Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I just enjoy writing stories about them. I make no profit.
Note: Just a dark short story as a warm up for some darker type fanfics. . . . trying to excercise my dark brain :-)
Risks
Hermione Granger inhaled deeply before stooping into Albus Dumbledore's makeshift office, a tent in the end of a large battle field in the north of England. It was late at night and the air was thick with autumn fog, it chilled her to the bone - but kept her mind off of the horrors that had transpired there only hours before. She shook the images of death from her mind.
She found it amusing that for all the high ground wizarding folk took regarding Muggles, that they still chose to fight their battles on open fields in the Napoleonic style. She had personally seen and caused more death than she cared to remember and after Harry fell 2 years ago it had only worsened. She was 20 years old and hardened by war– a killer in a young woman's skin and yet she knew that young woman inside her was trying to keep hope alive. Her scouting work for the Order had won them many a victory – she had become quick, observant of military tactics and above all ruthless. It had come in particularly handy this night, they had sustained only minimal losses at the hands of the Death Eaters, but how long their luck would last was still unsure.
"Ahh Miss Granger, so good of you to come on such short notice," remarked Professor Dumbledore as she nodded in acknowledgement. He had aged 100 years in the wake of Harry's death, but had done his best to keep the side of good together. They had yet to fracture, but yet to win as well. He was weary and tired – he had certainly not slept well the last nights, as dark circles blacked his once sparkling eyes.
"I must commend you on bringing us the information that made this victory possible, Miss Granger. News has spread so fast that Voldemort's elite forces are moving closer and with all of the commotion I daresay they have a big commander headed our way." He was studying her, attempting to judge her reaction.
"How can I be of service, sir?" Hermione kept a business tone about what she did for Dumbledore, making sure it didn't become part of her soul – the young woman fighting back inside of her. Compartmentalization was key. Hermione had committed many sins on his behalf, but had done her best to maintain her humanity in the face of killing. She knew he was about to ask her something she would deem unacceptable, probably morally. She steeled herself.
"I have it on good authority that this commander is Severus, my dear." He paused to let the words sink in. Hermione did her best to not betray her inner emotions. It had been several years since she'd seen the man, but that did nothing to stem the flow of memories associated with him from invading her mind. Their work for the Order had brought them close immediately after her graduation, though it was a professional closeness tempered with a tension that threated to boil over into . . . . more. That had all ended when he sided with the Death Eaters. Her heart beat faster as Albus continued. "I will not beat around the bush my dear. I need you to infiltrate the camp and convince him to return to us, or assassinate him." His sly look complimented the implications of what he had just said.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, "His feelings for me do not go beyond professional courtesy, sir, " she lied, "You are suggesting I get caught by him – you are suggesting a suicide mission Albus."
When she used his first name it was an undeniable sign of her disapproval of the proposed situation. "Hermione, we need to bring him to our side or kill him. You happen to be in a unique position to achieve either one of those outcomes." He raised an eyebrow to emphasize the point. She hated his 'for the greater good' speeches, inwardly she rolled her eyes, "Let's hope that you are as persuasive to Severus as I imagine you to be."
It took her all her internal strength not to lash out at the old man in front of her. She had given her life to the Order and to the greater good, but she still despised the idea that her life was not her own. This was risky and she could not be sure how she would react when she saw Snape again or how he would react when he saw her again. She did her best to steady her heartbeat; risks were part of the game and better her than another. She knew she had no other choice though, the set in his jaw already told her that. "I will leave in 2 hours for the camp." She turned quickly, though had enough control to stop herself from bolting out of the room.
"You will take the Holster twins with you. This needs to look as convincing as possible." Dumbledore added. Her back was to him so when she cringed at the idea she was sure he hadn't seen. Being caught, particularly as a scout, meant almost certain death after a lengthy torture of course. She would have been happy if it had just been her, Albus seemed confident she would be taken alive – but the twins were young with their whole lives ahead of them. She wondered if the old man actually got a kick out of torturing her, testing the bounds of her allegiance. She turned to protest he raised his hand – it was the end of their discussion.
Back in the cold air of the night she exhaled deeply, and hoped to expel her hatred for what she had to do. She'd been fighting so hard for so long, death was almost welcome . . . or escape, she mused. She shook those thoughts out of her head and clutched a small golden pendant she always had tucked in her shirt, tonight there would be death and the blood would be on her hands. She prayed to all the deities she knew for the strength to do what was required of her to survive.