Harry Potter 1. Decisions

Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot is mine.

A/N: The wonderful **April** and **Gyre Falcon** beta-ed this. Thanks!

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"S-Severus!"

Severus Snape's head snapped up at the sound of someone banging into his office. But when he saw who it was, he replaced the alarm on his face with a frown.

"What are you doing here? The graduation ceremony starts in an hour."

Standing by the door was Hermione Granger in a long black robe, and a gold-trimmed pointed hat flopped on top of her frizzy hair. She was currently trying to catch her breath, a hand on her heaving chest, and taking in her surroundings. His office had never been messier: cardboard boxes were scattered all over the floor, filled with phials and parchments; the bookshelves on the wall were empty; and the large mahogany desk that used to sit proudly in the middle of the room was gone. Then she cast her eyes at him. He was in his usual black robe and cloak, but his chin-length hair was disheveled and sticking to his perspiring face. His image of absurdity was completed with the glass fish bowl in his hand.

Whatever mirth she had felt disappeared when she remembered the reason that brought her here. She swept the small smile off her lips. "What is this I heard about you getting fired?"

"Ah." He put the aquarium down carefully and rubbed his face. "So he went to you after I wouldn't give in."

"What are you talking about?" she questioned, moving toward him, gingerly avoiding the boxes in her way. "No one came to me. I overheard Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout chatting just now."

"So I am the gossip of my colleagues," he said irritably, picking up a pile of books near him. "Well?"

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she demanded, now standing right next to him.

"Nothing is going on. Go back up and prepare for your speech, Head Girl," he replied without looking at her.

She snatched the books from his hand and threw them onto the nearest chair. Severus glared at her. She glared back, her gaze rivaling his in intensity.

"Severus, you will tell me what I want to know," she said indignantly, poking his chest with a finger. "Who did you think had come to me?"

"The Headmaster," he replied in a resigned tone, understanding that there would be no other way than to be honest. "I told him about us yesterday, and he was not exactly supportive. He recommended I end our relationship, and when I refused, he dismissed me."

"But why?" she asked, calming down.

"We aren't exactly the cutest couple out there, my dear," he said dryly, pulling her close. "This isn't wholly unexpected."

"I know." She sniffed at his shirt. Hmm, dusty. "Though, I don't understand. I mean, I thought the wizarding world is supposed to be more accepting about this age difference thing."

"It's not the age. It is our previous relationship. We have our own code of traditional propriety, be it archaic or not," he explained above her hat. "To the majority, I will always be your professor."

"But I am not your student anymore!"

"You were when we started."

"That's not fair." She glowered.

"Very few things are, I am afraid," he said, letting go of her. "Come to think of it, the Order's just worried about you."

"The Order? You mean the entire--"

"I wouldn't be surprised if Albus informed all of the members the second I left his office." His lips curled into a sneer. "They are all worried. What good can a gruesome ex-Death Eater dingbat do to their star Gryffindor?"

"Severus!" she cried at his self-derogatory comment.

"They never trusted me," he continued bitterly and resumed packing. "And they have every reason not to, mind you. I am still keeping both my options open."

"You mean you are still being disloyal to the Light _and _the Dark." She pursed her lips. "One day, something is going to happen because of your indecisiveness."

"Indecisiveness?" he echoed, his voice slightly muffled behind the boxes. He stood back up and folded his arms. "Hardly, my dear. Not everything has to be in black and white, and I am very determined to tread the graying grounds. This, of course, is beyond your Gryffindor comprehension."

"Spare me your Slytherin wisdom," she sighed. "Come, the ceremony is about to--"

"No." He shook his head. "The Headmaster has specifically instructed me to not be seen and leave quietly."

"But surely you can come to-- it's _my _graduation, Severus!"

"I don't like this anymore than you do."

"I--" She stopped short, then stated with resolve, "If you're not going, I am not going either."

It was his turn to goggle. "It's your graduation, Hermione."

"So I've said."

"And having the highest scores on the N.E.W.T.s in over a century..." He trailed off at the all-too-familiar gleam in her eyes. "You are not serious about not graduating, are you?"

"Indeed I am, my _dear,_" she replied, doing a fine imitation of him.

"That is..." It was not common for the Potions Master to be caught off guard, but Severus suddenly found himself in the uncomfortable position of being speechless. "Hermione, you can't do that. Not for... it's not worth it."

"I will be the judge of that," she said, her voice heavy with reproach. She took out her wand and shrank a cauldron beside her. Turning to the stunned man, she spoke, "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to help me?"

Severus stared at her hunched back in the middle of a sea of cardboard boxes, her graduation hat lying forgotten on the floor, and shook his head. This woman was created by some unknown power for the precise purpose of teaching him the meaning of the word 'unbelievable.'

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"Very clever move, Dumbledore," Alastor Moody growled, both his hand on the table. He was the only one standing in the room.

"Alastor," Albus Dumbledore sighed. It was no use. The other man would not see reason. "How do you suppose I should handle this, then?"

"Not by sending him out of Hogwarts!" Moody bellowed, making everyone around the table jump. His magical eye bobbled in its socket. "He's our bloody _spy_, Albus!"

"He's dating Hermione Granger," Dumbledore explained again with extraordinary patience. "A student, Alastor. Can't you see what this says about his morality?"

"Well, what do you expect from an ex-Death Eater?" Moody challenged. "He's been our spy for twenty-odd years. Don't you think it's a little late to worry about his moral principles?" He looked exasperatedly across the table at the old wizard. Why wouldn't he see reason?

"Yes, yes." Dumbledore took off his glasses and started to clean them with the hem of his robe. "But abusing his position to--"

"Does Snape look like the seductive type to you? I assure you, he--"

"Frankly, even I am still in shock."

"What _is _there to be shocked at? May I remind you that it is you who placed her in his training?"

"Well, by training I certainly did not imply that they should start an improper relationship!"

"The times have changed, Albus." Moody rubbed his deformed nose tiredly. "For the sake of the Light--"

"For the exact same reason I have--"

"Given up the love of your life; so we all know."

"Oh, so you think sacrificing the love of one's life is easy."

"If this is about _you_--"

"I am not getting personal, Alastor. This is about the Order."

"Just because--"

"Shut up! The both of you!"

The two old wizards snapped towards Harry Potter, who was on his feet. His hands were balled into shaking fists. Ron Weasley sat quietly next to him, his face a perfect shade of white that contrasted Harry's flushed one nicely.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, breaking the awkward silence that had descended the room. The boy had every right to be shouting. His best friend just eloped with his most-hated professor, after all.

"I am so- so _sick _of this whole ordeal!" He slammed his fist on the table angrily. "Can't we just bring them back and- and- _O__bliviate _them?"

"Harry!" Molly Weasley exclaimed in a horrified voice.

"We'll risk losing our best minds," Remus spoke up calmly, leaning back in his chair.

"We _have _to bring them back," Moody emphasized and leaned forward, looking around the table at each and every member of the Order, trying to get them to see his point. "We must not antagonize Snape and Hermione. 'The enemy of our enemies is our friend,' the Dark Lord knows that very well. Does anyone here wish to see two of our best go over to the Dark side? Think of what horribly valuable assets they would be to the Dark Lord!"

He glared around, his magical eye hoping to penetrate the thick skulls of his fellow members and see what they were thinking. Some lowered their heads, some wore a blank face, and still some looked back at him defiantly. He understood that many of them had been on the receiving end of Snape's vile temper and never believed that he was reformed. He also knew that many had suffered because of the Death Eaters. But was this hatred a reason adequate enough for them to be illogical?

"Come on, people, this is about nothing other than self-preservation," he stressed again, but his shoulders started to slump.

"I, I reckon he's right," a voice said timidly. Everyone turned to look at Ron, who was still extremely pallid. "We really can't afford to lose them to You-Know-Who. We have to bring them back... who knows? Hermione may come around to herself anytime."

The hopeful note beneath this was too much for the members of the Order to refute, and one by one they agreed reluctantly to seek the missing couple back and have a meeting with them. Moody sighed, in relief this time, and volunteered to be the messenger.

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Hermione turned in the bed. When she couldn't feel the familiar warmth beside her, her eyes snapped open.

_Where is he?_

She squinted in the dark. The candles had long since dwindled to useless tads of wax on the nightstand, and the room was extremely shadowy. She looked around and it was definite: her lover was not in the room. Feeling around the table, she grabbed her wand and whispered, "_L__umos._"

Immediately the tip of her wand glowed, forcing her to narrow her eyes further. Slowly adjusting to the light, she ran a hand across the silk bedspread. It was cold. Severus had left some time ago. Slipping off the bed and into her slippers, she made her way across the cramped room, carefully avoiding the packed boxes. She had yet the time to unload them all.

Just when she was about to go into the living room, she heard voices coming from the other side of the door and her hand paused on the brass knob. She pressed her ear closely to the thin wooden door.

"So how does he know about this so quickly again?"

"He has his ways, Severus." The voice was vaguely familiar to Hermione. She listened harder.

"Of course." She could imagine him running a hand in his hair when he said this. "Then I am sure he knows what she is, too?"

"Yes, and he respects your choice," the other replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We understand that she is annoyingly sharp. She will prove to be very useful to the cause."

"Ah, so you have presumed that she knows about us and the _cause._"

"Doesn't she?"

"Yes," Severus replied in mock defeat.

"Excellent." The other clapped his hands twice, and said, "He wants to see her, Severus."

"I suppose." Severus' words were careful. "The next meeting, then?"

"In my humble abode."

"Very well. She'll be delighted to meet our Lord."

An uneasy chill ran down her spine. There was only one man in this entire universe that Severus would refer to as his 'Lord.' She slowly, discreetly pulled open the door--

_Creak._

So much about being discreet, she thought dryly to herself as the two men in front of the fireplace looked up. She held up her wand and faked a yawn.

"Severus?" she called, her voice perfectly bleary.

"You're awake." Severus stood up and the other man followed as she walked over to them. She stopped next to her lover, and turned to the other man. The man she saw nearly took away her breath.

"Hermione, I'd like you to meet Lucius Malfoy." Severus gestured formally. "He's one of my closest friends. He's in the _group._"

"We've met before, Severus," Lucius replied, his silver eyes flickering in amusement. He took her hand and planted a small kiss on it. "Nice to meet you again, Miss Granger. Or should I say, Lady Snape."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Malfoy," she replied politely, wondering what a convicted Death Eater and Azkaban escapee would want with them in the middle of the night.

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	2. A Bad Meeting with the Good Side

Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot is mine. 

A/N: The wonderful **April** and **Gyre Falcon** beta-ed this. Thanks!

A/N2: I'm sorry to inform you all that, unlikeformy previous stories, I won't be able to do individual responses. I'll answer any specific questions you have through e-mail. Again, this fic is a challenge response. The rules of the challenge can be found on my LJ: zanthia122. A lot of you seem to be concerned about the plot, or have applauded me on making Dumbledore more ambiguious than usual. That's all part of the challenge. All I ask is for you to wait and see. I promise this will be worth it.

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Half an hour later, Hermione found herself standing by Severus in front of the fireplace, bidding Lucius Malfoy goodbye like they were long-acquainted friends. As the blond man disappeared in the emerald flames, she turned to face her lover.

"You could have at least informed me during supper that your friend was coming over."

He shrugged. "I had no knowledge of it prior to his visit."

"What are we going to do? Are we really dining with Voldemort?"

"Well, I am open to other suggestions." He placed his arm around her shoulder and fixed his gaze on her. "The Dark Lord knows of your existence. It's too late to back out. Or do you regret being with me in the first place?"

"Of course not!" she protested.

"Then relax. I will allow no harm to be inflicted on you," he replied, his face resolute in the flickering light. She smiled hesitantly to him. He tightened his embrace, bending low to meet her lips--

"Ooof," someone coughed. The couple snapped towards the sound, as the fire again glowed green and a wooden leg clunked onto the floor. Alastor Moody stepped out of the fireplace and shook himself. Hermione cringed as soot fell from Moody's coat onto the rug on which he stood.

The ex-Auror glanced around the room with speculative eyes before settling them on the embracing couple. His disfigured face broke into a grin while his magical eye rotated madly in its socket.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Turning away from the blushing Hermione, Severus shot a glare at the intruder. "Alastor?"

"I am sorry, Severus," said Moody, his upper lip still jutting out. "I couldn't help but Floo right over-- you two took me way too long to locate. Glad that you aren't retired to bed yet."

"Can't say I echo your sentiment," Hermione muttered warily.

"What can we do for you at this ungodly hour?" Severus asked, his voice detachedly polite.

"Albus wants to talk to you, Severus."

"Albus doesn't want anything to do with me," he said coldly, his brows wrinkling.

Moody cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. "Well, he's changed his mind. He decided that we should have a talk, to resolve our... _differences._"

"That is Dumbledore's idea?" Hermione snorted, showing that she did not for one second believe in his words. Severus placed a hand on her arm.

"Well, in that case, Alastor," he told Moody, "we will talk. But that does not mean I'm prepared to give in to every nonsensical whim of that old goat," he added warningly.

"Naturally, Severus," said Moody in an even tone, "naturally. So... I assume I'll be seeing you on Thursday?"

"Thursday, the usual time."

"Good, good. I'll have to report to Albus, then..." He trailed off with a satisfied smile on his face, and turned to leave the way he came.

As their second uninvited visitor of the night departed, Hermione and Severus glanced at each other, both momentarily speechless. Then, she spoke dryly, "What, now we're the most popular of guests?"

"Doesn't the knowledge of being loved just warm you all over?"

She laughed briefly at his sarcasm, then grew sober again. "Why did you agree, Severus? The Order disposed of you like a used dish-cloth, just because you wanted to be with your one true love."

"No, but because I brewed some highly illegal lust potion and spiked an underage witch's pumpkin juice and dragged her into bed."

She stared at him. He spread his hands and shrugged. "Well, that's what they think."

She sighed. "Honestly, Severus," she said, "this is a slightly serious situation we have here. Are you really planning to meet with the Order and your Voldemort on the same night? How are we--"

"The Dark Lord is not mine." He held her waist and piloted her towards their bedroom. "You, on the other hand..."

"Severus!" She patted his hand away exasperatedly.

"I'd like to have both my options weighed, Hermione, before I make a decision. Or, better, a compromise," he paused slightly at the look on her face. "Don't worry. I've been a spy for longer than you've been alive."

She regarded him for a silent moment, then proceeded to ask the one thing that every woman in her situation would ask--"Merlin, what am I going to wear?"

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She finally decided on an ankle-length, somewhat form-fitting burgundy robe. During that hour of fretting, Severus snidely offered to lend her his black attire, and shared a hearty snicker with the mirror when it pointed out that his straight robes would make her look like she was pregnant. Hermione huffed under her breath about inconsiderate men not understanding the woes of women, and made a mental note to get rid of the mirror when Severus wasn't looking.

When the laces around the collar were smoothed and the sleeves straightened, she waved her wand and deftly tied her mane into a fairly presentable bun. Severus walked over to her and began massaging her exposed nape.

"For a girl who hasn't much beauty to start with, you don't look too bad," the mirror commented.

She glared at it in the hope of her pure venom would be able to shatter it, and then relaxed when she noticed her reflection. The bun had achieved the desired effect-- she no longer appeared underage, but an elegant, self-respecting lady. In fact, even though her height barely reached his chin, she thought they looked..._ appropriate,_ if that was the word.

Severus seemed to be thinking along the same line, for he bent down and whispered in her ears, "You look like my perfect partner--"

She smiled at him.

"--now can we go?"

If the mirror had lips, it would have been smirking as Hermione shoved an elbow into her lover's abdomen.

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"Is it me, or is this place practically freezing?"

"_You_ have the frock coat, Severus."

Seeing the anxiety etched on her face, he held back his tongue. The Headquarters of the Order was never particularly convivial, but today, even without the shrieks from a blasted portrait, it seemed more forlorn than usual. They walked noiselessly along the corridor, their hands clammy against each other's. Arriving at the kitchen door, Severus turned to glance at her pale face.

"Are you ready?"

Hermione inhaled deeply and straightened, squaring her small shoulders like a soldier going into a battlefield. He gave her hand a light squeeze and pushed open the door.

If possible, the kitchen seemed even chillier than the hall, although a fire was blazing in the fireplace. He led her in, all the while guardedly eyeing the members of the Order around the table, every one of whom was either glowering or evading his gaze.

"I can just _feel _the welcome, can't you?" he whispered.

"Sev--"

"Hermione, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted grimly, "please have a seat."

They obeyed without a second word, and sat down directly across the old wizard at the end of the table. Hermione looked at all the usually friendly faces, people that she hadn't seen since she ran away from Hogwarts, and felt oddly like a convict in front a jury.

"I gather that everyone's here. So, let the meeting commence," said Dumbledore, as he did every time they met; though this was, of course, no ordinary meeting. "There is only one item on our agenda this evening." He studied them over the rim of his glasses, and steepled his fingers on the table. "And that will be... Severus, Hermione, we need your service in the Order."

"You mean we're_ permitted_ to be back in your great club, sir?"

"Hermione..." Harry began in a pleading tone, but Dumbledore silenced him with a wave.

"Miss Granger, I'll admit that I was rather impersonal in my dismissal of Severus, and I apologize for my impulsiveness. But you must understand, in my state of shock--"

"And disgust," she inserted, feeling a fizzy anger replacing her initial nervousness.

"--I was only obliged to do the first thing that came to mind."

"Somehow, that doesn't sound very repentant to me."

"Hermione," Remus spoke gently from her left. "Please, hear us out. You can curse us every way you want later."

That didn't sound too safe to Harry, who was one of the few people around the table that had a very clear idea of what kind of hexes his best friend was capable of. However, he relaxed slightly as he saw Hermione soften at Remus' words.

"Both of you have contributed a lot to the Cause in the past," said Dumbledore, clearing his throat. "It would indeed be a great loss to us if you two should leave the Order."

She rolled her eyes furtively. That from the man who had basically thrown them out of Hogwarts a week ago.

"You will leave Hogwarts formally, with a certificate, Hermione," continued the Headmaster, switching to her first name in a softer voice, "and Minerva is going to offer you an apprenticeship." He watched the young witch snapped her head towards her Transfiguration Professor, who nodded affirmative. "As for you, Severus, you will get your job back. Can't afford to lose my resident Potions Master extraordinaire, can I now?"

"If I didn't know you better, Albus, I'd say you are practicing bribery on me," Severus noted sardonically.

"Whatever works on you, Severus." With that, up his twinkles came.

"Albus--"

"There'll be one condition, though," said Dumbledore, serious again. Severus folded his arms and leaned back. He knew this was coming: it was starting to seem too easy. Hermione shifted in her seat.

"You two will obtain your respective positions in Hogwarts and in the Order, but your... _relationship_ will have to be terminated. We do not wish to set a precedent for inappropriate--"

"Sir!" Hermione protested indignantly.

"Oh, Hermione, don't you worry," the wizard spoke in what he thought as a soothing voice. "You two will continue to work together in an amicable, comradely manner that was expected of all Order members, in all situations-- within reason, of course. A period of time will be given so you two may be able to work that bit of infatuation off, and come up with a more thought-through, agreeable friendship."

Hermione gaped at him, not sure if she was hearing him correct, unable to respond. It appeared that only she, with the exception of Severus maybe, was able to spot the twisted logic beneath what the Head of the Order had just said. What infuriated her the most, however, was Dumbledore's tone that suggested he was granting them an enormous flavor, and his way would be the best way to do anything.

Before the angry reply in the back of her throat had the time to tumble out, Dumbledore had taken her silence as agreement and continued on. He was now talking to Severus in a very reasonable manner.

"Besides, you'd be able to continue your spying for the Order, Severus."

"And that would be so much fun, wouldn't it."

Hermione shot him a look. It was obvious that the Order had no idea of Voldemort's activities without him, and they were just as clueless of Severus' ambiguous loyalty, it seemed. Well, at least she needn't worry about the latter: they were doing a nice job of pushing him over the edge. She could see a vein bulging at his temple-- a sure sign of his patience waning.

"Let's be reasonable here, boy," --That earned a dirty glare from Severus-- "I don't suppose Voldemort would accept your association with Hermione too well. It's in your best interest to break off this relationship. You don't want Hermione to get hurt, do you?"

"I think I might just be able to handle myself, thank you very much," she interjected icily.

"Hermione!" Ron cried suddenly, his voice quivering, whether from rage or holding back tears, even he, himself, could not be sure. He was sitting next to his mother, taking refuge behind the plump frame of the woman, and was silent until now. He had sworn to stay out of this, but seeing her defending Snape was too much. "How can you... Snape... after all he had done to us...I-- he-- you--" Undiluted rage took over him for a moment as he trembled in his seat. When he collected himself, he spoke again in desperation, "If it's a man you want, I-- I can be with you!"

Overcame by a sense of incredulity, she opened her mouth. But Severus beat her to it.

"That's awfully generous of you, Mr. Weasley." He barked a harsh laugh, and the fury emanating off him washed over her like a tsunami. "What do you say about his offer, Hermione?"

Putting her hand on his knee under the table, she looked her lover into the eye. "I guess I'll just have to make do with you, Severus," she said quietly.

Severus turned his cold eyes at Dumbledore, who was now stony-faced. "Albus, I loathe to turn down your proposal. I'm certain that it was planned with everyone's benefits in mind. However--" He covered Hermione's hand on the table with his own. "I have not known happiness in my entire life, Albus. I am happy now. And you are not going to take away the only thing that makes me feel that way."

Hermione swallowed a lump that had appeared in her throat all of a sudden.

"I hope you know you're being exceedingly selfish, my boy," said Dumbledore reproachfully.

"That's the only way you all know me," he replied._ At least my reputation as a selfish sod's still intact,_ he thought self-condescendingly as he stood up, with Hermione following suit. "Now, if you'll pardon us."

As they walked to the door, Dumbledore called wearily from behind, "Think of your future, Severus. Think of Hermione's. Think of Voldemort-- jobless, and forever hiding-- you two will never make it!"

"I will be sure to give that some thought," replied Severus, propelling Hermione out the door and swept out of the kitchen in a whirl of billowing robes.

--------

"That went well," Bill commented as the door slammed shut, gaining himself a chiding glare from his mother.

A graveness of the situation shadowed the members of the Order, and for a moment the room was silent, save for the crackling logs and the sound of Mundungus huffing on his cigarette. Finally, Moody stood up, walked over to the fireplace, and disappeared in the Floo without uttering another word.

"The meeting's concluded and you're all dismissed," Dumbledore said tiredly, and rose to his feet.

"Albus! Don't you want to stay for dinner?" Molly asked.

"Another time, Molly. I've some really pressing matters at hand right now." Turning to Remus, the old wizard added, "Remus, come with me. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Remus obeyed, and as he prepared to Floo to the Headmaster's office, he realized with a sinking feeling that Dumbledore's back-up plan had to be activated.

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	3. A Good Meeting with the Bad Side

Disclaimer: Nothing related to the HP universe belongs to me.

A/N: Again, I thank **Gyre Falcon **and **April** for the brilliant beta-ing. I'm also grateful for all of your reviews. You have made me felt loved. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the last.

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"The only thing that makes you feel happy, eh?"

"Shut up, woman, and come on."

Severus wrapped a hand around Hermione's waist and pulled her close. With a distinct 'pop,' they were out of the quiet neighborhood.

When she opened her eyes again, they were in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. The grass beneath her heels were lush, and stretched out in all directions. The only thing worth looking at was a huge gate to her left.

"What I want to know is, why can't you admit properly that you love me?"

"We are late" he replied exasperatedly, taking her hand and walked hurriedly to the gate.

"I mean, I know _I _love you."

He tapped his wand on the gate and murmured something. It swung open noiselessly. As they walked in, some very strong magic passed through her, and she suspected that besides the typical Anti-Apparition charm, there had to be at least five more wards. However, before she had time to contemplate what kinds of wards those were, her attention shifted to the majestic mansion coming into sight as they rushed down the path. Warm lights streamed from the French windows, and the black-tiled roof wore the unusually large moon like a proud crown.

"Is that a forest?" She pointed to a faraway line of gently swaying pines. "They own a _forest?_"

"Honestly, Hermione," he replied, not slowing down a bit, "you lived next to a bigger forest for seven years."

She was about to point out that Hogwarts was a castle with more than four hundred inhabitants, while Malfoy Mansion, as far as she was informed, accommodated only a family of three and an army of house-elves, when they arrived at the grandiose entrance. They hurried up the flight of marble stairs and stopped in front of the double doors. Severus knocked as Hermione glanced around in silent awe.

"How come you don't have a hereditary estate?"

"Not all purebloods are filthy rich, dear."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Severus," said a voice, startling Hermione. As the massive doors swung open inward, a tall man in dark green robes stepped out, his blond hair gleaming in the light behind him.

"Lucius," Severus greeted easily.

Lucius patted his shoulder and turned to face Hermione. She could not read the look in his eyes, but his smile seemed good-natured enough. She bowed slightly.

"Mr.--"

"Lucius," he responded quickly, picking up her hand and planted a kiss on it. "And I shall call you Hermione... unless you prefer Lady Snape, that is."

She took her hand back and fidgeted nervously. "H-Hermione would be fine--" She bit back the 'sir' that was about to roll out.

"Lucius, aren't y-- oh," another voice came from within the mansion. A second later, an elegant lady in her forties came into view. "Good evening, Severus."

"Narcissa." Severus bowed and kissed her hand. Hermione hoped idly that not all dark wizards abide by a medieval code of chivalry while Severus introduced her. She was shaken out of her reverie when Narcissa took her hand enthusiastically.

"I've heard all about Hermione," she told Severus. "We've met before..."

"Narcissa, our guests may want to come in," Lucius reminded his wife gently.

"Oh," the older witch chortled in embarrassment and led them into the house, still holding Hermione's hand. "Do pardon me."

"My wife's very easily excited," explained Lucius. Hermione was surprised-- she never imagined him to be capable of speaking so jovially, because all she had ever heard him say were threats and scathing comments. Severus, on the other hand, seemed to be completely at ease, as if dark couples teased all the time.

They were led into a gigantic hall with a high vaulted ceiling, where a crystal chandelier was hanging. Many candles were floating around the place, and Hermione took in the majestic tapestries and rugs that decorated the room delightfully. Her eyes finally fell onto the long table at the center. She gulped quietly when she recognized who were sitting around the table. Every Death Eater known to her, and some that weren't, was present. They were sitting comfortably and chatting with one another, and the air in the room was decidedly relaxed. At the end of the table was a black-robed figure. Hermione noted by his ghastly skin that he was none other than Voldemort himself.

The room fell silent upon their arrival. Lucius and Narcissa took their seats on Voldemort's right automatically. Severus led Hermione to the two seats on the Dark Lord's immediate left. Her hands sweated again from being so close to the one she had learned to fear since she first entered the wizarding world.

"Severus, you must do something about your punctuality," commented Voldemort as they sat down, his voice raspy with a grinning edge. "And you must be Hermione."

She paled hearing him address her, but Gryffindor bravery kept her from looking down. She nodded.

"It was Dumbledore, milord," Severus answered slowly. "We were deterred from leaving any earlier."

"What did that blasted man want from you again?" The affable air dissipated from Voldemort's voice at the mention of Dumbledore. The Death Eaters twitched in their seats, some clutching their cutlery a tad too tightly.

"Uh-uh," a brave voice spoke. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, who was sitting next to Narcissa. She waved a hand casually, refilling Voldemort's goblet with wine. "Master, we do not bring business to the dining table, remember?"

Voldemort picked up his drink and took a generous swig. When he put down the goblet again he seemed to be calmed.

"It's always me, isn't it?" he sighed and looked around at his still followers, sounding almost sorry. "Let's forget about those troubling little pests now."

Slowly, conversations resumed among the Death Eaters, and Hermione let out a breath. Severus gave her a look before turning to discuss the latest scandal of Fudge with Lucius and Voldemort. She sat back and took a small sip from her glass. _Hmm, not bad, _she thought.

Just when she was about to enjoy herself, an all-to-familiar voice spoke into her left ear, much too close to her liking.

"I guess I'm not sitting next to my favorite godfather tonight."

She jumped and turned. Draco Malfoy straightened and smirked in his patented haughty way, pleased with himself for startling her. She glared.

"Malfoy," she hissed.

"Call me Draco." The corner of his lips quirked further up. "We're _family_ now, aren't we, Hermione."

"Family!" The thought appalled her. She hadn't prepared to see him here, which was stupid, seeing how this was his house. And she did not appreciate stupidity.

"There's no need to shout." He took the seat beside her. She glanced around nervously, but no one was paying them any attention. "I'm only joking, M--"

For a second she thought he was going to call her the horrible racist name, but what he actually said shocked her even more.

"Mione," he finished his sentence with a grin.

"Don't call me that!" She gritted her teeth. He had always had a way of grinding her nerves. Before she could say anything more, however, Severus placed a piece of delicious-looking steak onto her plate, and she was distracted.

--------

After dinner, most of the guests moved to the adjourning lounge to chat and enjoy the night. The males clustered and talked about the Professional Quidditch League and politics, enjoying exquisite alcohol while their wives sat at the far corner with their gossips and shopping tips. As she didn't know anyone, Hermione stayed close to Severus. She was nearly bored out of her mind when Voldemort beckoned them and Lucius to follow him. No one seemed to be paying them much attention as they exited.

On the way, Hermione clutched her lover's elbow tightly and found herself unable to remove her eyes from the hem of the Dark Lord's cloak. She learned now where Severus learned his impressive trick of billowing his cloak. Just when she was about to give him the 'I know something you don't want me to know' look, Lucius led them into a room on the second floor. With a flick, he lighted the room and closed the doors. The merry voices from below were cut off immediately.

They were in a study. Voldemort lighted the fire and sat down in one of the leather armchairs. The other three did the same.

"Would you like a drink, Hermione?" Lucius asked.

"No, thank you," she replied tautly.

"That's almost like a swear word to my ears," Voldemort said. He looked even more foreboding than usual in the iridescent light.

Hermione smiled weakly. Never had she imagined that one day she would be sitting with two Death Eaters and hearing the Dark Lord joke. It was a little too much for one day.

"I heard that you're just out of school, Hermione?"

"That's right, sir."

Silence descended the group. Severus guarded his thoughts cautiously and glanced at the Dark Lord, who was watching his lover. It was too late to tell her to do the same.

"What do you know about our group, girl?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "What little information I have regarding the Death Eaters is mostly acquired from the newspaper and gossips among students-- not exactly what you'd call reliable sources. I know the ideology of the Dark is based on bloodlines, and I know the Dark strives to purge the wizarding world with every possible means. Like most people, I've grown to fear the Death Eaters, sir."

Severus' chest tightened at her words as he realized she was telling the truth. His Lord was obviously pleased, however.

"I treasure honesty when it is directed to me, Hermione." Voldemort looked pointedly at the other two men before continuing. "It seems to me that you're relatively uninformed about our cause. Severus?" He glanced sideways at his Potions Master.

"He doubted my loyalty, sir," Hermione said hastily. "I didn't know of his true identity until two weeks ago."

Severus grasped her hand gently, grateful that she wasn't a total imbecile. Voldemort took this as an apologetic gesture.

"Is that so? But of course, you're a Gryffindor," he hissed softly, paused, and sipped from his glass. "And a Muggle-born."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying hard to keep in her protest. The Dark Lord continued as though oblivious to her struggle.

"What you don't know-- or should I say, what the general public doesn't know-- is this: the Dark believes in the divinity of purebloods, but it receives baser bloods if they know their place and show brilliance and honor. After all, many purebloods today were halfbloods a few generations ago."

Severus knew she was surprised from the rigid way she was holding herself. Granted, it wasn't everyday an evil dark lord explain his philosophy to her. He was reminded of his younger self many years ago, sitting in the common room and leaning forward in the same eager manner. The only difference was that he was lured to the Dark side by the promise of knowledge, riches, prestige and power. He doubted that any of those, save perhaps the first, would possess much enticement to her.

"It'd be a pleasing change, too, to have a Gryffindor among the fold," Lucius commented. "Our last Gryff was Wormtail. The Slytherin lot is starting to bore me." He ached a playful brow at Severus.

"In that case, I shall assign you to more missions with Peter, Lucius," Voldemort said, pulling a grin as far as his skeletal face permitted.

"I must implore thy mercy, milord," Lucius replied with a lazy smirk, certain that his Lord would not consign him to such ill fate. Hermione again was overcome by a surrealistic feeling.

Severus, having spent much more time in the other two men's proximity, was unaffected. Taking a mouthful from his own glass, he asked practically, "What great plans do you intend for Hermione, Master, if she were to join--"

"If!" Voldemort snarled a laugh. "Severus, do you really have another choice? Tell me, is the old fool happy with your affiliation with a student?"

Severus knew he was caught and sighed in defeat. Hermione sat up straighter in anger.

"What do you specialize in, Hermione?" Voldemort turned to her suddenly.

She was unprepared to this abrupt change of topic. "I- I write and research well, and--"

"No, no." Lucius shook his head, and Hermione wondered why the man seemed so perpetually amused. "What Master meant is, what kind of curse do you specialize in. For example, Bella's infamous for her Crucio. Have you killed someone before?"

"Lucius," Severus interrupted curtly, warning underneath his words. His companion merely smirked at him.

"That's quite enough," said Voldemort, frowning briefly at Lucius. Then he added to Hermione, "He's just frolicking around."

Failing to see what was funny about the Unforgivables, she tilted her pale face up slightly nevertheless. Severus noticed her gesture, and groaned to himself about competitive, eager-to-prove-themselves Gryffindors.

"I think it's quite enough to have one scholar among our ranks--"

"Master, I--" Severus cut in hurriedly.

"We'll discuss your killing behavior, or the lack thereof, next time, Severus." Voldemort threw a quick look in his direction, and added some new logs into the fire with a flamboyant wave. "As I was saying, we don't need another scholar. Then obviously, we can't send you back as a spy-- you'll be so closely monitored you won't even be able to see a greasy lock of his-- and I don't want you two to be separated."

The gratefulness that flashed across her face was plain for all in the room to see.

"You know what, Lucius? I think I might not brand her."

No sooner had the words left the Dark Lord's lips than the blond man understood what his Master meant. He lowered his head deeply in a bow.

"You're most wise, my Lord. Narcissa will appreciate the company."

Hermione, on the other hand, did not appreciate the feeling of missing something. "Erm..." she started.

"My Lord, would it really be for the best, for Hermione to join our side?" Severus had more than sufficient excuses of why she shouldn't, but before he could articulate any of them he was cut off by a sharp tone.

"Severus, I would refrain from questioning your loyalty," snapped the Dark Lord. Then he added, hissing more slowly, "Your allegiance-- and hers-- is not a matter of choice. Remember, I am more than able to provide as much protection as that harebrained fool."

Severus bowed, carefully shielding his thoughts. "Your powers know no limit, Master," he murmured.

Voldemort made a dismissive gesture. Severus took the hint, helped Hermione up, and they left the room. As the oak door closed behind them, Voldemort turned to his right-hand man.

"You wouldn't believe our reputation these days, Lucius. It is beyond farcical."

"I'm all ears, Master."

"Just now in the girl's mind I glimpsed images of me randomly _Crucio_-ing my followers."

"Would you still have any if that were the case, my Lord? What do these people take us for, imbecilic twits as themselves?"

"I did manage to get a few ideas, outrageous as they may be," Voldemort replied, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "What do you say about an orgy, Lucius?"

"Master!" The other man winced as he put down his glass. "With all due respect, but most of us are married."

"Your point?"

"I'd prefer Narcissa to some screaming, disease-carrying Muggle any day, milord. I suspect the others think the same."

"You're right," said Voldemort thoughtfully. "And I'd really much rather you lot spend your time and energy on breeding more pureblooded offspring. Speaking of which, when are you having more heirs, Lucius?"

"Draco's proved to be enough trouble as it is, Master."

"Nonsense. You haven't even _neared _your middle age yet, let alone Narcissa. And look what a fine, obnoxious man Draco has grown into. I say you two try and get at least one more child."

"I think I will pass that responsibility to Draco, Master."

"That reminds me. How're the preparations going?"

"Satisfactory. Draco and Pansy just took their wedding photos last week. Ruth and Narcissa can't stop talking about it..."

And so, master and minion spent the night in front of the fire, discussing wedding plans.

--------


	4. Some Private Meetings, Too

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the HP universe.

A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews! And a great hug to **April** and **Gyre** **Falcon** for the excellent beta-ing.

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Once they were back in their small apartment, Severus flopped down into the nearest armchair. Hermione, on the other hand, took off her shoes and went into the kitchen. When she emerged again, she had a tray in her hands.

Severus sighed when the smell of fresh tea reached his nose. He sat up as Hermione put down the tray on the coffee table.

"Take off your coat, Severus. It's damping the chair," she clucked disapprovingly.

"I'm tired," was his short reply as he helped himself to a cup of tea.

Hermione rolled her eyes but did not say anything more. She sat down and poured some tea for herself as well.

"Amazing what tea can do for your nerves," Severus sighed again in content.

"It has been quite a stressful night," agreed Hermione.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, letting each other's presence and the soothingly hot beverage relieve their minds.

Finally, the sound of Severus' cup clinking on its saucer broke the stillness. Hermione looked up.

"Listen, Hermione..."

"Do we need to come up with a decision?" she asked eagerly.

"No." He shook his head." _I _have to come up with a solution. You... I want you to return to the Order."

"_What?_"

"It's for your own good."

"What?" she cried again, still incredulous. "How so? I'm not going back to that old ass!"

"Don't act like a child, Hermione!" He raised his voice as well. "The Dark Lord is a very volatile man--he may be welcoming us today, but he might decide to torture you tomorrow. Having you around him... it's almost like tying you to a bomb. And that I will not do. Dumbledore, at least, would treat you well."

"He ridicules my choice of mate and my choice of life. Does that count as treating me well? He made you into a spy, and he would force me to become a strategist if I were to return. He has plans for everyone, and he won't hesitate to utilize my brain. Is that treating me well? Most of the members in the Order see me as a resource, an object, a thing to be used. Is that--"

"And do you know what the Dark Lord wants you for?" Severus snarled. "Do you think he is looking for an amicable, intellectually-stimulating friendship? He, too, is merely after your power and blood--tainted as it is, it's magical--can you see now? He craves pureblood followers and minions. How do you like sitting around doing nothing, only to breed like rabbits?"

"I don't mind if it's for you," she replied, and wished she hadn't almost immediately. She could feel the heat her cheeks were giving off. Severus was equally put out by her quick response, and was looking at her speechlessly. Grabbing the opportunity, she pressed on, "I'll do anything to stay with you. I've forfeited my Hogwarts' certificate, and I thought studying was my sole purpose in life."

"Don't be unreasonable," he started, his voice noticeably softer now. "You do not really want to turn to the Dark."

"It is not a matter of choice, remember?" She held his gaze, her voice hard. "I just want to be on the side that you're on."

Severus caught himself before blurting out something she wouldn't understand. How could she see the precarious line he treaded everyday, the murky area where no innocent men should, or could, wade through? He looked at her resolute expression, and heaved a mental sigh. Damnable Gryffindor obstinacy. If she had made up her mind, then the less she knew the better.

"You don't know what it means to be on my side," he said simply.

"And I want to find out." She leaned forward and rubbed her hands. "Oh, don't scowl, Severus. It can't be that bad. He didn't hex me the moment we met, did he? I'll survive. I'll be very careful. I promise."

He snorted, expressing his disbelief at her statement.

"Besides, he said he would not brand me." She ignored him and continued in a hopeful tone, "I won't have the Dark Mark. It's not like I'm going to be a Death Eater and strike terror into the wizarding world or something, Severus. I won't be doing anything against my beliefs."

He snorted again, but he did not tell her that the same reason worried him all the more. By not giving Hermione the Mark, the Dark Lord was denying her a status. She was to stay home like a housewife, and if she could not bear a child soon, she could be squashed easily, like an insect, and he would be powerless to save her.

When he was thinking, she moved to sit on the arm of his chair. She loved to watch him from this angle--his dank black hair hanging above his face, his protruding nose, the deep lines between his eyebrows--she touched them, trying to ease them. _What was he thinking? _she wondered. Sometimes her lover was like a code, one that even she could not interpret, and she would lose him momentarily. He always came back, but how she wished to be able to read his mind!

He did not say anything, deep in thought, just allowing her fingers to wander across her features. She was the best thing that had happened to him in years, decades, even. An intelligent, strong, yet sensitive creature; she had her ways to alleviate his anger, to teach him joy, to distract him. She was his equal. Severus caught her hand, and turned slightly to look at her. She was wearing a rare bemused look. He tightened his grip. He would not want, _allow,_ anything bad to happen to her.

"Severus," she whispered. "It'll be okay."

Just as the time when she first found him half-dead in his office, or the time when he berated himself for kissing a student, or the time when the Order blamed him for not preventing a particular raid... she was there, saying the same words. And for once, Severus found himself wanting to believe.

"We've lost everything," she said. "It's time to start over."

Severus wondered what it would be like, to be loyal to only one side again. He would have to deceive again, to torture, to murder. The nightmares twenty years ago would haunt him once more. But this time, Hermione would be sleeping next to him, holding him; and for her, he was willing to try.

--------

"Stand up, you filthy rat."

His head was throbbing, but the throb was no where as acute as the pain on his side. He scrambled to his feet quickly, not wanting to earn another kick. When his capturer glared at him, he lowered his head and suppressed the urge to shiver. Displays of weakness would only get him into more trouble now.

"Where... are we?" he croaked. His last memory was that he had just finished an errand for his Master; but even that was fuzzy. He recalled someone grabbing his collar from the back when he stepped out of the shop, then the grey walls of Knockturn Alley started to spin around him, until everything went black.

"Surely you must recognize this place, Peter," the man taunted. "Haven't we spent much quality time here?"

"The Shrieking Shack," he said slowly. His mind was starting to clear up, and he remembered the smell of that dank, frosty air. He turned to face his old friend. "Of course I recognize it, Remus. It's your favorite hole, after all."

"Don't get cheeky with me, Peter," Remus warned with a growl. "A defiant hostage is often a dead one."

"What do you want?" he demanded in reply, his eyes darting around the room, looking for escape routes. He knew this place; he could...

"Don't even think about it," Remus said, not missing the other man's shifty gaze. "You'll be a pile of rodent pulp before you can say 'transform.'"

"What do you _want?_" Peter asked again, fear perceptible in his voice this time.

"I want information."

"About the Dark Lord? No bloody way."

Remus took a menacing step closer. "What gives you the idea that you have a choice?"

"I-if the Dark Lord ever f-finds out that I-" Peter shuddered. "He'll kill me. Or worse."

"As will I, old pal. Either you agree to this, or you die today. You would rot in here, you shriveled, stinking body the home of maggots--"

"Shut up!" Peter shouted, rattling the panes in the room.

"Or I can trap you here, deprived of nourishment, only to become one in two weeks, for me," Remus continued with a vicious grin. "Oh, Peter, your Master wouldn't even know, or care, for that matter..."

"I d-do not want to die." Peter looked up into the werewolf's eyes. They were steely and unforgiving. "B-but if I give you a-as much as a h-hint of His plans, He'll k-know. Remus, I hate to break this to you, but malicious as you are, your death threats a-are not even c-close to the terrifying consequences of defying H-Him."

Remus scrutinized the small, half-bald man before him that he once called a friend. Why was he ever sorted into Gryffindor? Maybe this was why. "Alright then," he said nonchalantly. "It seems like you're prepared to meet your demise, Peter. I applaud that final display of courage." He twirled his wand in front of Peter's beady eyes, apparently deciding on which spell to use.

"Wasn't I your friend, Remus?" Peter scooted toward Remus, his eyes wide with fear and plea. "For my whole life I've never been in control: pushed here, pulled there, like a puppet. You think I want to be a slave to the Dark Lord? He's not an easy master to please, Remus. Surely_ you,_ of all people, can relate to this? Of having no choice in your life?"

"You've a choice now. It's up to you. Make the right decision."

"Have mercy!" Peter cried, his spit flying. "Why get me into a dilemma? I'd die either way."

"Then I suppose it doesn't make a difference for you to die now." Remus raised his wand.

"No!" Peter lurched forward suddenly, attempting to grab the other man, but Remus jumped out of his way.

"Goodbye, Wormtail."

"W-wait!" squeaked Peter desperately. "I'll do it!"

"And here I was, thinking you actually possess a backbone," jeered Remus as he lowered his weapon. Peter's face turned into a revolting shade of beet-red, as a sheen of perspiration formed on his forehead. His discomfort was ignored, however. Remus started to circle the shaking man, much like a vulture would its prey. "Correct answer, Peter, consider it a good first step... a step further from imminent death."

"I'm still going to die if He finds out," Peter muttered grimly, "and a deceased spy will not aid you, Moony."

At his words, his companion barked a crude laugh. "Unless revealed by your own carelessness or... _disloyalty_"--Remus narrowed his eyes--"I assure you that your spying activities will go undiscovered. Every week we meet here, and you empty your memories into a Pensieve for us to sort through. The memory of our meeting will be stored as well, so you may return to your Master with a clear conscience, or rather, a clear mind."

Peter regarded him with doubts in his eyes. He shrank back as Remus grunted at his unspoken question.

"You'd better hope it'll work, Peter, unless being tortured to death by your _associates_ appeals to you. That's the best option we can offer; how you manage to collect information, and how you keep up the secrecy, will be entirely your own work. Don't be deluded for a moment that we'll save you if you fail, for we won't. You fail, you die."

"That's a happy thought," Peter replied shakily. "But what do I get out of all this?"

"What do you get?" Remus whirled on him sharply. "You mean, besides not being killed now? Besides not having to look behind your shoulder everyday?" He stalked over to Peter, and despite the latter's effort to stand straight and still, he began to shake like a leaf in an autumn gust when Remus placed a hand on his chest. "Besides not having to dread the full moon, when a revengeful werewolf is out for your heart?" Remus grabbed the front of his robe. "Is that what you mean, Wormtail? What do you get besides all those?"

Peter struggled to wrench the werewolf's hand off. As his right hand touched him, Remus let out a deafening howl. Terrified, Peter stumbled backward and screamed. Their shrieks pierced through the empty hallways, rattling the doors on their hinges. Above them, mice scurried from the disturbance.

"_Adstringo!_" Once he could talk--albeit in a very pained voice--again, Remus threw a hex in Peter's direction. Peter's screams were silenced immediately, and he started to gag for breath as his midriff appeared to be squeezed by an invisible, tightening rope. Remus stared at his twitching form on the floor.

"Much as I want to give you _this_ for all that you're worth," he spat, "it's an opportunity that I'm presenting you. By having a leg on both sides, you survive no matter who wins this war. How does that sound to your gutless little brain? _Finite Incantatem._"

As Peter slowly curled up on the floor, catching his breath, Remus dropped his wand onto the floor, just out of his reach. He looked at him coldly. "Remember how readily you agreed to betray You-Know-Who, Peter. One word, one wrong word to your Master, and you're a goner. See you next week." With that he staggered out of the room, away from Peter's hopeless eyes.

--------

Dumbledore looked up when the door to his office was opened, and rose when he saw the ghastly man that fell in.

"Remus!"

The younger man did not reply, but only walked over to one of the overstuffed armchairs and sat down.

"How did it go? What happened?" demanded Dumbledore, his voice laced with concern. When the expected answers did not come, he strode over to Remus, whose face was tired but unreadable otherwise. "Are you hurt?" he asked sharply when he saw the other man clutching his right arm. He bent over and pried Remus' fingers away. There on his right sleeve was a scorched patch. Both men winced at the horrible sight.

"I was careless," said Remus. "It's the silver hand Harry's told us about, but in the heat of things, I forgot."

"Shh, we'll have to treat this first," Dumbledore replied. "This might hurt a little." He peeled the burnt cloth from the marred flesh carefully as he spoke, and Remus tried his best to hold still and not whimper. When the last bit of fabric was torn away, Dumbledore motioned for Fawkes, which flew over from his perch and started shedding tears on Remus' wound.

"How are you feeling?" asked Dumbledore, sitting behind the desk again.

"Rotten."

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow. It was most unusual for the generally calm man to say something like that.

"Albus, I tortured a person." Remus turned his eyes to meet Dumbledore's blue ones. "I inflicted terror onto another being intentionally. I interrogated him, threatened him, kicked him, hexed him, and used his worst fear against him. The pain I'm capable of evoking... it's not in me, Albus. Or maybe it is, and maybe that's what frightened me."

"Surely you must understand that under the current circumstances, this is a strategy that we'll have to employ."

"I try to be as much a man of reason as I can when I'm not in my other form, Albus. I do not manipulate logic to suit my own needs. When I was persuading Peter just now, I-I felt something inside me relishing in the adrenaline." Remus put his face into his palms. "I'm disgusted with myself. Please don't ever ask me to do it again."

"I'm sorry, Remus. I truly, truly am." Dumbledore's tone was grave, and the look he was sending to Remus was sympathetic. He longed to hold the young man, but there were more important things at hand--and he could not afford to have his emotions mess up the plans again. "You won't have to do something like this again; you have my promise. From now on, it'll just be gathering the spy's memories once a week. Easy enough."

Remus grumbled into his hands in response, and then stood up unsteadily. "Anything for you, Albus, anything for the Light. I'll leave now. You know where to find me when I'm needed."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Thank you, Remus. Have a good rest." The young man looked as if he doubted that he could get any rest at all, but exited without another word, leaving the Headmaster alone with his troubled thoughts. But before long, another intrusion arrived.

"Albus," greeted Moody upon entering. "I got your note. What do you need me for?"

"Ah, Alastor. Our plan has been successful. The spy's now secured."

"Is it wise to keep this from the Order?"

"The fewer people know, the safer our spy."

"How long do you think he will fool the Dark Lord?"

"I'm hoping for a year."

"Too optimistic," said Moody promptly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "He won't hold out for more than eight months."

"Eight months is long enough for us to win over the better spy," answered Albus with a gleam in his eyes. "Now that we have our new spy, the old spy has to be taken care of."

"Do you really want to do this, Albus?" Moody sighed deeply.

"Yes, you know we have to. They must be confined to the Headquarters in twenty-four hours, lest Voldemort should get them. Alastor, I'm counting on you."

Nodding grimly, Moody stood up and hurried out of the door. It was not a task that he had willingly undertaken, but an order remained an order; it was also safer to hold those two in custody than to have them wander around with their heads full of secrets. As he Apparated to the neighborhood in which Severus and Hermione resided, he contemplated whether he should take them by sweet-talk or by force.

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End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance