Summary: Seventeen-year old Hermione Granger is home for a quiet Christmas with her parents. When she finds a man she had thought to be a traitor on her doorstep, Hermione becomes the unwilling traveler of a world she never imagined could exist--a world of shadow and legend, where each step is fraught with danger.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and this probably will not change for the duration of this story.

Chapter One: A Breath of Winter

There was something in the snowy air that made the dogs restless. Hermione shifted the heavy book in her lap and frowned. The two wolfhounds were pacing by the windows of the living room, hackles raised. Every now and again one of them would emit a low whine that caused the hairs on Hermione's neck to prickle. Unease took her as the wind whistled hollowly through the skeletal oaks outside. Her father glanced up from his newspaper and whistled softly. "A storm's coming, sure as the night. I don't think I've seen weather like this for years."

Snapping the tome shut, Hermione crept to one of the windows and peered out. "The dogs know something's up. Are we set for food and everything?"

"Yup. Your mother did a massive shopping run earlier today. You know how she likes to worry," he said winking. "We should be fine."

"Hmm." There was no precipitation yet as far as Hermione could tell, but the familiar trees and streets looked wrong somehow, as though she was seeing them through a distorted crystal. Crossing the room again, Hermione yawned as she began gathering her school papers and books. "Think I'll head up for bed." She smiled. "Love you, Daddy."

Her father stood and kissed the top of her curls. "Good night, sweetheart. Come and wake your mother and me if you decide to have a midnight snack." He grinned at her and settled back down to finish his paper.

Hermione threw a fond look over her shoulder as she headed for the staircase. Much as she missed Hogwarts, it was good to be home. She and her dad had always been especially close, even up through her teen years when most other girls grew aloof and began distancing themselves from their parents. Hermione smiled again. Not that she was most girls.

Once in her room, Hermione deposited her schoolwork on her desk. Most of it was fairly simple for her to complete, and all she had left to do before term started was to practice some wand movements for Charms. Biting her lip, she checked her planner to be sure she hadn't missed a Transfiguration essay or Arithmancy chart. Finally satisfied that she was on target, Hermione drew back the heavy covers on her bed and slipped in, sighing gratefully at the warmth. She had thought to catch up on some light reading before turning out her light, but her eyes began to close the minute she hit the sheets, and she was out before she knew it.

Hermione opened her eyes some hours later, realizing she had forgotten to switch off her lamp. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to block the glare with her pillow. It didn't work. "Merlin's pants," she muttered, sitting up. She was about to step into her slippers when bizarrely, it occurred to her that something might try and grab her ankle from under the bed. Fully awake now, Hermione pulled the blankets more closely around her, suddenly terrified. Now she thought about it, there was an eerie cast to her closet, too...something terrible lurked in the silence of her familiar room, she was certain. What if she suddenly heard something breathing right behind her?

But Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. "Come now, Hermione." She chided herself. "Stop acting a child." She swallowed and slowly slid her feet to the floor, pulling on her wool slippers, heart beating out a hole in her chest. When nothing came out of the darkness beneath her bed, she got up, grabbed her wand from her desk and padded downstairs, leaving the light on in her room.

After a few minutes, Hermione felt a bit better. She had started a fire that was now crackling merrily in the hearth, and put on some water for hot tea. But when she settled on the sofa to wait for the water to boil, the fire threw long grinning shadows against the walls. She gripped her wand tightly in her pocket, unable to shake the odd feeling that this was no ordinary storm.

She was just checking the pot when a gust of wind blew a hard object repeatedly against her door. Shrugging, she was about to rummage in the cupboard for some chamomile when she froze. That wasn't the wind at her door.

Someone was pounding desperately, trying to get inside.

More alert than she had ever been, Hermione palmed her wand. "Who is it?" She called, moving warily to the entrance.

A wheezing, gasping sound met her ears. "Please, let me in! I...just please!" Hermione bit her lip. She was no fool, she knew not to let in strangers. The pounding didn't cease. "Please!" came the choked cry. "Open the door!" There was a note of terrible urgency in the person's voice. "I really shouldn't..." she said. But nonetheless, Hermione slid back the deadbolt and cracked open the heavy wooden door. "Who are y--". Her jaw slackened. The man kneeling on her front porch looked an awful lot like...

"You!" She gasped, fumbling her wand. "What do you want here?" Hermione demanded, breathing hard. She brandished her wand threateningly in his face.

But the man was looking behind himself, clearly panic-stricken. He turned back to her. Shock outlined his pale features briefly when he saw who it was. "Miss Granger," he began, holding out his empty hands. "Please. Things are not as you think...just let me in, I can explain everything."

"Explain why you betrayed the Order? Oh, I know why, you traitor. I know why you killed Dum--"

"I'm not a traitor and I shall tell you everything, just let me inside, please, before it's too late!"

Hermione shook her head. "I was the one who trusted you before. I fought with Harry and Ron, I swore Dumbledore knew what he--"

"Hermione Granger, you insufferable girl!" He bellowed. A quality in his voice made her stop. "Please," the man murmured in a gentler tone. "I know you to be fair-minded. Things are not what they seem. But we are not alone in this darkness, and you must allow me inside. Please..."

She stared at him for a heartbeat, taking in his bloodshot eyes, ragged cloak, and the white anguished face she had once known so well. Then she backed away from the entrance, motioning him inside. The man stumbled in gratefully after her, but Hermione kept her wand trained fiercely on him.

"Close the door and lock it," she ordered, though she suspected he would have gladly anyway. "Now turn around," she said when he had finished. The man did so, leaning against the door for support. Their eyes met for a breathless instant before he fell to his knees, weariness etching deep lines on his face.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You have my gratitude..." When he fell forward. Hermione sighed and quickly caught him in her arms. Together, they managed to stumble to the sofa. The man managed a weak grin. "I didn't think you'd help me," he slurred.

"Well you're hardly in a place to fight me, and I have a feeling I'd be dead already if you wanted it. What are you running from, anyway, Severus Snape?"

"Shadows," he mumbled, eyes dangerously close to closing. "They have my wand, and I can't stop them."

She raised an eyebrow. "In a Muggle neighborhood?"

"Magic is the milleau of a Shadow. Without it, they are confused, unable to function..."

"That's why you needed to get inside. There's--"

"Magic lingering outside, even in a Muggle residence. You are a quick girl, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes, but then a sudden thought made Hermione stiffen. "Hang on a minute...I practice magic...you were surprised when you saw me, Professor, you didn't--"

Long fingers had suddenly snaked out and found the vulnerable part of her neck. Hermione fell limp. "Didn't think of that," said the man called Severus Snape hoarsely. Grimacing in pain, he groped for her wand, and throwing his arms tightly around the girl, disappeared from sight with a loud crack.

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Mr. Granger awoke to the sound of a whistling kettle. "Hermione," he called, not waking his wife beside him. "Hermione, I think the water's done. I'll be down in a second." He rolled gently off the bed so as not to rouse the sleeping woman, stuffed his arms into a dressing gown, and headed down the wooden stairs.

"For goodness' sake my girl, turn off that kettle!" He said laughing. But when he rounded the corner, no one was there.

Some deep instinct made Hermione wake in silence. She was lying in a bed, and there was a man sprawled next to her. Confusion made her head swim. She sat up. Hermione remembered going down to make tea, something about a storm, and...

Hardly daring to breath, Hermione turned her head to examine the man beside her. It was Severus Snape. She groaned softly. What had possessed her to let him in to her home? Snape, a traitor to the Order and the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Not to mention countless others. This man who had once been her professor. A Death Eater.

But then what was she doing here in this...cabin? Shack? And what had Snape so panicked? Hermione tilted her head, still gazing at the apparently unconscious man. Nothing made sense: he'd Apparated her against her will, but hadn't it been...hadn't it been to protect them both? He had mentioned something about Shadows, and something in the way he said the word made Hermione think it with a capital S. Shadows that weren't merely caused by the absence or blockage of light.

She had sensed something terrible lurking in the darkness. Could that be it?

She inched closer to Snape. Hoping he wouldn't stir, she pulled her wand free from his lax fingers. She felt better with the wood in her hand.

After a final glance at her companion, Hermione rose from the bed, wishing she wore more than pajamas and a dressing gown. They were in a one-room cabin, with a bed, a table and some chairs, and a small stove and fireplace. Through the single window, Hermione could see that snow was falling thickly on the trees around them. There was no sign of other civilization, no cars or roads or tracks. Just forest.

Logically, Hermione knew that she'd likely freeze to death if she strayed outside. But intuition warned her not to leave the cabin, to not even touch the door. Something was out there, waiting.

Shadows, he'd said. They have my wand, and I can't stop them.

Hermione shivered. She had to think of something else.

With her exploration complete, she could come up with nothing else to do, so she ventured closer to the man in the bed. Severus Snape. In sleep his face seemed more relaxed, his mouth slightly open. His breath came harshly, almost painfully. Judging by his haggard appearance, she guessed he'd been running for a long time. When shivered under the heavy blankets, Hermione felt a small unwilling bubble of pity.

She wasn't aware she was staring until Severus Snape's eyes fluttered open. They looked at one another for a long moment, before Hermione broke eye contact and sat on the bed.

"You're awake."

"I would appear to be so." His voice, though cracked and thin, sounded amused.

"Are we safe here?"

"Not particularly. But the Shadows cannot get inside, if that's what you mean.

She toyed with questions in her mind, trying to think of a way to ask them. Deciding to be blunt, she looked at his face. "I need answers. You can't just kill my headmaster, be a Death Eater, waltz in to my home and mumble something about Shadows or whatever and then Apparate me out and expect me to be fine with being left in the dark." She spilled this all out very fast, and then realized she had ran out of breath several words ago.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Hermione glowered back.

"I won't begrudge you an explanation, Miss Granger," he said softly. "I told you as much in your home."

"I--oh. Okay, then."

"But first, I suggest you start a fire. Conjuring flames is a specialty of yours, is it not?"

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. "I'm sorry...I just thought you said Shadows were attracted to magic, so I didn't start one..."

His eyes crinkled. "It was a good thought, Miss Granger. But we should be fine."

His words were an eerie echo of her father's just a few hours earlier, and she had to hide her face. As she bent to the hearth, Hermione couldn't help wonder how he knew fires were her specialty. Then again, she supposed she'd always known that Severus Snape was a very, very observant man.

She settled down on the bed, as far away from the man as she could, and fixed him with a piercing stare. "Well?"

He sighed. "This shall be difficult. Where should I start? Back when"--he winced--"when Albus died? Or why we're here?"

"Explaining those Shadow-things would be a good start. Or tell me why you murdered Professor Dumbledore. I don't care. Just explain."

Snape sighed. "Very well. But I warn you," he paused, searching for words. "I warn you that there are some things even I do not understand yet. However," he held out a hand to stop Hermione's retort. "However, I shall do my best.

"I learned many years ago that Voldemort wasn't an easy master. If a task wasn't performed to his standards--or, Merlin forbid, if one failed at anything--well, let's just say the consequences would be severe. I am a Death Eater, Miss Granger. But I am also a spy for the Order, and that can put me in a very sticky position, as you might guess.

"By the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts, things had changed. I reported to Albus that Voldemort was becoming antsy, for no apparent reason. He began to lose control on occasions, and tortured his followers for pleasure, something he'd always avoided in the past. Voldemort was becoming obscenely paranoid, in short. The causes behind this, I'm afraid, remain a mystery.

"But the Dark Lord is brilliant still. He devised a new method of controlling us, his faithful Death Eaters. Many magical creatures share our world, as I'm sure you're aware. We know of many, but possibly even more creatures are unknown to us. Shadows are one example of such beings. Well somehow Voldemort discovered them. Or created them. Who knows? Anyway, once loosed upon a witch or wizard, they...they appear to possess him or her...almost as though they take over the mind itself.

"And when the Dark Lord set them on me, I experienced a feeling of elation...so much power, so much...want!" Snape frowned, lost in thought. "I remember my actions then. I remember the look in Albus' eyes when I came to him that night..."

Hermione squirmed. This was absurd, of course...but pieces began fitting together. Harry had told her that Snape seemed different, that he had glimpsed a flash of scarlet in his eyes...they had both agreed it was the evil in him. What if it was something far more sinister? And Snape as a spy...well. They had already guessed at that.

The man continued his account brokenly, and the bubble of pity Hermione had felt earlier expanded in her chest. "Anyway, I remember what I did, but my feelings were not my own. I wasn't myself...and I think I didn't know the things I know. There was simply this urge in me: Complete the task. Try to understand, I was me, but I wasn't me."

"Did Voldemort release you once it was done?" Hermione asked, trembling.

Snape's eyes were black a sable and held an intensity that frightened her. "He did. And then I knew, of course, what I had done. Could you live with yourself, Miss Granger? Knowing you murdered your only friend, your only hope, in cold blood?"

She didn't trust herself to speak.

"No," he mused. "No one can. It's part of our humanity, that our actions are our own. That we choose." His eyes grew distant. "I am immune to many poisons, and even to Veritaserum. I can resist the Imperius curse...and as for the Cruciatus...well, I can withstand that, too. But to desire that which my soul abhors, Miss Granger...that is true agony.

"So to continue the story, I shall say, to put it simply, that my true allegiance was discovered. I am spy no more. I managed to escape, against all probability. But naturally, Voldemort set those things after me."

His haunted blazing gaze had traveled back to Hermione, and he seemed at once proud and ashamed, unyielding and vulnerable. "I am a hunted man...a fugitive of both the Light and the Dark. Will you seek vengeance on me now, Miss Granger? I am a traitor, a murderer, a Death Eater. Would you deliver me to the Shadows? Would you weep for my death?" His voice had fallen to a dark whisper that pierced her soul. She knew then, deep in her bones, that the man had been entirely truthful, at a terrible cost.

She met his gaze levelly, and then said clearly: "I believe you, Professor Snape. I believe you." There was a pause in which Hermione attempted to gather her emotions. "Now, how do we fight these things off? What's the next step?"

His expression didn't exactly change, but for a moment, Severus Snape's eyes spoke of such a deep, soul-shattering relief that seemed so intimate Hermione couldn't breath. Briefly, she thought to touch his cheek, but then the hardness was back in him, and Hermione knew that she would never again feel pity for Severus Snape. Sorrow, perhaps, or pain. But now the respect she felt for this man was too great to ever be counted as pity.

So when he finally spoke, Hermione straightened her back and listened.

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you like it, leave a review and I'll continue the story.

Oh, and I found the title in The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot.

Cheers,
Vanya Khaleesi