A/N: Hey guys. My beta and I apologize profusely for the wait. We recently started our spring semester and things were hectic; but now, we are happy to say, we have synched our schedules and the chapters should be posted every Wednesday and Sunday as promised. If not, well, don't massacre us please. Thank you all for the kind reviews!

P.S.-Let us kill the SOPA-tell your Senators and Representatives (if you're in America) that this law is an infringement upon our basic rights.

Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy.


Chapter Eight—Additions

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Hermione Granger and Severus Snape hadn't exactly grown close after the dark wizard incident, but their relationship had changed. The professor no longer glowered at his student every second of the day. Granger would talk and he would continue to read, occasionally giving one syllable answers.

Thankfully the girl had enough sense to not mention video games. Severus was embarrassed to have been caught in the act three days ago. He hadn't touched the console since, even though her advice about the sword and the vines had been helpful.

Miss Granger had taken it upon herself to cook every meal now that she couldn't leave the house. She would get up early, make breakfast for her parents, and watch the news, occasionally napping on the couch. She would make lunch for everyone who happened to be in the house at the time then watch a movie or clean. Discussion over the supper she made became increasingly quiet with each passing day.

Snape ate in his usual silence. He was questioning why he had ever decided to eat at the table with the Grangers in the first place. He could have easily sequestered himself in his room all day instead of dealing with these dunderheads.

Damn me to Hell for being polite, he thought as he ripped his piece of toast into smaller pieces.

He glanced at Miss Granger. Her brown eyes were looking dull, as they often did, when she sat in the same room as her parents.


Hermione could feel it.

She could feel the bond to her parents splintering.

Andrew and Jean Granger floated further away from Hermione each day. Their relationship had stretched thin—it had started with her first year away at Hogwarts, she supposed.

At first they had been inquisitive, constantly questioning magic, the wizarding world, and Hogwarts, and how she would get a job in the Muggle world without a degree or a high school diploma.

In her third year, Hermione knew she was made solely for the wizarding world. The Time-Turner had dazzled her—nothing in the Muggle world came close to comparing. No matter what her parents said, she could not and would not stop being a witch.

The parents suspected something had changed about their only child when she returned from her third-year. They could never put their finger on it. Hermione would never tell them she had aged twice as fast due to the magic of the Time-Turner.

This subtle change frightened them.

They didn't understand magic.

They didn't understand their daughter.

Their daughter brought home tales of war and fearsome creatures changing the weather with their powers. An army of Death Eaters murdered and tortured people in the wizarding world and Muggle world alike. Vampires and trolls and other things that aren't supposed to exist threatened them unseen.

Andrew Granger, a man of practicality, regretted letting his daughter ever go to that Hogwarts. There was where she had found Harry Potter. The dentist knew his daughter had grown up friendless and would stay loyal to her first two friends, Harry and Ron. Those wizards and their magic endangered her, yet it was the only thing that could protect her—according to Professor Snape.

How dare that repulsive man come into his house and order his child around? Try to bully them into complying? He had not seen the man conjure one bit of magic during his stay—Dr. Granger did not fear Severus Snape. The man had a formidable glare but no muscle to back it up.

Andrew pushed roughly away from the table. The two women startled. Snape continued to empty his plate in silence, as if he didn't notice the violent movement.

As Mrs. Granger scurried after her husband, Hermione shouted, "I won't be here to make dinner tonight!"

The father stormed back into the kitchen, mustache bristling. "And just where will you be going, young lady? I thought you weren't supposed to leave the house?"

Hermione reeled back, chocolate brown eyes wide. "I'm going to see Harry and Ron at Harry's house. Professor Snape will be going with me, don't worry."

"Worry? Who should worry?" he asked hysterically. Mrs. Granger stood in the doorway; confusion tinged with fear colored the woman's eyes. "You have magic to protect you from nasty wizards—you're an eighteen-year-old girl against a whole army of wizards! I'm sure you'll be just fine!"

The girl was hurt. "Dad? Why are you-?"

"Every year you come home from Hogwarts and your head is filled with spells and potions and ideas of grandeur—you think you and your two little friends are going to stop a madman? A madman who is after your life?"

Snape stared from his place at the table. The man in front of him had regret, fear, and anger rolling off of him in waves.

"How could you do this to us, Hermione? We had such high hopes for you—you're so smart—how could you get tangled up in all this mess? Throw away your life like this? What if he kills us? What if he kills you?"

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" the girl asked calmly.

"No!" her mother emoted from the doorway. "We're not ashamed of you, Hermione, even if you want to stay in the wizarding world. We love you."

Even if I want to stay in the wizarding world. The words bounced around Hermione's head, leaving burning welts inside her brain.

Hermione picked up her fork. "You're going to be late for your office meeting."

Jean stared hopelessly at her daughter before grabbing Andrew's arm. She coaxed him into the hallway, and quietly shut the front door behind them.

The girl did not look up again from her plate. Snape looked at her long and hard, silently, from across the table.

"If I hadn't yelled at him yesterday," he began, grimacing at his clenched fist, "he wouldn't have been so cross today." He sounded like a fool. Apologies had never been his forte.

"Those words were a long time coming, Professor," she whispered. Tiny hands cradled her face, shielding her emotions from her guardian. "He's right."

Snape was bewildered and his face showed it—he was generally very good about keeping his emotions in check, great in fact, but now his eyebrows twisted in confusion. "About?" he asked cautiously.

"He and Mum could be killed. Because of me. I've thought about it countless times," she breathed. "If I hadn't been born a witch—if I hadn't been born at all—they wouldn't be in danger."

"If you hadn't been born—" Hermione's head snapped up. The professor's voice sounded as loud as thunder after her whispers. "Then Potter and Weasley would be dead right now." His pale face was stern.

The logical side of her brain kicked in. Snape was right. She could not bemoan the fact that she had been given life. She could only deal with what life put in her way, with the tools life had given her. She nodded with renewed determination.

Snape nodded once in return. His eyes then wandered away. He wasn't afraid of many things, but emotional females was one of them. Perhaps that's why his best friend was Minerva McGonagall—a composed rampart of a woman, successfully keeping her emotions in order and out of sight.

The calendar listed the date as July tenth. Severus frowned, wondering why that date sounded so important. His eyes sharpened.

"Draco's birthday," he breathed.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking up from the remnants of her lunch.

Snape rose to his feet, staring at the calendar. "Today is Draco's seventeenth birthday."

Hermione looked bewildered. She jumped to her feet when Snape clutched his left forearm in pain.

"Merlin," he hissed, glaring at his clenched forearm. "They'll be inducting him today without a doubt."

Hermione covered her mouth to keep in the gasp. "Will he…be hurt?"

Onyx eyes bored into hers. "Most likely not." With a snap of his elegant fingers, his Death Eater robes fell around him, billowing around his thin frame. An ornate mask gleamed in his hand.

"Do not leave the house," he ordered. "If I do not return, Apparate directly onto the stoop of Grimmauld Place for the meeting."

Hermione looked unflinchingly at the Death Eater standing in her kitchen. "I'll be here when you get back."

Emotionless, he gazed back at her before whipping his robes about him—with a spin, he was gone.

Hermione sank into her kitchen chair. It was only noon but the day had already turned from normal to abhorrent.


Pops and snaps and the hiss of robes along the marble floor filled the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Mulciber, Yaxley, Macnair, Walden, Crabbe Sr. and countless others arrived at the same time as Snape.

Narcissa Malfoy entered from the sitting room.

"Severus," she gushed. Long blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight. Rubies dripped from her throat and ears. Her blood red dress flattered her curves tastefully.

"Narcissa," he murmured, lips brushing Lady Malfoy's hand. "Where is my godson? I need to wish him a happy birthday."

"He is upstairs with Lucius. They will be down shortly." Her smile was effortless and beautiful. Behind her eyes, Severus could see the panic only with his Legilimency. "Today is the most important day of Draco's life."

"What a treat," Yaxley said, slapping his hands together eagerly. "The boy turns seventeen and immediately joins the ranks! You must be so proud."

Narcissa smiled at the man. "Draco is our pride."

Severus laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. For her ears only, he said, "I will watch out for him."

Narcissa's eyes, a deep blue, clouded with emotion. "My Draco…he is my only child."

"If only I had a child!" a voice screeched from the staircase. Bellatrix Lestrange swept down the stairs. Her black bodice was so tight Snape wondered how the woman could breathe. If the woman hadn't such a repulsive personality, the sight of her barely-clad bosom might have been appealing. The stringy black curls piled atop her head fell into her sneering face.

"If I had a child, I would happily give him to the Dark Lord! Are you so selfish as to keep Draco to yourself, Cissy?"

"Bella, you offend me. My son gratefully accepts the Dark Lord's gracious offer and the Dark Lord accepts him!"

The escaped convict jerked her head towards Severus. "Has the half-blood been filling your head with fears?"

"Hello to you too, Madam Lestrange," Severus purred. He had long since realized that it was more fun to be polite to Bellatrix. It was no fun to taunt people if her barbs didn't stick. The woman stuck her nose in the air to saunter out of the hallway.

Lucius and Draco appeared moments later.

"Have you brought me a present?" Draco smirked. His handsome, pale face was smug, as usual.

"No," Snape drawled indifferently.

"You two are incorrigible," Lucius said in exasperation. "If I did not know any better, I would wager you two were enemies instead of confidants."

"Your son is pretentious," Snape said with a shrug.

"Your friend lacks any sophistication," Draco pointed out to his father.

"Now boys, stop this childish banter at once," Narcissa admonished. The stress of giving her only son to the devil was starting to peek through.

The four entered the lavish drawing room. Death Eaters crawled over every inch, a black beehive of dark wizards. A hush fell over the crowd as Voldemort glided in.

"My friendss," he hissed. His red eyes traveled lovingly over his minions. "Assemble."

Swiftly a circle formed around the Dark Lord, every man and woman in their correct place. Mask or no mask, the Dark Lord would know who was present and who was not.

Draco stood outside the circle, dressed in his finest pin-stripe suit. Aplomb was written on his face—the young man was confident in his decision.

"Today we gather to add one more into our fold. Draco Malfoy has been waiting for his day patiently," the evil man told his captive audience. "I have made planss for thiss boy." Red slatted eyes fell upon Draco.

Severus gazed at Draco and only remembered the six-year-old boy he had taught to fly. Plans? He had never heard a whisper of plans concerning his godson. The spy observed the group through his silver mask. Bellatrix hungrily eyed her nephew. She had planted a seed in the Dark Lord's head, a way to ingrain herself and her family into the Dark Lord's good graces. The woman's thirst for the Dark Lord's approval was sickening.

"Step forward, Draco." The Dark Lord's voice was little more than a breath.

The only child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy entered the ring of onlookers. He stopped in front of the repellent man and kneeled.

"You wissh to join the honoured rankss of Death Eaterss, noble wizardss of noble idealss?"

"I do, my lord."

"You wissh to serve your masster without quesstion?"

"I do, my lord."

"You wissh to lay down your life to serve Lord Voldemort?" Sunlight poured in from the high-paned windows, reflecting and refracting in his red eyes.

"I do, my lord," Draco said, offering his bared left arm without looking up.

Voldemort cut his wand like a scalpel through Draco's pale skin. Blood blossomed from the wound, spilling and pooling crimson against alabaster. The boy did not flinch though Severus knew the pain was intense.

The blood stilled in the shape of a skull and snake. In the silence, all could hear the boy's skin sizzle under the blood. Red shifted to black, sinking through the skin.

The boy had been Marked.

"Sstand."

Draco obeyed, carefully keeping his arm away from the cloth of his suit jacket.

"Take your place at your father'ss right hand."

The disfigured shadow of a man stroked his wand with long fingered hands. "Hogwartss will be mine," he hissed. "Severuss."

"Yes, my lord." Severus bowed low as he removed his mask.

"You have long suffered Hogwarts and its fool of a master Dumbledore."

"Yes, my lord."

"I will embarrasss the old fool," he declared quietly. "You will not be the only traitor in his midssst."

The double-agent straightened, black, bottomless pits beholding red orbs.

"You hold a formidable position inside Hogwarts," he began, circling inside his ring of followers. "Slytherin is yourss to command. Draco commands his peerss. The two of you shall lead the students down the only right path—a path to which all noble Slytherinss aspire."

He stood eye to eye with Severus. "From inside, the school will crumble. Resistance will be quashed, student will fight against student, children against their elderss, house againsst housse."

Fueled by dreams of destruction, he whisked through his minions, pacing the ring, observing each in turn as he raved. "Glorious—the uprising will be glorious indeed! Will it unfold quickly, Slytherin striking like a valiant serpent, devouring the school and all who are unworthy?"

He swished, now stalking towards the opposite end of the circle, robes a mass of gray smoke about him. "Or will it be slow? A gradual taking, an infection seeping into each house, contaminating, desstroying their trust in Dumbledore?"

The snake man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Perhapss," he began, "our little Slytherinss will expand our reach as well. Draco will ensure that all are taught the Imperius Curse. Recruiting purebloods from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, even Gryffindor, will serve to further embarrass that basstard Dumbledore."

The Dark Lord lost whatever charm he had been using earlier. Mania replaced calm.

"Dumbledore will be ssshamed—his school is a veritable trap for Mud-bloodss, targets for Draco's recruits. By Christmasss you will bring them to me," the Dark Lord said, swinging his wand towards Draco. "You will bring me recruits," he hissed through razor sharp teeth. "To Malfoy Manor—they will be Marked by my hand."

Suddenly he laughed, a vicious sound. He whipped around, pointing his wand into the face of Travers. "Crucio!"

The man fell to the floor. He clenched his arms and shook uncontrollably. That Crucio wasn't meant to cause permanent brain trauma, only instill fear within the ranks.

"Sseveruss," he breathed, "Draco. Come with me."

Bellatrix scurried after her lord like an infatuated puppy.

The scum had taken over Lucius's private office. The only chair in the room was a giant throne, melded in the shape of slaughtered Muggles and twisting serpents.

Bellatrix slithered around the throne, the devil's concubine. She smirked, always pleased to be considered appealing to the Dark Lord.

Severus and Draco knelt, faces pointed towards the lavish carpet.

"You may ssstand," Voldemort said airily. He lounged in his throne, appraising his two servants.

"Draco will be in charge of this operation," he began.


Hermione was completely alone in the house for the first time all summer. She sat at the kitchen table writing on a piece of parchment. Sighing in frustration, she marked out half of what she had just written.

"These plans will never work. Either we include the Order or we don't. If we strike out on our own, no one can know. But we can't do that until Harry finds all the horcruxes."

She threw her quill onto the table. It wasn't fair. Her brain was being squandered, trapped here in Muggle London. She should be with Harry researching horcruxes, or with Ron and Ginny learning new spells from Bill.

The clock on the stove warned her that she only had ten minutes left before the Order meeting began. She chewed her lower lip.

If he returns and he's hurt…will he insist that we go to the meeting? Most likely. What if he doesn't return in time? He's been gone for hours…

A rustling noise sounded behind her. She turned to find Severus Snape.

"Are you alright?" she exclaimed, jumping up immediately. She calmed down. "You look alright."

"I'm fine," he answered curtly but not unkindly. Tattered Death Eater robes trailed behind him as he swept out of the room. A few minutes later he returned, dressed in his usual black frock coat. "Let's go."