A/N:
Here we go again, folks, and I'm happy to tell you that the next chapter wil be up in about a week, too.
Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, so there were few responses to the last chapter - I hope that's not because of the declining quality of the story? Anyways, I really hope you like this one, and it's only one more chapter to go until Harry and Ron finally find out about Hermione!
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Planting the Seeds
"This was your idea! Don't tell me this wasn't your idea, Hermione!"
As she had predicted, Severus was awaiting her in the library, eyes ablaze with fury, pacing wildly in front of the fireplace. She had been prepared for this confrontation, but she hadn't expected the veil of sadness that had descended on her in Justin's dormitory.
She wasn't looking forward to this talk. All she wanted to do now was blurt out the things she had learned about Justin, and perhaps have a good cry on the sofa. But this wasn't the right moment. Severus needed a clear head to digest the information she would hand him, and he was into a full fury attack at the moment. Definitely not the right time to introduce a sensitive topic, she knew that by now.
So she shoved her sadness into a remote corner of her mind and thought on what she had begun tonight, and where it might lead them.
"And what, pray, Severus, are you talking about?" She answered his heated reproach with a slight smirk and flipped down onto the sofa.
"About the rather fascinating proposal – or should I say order – Albus presented me with this afternoon," He growled. "And don't pretend to be ignorant – you have planted the idea in the old man's head, haven't you?"
"Albus proposed to you," She cried innocently, ignoring his accusations. "Now, Severus, I'm really quite shocked!"
But for once, Severus ignored her playful banter, and she could see now that he was definitely furious.
"Enough! I don't need that attitude right now, Hermione. Why didn't you give me a chance to consider if I wanted this, why didn't you tell me beforehand?"
"Because you would have dismissed the idea immediately, Severus," She replied, turning serious in an instant. "You know you would have. You could never imagine yourself in such a trusted position, wielding such power and control in the Order. You still think they see you as the scowling Death Eater they only tolerate in their midst because of his usefulness."
He did scowl, now, looking quite the Death Eater part. "Stop talking psychology," He warned her.
"That's not psychology, that's simple observation, Severus. You would never have offered yourself for the position. And what's worse, you would have forbidden me to mention it to the Headmaster. This way, I just told him about my idea. The decision was all his, and I'm quite sure he didn't make it on his own. Obviously, they want you to be their Spy Master. And don't tell me that you don't want the job, Severus! Even now I can see that greedy glitter in your eyes!"
He snorted at the idea of his black eyes glittering greedily, but something in his stance relaxed nonetheless and he finally sat down.
"I thought Albus would banish me from the Order," He admitted after a moment of silence. "And I accepted my dismissal before he even made the point. I even offered to leave on my own accord," He snorted again, this time with a soft tinge of sadness.
"Well, that shows what you know, doesn't it," Hermione answered smugly, then she leaned forward in her chair, just as Albus had done some hours before, and touched his hand. But somehow, with her the gesture was the most natural and calming thing in the world, and he found his sorrow dying away.
"They couldn't do without you," She simply sat, her eyes open and warm and affectionate. "There is no one as good as you, Severus. Well," She added after a moment. "And no one as evil, in fact. Even Moody doesn't compare to your nastier moods."
"Oh, thank you very much indeed," He finally matched her tone, and she breathed in relief. He had forgiven her. "And how, pray, is this part of your plan, Hermione?"
"That I can only tell you if you accepted the position," She teased him. "Otherwise it would be top secret and I'd have to kill you."
He sighed in defeat, but couldn't hide the amused twitching of his lips. "I resign to your impertinence, woman," He told her. "And yes, I accepted the job."
A bright, relieved smile lightened her face, and only now did he realized that she had been indeed worried about that point.
"It's not just part of this plan. It's a logical development, and I prefer to be sure who deals with the things I find out. The thing I found out tonight, for example," Her voice changed, becoming darker and older, and Severus leaned forward in his chair to meet her eyes. "Is not for everyone in the Order to know."
Show me, he thought, and she opened her memories to him.
She felt his silent approval at her methods and resourcefulness, his slight irritation at the ease with which she had overcome the wards, but when they reached the hollow bed post and its hidden secret, she felt Severus hiss in anger.
Who? He asked and she answered with a picture of MacNair, matching it in her mind with one of the hooded figures that held Justin's mother captive. The man's size and form fitted perfectly.
"I agree," He said darkly, ending the connection. "You couldn't have shown this to the Headmaster. How do you intend to use it?"
She leaned back on the sofa, closing her eyes in exhaustion and resting her head on the corner.
"That is a stupid question, Severus," She sighed. "I will use him the same way you would."
"I thought so," Snape answered and, rising from his seat, moved behind her. Hermione noticed the pride in his voice, and it took away some of her sadness.
"Who will plant the information?"
She groaned in pleasure and relief as his slender hands started to knead her sore and stiff shoulder muscles. "Draco," She answered. "If he is willing."
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Time seemed to sped them through the remaining days, and before Hermione had come to fully realize it, Sunday afternoon had arrived and with it the students that were crowding the halls and dormitories of Hogwarts again.
As the time she had agreed on beforehand with McGonagall drew nearer and nearer, Hermione found herself standing in the library, her baggage shrunk and pocketed, not able to tear herself apart from this place.
She didn't want to leave.
Every cell of her being screamed at her to stay, not to give up this one safe haven she had finally found. Despite the darkness that clouded over their heads, these weeks had been the happiest she could remember since her early childhood, and the knowledge that it would end now, that she would have to return to the students and their problems, to the crowded meals in the Great Hall and the meaningless lessons she could have taught herself made her feel sick.
Coldness gathered around her heart, and one look in Severus' face showed a mirror of her feelings.
He didn't want her to leave, either.
One step was enough to bridge the distance between them. One step and she was in his arms, embraced so tightly that there wasn't any room for sorrow or fear in the circle of their arms.
"We will see each other every evening, and during meals and lessons," He whispered in her ear, his voice rougher than the silken sound she was used to.
She nodded against his chest. "It's just…" She started and he nodded her on in encouragement. "It's just that for the first time in years, I have felt… at home," She whispered.
They remained silent for a long time, just as they had that morning in her bedroom. Then, Hermione stepped back and broke the circle.
"See you at lunch," She said, sending him a soft smile through her thoughts.
Silently, Severus watched her leave, astonished at the sudden emptiness of his chambers.
The invisibility cloak hid Hermione from view as she travelled upwards through the many corridors of Hogwarts, upwards until she reached McGonagall's office door. There, she waited for about five minutes, entering after her Professor.
This time though, she didn't leave through the office door, but crossed the room to the private chamber the transfiguration teacher had given to her some months ago, silently hoping that Draco had received her message.
He obviously had. He sprang up from the sofa when she slipped into the room, but he knew her well enough by now not to embrace or even touch her without her consent. Only when she crossed the distance between them, a bright smile on her face, did he fold her into his arms.
"Draco," She sighed in relief, glad that he was safely back at Hogwarts, far away from his mad father and his snobbish mother. "How did your Christmas go?"
"Awful," Draco answered dryly. "They didn't talk to each other. Well, except when mother was screaming and shouting and throwing things. I never saw her so uncontrolled. She even threatened him with the aurors. That was when he stormed off for three hours, to meet you."
"Oh," Hermione murmured, against her will drawn back to the events of that night. So that was why he had seemed out of his mind. If he hadn't been the mad monster Lucius was, she might even have pitied him for it.
"I was frantic with worry," Draco admitted, releasing her from his arms to study her face and body carefully. "Only when Snape's letter arrive could I relax somewhat. When father returned, he had a look on his face… I really thought he might have killed you that night."
"He very nearly did," She admitted quietly, only to be embraced tightly once more.
"How are you love," Draco whispered into her ear. "What did he do to you?"
One look in his face told Hermione that Lucius had – at least once – refrained from bragging in front of his son. She was deeply tempted to let him remain oblivious to the dirty secrets of his father, but she needed him if her plan was to work. And so she told him.
When she had finished her tale, leaving out what had transpired between Severus and her the morning after, she saw tears of anger standing in Draco's eyes.
"We must stop him," He whispered. "There must be something we can do!"
"I'm glad you see it that way," She told him, relieved that he was willing to help her. "I have a plan. It would protect me from his viler moods while not angering him. But it would need your help to work, and you would have to play the loyal Death Eater son for me."
He snorted. "If you can live through these meetings with the Dark Lord, I should be able to act out Malfoy the arrogant prick, don't you think? What do you want me to do?"
She suddenly grinned at him, a playful twinkling in her eyes. "Our new Spymaster wishes to recruit you."
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She met Harry and Ron in the Common Room, where they were waiting for her over a game of wizard's chess.
Both looked surprised at her changed appearance, and only now did Hermione realize how much good the training lessons and the regular sleep had done to her over the holidays. Telling herself firmly that she would need more concealing robes now that she filled out her old ones all too finely, she explained the changes away with the many nice country walks she had undertaken with her parents.
"See?" Ron commented. "I always said some other hobby than studying would do you good. It's just not natural to spend all your time hunched over a book, Hermione!"
"The only thing not natural in this room is your absolute disinterest in your marks, Ronald Weasley," She snapped back, assuming the slightly bossy tone everybody associated with her schoolwork-obsession.
Ron raised her hands in mock-defeat. "No offence, 'Mione," He told her with a grin. She huffed, and he turned around to Harry.
"Man, how are we to survive this summer when she's going mental already?" He whispered, but to Hermione's trained ears it was easily understood.
She turned away and watched the flames flickering happily in the fireplace. There was a strange tension in her body, but only when she touched her shoulder did she notice that the muscles of her back had stiffened again. Gone was the relaxation of the last week, and gone was her good mood.
Bleakness descended on her like a heavy blanket, muffling her thoughts and hiding her emotions. So here we go again, she thought, fighting the sudden sadness, Welcome back to your reality, Hermione.
They entertained each other until dinner with stories about their Christmas experiences, Ron and Harry telling her about snowball fights, noisy dinners with the Weasley clan, and Hermione spinning out fictions about long talks in front of the fireplace, cooking with her mother and whatever else muggles did on their holidays. It wasn't hard for her to fake happiness, though, when she remembered the last week, and her friends, obviously sensing how content she was, seemed relieved.
They are very good friends, she thought when she noticed how much the two obviously had worried about her Christmas. If only they weren't so terribly Gryffindor!
"Let's go get dinner," She proposed, earning a thankful look from Ron. "I'm starving! One of the by-effects of those country walks, I guess."
"Yes, let's do," Ron agreed, surprising no one, and together with Ginny and Neville they left the Common room.
The noise of the Great Hall very nearly overwhelmed Hermione, who had become used to the quiet and safety of Severus' quarters over the last weeks. She flinched every time someone yelled or touched her by accident, and her wand hand itched terribly.
There's no danger, she told herself again and again. Relax, the teacher's are looking after us, there's no danger at all.
But unfortunately, she was far beyond believing such reassurances, and they didn't help against her quickly blooming headache in the least.
Five minutes into their meal, the doors of the Great Hall banged open and in strode Severus, an unusually foul expression on his face.
"What's gotten into that one?" Hermione asked the others while she sent their Potions Master a thought-smile and a warm greeting.
"Must be this new thing the Order lets him work on. We don't know what it is, but Mum and Dad were talking a lot about it over Christmas," Ron offered, but hastily lowered his head when Severus scowled in their direction as if he had heard them.
Only Hermione could hear his smirk echo inside her head. Good afternoon, dear, He thought. How is life back among the dunderheads?
They are driving me crazy already, She admitted after he had taken his place on the High Table, helped himself to dinner and scowled at everyone in his near vicinity.
A sardonic grin grazed his lips for a moment. Well then, perhaps I should increase their workload a bit so that they don't have time to bother you? He inquired. It would be my pleasure.
Good gods, no! She protested in silent terror. They would only want me to help them, and if you ever read one of their Potions essays, you know what a terrible fate that is!
I never read anything Potter hands in, Snape sent. I just scribble some degrading remarks and hand out one bad mark after the next.
She stared at him in such unveiled disbelief that Ron noticed her look.
"What's the matter," He asked, punching her lightly in the shoulder and Hermione flinched. She had forgotten how easily Ron and Harry dealt out touches and embraces. It would be hard to control her reflexes, and even harder not to show how little she liked physical closeness these days.
"I just remembered the essay Snape gave us over the holidays," She answered hastily. "I only have twelve inches and I think we should at least write…"
"Good gods, Hermione, give us a break!" Ron groaned and turned back to his food.
You aren't really, Hermione raised her glass of pumpkin juice to hide the look she sent to the High Table.
No, disappointment coloured the thought. Of course I read every one of them. Unfortunately. But imagine how wonderful it were…
His upturned eyes and the sneer towards Gryffindor table made her grin, and she quickly concentrated on her mashed potatoes.
Draco's willing and ready, she told him in between eating and talking to her Gryffindor friends. We will execute the plan tomorrow morning. See you tonight?
Absolutely, he answered, and, rising abruptly, left the table with a short nod to his colleagues and a last scowl in their direction.
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It is a truth universally acknowledged by men and women of the profession that a stupid, identified spy is always better than an unknown one. Thus Justin, who had never been a real danger before, now had become a treasure to them. For who would mistrust information that stemmed from your very own spy, especially information that seemed so very comfortable and interesting to you.
Draco had noticed Justin the moment he and Theodore Nott had entered the corridor and made sure to drop the keywords "Hermione Granger" and "my father" while they passed him. He could see Justin's eyes widen in interest, and silently agreed to Hermione's evaluation.
The boy was a rotten spy. But all the better for them. He fed Theodore stories about his father's position in the Inner Circle while they left the crowded corridors around the classrooms and walked towards the meeting point he had agreed on with Hermione.
Theodore's father was a Death Eater, too, albeit not one as powerful as Draco's father, and before Draco's world had changed so brutally after that night in the Ministry, they had been good friends. Or what could be called friends among Death Eaters to be. Draco had never known that there could be something better than plotting and planning and enjoying their superiority to the rest of the school, until Hermione had shown him what friendship really meant.
He had moved away from his Slytherin friends now for a long time, preferring silence to his former bragging and showing off. But Christmas with his parents had put him back into his old pureblood habits, and acting the junior Death Eater once more felt easier than it should.
But at least he was finally able to do something beyond recounting his father's letters. Together with his instructions, Hermione had handed him an invitation to dinner on Saturday evening, where Snape would talk to him about his further willingness to "keep an eye on the Slytherins".
Finally! And with Snape as the new Spymaster, Draco would feel less awkward handing over information than with that ever twinkling Dumbledore whom Draco mistrusted as deeply as every good Slytherin would.
After crossing over to the east wing and descending a few stairs, they reached the corridor he had agreed on with Hermione beforehand, and found her leaning against the wall, right on cue.
Even though he knew it was all an act, Draco had to suppress a shudder when he saw her. She looked worse than during those weeks after withdrawal, her face pale, her hair bushier than ever before, and her shoulders bent with tiredness. She straightened herself wearily, just as Draco heard Justin's footsteps behind them stop.
"Draco. Nott," She greeted them, with just the right mixture of arrogance and submission. "What are you doing here?"
"That's nothing of your business, mudblood," Draco drawled coldly and saw her flinch. "Only because my father keeps you as his whore, you needn't think that we would ever consider you our equal. Off with you!"
During his words, her face had paled even more, and as Nott broke into disdainful laughter, she walked away from them, just a little too fast to hide her hurt completely.
"Saw how she looked?" Draco asked Nott, who nodded in delight. "That's my father doing to her. He doesn't tell me as much as I'd like," He snickered evilly. "But from what I heard, one of his little games nearly got her killed over Christmas. Wouldn't surprise me if she didn't make it much longer – no mistress of father survived that long. Must be a great bitch, that dirty little mudblood."
And on they moved, their talk continuing on the tracks of hot Slytherin girls they would like to invite to the Prefect's bathroom one night. Only when they rounded the corner did Draco risk a look backwards over his shoulder. There stood Finch-Fletchley, painfully visible in the corridor, a notebook in one hand, with an expression of pure, unadulterated shock on his plain face.
It seemed that their rat hat taken the bait.
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