I once again want to thank all of you for your wonderful reviews and support. I'm sorry I haven't updated for such a long time – again -, but my life is still rather complicated at the moment, which is why I have mainly stopped replying to your reviews, too – I simply cannot find the time for it. But still, every one of your comments is highly cherished by me!
It's just that when the stress level rises to a certain point, writing becomes quite impossible for me. And shouldn't remain it a fun thing to do, not a forced thing? But I will give my very best to update as often as humanly possible, and I promise you all that this story will be finished!Now to your questions: No, Hermione hasn't forgotten why she started spying – and we all will find out eventually (not long now! But I have to keep up a little tension!)
I think part of why Lucius does this to her will be explained in this chapter, but anyway, the reaction of the Dark Lord to all this is yet to come, isn't it? (I'm glad I'm not Lucius!)
Oh, and to the length of this story: We have at least twenty chapters to go. At least. The final length actually depends on me and all of you – how much you want to hear from me and when the story starts to get on your nerves ;-)
Now read on and have fun, all the best, Kayly
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Secret HufflepuffingNeither of them felt the need to talk about what had happened to them over the next days, returning to their holiday routine as if that evening and the following morning had never happened.
But still, Severus felt the changes in their relationship, so subtle that a stranger wouldn't have noticed them, and yet they transformed Hermione and himself more deeply than anything Severus had ever known.
In a way, it was as if he had ceased to exist to Hermione, at least ceased to exist as a separate human being. Where she had tolerated his presence in the past but had still, half-consciously, followed his every move, noted his position in the room in relation to hers, and never let down her defences completely, she now acknowledged him with a smile, only to plunge back into her world of thoughts and words.
He could comment rudely the newest homework added to his catastrophe-pile, pace the room or even brush by her armchair without any reaction from her. Sometimes, she would prepare the tea for them and place a cup on his desk, sometimes he would refill her cup, all without a word. And sometimes, in the evenings, he would look up and find her asleep, curled into her favourite chair, a book forgotten on her lap. Then he would gather her into his arms and carry her up into her room, and she wouldn't even stir from her sleep, as if it wasn't another human being that touched her, but a part of her own body that happened to be awake at the moment.
For the first time ever, he saw Hermione relax completely, and it transformed her into a different person. Again, the changes were subtle, though it had rather shocked him to meet someone whose humour was even darker and dryer than his own. But only now, when she discussed a theoretical problem, her hands gesturing wildly and her eyes glittering defiantly, could he see that she had never really been herself before, not with her friends, not in class, and not even with him during the last months.
It was as if the constant will to fit in, to please, to satisfy had vanished, only to leave a person as headstrong and sarcastic as he was. A person that was unashamedly brilliant, and, at times, shockingly arrogant.
He enjoyed it tremendously. And when he saw the lines in her face fading, and new fire blooming in her eyes, he knew that she felt the same way.
They didn´t breach the subject of Lucius Malfoy, and the only indication that Hermione dealt with her memories was the fact that their training and its intensity had doubled. They would spend hours in the gym now, until even Severus was panting with exhaustion.
On the twenty eighth of December, Hermione drew her first blood. She watched the red line on his chest spread rapidly in shock, but Severus stopped her before she could even start voicing her apologies.
"The great thing about being a witch, Hermione," He told her while healing the cut with practiced ease. "Is that you can train as hard and dangerously as you want to. There´s not much I cannot heal, and you need the experience of real injuries – inflicting them to others and receiving them yourself. Training only in theory won't do when you are confronted with someone you must kill, or be killed by him."
"If you have that 'Don't care about the others' speech coming, stop it right there, Severus, for I've heard it often enough," Hermione answered hotly. "I have killed, and I was very nearly killed more than a dozen times."
"I know. But did you kill instinctively? So fast that you didn't even have to think about it? Or did you hesitate, asking yourself if there wasn't another way, giving your victim a chance to back out?"
Her eyes widened at the question, and her knife hand fell to her side. "What are you asking me to become, Severus?" She whispered.
He just smirked at her, knowing by now that he would be understood. "Efficient," He answered.
And instead of backing off, retreating into the gestures of normalcy she would have used before, she only raised her chin, met his gaze squarely, and nodded with a smile.
But though she seemed to deal with the memory of Lucius in her own, silent way, Severus found that the problem wouldn't leave him alone. He had no desire to see her like that ever again, bleeding, half conscious and full of pain, and he had no idea how to prevent Lucius from calling and hurting her again.
Still, he waited till New Year's Eve, hoping she would bring up the topic before he did. But the evening passed, and still she ignored his hints, dodged his attempts to turn the conversation towards anything related to spying, seemingly concentrating on nothing but their dinner.
"We have to stop him. You can't go on like that," He finally remarked during the dessert.
"I know," Hermione answered calmly, used by now to his abrupt changes of topic. "And I have a plan. But it needs some time to be prepared." This said, she continued to enjoy her chocolate ice cream with great care and concentration.
"What if we don't have the time?" Severus asked, wondering why she seemed so calm about this.
She sighed, and laid the spoon down beside her bowl.
"He is deeply sorry at the moment," She explained. "Something he always is when he oversteps the limit. You see, as far as a Lucius Malfoy can ever be capable of it, he really loves me. And he fears to lose me, so whenever he cracks up and does something as stupid as… that, he will repent. He sent me jewellery, always a good sign that he won't try anything over the next weeks. Before his more dangerous desires surface again, I will have solved the problem. I promise, Severus."
Three things were foremost on Severus' mind as he met her eyes and nodded silently. First, that she had spoken of Lucius' violent attacks as if they were a kind of bothersome routine, something she knew by heart, although she loathed it. He wondered how many jewels were stored in her Head Girl room, presented to her as a repayment by her torturer.
Second, that she had told him nothing of her plan. Whatever it was, she obviously wasn't willing to inform him, and that normally would have been enough to make him suspicious.
And third, that this was Hermione, whom he had sworn to trust less than a week ago. And strangely enough, he felt no need to question her or to test this plan she had spoken of. If Hermione was confident in its success, so was he.
So, instead of being his normal, suspicious self, he just cocked his head and scowled. "I was never presented with any jewels, not by anybody," He complained, imitating a sulking child.
She grinned in answer. "That's probably because they don't go well with your robes. But if you want to, I can lend you some of my rubies and you may test them during your first Potions class."
She chuckled at the idea of Severus, adorned with a huge ruby necklace and red ribbons in his hair, standing in front of the seventh years, but said Potions Master suddenly stood with a imperious gesture.
"Into the gym, you impertinent woman," He ordered. "I will punish you sufficiently for this. I will have to fight a grin during the whole of the first class. This calls for knives!"
And, obliging him with a mock-submissive curtsey, Hermione wandered of for yet another two hours of kicking, punching and cutting.
0o0o0o
She had known he would be there, and that he would be expecting her before she even passed the gargoyle, but when she entered his study and found him sitting behind his desk, a cup of tea in hand and his eyes twinkling madly, she couldn't fight the little knot of nervousness in her stomach.
Perhaps it was because of his reputation as an all knowing, nearly all powerful wizard, perhaps because of his sheer age, but whenever Hermione visited Dumbledore, she feared that her courage would fail her.
More depended on this plan than just the taming of Lucius Malfoy, and she wasn't sure how the Headmaster would react to her proposal. Despite his eccentric reputation and his friendly-but-nuts behaviour, he was not only a very powerful wizard, but also a brilliant general and politician. People like Albus Dumbledore didn't like to let go of power or control. They craved for it.
All she could hope for was that her arguments would hold enough weight and that Dumbledore did indeed trust Severus as much as he always maintained. That, and her silent hope that the Headmaster started to feel his old age and longed for a little relief now and then.
"Headmaster," She greeted him with a smile. "I am glad you found some time for me."
"Oh, Miss Granger, the pleasure is all mine."
They hadn't seen each other for nearly a month now, Severus having taken over her reporting duty, and the expression on his face told her that he was pleasantly surprised with the changes she had gone through.
She could almost see herself mirrored in his eyes now, the stronger, finely muscled body that had lost some of its stiffness, the face that had once been cold as ice now relaxed and entirely self confident, the skin once more glowing and healthy, the eyes not reddened and weary, but glowing with energy again.
It irritated her without end that he knew who had caused all this. Somehow, she wanted to keep Severus and their friendship as secret as the events during the revels. Whenever she thought about their time together, she felt a sort of protectiveness, so fierce that it surprised her every time. He was hers, this quiet little sanctuary they had built together was theirs, and no one was to take even a glimpse of it.
She could feel his gaze diving into her mind, so softly that, had she not been a Master Occlumens herself, she wouldn't have noticed it, and carefully directed his probing mind over to some harmless mental images, entirely unrelated to anything of interest. She smirked inwardly. The Headmaster was probably so used by now to this form of spying that he didn't even realize how futile it was with her. But who was she to steal the man his illusions.
"You look well, my dear," Dumbledore commented as if he had listened to her thoughts just a moment ago. But Hermione, who knew exactly that he had seen nothing of consequence and certainly nothing even remotely connected with Severus, could no longer be fooled by his tricks, subtle as they were, and so she simply smiled mysteriously and walked over to one of the arm chairs that stood in front of the blazing fireplace.
"May I sit, Headmaster? I believe this will be a rather lengthy discussion."
"Of course, child, excuse my forgetfulness," Dumbledore reacted instantly, conjuring another cup for her and joining her by the fire.
Silently, she sipped her tea and examined the old man. Expedient as he was in staring others into confession, he wasn't used to his own methods being turned against him. He was the first to break the silence.
"What brings you here tonight, Miss Granger?" He asked, smiling benevolently to take the edge off his question. "Of course I am always glad to see you and offer whatever support I can…"
Hermione smiled in answer and set her cup aside.
"Is it a good sign that you come straight to the point with me, Headmaster?" She asked lightly, but waved the question aside a moment later when he seemed to consider it seriously.
"No matter. I have come here to make a proposal to you, Professor. There is a player in the game that hasn't been put to task for too long, and I believe we will need his abilities before the winter's over…"
Her explanation took little time. The Headmaster was quite able to make out the pros and cons for himself. And from the secretive little smile that played around his lips, she judged that the pros seemed to be in the lead.
"Is this player aware of his changing role, Miss Granger?" He asked finally, and she shook her head with an amused smile, allowing him the impression that they shared a mutual joke.
"You know him, Headmaster," She answered, and saw satisfaction glimmer in his eyes. No need to tell him that his knowledge was, in fact, very limited. "He would never accept this position if I had asked him beforehand. He doesn't consider himself worthy. But I know he is. And we need to tie him to our cause in this war. We cannot afford to let his talents go to waste."
I know how you crave for an occupation, Severus, she thought, And this is just the right thing!
The conversation continued for some time, Hermione planting hints and dodging questions the Headmaster fired at her from unexpected angles, while all the time they smiled and sipped their tea as if this was some polite conversation out of Jane Austen and not a strategy meeting between an army's General and his master spy.
Then, Hermione excused herself with a reference to all the homework she had yet to finish, and Dumbledore waved her off with one of his brilliant smiles. She breathed out in relief when she had left the area of the entrance gargoyle, who probably reported every move Dumbledore's visitors made before they entered the office. That had gone well. If she was lucky, Severus would be already waiting furiously when she returned, demanding whether all this was her idea.
But she didn't direct her steps towards the dungeons just yet. Instead, she tightened the invisibility cloak she wore around her shoulders and made to the entrance hall and through the Great door. Now, she only had to break into Hogwarts.
0o0o0o
Twilight darkened Hogwarts' walls as Hermione reached her destination. Having circled the outer walls, she stopped right below a huge window that interrupted the thick stone well above her head. She knew that it belonged to the Hufflepuff common room as surely as she knew its entrance within the school. Being Head Girl did have its advantages, after all.
She had considered entering the common room via the regular entrance, but knew that about twenty Hufflepuffs had decided to stay for Christmas, and even during dinnertime, the likelihood of someone sitting by the fireside was quite high. And there was no way they wouldn't notice when the portrait door opened of its own accord.
That was why she had decided on the window, thanking God that the Hufflepuffs didn't inhabit a tower like the Gryffindors. She once more tightened the invisibility cloak around herself, fastening it so that it wouldn't slip off, and applied a lifting charm to her feet. When she had risen high enough into the air, she stepped onto the windowsill and peered through the glass. Three people in the common room, two boys that were concentrating on a game of chess, and one reading in the corner.
Taking care to keep them in her peripheral vision, she slipped the left hand into her pocket and extracted a long, silver beard hair that she had nicked from Dumbledore's desk. One gloved finger pinned it against the window frame, while her right hand pointed the wand to her throat.
"Vox mutatis," She whispered. Then, she raised her voice and spoke one word. "Open," She said in the voice of the Headmaster, and silently, the bars slid off. The window was open now.
Hermione ended the charm and breathed out in silent relief. She hadn't been completely sure that this would work, but "Hogwarts - A History" had taught her many useful things, more than Harry and Ron had ever been able to learn from the Marauder's Map. One of them was the fact that the Headmaster of Hogwarts could demand entrance to any room in the castle and would be granted it by the power of his voice and skin. She had hoped a hair would be sufficient, and it seemed that the Hogwarts wards weren't as fine tuned as everyone boasted. She would tell Severus about this, but only after she had completed her task.
Now she whispered another spell and a gust of wind burst the windows open. While the Hufflepuffs looked up in surprise, she used the cover of the wind to climb into the common room, and when one of them reached the window to close it, she was already well up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.
The door to the seventh years' bedrooms was slightly ajar, and Hermione thanked the carelessness of boys for that. Slowly, she opened it and was rewarded with the sight of a rather untidy room, occupied by no one except a fat, very old toad.
Rifling through the belongings on the nightstand, it took her less than a minute to locate her target. Justin Finch-Fletchley's bed and cupboard.
Harry might think that Justin was just seeking his friendship or had a crush on him, but Hermione hadn't believed in innocence for a very long time now. Justin had watched Harry, quite extensively. And he had taken notes. No one took notes when he wanted to become a friend. One took notes because one wanted to memorize something, or report on it.
And Justin had written to Harry. Harry and Ron might have overlooked it, but Hermione had realized what Justin was up to the moment she had received her friend's letter. Justin wanted to meet Harry in muggle London, away from the Weasleys, the aurors or anyone who would keep an eye on Harry.
The question was just why.
Justin hadn't joined the Death Eaters on his own accord – she would have known about a second Death Eater at Hogwarts. But he was spying for someone, and if she interpreted the movements in the Inner Circle correctly, it was either MacNair or Houseman. Both had earned much praise lately with the Dark Lord, and both had been granted private audiences more than once.
But she needed proof for this, and she needed to know why Justin was betraying his peers. So she cast a wandless sleeping spell that couldn't be traced back to her over the toad, set wards on the stairs to the dormitory that would alert her the moment someone entered the stair case and closed the door with a gentle nudge of her foot, not willing to touch anything so that her magical signature couldn't be found on anything in this room.
Then, she returned to Justin's bed and nightstand and ceased all movement, carefully memorizing the general position of his belongings.
He had taken very little with him for the Christmas Holidays, a fact she had rather speculated upon. Wherever he was spending these weeks, whomever he might meet, his things were safer in the walls of Hogwarts than they could ever be there. The sheer amounts of clothes, books and private knick knack only strengthened her suspicions. He hadn't packed like someone who was going home. He had left everything of value behind.
As she took out her gloves, which were specially shielded against traces of her own magic leaking out of her skin, and grabbed the pyjamas top that was lying neatly folded on his bed, the thought of Harry and Ron made her smile. What would they think, seeing her like this? Ron would declare it impossible, her breaking school rules like this, and Harry goggle in astonishment.
Both deeply believed in her ability to extract any given information from the library, or to organize their studying schedules in colour codes. But this – sifting through a spies personal belongings and avoiding several magical traps he had set to ensure his privacy, probably with help from the someone he worked for – this would seem to them worlds away from Hermione's normal job in the trio.
But Hermione knew there wasn´t any difference. Keeping the details in mind and seeing how they connected with the whole, that was what really mattered, whether you spied, planned a battle or wrote a complicated essay. She had trained herself to remember every hint, every piece of information from a written text, and now she turned all the concentration her finely crafted mind was capable of on Justin's belongings.
There wasn't a trace of the copious amounts of notes he had made during the last weeks of school, but she found several rolls of parchment with torn edges, and a few notebooks someone had ripped several pages from.
Many of the boxes and trunk compartments Justin used to store his more personal belongings were coded to his personal magical signature, allowing only someone with magic identical to Justin to open them (and, as Justin didn't have a twin, no such person existed in this world). But her earlier search of his clothes had taken fruit. He had left one pair of gloves behind, and Hermione turned them inside out before she put them on above her own gloves. The gloves held just enough of Justin's body scent and magic to fool the traps and allow her to open the boxes.
There were no recent letters from his parents. Strange. As long as she had known Justin, there had been a parcel or a letter from his parents at least once a week. Justin was an only child, and his mother loved him dearly. But the last letter was dated from three months ago. And as Hermione searched through his correspondence, an idea of what might have happened formed in her mind.
But she found no proof. It took her half an hour to examine his things and replace them in the exact fashion she had found them. She had checked his trunk and nightstand for hidden drawers or compartments, but had found none.
She next turned to the walls around his bed, to its headboard, and, after she had lifted the mattress with yet another wandless spell, to the bed itself. Again, nothing.
Maybe he had hidden something in the Common Room – but that seemed unlikely to her. If the Hufflepuffs were anything like the Gryffindors, nothing private was safe from them. And you couldn't hide a thing that well that a school full of nosy teenagers wouldn't find it.
But where? Had he taken the proof with him after all?
The revelation came to her as she stepped back from the bed to examine it once again in full, and her eyes fell on the bedposts. Massive, wooden bedposts. Or at least they looked massive. For the one on the right side of the bed's head was hollow, as she found out after only seconds of knocking and comparing the sound.
She couldn't detect an opening, but when she slowly ran her gloved hand over the polished wood, a crack appeared, not more than a hair's breadth. She used one of her knives, which she was by now wearing wherever she went, safely hidden in the sheaths that were strapped on her thighs, to open the crack further, careful not to scratch the wooden surface.
What have you hidden from view, Justin, she thought as she performed a series of revealing charms on the opening, What could have caused you to betray your world?
Anger grew inside her while she broke the curses and safety spells Justin had used to protect his secret, anger at the danger he was placing them all in, at a boy who was willing to choose the easy way on the back of others, but when she finally put her hand into the hole and retrieved the two photos that had been hidden inside, her anger died away instantly.
His mother. Flanked by two masked and robed Death Eaters, her green eyes wild, her chest heaving with her panicked panting, and a terrible fear, a knowledge of what was waiting for her edged into every inch of her face.
His father. Sporting a black eye, his hands tied behind his back, but still struggling against the men that held him. Nothing but worry in his eyes, nothing but love for his family and despair.
And under both pictures, bold letters that formed a simple sentence: "Do as we say, Justin, and they might survive."
She knew the handwriting. Severus had trained her to recognize the hand of every single Death Eater. This was MacNair. And he had Justin's parents.
0o0o
Severus wasn't sure why Albus had asked for his company during afternoon tea, but he was more than willing to go. It was time to introduce Hermione's triggered Obliviate, and some other ideas they had come up with during Christmas Holiday. An informal meeting over tea and biscuits was the perfect opportunity to present them to the Headmaster.
So he was rather surprised when, instead of the casual atmosphere he had expected, he found the Headmaster firmly situated behind his desk.
"Albus," He greeted him with a slight nod of his head.
"Severus! Thank you for your time. Please sit down, my boy."
Severus frowned. That "my boy" could mean nothing good. In his experience, it was usually followed by a load of unwanted advice, or, worse, by a serious questioning of his mental state. Of course, the Headmaster never would have called it that way, instead choosing to talk about "friendships" and the way they all had to stick together during difficult times, but in the past, all these big sentences could be usually broken down to one, main question: "Can you go on without breaking, my boy?"
He settled down into the offered chair without smiling, his face an unreadable mask of stone. Whatever Albus was going to throw at him, he would have to do it the hard way. Severus had long ago stopped making such conversations easy for the Headmaster.
"You can probably guess that I asked you here for a special purpose tonight, Severus," Albus began after a moment of strained silence.
He gave no reaction to this, but a hint of curiosity awakened inside Severus. Normally, Albus would begin a conversation like this with a great deal of fussing around, asking about his experiments, his classes or how he had enjoyed the holiday. He wasn't one to come to the point just like that, only in cases of emergency or huge importance. For that, the Headmaster enjoyed his role as eccentric old wizard far too much.
"The thing is," Albus continued after a moment of waiting. "That I have spent the holidays thinking about the Order and its re-organization."
Here comes the "you're no longer needed" bit, Severus thought, astonished by his own bitterness. He was glad he wasn't a spy anymore, and working with Hermione had been most rewarding, but only now, while sitting in this office and watching his old mentor, did he realized how much he missed a purpose for his life, a chance to employ his abilities in more than the quite indirect way of keeping Hermione from harm.
You were a Death Eater, Severus. And you still carry the mark. Don't expect them to ever accept you as one of them. Don't expect them to value you for just what you are, he told himself firmly.
"It was especially your… changed role in the Order that was on my mind, and the question of what to do with you, now that your life as a spy is over," The Headmaster went on, oblivious to the silent battle that raged on inside his Potions Master.
"I understand," Severus finally answered, banishing all sadness and bitterness from his voice.
The Headmaster looked up to that, his eyes twinkling and full of mischief.
"Pardon me?"
"I understand that I can no longer play a central role in the Order's business," Snape explained. There, Albus, I'm doing it again, he thought, Making your job easier for you. "Having lost my ability to spy, I am mainly a burden to the Order. I won't be able to conduct outside missions, and my influence is very limited. If you wish me to withdraw from the Order's inner circle, I will do so."
Albus actually smiled to that, and Severus found rage rising inside his chest. He could have at least acted regretfully, he thought.
"No, my boy," Albus now said, leaning forward on his desk and placing a comforting hand on Severus' shoulder. "I don't think you understand. After consulting with several members of the Order and carefully thinking it over, I have decided that you will become our new Spy Master."
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A/N: The idea with the glove Hermione uses to imitate Justin's hand doesn't originate from my own mind, but was thought of by the brilliant Tamora Pierce, in her fantastic novel "Trickster's Choice" (you should all read that one, it's some of the best fantasy that was ever written!).
Review? Help me through those long, draining autumn days by your wonderful comments? Please!
