thirty-five minutes later found Hermione clad in black Muggle slacks, a jade-green cowl-neck blouse, and a pair of black sling-backs that clicked smartly on the marble floor as she walked through the front doors of the Henry and Hyperia Hollinworth Memorial Research Facility, her briefcase and a stainless-steel travel mug in hand. The receptionist, a young auburn-haired woman with stylish black-rimmed glasses, offered Hermione a smile and a cheerful "good morning, Ms. Granger" prior to returning to the stack of papers on her desk.

"Good morning, Meredith," replied Hermione as she passed. She stopped only shortly by her office to drop her briefcase onto her desk and toss her outer robes over the back of her chair before spinning on her heel and proceeding to the conference room.

The room was nearly empty as it was still relatively early. Those who had managed to drag themselves in thus far milled about, sipping coffee and munching on the breakfast pastries someone had possessed the forethought to provide. Glancing around, she spotted Jules seated at the large, circular table that dominated the room where her housemate conversed quietly with one Jason Toliver.

Toliver, or "Tolly" as Jules liked to call him, was thirty-two, sandy-haired, hazel-eyed, and the kind of guy any single woman on the planet would have given her right arm to have. Or so Jules liked to say: Frankly, Hermione thought him somewhat conceited and he put her vaguely in mind of Draco Malfoy-minus the Death Eater tendencies, of course. Then again, Toliver was quite intelligent and, when he wished to be, he could be impossibly charming, which was a quality that Malfoy had never possessed. Even so, Hermione noted with a grim sort of satisfaction that the normally urbane Toliver looked nearly as exhausted as she felt.

"Howdy, Sunshine," Jules chirped as Hermione sank into the chair across from her. "Tolly here was just telling me all about last night's escapades."

Hermione snorted as Jason offered her a half-hearted shrug and an apologetic smile. "Escapades?" she replied with a scowl. "We're lucky Jones didn't kill us."

"Well, someone's in a fine mood this mornin,'" Jules rejoined laughingly and took a sip of the citrus-infused green tea she favored. Hermione merely "hmph-ed" in reply.

"Come now, Hermione," said Jason soothingly in his flat mid-western tones. "It wasn't as bad as all that. He let his potion go a bit too long, that's all. A mistake all of us made when we were first starting out." That remark was true enough: Mark Jones had only joined the department as an apprentice a few months before and Harmon's variation on the Strengthening Solution wasn't exactly a cakewalk, as the Americans like to say. Toliver's words, however, brought little comfort, and Hermione frowned as she pretended that her bad temper had everything to do with a distinct lack of sleep and having been nearly blown sky high, rather than the less than pleasant reminiscences that hovered still on the edges of her waking mind.

"Yes, well, remember those words the next time the kid tries to recreate Vesuvius," replied Hermione as Toliver indulged in a chuckle. Jules laughed outright and Hermione found herself cracking a smile.

Once Jason and Jules regained some semblance of composure, Hermione glanced around at the now full room and looked back to her friends. "Any idea what's going on?"

Toliver scoffed mockingly. "You mean there's something the indomitable Hermione Granger doesn't know?" At her sharp glance, the blond man grinned cheekily and then leaned forward conspiratorially. Dropping his voice, he said, "I don't know anything for certain, but word around the department is that the board's been harping about the progress of the Greythorne Project thus far-or, rather, the lack thereof. Apparently, they're getting a bit anxious since we're getting close to the deadline."

"We're months away from the deadline, Tolly," Jules stated with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Four months isn't really all that long, Blackridge," retorted Toliver. He raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a thoughtful sip. Swallowing, he went on, "I think the reason the board is so nervous is that, without this project's success, we stand the possibility of losing a good portion of our funding."

"We're making good headway, though," said Jules. "What'd they expect us to do?"

"Well, there's been talk of bringing in another Potions Master to consult," explained Toliver. "Someone who's knows what we're working with-the Wolfsbane, in particular." Here he turned to Hermione with a speculative look in his eye. "To be totally truthful, I think that Erin plans to turn the project over to you, Hermione. I mean, you did most of the preliminary research and you probably know more about the Wolfsbane Potion and its effects than anyone in the department. "

A bit flattered, but unsure, Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Jason," she said. "The Greythorne Project means a lot to the department. I don't think Erin would risk handing it off to someone else."

Jason snorted. "What are you talking about? You're the best brewer and researcher we have. With the exception of me, of course." He smirked cockily as Julia rolled her eyes at his jest. Sitting back in his chair, he took another sip of coffee. "But, like I said, everything I just told you is hearsay. No one knows anything for sure."

"Well, some help you are," muttered Jules just before the door swung open and Erin Montgomery-Reed stepped into the room.

Slender and petite, the head of the Hollinworth's potions sector was nothing at all like Hermione had imagined when she'd applied for a research position some three year ago. At only forty-five years of age, Montgomery-Reed was one of the youngest in her field to hold such a position of authority, which caused no end of trouble from her peers as they saw her as something of an upstart. Upon entering her interview, Hermione had known next to nothing about her would-be boss and half-expected the woman to be a dried-up old crone, something like a female counterpart to old Master Franklin and set in her ways. Therefore, she'd been rather surprised when she was greeted by a lively woman with clear blue eyes, dark hair, and a quick smile.

As of the moment, those sharp, pale eyes passed quickly over the room's occupants before their owner nodded once and called for attention. "Alright, people, let's be quick about this. We've got a lot of work to do over the next several weeks and no time to waste."

She looked them all over again before brandishing the folder of documents she carried and dropping them onto the table in front of her. "By this juncture, I'm sure the majority of you have heard about the possibility of another master joining our ranks in the very near future." Here she paused and smirked as several people ducked their heads. "I've called you all in this morning to confirm the rumor that I am, in fact, bringing in someone to aid in the Greythorne venture. Those of you who have worked on this project are well aware of its significance in terms of this facility's future. We stand to lose a great deal if we do not succeed. Therefore, I have brought in someone who is intimately familiar with the types of potions we are presently working with, the Wolfsbane in particular."

"Brought in?" one of their colleagues-a lab technician by the name of Ian Harris-inquired. "You mean you've already hired him?"

"As I said before, Harris, we're running short on time," explained Erin. "He'll be joining us later today for a run-down of lab procedure and protocol." With one nimble hand, she gestured to the folder before her, which proceeded to open and issue its contents neatly across the table. "In the meantime, these are the new rotation schedules as well as revised timelines for the Lavenhart and Thomason projects." She looked around the room again and clapped her hands once. "Right then. Get to work!"

The departmental rumor-mill apparently appeased and Toliver looking all the more smug for it, Hermione gathered her new timetable and coffee and headed for the exit, only to be brought up short by the sound of her superior calling her name. "Granger! A moment, please?"

Hermione paused and turned to face the older woman, who swiftly joined her at the door. "Of course."

Erin, bypassing her, stepped into the corridor and motioned toward her office. "My office in five. I've something I want to discuss with you." She offered Hermione a swift smile and set off down the hall. Hermione watched her go and then turned to find both Jason and Julia grinning at her.

"Not a word, Toliver," she said with false curtness as the man's grin widened. He merely waved her away prior to making his way over to the coffee pot.

"He'll be unbearable, you realize, if he's right about Montgomery-Reed handing the Greythorne Project over to you?" Jules questioned casually.

"Don't I know it," was all Hermione said. She smiled at Jules. "I'd best be off. Erin will be waiting."

Upon arriving at the entrance to her superior's domain, Hermione paused and drew a breath to calm her ever-increasing nerves. It was foolish, perhaps, for she truly had little to be nervous about, but she could count on one hand the number of times since she'd begun working for the Hollinworth's potions' department that its head had called her into a private meeting. Normally, Erin simply dropped by her office or the lab, said whatever it was she needed to say, and then departed as though it were completely normal for her to do so when most departmental heads were loath to "associate with the masses," so to speak.

Now, though, as she stared at the shining white pine of the office door, Hermione found herself transported back to adolescence, feeling as though she were standing outside McGonagall's-or, worse, Snape's-door. Not that the latter had occurred all that often; as a Gryffindor, she'd avoided the man like the plague and he her until one's presence was actively foisted upon the other.

Giving herself a hearty mental shake, Hermione lifted a hand to the wood and rapped sharply.

"Come in," came Montgomery-Reed's muffled voice and Hermione opened the door to discover her boss seated behind her desk, several folders open and spread before her as she scribbled in their margins. She glanced up as Hermione stepped deeper into the room. "Have a seat, Granger. I'll only be a second." While Erin continued her work, Hermione took the time to study the room at large.

It never ceased to amaze her how much the American Wizarding World differed from what she'd come to know in England. While the magical populace of her homeland appeared to be stuck somewhere in the late Victorian era in terms of clothing and decor, the Americans had marched straight into the twenty-first century. It had shocked her when she'd first arrived in the States, how modern everything seemed and how the Magical and Muggle worlds blended so seamlessly. Not long after their acquaintance, she had asked Jules how this was possible.

"We've never had the same political climate you guys had over in Europe," the other girl had explained as the two of them ate lunch in one of the courtyards of the Giles Institute's sprawling campus. "No Purebloods to cling to the old ways, really," she'd gone on to say. "Everybody, Muggle or Wizard, who ever came here, came for a fresh start, you know? And since the Trials, we magic folk have always tried to blend. It made things easier in the long run-still does. 'Sides, the Muggles only see what they want to see."

Erin's office exemplified such "blending." Brightly lit by the charmed lights overhead, the room was spacious and its walls were a utilitarian white that contrasted distinctly with the shining ebony marble of the floor. Straight lines, clean edges, and neutral colors made up the furniture: chairs of rich, taupe leather stood upon an ivory rug before the desk, which was itself a fine thing made of glossy mahogany whereas shelves of a darker wood lined one side of the room. Said shelves were filled with books and various potions' paraphernalia as well as the odd ingredient suspended in a bright blue or green liquid. A large window through which one could see the bustling street below dominated the wall behind Erin's desk while a black and white photographic print, its seascape subject Muggle and unmoving, adorned the wall opposite the book shelves. All in all, it was quite a nice space, if a little stark.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you in here." Erin's voice cut through Hermione's reverie and the younger woman snapped back to attention. Resting her chin on her interlaced fingers, Erin leaned forward on the desktop and smirked faintly at Hermione before saying, "Then again, perhaps not. I'm well aware that Toliver has been bolstering the rumor mill. The man spreads gossip faster than a sixteen year old girl."

Leaning back in her chair and schooling her features, Erin continued, "However, in this instance, I have to say that Jason was remarkably on target, so I won't beat around the bush. You came to the Hollinworth highly recommended, Granger. You graduated top of your class at Giles and Master Franklin himself declared you the finest apprentice he has ever had the pleasure to instruct. Your skills in research and potion-craft are unsurpassed by anyone under my direction, and I have every confidence that you will succeed in any venture you undertake. Therefore, I've decided that, for the next four months, you will work exclusively on the Greythorne Project." Here Erin rose, turning to pull a thick file from the cabinet behind her desk. "In fact, I'm handing all supervisory duties over to you."

Stunned and not a little embarrassed by her employer's praise, Hermione accepted the file with a nod. A rare occasion it was when a project of Greythorne's magnitude was delegated, and Hermione exalted at the prospect of being selected to head such an enterprise. It was the sort of chance that she had spent the last ten years of her life working towards.

"Of course, I don't expect you to go it alone, Granger. Merlin knows you'd only work yourself into the ground," continued Erin, reclaiming her seat while Hermione smiled sheepishly. It was no secret in the department that she had a tendency to become overly involved in her work. "You'll have a team of junior assistants in addition to the aid of one of the most acclaimed Potions Masters on the east coast: Sullivan Prince."

Recalling the name, Hermione was just about to ask how on earth Erin had managed to draw the purportedly brilliant, yet reclusive Prince out of the private sector when a brisk knock sounded at the door.

"And that would be the esteemed Master Prince now," Erin stated, rising and coming around the desk. "Granger, if you don't have any questions, I'll let you get to the lab. I want a list of your chosen assistants no later than tomorrow afternoon and weekly status reports thereafter."

"Yes, ma'am," said Hermione, gripping the folder tightly in her hands. "And thank you for this opportunity."

"No need to thank me," replied the dark-haired woman as she escorted Hermione to the door. "I wouldn't trust a task of this importance to anyone less. As I said before, I have the utmost faith in your abilities." She reached for the doorknob. "Now, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I must speak with our newest addition before I subject him to your tender mercies."

Hermione smiled at the elder woman's benign teasing and stepped back as her supervisor opened the office door to reveal the tall, imposing figure on the other side. There was a gasp-from her own throat, she only realized afterward-and the file tumbled from her suddenly numb fingers as Hermione came face-to-face with an older, but very much alive Severus Snape.

A/N: Well, here it is: the first chapter of The Fine Line Between. I've been toying with the idea of writing a Harry Potter fiction for a long while. I've had some terrible writer's block on my LOTR fic lately, so I started jotting down ideas for an HP fic and this is the one that caught my fancy. I also thought it would be nice to work on writing in a different point of view, seeing as I usually write in first person. This story is written in the third, focusing primarily on Hermione, so we'll just have to see how things go; I'm afraid that I'm rather rusty. Also, be forewarned that this fic is AU, EWE, and will feature SS/HG. If this pairing isn't your cup of tea, I suggest you move along now. I chose to write this fic because I enjoy alternate pairings and I think these two would share some interesting dynamics. More or less, I'm writing this story purely for my own enjoyment, but I hope that you'll enjoy it, too.

Cheers,

Wake