AN: Hey there! I decided to revamp this story as I continue to write Winter Song. I just think the writing for this one is much better, and I believe this underdog deserves a chance. That said, I combined chapters one and two and added some meat to the bare bones. The next chapter will be coming shortly. Hopefully tonight, as I continue to slave away on the most popular story on this site. If you are reading this, do R&R. Please. I know you're out there. Your reviews help me focus myself and I appreciate them so very much.

Your beloved author,

xx

Nova

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger sat at the mottled planning table at Minerva McGonagall's bungalow and waited patiently for the noise around her to cease. It took a while, but finally, all those who had gathered settled down. Hermione looked from face to face, wanting to clearly emphasize her reasoning. To her right sat Harry Potter, who glared with stony resolution. Next to him sat Ronald Weasley, whose eyes shown with barely controlled panic and anger. At the head of the table sat Remus Lupin, who looked resigned; next to him sat Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, who refused to meet Hermione's gaze. Next to Tonks was an empty seat, which belonged to Severus Snape. And to Hermione's left sat Minerva, whose eyes were emotionless, yet expectant. Minerva, reliably, wanted the full picture before weighing in.

"It has to be done," Hermione began.

"No it doe-" Harry interrupted.

"Harry, please," Hermione said tiredly. "Let me finish." She looked at him with the same amount of resolution he had shown her. "Let me finish."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and Hermione continued with the overly simple explanation of her plan. "It has to be done. We are losing this war, and the only way to gain equal footing again is to find their stronghold." Silence. "We will battle them when we next meet them. I will make sure that I am taken captive, you will find me based on my magical signature, and trace my location. And you will take their stronghold."

Harry exhaled heavily. "Why can't I take your place, then?"

"Harry, please. The amount of energy required to create a traceable magical signature involves complex spellwork. And besides that, they will kill you." Hermione rubbed her forehead tiredly, leaving the rest unsaid. Better me than you, she thought, not for the first time since this war began in earnest. She looked up at Lupin. "Well, what do you think, Remus?" In the years since he had taught her, and since the war picked up traction three years ago, Hermione found it more than appropriate to address her former professor as such.

"There remain many flaws in your plan, Hermione. But if we work them out, I think it will work."

Hermione nodded, then looked to McGonagall. McGonagall looked at her steadily for some time and seemed to be pondering something. After a moment of silence, she spoke. "I assume you want me to be the Tracer, Miss Granger?" Hermione nodded She was glad that she didn't have to ask. McGonagall still intimidated her.

"Wait a second! You're not all actually going through with this," Ron exclaimed.

"Ron-"

"No, are you mental?! Absolutely not!" Ron shot up from his seat and started pacing the length of the small room.

"Ron, sit down," Harry said

Ron stopped pacing, but did not sit. "What if they kill you?" He turned to look at Hermione, searching her face for any hesitation. He did not find any.

"That's a chance I'm willing to take. But they won't, they'll recognize me, they'll see the potential of having me for interrogation," Hermione said forcefully.

"But that's what Snape is for! They have him for the secrets they need."

At this point, Harry jumped in, "He's right, Hermione. Your plan has too many flaws." He turned to Lupin and waited for him to say something. But it wasn't him who spoke next, to everyone's surprise.

"I don't think you lot understand what Hermione means to do. She knows that she is more valuable as a prisoner not because of interrogation purposes, but because she is one of the Golden Trio. All of the Death Eaters know that she is important to Harry, and that he would do anything to get her back. It's almost a reverse trap." Tonks looked at Hermione. "Isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, surprised that Tonks had grasped the intricacies of her plan.

"Well that's more of a reason to not let you go then, isn't it? It's dangerous for all of us!" Ron was grasping at straws, and they all knew it. He looked at Harry. "Harry, you aren't seriously allowing her to-"

"Of course I don't want her to," Harry said forcefully. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hand against the lids. "But it's her choice, and as much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. 'Mione, are you sure you're willing to do this?"

Hermione nodded firmly. "You all know we have no other alternative."

"But what about Snape? Why don't we do the magical signature thing on him?" Ron conjectured.

Hermione had already thought of this. "Because, Ron, he is usually in close proximity to Voldemort. With his magical ability and naturally suspicious nature, Voldemort could probably sense the magic involved in the Tracing spellwork. We cannot afford that risk. Not at this point in the war." Not ever, Hermione thought. She had long since figured out Snape's real motive for helping the Order of the Phoenix, and the compassionate side of her couldn't bear to see the man suffer more than he already was. Besides, lately, when she looked at him, Hermione noticed that the lines of his face were becoming more pronounced than ever. Breaking out of her reverie, Hermione looked at Ron, hoping he would understand. He seemed to be struggling with the idea, but remained silent. Hermione turned her attention to Lupin, who along with McGonagall, had remained curiously silent.

"Remus?"

At this, Remus looked up to face Hermione. "Right then. Let's work out the specifics. We all know Hermione is a more than capable witch, and there is no point in wasting time." Remus smiled at Hermione as he spoke, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Now they waited for Snape. He would bring with him news that they needed in order to work out the specifics of the crazy plan that Hermione had dreamt of.

The wait turned out to be a relatively short one. Two days passed before the temporary residents of McGonagall's home felt a tell-tale shift of the wards. Moments later, Severus Snape burst through the doors, swarthed in his usual black. Immediately, Minerva appeared at the end of the hallway and pointed a wand at him.

"What were the last words Albus said to the pair of us," McGonagall questioned, eyes steely.

"'Protect the children. In them lies the future,'" Snape said, whisking off his travel cloak. Underneath was another, lighter cloak, and he quickly brushed it off as he walked with Minerva down the hall to the door at the end of the corridor.

"Severus, are you sure you don't want to rest before debriefing? Water, or a biscuit or something, at least," Minerva said, already knowing the answer.

"We don't have time, Minerva," he said, turning to look at her. "Especially not now. The Death Eaters are striking sooner than we thought." He opened the door and walked to his seat. "We need to begin planning down if we are to implement Miss Granger's idea." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, listening as Minerva McGonagall sounded the metaphorical battle horn. This was going to be a long day.

As Hermione related her plan to Severus Snape, his face grew more and more sour. Finally, she felt it necessary to stop. "Is there a problem, professor?" She asked this waspishly, knowing that her plan had many flaws. She just wished he would wait until after she had told him all of it for him to critique it.

"You seriously think this will work," he sneered. It was more a derogatory comment than a question.

"It's the only plan we've got, Severus," she said.

"Well, it's decidedly shoddy. There are too many variables we haven't accounted for. Who's to say that the Dark Lord won't kill you right then and there and use your body as bait," Snape asked.

"That's why I need you-"

Snape raised an eyebrow, effectively cutting her off. "Well, obviously. But you are foolish enough to yet again presume I hold any esteem over Voldemort and his decisions."

"Well try!" Hermione interrupted. "This may be the most important mission we will ever need to pull off."

"You say that about every mission that risks a Phoenix. Why shouldn't I assume that you are just trying to save your own hide," Snape sneered.

The color rose in Hermione's cheeks, and she was quite indignant at the accusation. "I have no qualms about dying, but I need my death to be strategic," she replied solemnly. "This is our one chance to get the information we need."

"You could just ask me where the fort is located."

"You know where the stronghold is," Hermione said incredulously.

"No, but I could take you there." Snape explained the method by which high-ranking members are transported to the Death Eater stronghold, which included touching the Dark Mark and expressly thinking of the name of the stronghold itself. As he continued his explanation, Hermione realized just how paranoid the Darkest wizard in history really was.

Insane, really.

When Snape was done explaining, Hermione spoke. "If you think that plan has any chance of success, you are more of a fool than you let on, Professor."

"And your plan is any better? I think not."

"And why not?"

"Because everything about it is unpredictable and relies on chance, Miss Granger!"

"That's a chance we have to, need to be willing to take, and that is why I need you to help me," Hermione shouted, exasperated at the constant criticisms her idea received. She idly wondered when Snape would let her finish what she was saying so that he could fully understand where she was coming from and what she needed him to do.

"It lacks strategy," Snape retorted hotly.

"And yours doesn't? Tell me, how do you suppose you will bring about bringing ALL of us in with you?" Hermione burst, exasperated.

Silence reigned. It appeared that Severus Snape, spy extraordinaire, hadn't thought of that. Hermione smirked inwardly, making sure that she kept her glee off of her face.

"As I was saying, this is the only plan we've got."

"But there are too many variables," Snape bit out, more frustrated than he had been in a while. Hermione couldn't understand why.

"We will deal with them when we get there. For now, we must plan what we can," she replied.

"Okay, then what do you want me to do?"

Hermione withdrew from her back pocket a folded and creased sheet of parchment, on which she had scrawled her notes and ideas. "We know the date of our next engagement. We know I must be taken captive. What we don't know is whether or not I will be, or if they will even try to make use of me. I know that the spell takes four weeks of preparation and two weeks of incantations at intervals." She looked at Snape expectantly, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she continued. "So what I need from you, Severus, is this. You must somehow make it so that I am valuable to the Death Eaters, enough so that they will keep me alive and well enough for the spell to work." She looked at him pointedly, and he looked back.

"You want me to make you seem valuable to the Dark Lord? Impossible."

"Why? I'm sure I can be of va-"

"You'll di-"

"Oh, bugger! Not this again. This is the price we pay! Are you in or aren't you?" Hermione shouted.

Snape mulled it over for a moment, before looking up in resignation.

"You want me to make you valuable to the Dark Lord."

Hermione knew what Snape was thinking. On the one hand, Hermione could be tortured for valuable information. But they both knew that Snape was more than capable of giving information to Voldemort. To make her seem like an asset in that department meant to incapacitate Snape. Hermione was waiting for Snape to arrive at the conclusion that she had come to just a few weeks prior.

"You want me to die."

"Professor." Hermione let the word carry itself across the table to the man she had come to admire and respect.

"You know."

"Of course I do," she whispered, tears filling her eyes, to her dismay.

She knew very well the kind of distress that this life of espionage had caused the hallowed man sitting in front of her. She knew because she looked. The signs were all there. He didn't eat any longer, his hair was beginning to thin prematurely, and his hands shook far too often for her liking. She knew that he wouldn't last much longer, even if he wanted to.

And she knew that he didn't. But he was far too invested in the Order to say anything.

Snape stared at her blearily, then walked around the table to her. "Miss Granger," he said softly. He reached out a hand and wiped the tears off of her face. He held the hand up and inspected the tangible remains of her sorrow. For a minute, he just stood there, looking as old as a man could possibly look. Older than Dumbledore. Finally, he let out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you." And he drew her into a hug, probably the first he had given in his life.

Hermione cried harder.

She would have to kill her mentor.