The Headmaster found her in the halls alone. Ruminating on the newest lessons she had read, she walked distractedly down the corridor with her head down. He held a hand up silently and she stopped to look up finally into his watery blue eyes.
"Miss Granger, if you would please come with me," and she knew it was, of course, something she would do. Always with Professor Dumbledore there was the illusion of free will. "Please," he would say. And although everything was posed as a question or a request, you still knew what he wanted was what you would always do. So she followed him down the corridors and through the doors that led to the Infirmary. Finally, they stopped at their destination, a small private room that occupied the south-west corner of the Matron's domain.
There in a bed lay an unconscious Professor Snape. One side of his face was badly swollen and his torn clothes lay on the floor by his bedside.
"He doesn't hold Voldemort's trust anymore, Miss Granger, and he has suffered for it," the headmaster said in a low voice. "So much depends on him. But unless he has Voldemort's confidence, all is lost."
She clutched her school books to her chest and stared at the man in the bed. "You need something to show Voldemort that the professor is not aligned with the Order. Is that what you are saying, sir?"
"Yes. We need something convincing. A small act will be too little too late."
"You believe I am part of the answer, Professor."
She hoped he would drop the pretense and explain it to her. Instead he asked her, "You are not romantically involved right now, Hermione? Things did not work out with Mr. Krum or Mr. Weasley, I believe."
"What are you suggesting, Headmaster? There is no one I am seeing. So, I am to pretend I'm having an affair with Professor Snape? Would that really convince Voldemort and the Death Eaters that Professor Snape was not working with you or the Order?
"If it was truly believed that you and he were involved... If that involvement was seen to remove you from Mr. Potter's side and rob the Order of your talents."
"Surely, they would suspect it was only a ploy."
"Yes, they might," he said as he turned for the door. Stopping, he fixed her with heavy eyes. "Without something that swayed their doubts, it would be easy for them to see it as a ploy. And that would not help Professor Snape at all. In fact, it would seal his fate. And ours with him, my girl. Right now as much hinges on him as anyone. These are our final hours, Hermione, and there are no guarantees. Good does not always prevail." Holding her gaze, he seemed to watch the wheels turning in her head. And once confident that she would tackle this problem he had given her, he sighed. Hands clasped in front of him, he nodded sadly and left her.
She groaned and turned back to the man that lay in the bed. She finally loosened her grip on her books and lay them on her satchel. "He wants me to help you," she said to the still form that lay there. "And you'll not thank me for that." She forsook the single chair that was in the room and instead crawled up into the wide stone window ledge. Looking out into the night she let the thoughts form, move, and sort in her head the way they always did. If she turned her mind to any problem and released all her other thoughts, she could feel things run toward a solution.
Closing her eyes, she slowly lowered her head to her knees and lost herself to the workings of her mind. It felt as if a series of locks' tumblers were falling into place. And with a final click, she knew she had the answer. Raising her head from her knees, she spared her professor one more glance. "I will be as good as alone in this." Her hands rubbed at her head in frustration. "I'll move my parents. Get them out of the country. There will be trouble from both sides," she sighed.
She eased herself down from where she sat and walked a few steps closer to his bedside. "And I'll end up like you," she told the sleeping man. "Hated. No friends. Alone. Well, almost alone." She shook her head, feeling the lateness of the hour. "I'm tired of this fight already, I don't know how you've done this so long. We'll convince Voldemort that he has us both," she said with as much conviction as she could muster. "And you will be in place to turn the final battle to our advantage. And all I have to do is... " she blew out a breath and tried to settle her nerves. "All I have to do..." she began again. She sat down heavily in the chair as her legs began to weaken and her stomach left her. "But it's the difference between winning and losing. So, I'll do it."
