Hermione opened her eyes very slowly, she could feel her desk chair beneath her though what worried her presently was the time she'd lost. While it was wholly worth it, she hadn't forgotten what lay ahead of her. Trepidatiuosly, she raised her eyes to her clock, her shoulders sagging with relief as it read half-past midnight.

With a hand through her hair, she leaned down into her bag to pull out the potions she needed to take. She hoped it would be alright as she hadn't taken them right after eating. As she set out the vials she let her mind wander over all that she'd seen. The startling revelation she had while watching Lily and Snape interact with each other in regards to how her relationship with Ron had gone and more importantly how it had ended.

They were still best of friends, she would do anything for him and he still very much held a special place in her heart. She was absolutely certain that if they ever found themselves in a life or death situation she would act without hesitation. This begged the question, what happened next? She knew Snape had called Lily a horrible name but would have Lily, with her seemingly infinite compassion, have written him off forever? If not, what exactly had happened...how long did it take for them to reconcile? Had she died before Snape ever found out? A small frown dropped her shoulders, of all she'd seen she greatly doubted that Snape was ever given such a gift.

A soft sigh brought her hands to her tired eyes, her mind was still swirling with thoughts and observations. With a wary look to the vial containing the draught of peace, she took it into her fingers, a single drop landing on her tongue. With a gently clearing mind and heavy body, she moved to her bed. Curling up against the pillow, she wrapped her arms around and fell into what she hoped would be a blissful sleep.

Early morning brought a most unusual dream to her otherwise blissful sleep. A low groan left her throat as she felt an odd pull through her chest. Though instead of forming beside herself she appeared somewhere else entirely.

Hermione opened her eyes to a darkened dreamscape. She knew she was dreaming, she was most sure—yet still, everything felt much too real. Much too clear. It took her only a few moments to realize just where exactly she had formed, once she had her heart that had been at rest revved like a V8 engine.

She didn't want to be there, she never wanted to return there. The Shrieking Shack groaned as the night wind shifted through it. Hermione stood in a sort of frozen state and could do nothing but stare at the darkly stained wood that had been covered in light dust. Her body felt floaty and certainly outside of her control as she took a cautious step forward, her feet leaving behind no print. Her chest didn't move as she didn't actually need to breathe in the state she found herself but still, the stale air burned her senses.

The Shack shifted again, this time the light of the moon slipped through the cracks as though the universe itself wanted her to remember. Remember the day that one of the world's most underrated wizards lost his life in the name of love.

A soft glimmer in a darkened corner, just beneath a broken chair desperately called for her attention. It was only with her pure will alone that she managed to turn her eyes away from the dust and stale blood. With a deep swallow, her heart still running rampant in her ears, she moved towards it. She made a wide circle around where she knew he had fallen and carefully bent down.

Her eyes narrowed, just beneath the decayed wood, lay a bottle—a vial really—exceptionally small and devoid of dirt and debris. Inside, she could see something but it wasn't a liquid, rather it looked more like a muggle gel capsule. The color of it felt uniquely familiar but as she reached out to pull it closer the entire scene dissolved and she felt the stomach-turning feeling of falling back into her body.

Hermione woke with a gasp, her eyes wide as though she'd been holding her breath. Her chest heaved as a slow headache began to pulse near her temples. Her body felt oddly disconnected, as though her limbs had not yet been returned to her. She felt more exhausted than when she retired but in a different way. Like her soul was exhausted.

After a few moments to collect herself, her head turned towards her bedside clock, the numbers reading 5:55. She debated on going back to sleep, her body falling back onto her pillows as she rubbed at her temples. What was that dream about? Why did it feel dreadfully important? As the images slowly began to fade, one thing remained. The vial, hidden away. Was it really there? Was it just something her mind had created? Did she have the courage to find out?

Another low groan left her throat as she rolled over onto her stomach, it was too bloody early for such deep introspection. With a determined mumble, she pressed her face into her pillow and pulled her blanket over her head to block out the rising sun. Just a few more hours...

A deep pounding startled her awake some hours later. Her body was heavy and her mouth cottony as though she'd drunk herself to sleep. Though she hadn't done that in many years. She let out a frustrated noise trying to discern where exactly the sound was coming from when Harry's worried voice finally filtered through the fog of her brain.

With limbs that she had yet to gain full control over she pushed herself from her bed. Stumbling slightly to the door that was threatened to be blown off its hinges by the man on the other side, she removed her wards wandlessly before sharply pulling it open.

"Watcher." Harry partially exclaimed partially snorted with mirth. His eyes instantly took in the wildness of Hermione's hair that made her look like a disgruntled lion, "Long night?"

Hermione found no humor of her own, though she could feel the coolness of air across her stomach from her nightshirt getting caught under her braless chest. She pulled it straight with a small huff before opening her eyes enough to see Harry clearly, "What?"

Harry's smile twitched to her sharp tone but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd seen her in such a disheveled state though it had been a while, "Well aside from wanting to make sure you were alright, I thought you'd like to know you're going to be late for work."

"What?" Hermione squeaked suddenly wide awake, her head whipped back towards her clock that had been thrown to the floor no doubt in her sleep. The bells that were meant to wake her laying a few inches away, "Crisse Harry! Why didn't you wake me sooner?!" Hermione didn't give him the chance to reply instead she slammed the door in his face and rushed towards her closet.

In less than ten minutes Hermione was dressed and thumping down the stairs. Her hair was thrown up haphazardly in a bun as she adjusted her robes. She'd just seen the floo turn green when she suddenly remembered that she wasn't going to the office today. With a deep growl, she apparated upstairs returning to grab her bag that she'd nearly forgotten.

As she made sure everything was inside she felt a thought tick against her inner dialogue. Like a pebble on a windowpane, she paused allowing the thought to reveal itself. Her brow furrowed for a moment, her eyes turning over the journals neatly laid on her desk. She couldn't explain it then and possibly never would have been able to but she took one of Eileen's journals and slipped it into her robe pocket. With that done, she zipped it closed and turned on the spot.

Hermione's feet were moving the instant she felt the dirty pavement. The sun beating down from on high against her barely tamed curls. She was doing everything in her power to bring forth all the information she'd been asked to provide to the forefront of her mind. While simultaneously trying to push down all her insecurities and fears regarding her requested presence.

She forced a cordial smile onto her face as she spotted McGonagall standing in the shadow of the stoop, "Professor I'm sorry I'm late."

"Actually, you're right on time. I only got here myself a few moments ago." Minerva smiled kindly, partially hugging her former pupil before turning and removing the wards from the door, "Shall we?"

Hermione's smile became genuine from the show of affection and nodded before following her in. As soon as she crossed the threshold an eerie wind blew through her. She shivered involuntarily before looking at McGonagall who deeply frowned.

"You felt it too?" Hermione whispered, her wand now out.

"Yes...it's stronger than before..." Minerva had her wand out as well, her eyes narrowed as she moved down the hall towards the living room. Her wand tip glowed an eerie purple, the light of it growing as she grew nearer, "Here... it's somewhere in here..."

Hermione moved to follow but a shadow-like movement in the corner of her eye sharply turned her to the right. Nothing but the front door looked back at her and she pursed her lips. Moving cautiously she made it into the living room, she turned towards McGonagall who had her wand pointed towards the odd stain left on the wall.

"Could...it be curse residue?" Hermione asked gently, moving closer to the stain, she didn't dare to touch it but did press her wand to the aged wallpaper. She whispered a few incantations but nothing revealed itself. She lowered her wand with a puzzled look, "Whatever it is, it's not magical..."

Minerva nodded slightly raising her wand towards the ceiling, "Perhaps upstairs?"

Hermione followed her gaze before nodding just a bit, "I'll go..." She made her way from the living room to the stairs, the recent memory of Severus' fight with his father overlaying in front of her as she neared the steps. She shook her head to relieve herself of the image while another thought wormed its way through. Could the house simply be harboring negative energy? Lord knows how much this house had seen. It certainly wasn't unheard of in magical households but a muggle one?  She supposed it was surely possible.

The cold feeling returned as she came to the landing, the unmistakable feeling of being watched setting her teeth on edge. She kept her eyes sharp as she gently pushed open the door that once led to Severus' room, a room that he'd later turned into an office for collecting information on his students.

Keeping her wand out in front of her, she moved towards the corner where she believed McGonagall had been standing on the lower floor. She cast a few detection charms but came up with nothing. Nothing magical at least. She moved along the walls, her fingers lightly tracing the partially peeled wallpaper. Her eyes scanned the dull wooden floor for any signs of deformity.

The hall creaked behind her, though believing it simply to be McGonagall she hardly turned to look. Her nerves were already on edge from the air in the house when the soft smell of stale smoke curled under her nose. This sparked her nervous system, another creak and she turned on the spot, the tip of her wand out to defend herself.

The air in her chest caught, her eyes wide, the taste of cigarettes on her tongue. A black mist had formed in the doorway then vanished in the blink of an eye. Still, she was absolutely certain she'd seen something humanoid there. A harsh cough cleared her lungs and the scent faded. Her feet went backward just a touch as she rubbed her chest. Her heel dipped and for a split second, she thought the floor would give way though nothing so dramatic happened.

Still shaken up by whatever she'd seen, she cautiously turned her head down and flexed her foot. The action revealed a loose floorboard and her eyes narrowed slightly. Still mindful of the possible presence still lurking about the house she lowered herself down to the floor. With a glance behind at the doorway, which had returned to normal, she dug her nails into the wood and easily pried it loose.

A small metal box shined in the dim light. Old and partially rusted, it looked like it could have been an antique toolbox or something of the sort. Curiosity peeked, Hermione once more glanced behind her, though the feeling from before had gone. She pulled the box from its hiding place.

Mindful of why she was there she cast a few charms over it but once more found nothing suspect. Settling her wand down beside her she pulled the box closer and flipped the latch. Hermione felt an odd feeling roll through her chest when she took note of its meager contents. To her, it looked like something a child would have done to protect their precious possessions.

A woeful smile tugged at her lips when she pulled out a small metal figurine of an army soldier. The paint had long gone and when she flipped it in her palm she could very lightly see a handmade etching that read 'Daddy' on the bottom. Her lips pursed with emotion as she set it aside and pulled out a few jacks setting them with the soldier. There were a few childhood drawings, mostly of Snape and his mother, though there was one that had been neatly rolled and tied with a small ribbon. Curious as ever, Hermione slipped the ribbon from the fragile paper and unrolled it.

"Wow..." Hermione was completely in awe at how beautiful the colored pencil drawing was. There was no mistake on who had been the model, Lily's teenage visage perfectly captured. It nearly looked real with how detailed everything was, how her eyes seemed to shine on flat paper.

Reverently, she rolled the paper back up and replaced the ribbon, setting it aside with the other things. Next, she found a small photograph, partially faded from bad exposure. She flipped it around to see who was in it but the color on the front had been damaged in some way. She thought she could make out two people, but it was nearly impossible to tell exactly.

Setting that aside as well, she noted the next thing in the box was a series of posted letters. All tied together with old twine. She picked up the small packet and turned to try and see if they'd been opened when her thoughts were startled by the very unmistakable footsteps of her former professor.

Trying not to act like a kid whose hand had been caught in the cookie chair she set the letters back down and turned slightly on her knees, ignoring the soft thump of something slipping from her robes as she turned.

"Were you able to find anything, Miss Granger?" Minerva came to the doorway and raised her brow a bit at finding Hermione on the floor.

"Actually... Yes." Hermione picked up the box as McGonagall came closer, the sound of something rolling at the bottom catching her immediate attention, "Looks like a keepsake box."

"Quite." Minerva hummed softly, she didn't need her wand to tell her this was a simple object, "Anything else?" She took the offered box making a note of what had already been removed before her eyes caught on something beneath the letters.

"Well..." Hermione's face twitched as she tried to explain what she'd seen, "There definitely is a presence in the house...I saw something standing in the doorway only a few moments before I found this..." She pushed herself up, running her hands nervously down her robes, "It chilled the air and made an awful smell..."

"That is curious. I too could smell something downstairs." Minerva replied absently before slipping out one half of a broken wand from the bottom of the box, setting it in the lid she lifted the letters again, pulling out the second half and then an entire wand.

Hermione tried not to let her knowledge over what had been revealed show too obviously. She swallowed thickly as she tried to school her voice, "Snape's....?"

"Possibly, I don't know every witch or wizard by their wand," Minerva grinned trying to relieve the tension, "Though this one..." She pulled up the wand that still appeared intact, "This one...has been mended..." She turned it slightly in the light where one could just barely make out the seam of where it had been glued back together, "Though it never would have worked, the core has been damaged."

Hermione nodded slightly, she knew exactly to whom that wand had belonged. She wondered if Tobias had done the same to Eileen's wand as well, "Could be his mother's?"

"Could be." Minerva gave Hermione a critical look, something about her tone. less of a question and more of a confirmation. Still, she pushed it aside for now as there shouldn't have been any way for Hermione to have known that, "Either way, these items are important."

Hermione nodded, "Was it what you were looking for?" She asked cautiously as she leaned down with her to place the items gingerly back into the box.

"It might help, yes." Minerva was just about to turn away when she noticed something still remaining in the small hole. She handed the box over to Hermione before leaning down. The old journal felt oddly warm compared to the cold space between the floor, though when Minerva brought it up she was certain she'd heard Hermione gasp.

Hermione had to hold her breath to keep from cursing herself. She knew exactly what it was that McGonagall held but didn't dare trust her voice to ask about it. Instead, she just thanked her lucky stars that she'd removed the charm that automatically pulled anyone who opened it straight into the memories.

"It's a journal... though not Severus'... Eileen's." Minerva flipped through a few more pages but was certainly more pleased with this find though she hardly let it show.

"Forgive me for asking professor but..." Hermione had instantly noticed the change in her former professor's demeanor change from resignation to hope, "What do you need these objects for?"

Minerva looked over her glasses, her lips twitching for a moment before a perfectly smooth reply left her lips, "Well, as you know Potter had commissioned a painting of Severus to be added to the other Headmasters of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, without any sense of who Severus was as a person the magic therein has not given life to it...And I must admit I do miss his company, as cantankerous as it was. I feel if I should not try something Potter's virtuous act may have been for naught."

Hermione felt an odd relief roll through her, she couldn't have explained it she'd tried. Still, she couldn't help that small nibbling of guilt that remained, "So... How does that work exactly?"

Minerva's brows rose, "I'm surprised you don't already know." She smiled kindly when Hermione blushed softly, "To put it simply, memories whether ones shared by the person to whom the painting was made while they were alive or...In this case, second hand, help the process. But of course, ones direct from the person are best."

Hermione felt her relief washing away, her guilt over her previous finds returning. Desperately, she tried not to let it show when an absent thought came to mind, "Didn't... didn't Professor Snape have..." She furrowed her brows while she tried to remember a conversation she'd had with Harry what seemed like lifetimes ago, "A cabinet or something with memories in it?"

"Oh, yes though sadly it was destroyed during the final battle, not a single vial remained intact." Minerva sighed softly as she looked down at the box in Hermione's hand, "Though hopefully this," She paused raising the journal before tucking it into her robes, "Will help."

Hermione returned her soft smile and nodded slightly. Though she was burning inside to know what the letters contained she convinced herself that she'd never be privy to their information. Instead, she leaned back down to collect the rest of what she'd removed, "What about the presence?"

"We shall keep looking for a source I suspect..." Minerva turned to look at the innocent doorway, "Hopefully we will find our answers."

Hermione nodded dutifully, coming back to her feet. She closed the latch on the box offering it out to McGonagall who shrunk and slipped it into her pocket before turning back to the hallway.

Hermione followed her out, though her focus had suddenly been cluttered by what she'd just heard. If that was truly why McGonagall was there, surely time wasn't of the essence and she could simply return the journals when she'd finished with them. Of course, she'd have to come clean about taking them in the first place. Though surely, her former head of house would understand even if she did have to withstand a tongue lashing. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, right? It's not like she could be expelled.

A small snort left her as she came to the threshold of the stairs though her humor quickly left her when her nose once more filled with stale smoke. Her body wiped around, this time she could see the figure lurking much more clearly. Though their ghostly shape was heavily warped in its darkness.

"Tobias...!" Her startled revelation had no sooner left her lips when burning cold hands had come from nowhere. Her body pitched backward outside of her control as her feet found no purchase. Her stomach flipped as the aged man's face suddenly dissolved, a sharp darkness taking away the world.