~*~A Thousand Faces~*~

The looks on their faces had been fuel for her act. All she had to do was look at them and watch their reactions, anticipate their movements without making a decision, speaking without revealing too much.

Moody's words filtered through her head in jumbles and she tried to shove them away. She didn't need to think about those things...the only objective was to believe in her persona. She was who she would introduce herself as, nothing more, nothing less. Inside her was the pureblood heiress who quietly mourned her baby brother and balanced a romance with it. She wasn't Hermione Granger, that woman didn't exist.

It was hard to do. She couldn't force her own mind to stop thinking like her, to stop wanting what she wanted...and it got confused in her own head when she tried to keep the persona and herself separate. She hadn't achieved her full identity yet and the holes in Persephone's character started to be filled with her own likes and dislikes. That made it even harder to sort out. Which one of them liked cheesecake and which one knew what dentistry was? The latter was simple, the former not so much. Then she would start thinking of different types of cheesecake and her headache would commence.

Would Persephone have to be physically affectionate in public with Snape? How was she to tell herself his lips were kissing her persona when she felt them on her own?

Breakfast was sparse and boring, but she ate it anyway. She had to eat, even if the moment she arrived at Snape's manor there would be food enough to fill her. She felt a little guilty about having instant access to food when the whole of the refuge had to wring nutrition out of the smallest of things, but a little part of her was excited about the prospect. It made her feel even worse about the situation.

Lavender was hosting them in her cottage. Ron and Ginny were hovering over her, poking at her cheeks and pulling at her hair, muttering to themselves as if she was deaf.

"Is she supposed to mimic the King's pallor, Lavender?" Ginny questioned, twisting a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger.

"No!" Lavender's voice was slightly high pitch in indignation. "Pale is delicate. It lacks the harshness of a tan and gives off the air of naivety and gentleness. It'll make her first impression one of a young, ignorant woman with money to burn and little sense of politics."

"Why on earth would you do that?" the other woman asked, releasing the hair in favor of a hand.

"It's like an onion, Gin." Ron answered, his eyes drifting over Hermione with a calculating air. It made her uneasy, but she tried hard to make herself appear unaffected, looking steadily at the middle distance.

"An onion? What, like the layers?"

"Yeah. If all they see is some lack-wit woman with so much riding on who marries her, they'll toss out figures and strategies in front of her and she'll hear loads of useful stuff. Add on that the delicate appearance, old-fashioned and romantic, she'll be wanted by everyone. Such draw could open so many doors and make her quickly interesting and popular. Her rise to the top is guaranteed."

"We want that for her? We want to shove her under the King's nose like that? When I was with Tom, the book version, he would have leapt at anything he thought important or coveted. He's a selfish, possessive creature." It was rare for Ginny to ever speak of the horrors of her first year and to do it so easily and without provocation made all of them pause.

Ron spoke first. "That's exactly why she's pale. It's layer one, then her hair comes next," he took a handful in his palm and showed his sister. "the length and the shine of it means she's healthy. Hair reflects the body's condition. When someone is sick, their hair grows brittle. When someone is consumed by sorrow, their hair is flat and lifeless."

"How could you know that?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing curiously. Hermione knew the other woman was suspicious that her brother knew anything but how long a meat loaf took to cook. All of them had lived so long with the Ron who wanted nothing but food and Quidditch that they couldn't fathom him as anything else. It made her feel like a doting mother. Next she'd reach up and smooth that unruly hair by his temple...

"I watch people, Gin. You may or may not have noticed but I am still chess champion. Chess is like poker sometimes, if you aren't watching your enemy you never understand them or their moves. You have to watch to know when to call a bluff."

Lavender had a look of complete pleasure on her face, but Ginny looked uncomfortable. By the look she sported, Hermione knew she was thinking exactly what she herself had been thinking.

"That's...that's brilliant, Ron." He beamed at his sister's compliment and she seemed to relax.

"What time is it?" Hermione questioned softly, looking up at Ron with pride. She had always underestimated him. She should have noticed sooner how intelligent he really was. That piece of information should have been the first thing she noticed about Ron, but he had hid it with that frivolous behavior and rather well in fact. Hermione was proud of him, so proud. He was turning into a really brave, wise, man.

"'Round about four-thirty. Why?"

"Moody wants to have one last talk with me before I turn in for the night. He'll be taking me to the Nest, but out in the open we'll have no chance to speak and he won't speak in front of Snape." she responded, standing.

"Slayer. Stop calling his name." Ron reverted slightly with his words from wise man to man.

"I'll be calling him 'Severus, dear' soon, why even pretend?"

"Imagine hearing that all the time, Ron." Ginny said, goading him. "Severus, dear! Next she'll pour his tea and kiss that traitorous nose."

A smile didn't crawl its way to Hermione's face and everyone seemed to notice. "I won't make fun of him." she told them fiercely.

"That's alright, 'Mione. You never did."

The afternoon air around the manor made the tall figure shiver. She had cast a warming charm, but it had faded and she hadn't really noticed. She didn't see the point of casting one now, as she would be indoors soon and if she cast a warming charm, she would be too hot inside. Her husband was off in France again, battling with that snotty Ariel Boudin. The man was witty and full to the brim with hot air and lies. Lucius had been locked in that intricate dance for seven months now and had little changed the situation. Their King would not be pleased if he heard about the latest development.

Narcissa was sticking her feelers into every nook and cranny, trying to work out the best way to salvage this family. She didn't blame Lucius as much as her vulture-esque tea mates did. She had known her husband for nearly thirty years, and knew when he was breaking. The pressure of so many positions and the lack of real allies in the King's Court made him suffer more than disgraced isolation ever did. He was stretched thin every single day and yet always came home. She had tried to get him to stay in Paris until he had finished his duty, the King would expect as much, but her husband had simply fallen asleep without a word.

She knew what was happening before he had confided in her. All efforts to bring Ariel over were for naught. That man was as stalwart for muggles and mudbloods as Dumbledore. Nothing could be said against them and no amount of propaganda would change his mind. It had gotten to the point that the minister would not even treat with Lucius and all his trips to the minister were actually useless strolls about the Parisian streets. He had been lying about his progress for two weeks now.

Long ago, Narcissa would have asked her sister for assistance. But back then her sister had been sane and beautiful. Neither applied at the present and Bellatrix was too ruined to care for her poor sister's fate. The King was all and she was nothing.

The door suddenly opened before her and she smiled up at the man.

"Narcissa, you look...unwell."

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me, Severus. Most would just say 'lovely' and mutter behind my back." she answered.

Severus allowed her a soft smile and took her hand. "Lucius must not be faring as well as it appeared." He led her inside and shut the door behind her, guiding her to the sitting room.

"Are you that well connected?" She would loathe for it to be so easy for everyone to know. If so, the King already knew and she had precious little time.

"Not as I should be. I have seen Lucius recently and even through his exuberance he was tired. Soon after our chat he rushed back to Ariel Boudin. Now I see you are no better rested." He let her sit in the softest chair and fetched a Firewhisky for them both.

"My husband is drawn too thin between his duties. It seems when too little does not break him, the King heaps on too much. He is determined to see Lucius crushed." She had always been able to speak freely with Severus. His catatonic state of so soon ago did not hinder his ability to listen and to counsel. She could count on good counsel from Severus, with or without feeling behind it.

"I do not doubt it. I do not forgive and I do not forget, he has always said to us. It should not surprise us that he will not be satisfied with repentant words and a few months of being a social pariah. The King means to see Lucius judged and punished, by his own acts and by his ability to cope. We all know the consequence for failing the King again."

Narcissa took a generous gulp of Firewhisky and swallowed it. The burn chased her tears away and she sighed at it all.

"I've known this since the 'honor' was given to him. I am doing all I can, but there is only so much. I try to wed Draco, but he fights me so. He wants to choose his own bride. The one we arranged for him was killed that night at Hogwarts."

"Pansy Parkinson? I had not heard. I supposed she simply went to Beauxbatons, it was much calmer there." Severus replied, frowning.

"The irony was that Dolohov was the killer. He thought she was one of the Gryffindors who opposed him. I found out later that she had been injured by debris and a young man gave her his tie to staunch the blood. She had already used her own, but the blood soaked the green-and-silver to black. All he saw was red-and-gold."

The story had saddened her. The girl was never her favorite, but it seemed that her son would get along with her well enough to marry. Pureblood necessity said that he must marry, but Narcissa was willing to give all she could for him to be happy. She couldn't find true love in her marriage, but she was driven to make her son find what she couldn't. He deserved to benefit from all she had had to suffer. But time was not on her side and she would soon be forced to make her son marry without love. Connections really were important now, especially status and financial means.

"Who do you propose to pair him with?" He took everything as it was and answered logically with a poignant question. This is why she could never understand Bella's hatred of him. This man really took no sides in any matter and had survived regardless of any discrepancies in his reports or the offenses to the King's grace. Even his lackluster service to their sovereign went fairly unnoticed and he was now the highest ranked member of the realm. This man could survive the Killing Curse, she was convinced, and still offer advice on marriage.

"I have been in talks with Madam Greengrass, Solara Mefflebaum, and was speaking to Kestrel Damasca about...well, it doesn't matter now." She wasn't sure how Severus would take the knowledge that she had.

Kestrel Damasca had died six years ago and had been bartering with Narcissa about what amount of money her daughter would be worth. The woman was, and had always been, sickly, which most assumed passed to her rarely seen daughter. Narcissa was prone to believe that tale because of the terms the woman had tried to see secured.

Marriage without seeing the bride beforehand(preferably after 'I will'), the passing of funds at the exact moment of marriage(straight to the Damasca vault in Gringotts), old-fashioned Pureblood standards(until death, solid with or without an heir). The old age of pureblood marriages was for cattle and land and gold before it was Galleons. It didn't really matter if one had a child by the wife, mostly because infidelity was not so frowned upon and bastards could be hidden with a well placed lie. Narcissa wondered if any of them were really pure in the end, not that it compromised her beliefs. She was devout to blood purity, with or without the proof against it. The reckless decisions of their ancestors was the problem, not the blood. In the romantic monogamous era, where being chaste was counted in your favor, the purebloods had shifted accordingly to accommodate and marriage contracts become stiff and unyielding.

She herself had fallen prey to one, and though she loved Lucius dearly, she was never in love with him. Narcissa could still not bring herself to love him in that way, even after all this time. Her heart was not in it and she could not force it to be. But her love for him was strong and she was determined to save his life, no matter the cost.

"Mefflebaum is pureblood, but poor as her brother before her and as wide as a hippogriff. Most of her children are unreliable lickspittles who drift like weeds in the wind whenever someone gains power. It appears all that is left you is Greengrass. What of Daphne? I had heard she married some Rosier cousin." Severus refilled her cup and eased back into his seat calmly, watching her with those fathomless black eyes.

"Sven. His blood is pure and since he had a child out of wedlock before he was married, it is obvious he is fertile. We purebloods need more children, before we drive ourselves into extinction. Merlin forbid."

"So you must look to...what was her name? Astra? No, Astoria. Astoria Greengrass, more beautiful and less idiotic. Daphne and Pansy were too close for comfort." The room in which they sat grew cold and Narcissa stood, walking over to the fire and warming her hands.

"I've met with Astoria, but Lucius won't and Draco seems to always find a way around it. I can't wait any longer, I need this security if we are to rebound. We have the money, but more wouldn't hurt. We have the status, but that has always been fragile. The only thing we stand to gain from this is heirs, and I am loathe to have none." Narcissa had always wanted a large family when she was young, with as many kids as fingers and a doting husband. She got one, but the other was cut by nine. To see Draco achieve what she had not and be happy about it, well, she wished it were so.

"Send Draco to me when you can, I'll convince him to meet with this woman. If you could keep her reined, in example, no talk of marriage, love, children or parents, then perhaps this thing shall be done with." He seemed to be hammering shut this conversation and she recalled why she was here at all.

"I have wasted your time, Severus, I apologize."

He smiled and shook his head. "I care for you, your husband and your son. It honors me that you trust enough to forget yourself. Please, sit, let us speak about this favor I ask of you."

He was more a man than Rodolphus and kind to top it all. Knowing who he had killed and in what number, she was proud to be so at ease with him. There were members at court who would not say a word against him until he had left the city. He generated fear to rival the King himself.

"Of course." She resumed her seat and met his eyes. "I will be delighted to meet this Persephone. Her mother made me so curious about her."

Alastor Moody was waiting in her cottage when she finally arrived, lounging on her couch with a shiny red apple in his gnarled hand. She walked towards him, letting the act go. It had been a while since she had feared someone's verdict. Did she succeed? Was she ready? Would he reprimand her? She had tried her best, but she only had a week.

Hermione could feel him watching her, was trying not to show her worries and heard him snicker as he took a crunching bite of the apple.

"That was a good show, Hermione. Hopefully you'll be able to keep it up through this Ball...though there is a catch." his voice was deep and wound its way into her mind. There were layers, just like her onion, to his voice.

"What catch?"

"If this succeeds as we hope, you may not have another opportunity to return for quite a while. We are hoping you'll make a splash and create waves that last for a few months. The death of something new is when the novelty wears off and the show loses all its awe. You have to set out a pace, keep them wanting you, but don't give it all away. If anything, keep them wanting things that don't really matter and when they start to wane, toss out a hook. You don't know how important you are about to become." he was tearing into the apple with fervor now and she sat across from him quietly.

"How am I supposed to do all of this without help?" She wasn't confident enough to know if she could do this in the thick of it. Fooling her friends was well and good, but fooling hungry serpents who've been waiting for a treat was another beast entirely.

"Did anyone ever really stand by you and guide you through your OWLs or your NEWTs? Use that approach when you're in the fold. You are the only reliable person around you. Trust in yourself and listen to your feelings. If something feels off, escape it. If something feels right, pursue it. Know yourself and attempt to know your enemy. That is all I can do for you."

But it wasn't enough. She didn't have five to seven years of schooling to prepare for this; she had five to seven days. No amount of reading or watching or listening was going to be enough in that short time. She wanted to ask him if he'd review all the strategies and gestures, but something told her it was too late. After tonight she would have to throw herself completely into this role. Outside these walls she would be Persephone, because being Hermione meant death.

"Thank you, Alastor." she murmured and he smiled.

"That's a first. Why the sudden precedent?" he was standing, coming towards her. She met his eyes, but she couldn't maintain it.

"If something happens to me..." she began, taking his hand when he held it out.

"Nothing will happen to you, Hermione. You can do this, you will do this. When everyone looks back on this day, they'll be so proud of you." his voice was soft now, but she didn't want to hear it. She had always worked better when she was being dressed-down. Something about being told, 'You can't.', made her work harder. No one could pity her to success. She pressed her point.

"If it does, keep everyone fighting. Never let anything break the Light, it's too precious."

"I know." His smile lost its glow suddenly, she frowned at the fall of his lips. "Obliviate!"

She only saw a glimpse of wood and flash of light before everything went dark.

Narcissa had returned this morning, primped and proper, and was lounging in his library, a thin tome of uncertain origin in her pale hands. He had left her with tea and a kind word, ensuring her he wouldn't be too long in retrieving his new woman. He had been shaken slightly by the knowledge that a Damasca girl had existed and now that she was familiar or at least had been bargained over. He wondered if she really was alive out there and if Persephone was her real name. Severus had thought the Order might run Hermione through her paces, trying to prepare her, but only a pureblood Slytherin could prepare you for the King's Court. Serpents, wolves and vultures were in abundance. One misstep or wrong word and the serpents would slither off to hiss in the right ears. One sign of weakness and the wolves would descend. The vultures would wait until the other two were done, then they would pick clean whatever remained.

He couldn't leave her in the dark if they were to succeed. Severus crossed another alley in Knockturn, retracing his steps to the Nest Hermione had taken him to. It was just as it had been, but he passed it six times before entering. He could never be sure when he was being followed. Even so, he ran into the nearest alcove after a quick jog around the block and Disillusioned himself. When he entered the Nest, he knew he was safe.

He let the spell fall and conjured a chair to wait out the others.

It seemed like an eternity of silence, but really it was only ten minutes. Just as he was beginning to worry, there were two shimmering figures slipping through the doorway. He knew she was to the right, even before they dropped the spell. That mad-dog Moody immediately spun and checked the wards on the door, then sighed.

"You came alone, that's good." he muttered gruffly, guiding the hooded Hermione closer to him.

"Who would I have brought? Which of my brethren could have gone missing most inconspicuously?" Severus inquired, vanishing his chair to free his legs.

"Gone missing? I expected you to ambush us." the old man in turn conjured a chair, but let Hermione sit in it.

"I supposed the same, but of you. Had I brought anyone else, you would have sent a Patronus and fought until you got reinforcements. We think alike, it seems."

"Is that meant to be a bad thing? If I think like you I'll at least have fair warning of attack. I'm so predictable." The tone was joking and sarcastic, neither of which moved Severus. He was staring at Hermione.

"Why have you hooded her? I know who she is."

"It's for my protection. If she doesn't remember me with any of her senses, I won't ever be seen in her head. It'll save the refuge a lot of trouble. We only had a week to prepare her."

"I'm sure it was more than enough." Severus walked forward. "I have someone waiting to see her, we must go."

"Fine. Uphold your end and she'll uphold ours. Death to the King." Moody said it like some farewell and flicked his wand, fading out the Nest door like smoke.

Persephone was confused. The last thing she remembered was being at home, but there was something in the back of her mind...something she had forgotten. She hated forgetting things. Icarys always forgot to apply a sticking charm to his trousers before he jumped on that broom and now he was dead. She couldn't let that happen to her.

She couldn't see, or hear...or anything for that matter. She knew she was awake and that there was something going on, but she couldn't feel a single thing. Where was she?

The one thought that popped into her head was that she had to go to the Ball with Severus. She wondered where he was and if he was orchestrating all of this. It seemed a little far-fetched, but what did she have to go on?

The sound finally returned to the world, the sounds of skittering and high pitch squeaking. Touch then smell returned and she shook her head, looking up but all she saw was darkness. Something told her to lift her hands and remove the dark, but a set of strong, warm hands stopped hers. She knew those hands. They began to push down her hood and then untied the dark that shielded her eyes. She smiled and spoke.

"Severus. What did you blindfold me for?" The cloth slid from her face and she blinked, looking around.

Dirt, rats, bugs, a tiny pauper's bed. She saw spiderwebs in the corners and folded up magazines with pictures that didn't move. There was some sort of can with bright writing on the side and she remembered that the muggles called it 'soda'. What an odd species and what an odd concoction. But why would her beloved bring her here?

"What did they do to you?" Severus mumbled, gripping her chin. He was always so gentle with her.

"'They'?" she asked, staring up at his onyx eyes.

"Nothing, Persephone...just...nothing." he seemed sad, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed his thin lips. Her sense of taste was back as well. He tasted like fire and earth.

"Let's go to your manor. This place reeks of decay."

"Of course, Persephone. Take my arm."

She hooked her arm around his and grinned happily. The Ball would be lovely and she had to make a splash. How else was she to find those puzzle pieces and checkmate the black?

A/N: This is what I was wanting to post for ages. Did I get ya? Tickle2Kill.