A/N: Inspiration hit me last night and I thought I could as well surprise you with an unexpected update. But don't expect this frequency to become usual!
I'm afraid this chapter contains nothing but talking, but I assure you that the action of the next chapter will more than make up for it.
Thank you all for your reviews! I am glad that you liked the last chapter, and even more glad that you hated my version of Molly Weasley as much as I hate her!
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And Is Never Shaken
Dawn found them half lying, half sitting on the sofa that faced the fireplace. Hermione had fallen asleep hours ago, her face pressed so deeply into the folds of his shirt that he wondered how she could even breathe. But it seemed that she had needed the physical contact more dearly than oxygen, and he had done nothing but softly stroke her hair.
She hadn't talked to him about the Order meeting. She hadn't asked what had transpired within the room after she had left the Inner Circle to his mercy, although he was quite sure she could sense the way his magic had whipped and danced around him like a frenzied animal.
It had been accidental magic that had shattered the glass last evening, although he had easily managed to cover up that slip in his control. But the fact that his discipline had failed, something that hadn't happened in more than a decade, told him how angry he really was, and that he had better stay away from the Order for a few days.
That had also been the gist of his note to the Headmaster, spiced up with a few acerbic comments about Albus' ability to control his council of mindless Gryffindors, and a few wistful comments about how they, unfortunately, needed the Inner Circle too much to annhilate it from the face of the earth, what a pity.
It's a good thing those confrontations always seem to happen on Fridays or Saturdays, He now mused, while levitating another wooden log onto the fire. But of course, Voldemort knew as well as anybody that he couldn't keep Hermione from classes too often without causing suspicions. The idea that the Dark Lord had to plan his revels according to a Hogwarts timetable was another amusing little tidbit that kept him from leaving his chambers and kill Molly Weasley.
He hadn't been so tempted by the Unforgivables for as many years as Hermione was alive.
After another hour of brooding and plotting and using his extensive knowledge about poisons to depict Mrs Weasley's death, Hermione stirred in his arms. It gave him a short stab of satisfaction to notice that the moment of panic, when her returning consciousness found her body in close contact with another human being, was nearly gone by now – just a short tensing of her muscles that relaxed too fast to be noticed by most people.
"Severus," She yawned, and the harshness of his mind melted away as if glorious spring had suddenly come to him.
She looked adoringly, the wrinkles of his shirt having caused creases all over her face, and her hair in wild disarray. She yawned again, like a kitten, her pink tongue stretched out a bit as if it wanted to taste air.
"Have you spent all night on the couch, watching over me?" She asked, and he shrugged.
"What better way to spend an anyway sleepless night? Good morning, love."
"You know, Severus," She announced sleepily as she slowly sat up and tried to return order to her hair, then to remove the wrinkles from his shirt. "All this plotting of revenge and murder isn't good for your health at all."
He didn't give a sign of surprise, not even the little twitches that betrayed the best actors.
"What makes you think that I would plot revenge?" He asked with just the right mixture of irritation, surprise and amusement.
She smiled in answer, then transfigured her slept in clothes with a gesture of her hand into a wide, burgundy skirt and a black top. Again, that surprised him. When she felt uneasy, she usually preferred black or grey trousers that made her look older and more professional, not this softer, feminine style. She had to feel relatively safe to wear such a skirt.
"The fact that I listened in on the Order yesterday, after I left," She answered simply, and now he did twitch. "I found out that you can keep the connection between the tapestries about a hair's breadth open, not for too long, but long enough to apply a televisor spell in this case. A very impressive performance you gave them, I must say."
"You saw and heard everything," He repeated, feeling his anger again descending on him tenfold. The only silver lining he had found about the last evening had been the knowledge that Hermione hadn't found out what the Order, people who had known her for years, were willing to think about her.
"Pretty much," She confirmed easily, still looking unexplainably relaxed. "Of course, I missed the magical effects, which must have been quite impressive, judging from how they all looked at you. I think you officially crossed the line from 'impressive' to downright 'terror inspiring' last night. Tonks looked as if she might faint."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in silent irritation, and opened his mouth to ask her how she felt when all got even more complicated.
"Who is terror inspiring?" Jane's voice asked from the open kitchen door.
"Severus," Hermione answered, and rose to walk over to the dining table. "He was a right hero yesterday, threatening the whole Inner Circle with death and damnation."
"Why should he do that?" Jane asked, just as a more than generous breakfast appeared on the table.
Severus stood with a sigh, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension out of them, and watched the two women of the house chatting about him as if he weren't present, while they were pouring tea and pumpkin juice.
"Because the Order started wondering whether I didn't rather like being a Death Eater and serving as Malfoy's sex toy," Hermione answered dryly, her voice suddenly tired. "Mrs Weasley couldn't help but point out that I am not the right sort of friend for the Boy Who Lived under such circumstances."
For the blink of an eye, Jane's motions stopped and an expression of deep rage passed over her face. Snape stared. It was no secret that Jane liked Hermione and had readily accepted her as mistress of the household, but she seldom cared deeply enough for other people than Severus to let their fate move her. And she never expressed her emotions that openly.
"He has my blessings then," She now said, in the same dry voice Hermione had used, but where tiredness had lurked behind his love's voice, hers sported a dark determination. "I will fetch him the ingredients when he brews their poison."
Hermione had the gall to chuckle. "No talk about poisons while we prefer breakfast, please," She complained. "I am simply too aware how many of them are tasteless and undetectable."
"Oh, but not for a house elf, dear," Jane disagreed, while she waved at them and walked back to the kitchen. "We notice everything. And we never forget."
That sounded almost like a threat, and Severus couldn't help but smile at the thought that Molly Weasley was now on the "most hated" list of several quite dangerous wizards and magical creatures. He wondered how he could let her know without being too Gryffindorish obvious.
He waited until his old friend had vanished back into her rooms behind the kitchen, then walked over to where Hermione still stood, her eyes turned towards the distance.
"How do you really feel?" He asked quietly as she leaned into him and his arms came around her with a will of their own.
"I am tired," She answered just as quietly.
"You were right, Severus. You were right from the very beginning. All this time I have tried, and still they condemn me. I am different, and they will probably never understand."
"That must hurt."
She nodded. "It does, as you know better than most." Her hand fluttered to the left, like a little bird trying to fly for the first time. "But that is not what mattered most to me yesterday. Other things prevail, better things than their betrayal and my disappointment."
"What do you mean?" His hands tightened around her waist as he whispered the question in her ear, warmingly, protectively.
She smiled again and closed her eyes, whether to enjoy the moment or because she wanted to dive deep into her memories he didn't know.
"Yesterday, amidst all that anger and fear, I witnessed so much love," She breathed. "The way you protected me, the way Draco and Harry showed their support. Weren't they wonderful?"
She sighed, and turned around in his arms so that her eyes could meet his questioning gaze.
"Ever since I can think, I was afraid that people wouldn't like the real me, a feeling that only got worse over the years in Hogwarts. I never was that sure whether Ron and Harry only wanted me for their homework, or because they needed someone with quick thinking along on their adventures. But now… You three know all about me. Yesterday, they heard that I'd killed a little girl, and just like you, they forgave me. They tried to protect me in their very own way, just like you did."
She smiled again. "Isn't it strange that amidst all that hate and antagonism, I felt more loved than I ever had before?"
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"Hermione is not here. She has classes this afternoon," Snape told Harry as he stepped through the magical tapestry into his Spymaster's quarters.
Harry swallowed. He was feeling more than a bit uneasy about this, but the need to do it had followed him around for the last two days now, and he knew that feeling well enough to accept that it wouldn't go away until he complied.
"I know, sir. I chose this time because she was in class."
That got Snape's attention for sure. Harry swallowed again. Now he would probably receive a sneer and a caustic remark about time wasting Gryffindors and be sent on his way again.
"Have a seat, Mr Potter. Do you care for tea?"
Only Draco's and Hermione's training was stopping him from staring dumbly or simply turning around and running away. He had been wrong. A civil Snape was obviously much more scary than a rude one could ever be.
"Yes sir, thank you," He finally remembered to say and sat down rather abruptly. He was glad that his legs hadn't simply given way under him, landing him on the floor in an undignified heap.
Without giving any clue whether he had noticed Harry's confusion, Snape walked over to the large table, poured out a cup of tea, added two lumps of sugar and just a tiny splash of milk.
Harry gulped. That Snape had memorised the exact way Harry liked to drink his tea was not only scary, it was downright creepy. Fleeing from the room suddenly seemed much more interesting.
Snape handed him the cup with a slight lowering of his head, and Harry tried to answer the gesture as dignified as he was able to. "Thank you, sir."
"Now then, Mr Potter," Snape began after he had settled himself in an armchair opposite. "To what circumstances do I owe the honour of your visit?"
Harry searched for scorn or even humour in his eyes and face, but found none. He hadn't expected to. Snape was an excellent actor, after all.
He had thought long and hard about doing this, and, once he had come to the decision that it was time to face up Snape, finally, about how to do this. A Slytherin would have begun miles from his real interest and worked his way slowly into the direction he wanted to take, testing the ground every inch before committing himself.
But he wasn't a Slytherin. And helpful as Draco's lessons had been to him over these last months, essential as they were to him realizing a few things about Snape, and Hermione, and himself, this wasn't the time to try a dance he still only understood partly. This was the time to be a Gryffindor, with all the good and bad things that came along with it.
Here goes…, He thought, taking a deep breath.
"I came because I think we have a few things to discuss, Sir. And because I believe we should discuss them now, not wait another couple of years."
"Really," A cocked eyebrow, a face absolutely expressionless. As far as Harry knew, Snape was rolling on the floor laughing about the mad Gryffindor right now, in the safety of his mind.
"Yes, sir," He took another deep breath and tried to fight down the panic that was rising steadily inside him. "I came to say that I thought you a bastard for most of my school time, a vindictive, cruel, unjust Slytherin. And that I hated the way you treated Sirius, and Remus, and every Gryffindor you ever met."
He stopped, giving Snape a chance to throw him out of his chambers if he wanted to. But the only answer to his insults was a slight curling of his former teacher's lips. One couldn't call it a smile, not by far, but it wasn't a sneer, either, and that gave Harry hope enough to continue.
"I've done a lot of thinking over the last months and found out that I've been a bastard, too, more than once. The way I mistrusted you and stupefied you in third year and looked into your pensieve in fifth. I have been just as prejudiced as you were, and the fact that I was a child and you an adult doesn't change that, not really. I won't apologize for the things I said and did, and I don't expect you to apologize either, which you would never do, anyway. But I want to say that, for me, these things are in the past."
He stopped again, glancing up at Snape's face to judge the reaction to his little speech. The second eyebrow had joined the first in its risen state. Nothing else had changed.
"I learned a lot of things over the past months. I saw my best friend broken in a way I never dreamed of, and I saw her stronger than I could ever have imagined. I became friends with a Slytherin and enemies with my former Gryffindor friend. I have seen you in action, the real you, not my Potions Master, and I've seen you together with Hermione. You could say that I had so many paradigm shifts it's a wonder I still know where up and down is.
"And the result is that, although I still think you're too scary by far, I respect you. I respect your competence, and your intelligence, and the love you share with Hermione. I was serious about the things I said during that Order meeting."
He shrugged and grinned. "And if Hermione choose you, you can't be that bad, anyway."
For a moment, he thought that he had read the signs of the last weeks incorrectly, that Snape hadn't been willing or ready for this talk. But then the other man's lips curved further, forming still not a smile, but very nearly so, and he knew that it had been the right thing to come.
"You are correct when you say that I will never apologize for my behaviour towards you, Mr Potter," Snape said, his voice relaxed and rich and somehow conveying appreciation while retaining its mocking quality. "But what I will do is admit that I was wrong about you."
Harry couldn't help himself. He gaped. The smile turned into an amused smirk almost instantly.
"I thought you were irresponsible, and while you have behaved irresponsibly in the past, you have shown over the last months that you are able to overcome that character flaw. You have shown that you are willing to learn, and work hard. You have shown a regard for your friends and the future of our world that I hadn't expected from you."
Snape smiled, then, a thin but nevertheless honest smile that Harry had never expected from him, not in a thousand life times.
"And the truth is, Mr Potter, that while you are still too much a Gryffindor for my liking, I respect you. Your dedication to your friends, your will to fight and your courage that brought you here tonight."
Draco was right, Harry thought slightly awed, The man could dissect shadows with a knife. And he dances with words. He hadn't missed the way his former teacher had mirrored his little confession, how he had given word for word, praise for praise, criticism for criticism. He had matched his every step, his smile – the rare display of an open emotion – repaying Harry for his initiative.
They were level now, and if he left, they would remain level, balancing a fragile status quo.
If he wanted more, he would yet again have to make the first step.
"And what does that make us?" He asked quietly, not sure how to summarize what he had heard and said, but certain that he could meet Snape's subtlety only with the pure Gryffindor equivalent – total honesty.
"Allies, I believe," Snape answered after a moment, testing the word in his mouth before letting it pearl over his lips. "Colleagues. Hermione's family."
Harry nodded, feeling that this was as good an ending point as they would reach this evening. If that was what Snape would give him tonight, he was glad to take it.
"I think I like all three," He said, standing up and inclining his head in a silent gesture of respect.
Snape, recognizing the finality of this gesture, stood as well and mirrored it silently. He led Harry over to the tapestry that connected his chambers with the Order headquarters and activated the spell.
"Good night sir," Harry said, and readied himself to step through.
"Good night," Snape repeated, hesitated a moment and then nodded shortly, as if he had come to a decision. "Mr Potter?"
Harry, his leg already within the tapestry, turned half around to him. "Yes?"
"You might consider granting me the honour of calling me Severus," His Spymaster requested formally.
Harry smiled. "I will, sir," He answered. "And the honour will be all mine."
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"You really overdid it this time, Draco," Hermione announced sternly, arms crossed before her chest.
"Overdid what?" Draco asked innocently, fluttering his eyelashes and leaning back against the window sill he was sitting on.
"I had a delegation of first year Hufflepuffs waiting on my doorstep today, demanding your expulsion from the school because you are an, and I quote, 'evil, devilish fiend out to get them'."
"Oh, that," Draco said, just as innocently as if he hadn't been responsible for the nervous breakdown of a hoard of little Huffs. "Well, it's their own fault, really."
Hermione's lips twitched, but she managed to keep up the stern posture admirably. "I fail to see how," She said.
"For being so goddamn gullible, of course," Draco replied, pretending to pout. "That should be a criminal offence, really! And anyway, I was only terrorising them so that Harry could come and rescue them and be a good little hero."
"Oh, thank you," Harry said from the entrance to Snape's gym, where he had overheard the beginning of this little pseudo-confrontation. "I certainly appreciate it. If I can't rescue someone twice a day, I get all itchy."
"You see," Draco exclaimed, grinning in his I-told-you-so way. "I'm the real victim, here."
"Oh, sure," Hermione drawled. "And I know you suffered terribly from it."
"Terribly," Draco nodded earnestly.
Harry chuckled and, having walked over to them, pulled Hermione into a short hug. Five days had passed since her confrontation with the Order, and tonight she would join the Inner Circle meeting again. She had taken the situation well, better than he had expected, but still he felt the tearing need inside himself to protect her from Mrs Weasley's mindless cruelty. Sometimes he thought that he had never known how much she meant to him before he had found out how fragile and endangered her life was, day after day after day.
"How do you feel, Hermione?" He asked, careful not to lay too much emphasis on his words.
She smiled and leaned back against the wall so that Draco's knee nearly touched her right shoulder and Harry's arm her left.
"Protected," She answered after a moment, and let her eyes travel amusedly from one to the other.
"Severus delivered an impromptu speech about poisons that can be consumed by breathing, then tested the strength of my bubble-head spell. Really, sometimes he lacks subtlety."
"I hope Severus remembers that I can't do the bubble-head spell," Harry muttered, and received a pure look of amusement from Hermione in answer.
"Don't mind him," Draco drawled amusedly. "He has said barely anything but 'Severus' over the last days. I think he's practicing in the hope of delivering it naturally."
Hermione chuckled, remembering how she had practiced using that very name while showering, so many months ago. She had been determined not to embarrass herself by stumbling over the syllables.
"I can remember how you called him by his name under every possible pretence when he allowed you to use it," She reminded Draco. "And instead of criticizing your student for preparing his lesson carefully, you had better tell me how things are with our dear Potions Mistress."
Draco didn't bother keeping the smug smile from his face.
"She asked me yesterday," He announced, clearly enjoying the moment.
"Draco, you prat," Harry shouted. "And you didn't tell me immediately?"
"I already told you the idea was brilliant, Harry," Draco answered condescendingly. "More praise from me and your head might swell. It is my duty to keep your feet on the ground, after all."
"I'm glad to hear it, Draco," Hermione said, her teeth glittering in the last rays of the sun as she smiled. "We will all sleep better now, I think."
Harry snorted, mimicking Draco's condescending tone quite credibly. "As if I ever lost a night's sleep over that brat prince," He protested, and Hermione rolled her eyes, too used by now to their bickering to even bother.
"And the faked prophecy?" She asked. "How's that going?"
"We are discussing the finer details of the wording," Harry answered, turning serious immediately. "We are not sure about a few things – perhaps you'd like to look over it later? We left everything in Severus'" He ignored the exaggerated sigh from Draco. "office."
Hermione nodded, and as if the mentioning of the Order headquarters had reminded them all of the meeting to come, soberness descended on the room.
"How is the Order doing? Are they coping?" Hermione asked after a moment, her voice and stance perfectly calm.
Harry lowered his head to indicate that he would prefer Draco answering. Although his opinion was valuable because of his close contact with many Inner Circle members alone, Draco's analyses of group dynamics and motives usually were better than his.
"They are stalling," Draco drawled, but not in the provocative way he would when trying to anger Harry. It was his thoughtful drawl, as Harry had come to call it, his way of talking when he was deeply thinking and trying to communicate at the same time. "Had the confrontation happened differently, they would be loudly demanding your exclusion by now. Moody is on your side, as are, of course, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Lupin. Shacklebolt is careful, the Weasley twins think it is all one big joke and you are the coolest person on earth," He smirked.
"As it is, Snape, Harry and Dumbledore have openly sided with you. That makes our party the more powerful one, and definitely the more significant. The Order can easily do without the Weasley mother hen – I have no idea why she was allowed to become a member, anyway -, but they can't do without their saviour, their leader and their spymaster. That gives you safe footing, I think."
"But still," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. "My behaviour could cause a rift in the Order that would never heal properly again. They are on edge now, and if I do something to disturb this careful balance, it would weaken us considerably."
"That's true," Draco nodded. "Although they are in no clear position of power, the Weasleys are and always were the epitome of a light family. Even if the Inner Circle could work without them, a conflict would cause difficulties with the Outer Circle and damage the Order's reputation with the public. We can't afford that, not now that our network with the aurors is developing so nicely. Not when we need their support on Halloween."
Hermione nodded, indicating her agreement.
"How should I behave, then?" She asked Harry, knowing that he would understand Mrs Weasley better than she or Draco ever could.
"Don't confront her," Harry answered immediately. He had thought about this before, long and hard. "Deep down, Mrs Weasley is feeling ashamed right now – she always is, just as Ron instinctively knows when he has behaved like a fool. But any confrontation with her misbehaviour would lead to an even greater explosion than the one we had the honour to witness," Draco smirked, amused by his choice of words. Harry could read the 'very Slytherin' in his eyes.
"I think you should behave as if nothing has happened. Give her time to accept the realities. She will move when she's ready, and if you give her further proof of your competence on the way, without rubbing it in, it will only quicken the process. I don't think you can do anything else."
"Further proof of my competence, you say?" Hermione asked, a strange fire dancing in her eyes. "That should be easy enough."
Draco grinned, and the way his face changed as he imagined Hermione's 'demonstration' made Harry think that the Hufflepuffs hadn't been so very wrong, after all. Devilish seemed a pretty fitting word for his expression right now.
"And it might be even more fun than Severus threatening to kill us all," The blond Slytherin said.
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"Did you gather anything new about Little John's assignment and the reasons for his death?" Remus asked after the main points of their agenda had been discussed.
The meeting had gone well so far, mostly because Remus, and Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore had done their utmost to keep it going, and because no Order member dared stepping out of line with the glowering gaze of their Spymaster on them. Hermione had remained quiet, mostly, but had thrown in comments or arguments whenever it seemed helpful. Mrs Weasley hadn't looked at her once, concentrating on her assembled offspring instead, who was lining the table with a long row of red hair.
"Indeed, we did," Dumbledore answered, directing a smile towards Severus, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table, buried in reports.
"'Little John' was following a man named Clarence Dougall, an American wizard who has entered Great Britain two weeks ago. Dougall has a record of dealing with wizardry weapons and defence mechanisms, both legal and illegal. He supplied the werewolf riots in Wisconsin with silver-proof armours and sold equipment to the bunch of goblins that tried to break into Fort Knox a few years ago. Rumour has it that he came to England for a reason, and when Little John saw him in Diagon Alley, he thought his presence worthy of investigation. We still don't know what exactly took place in Knockturn alley, where Little John was found, but his mental report gives us at least a clue of what happened."
"Mental report?" Hestia Jones asked. "And what do these strange names mean? Little John?"
"Ah, that would be another one of Severus' ingenious ideas," Dumbledore answered happily, earning himself a snort from the still reading Spymaster. "We can't tell you much, obviously," Something in the way he said this made Harry believe that this was mainly because the Headmaster didn't really know that much, but preferred not to let that on. "But so much should be safe information: Severus trained and assigned different spy groups, never consisting of more than ten people. Every group has its own set of codes, names, locations and contact methods which revolve around a mythical or fictional story."
"Like Robin Hood's merry men from Sherwood Forest," Professor McGonagall cut in, displaying once more her knowledge of muggle literature.
"Exactly," Albus nodded pleasantly. "One of the things Severus trained them to do was deliver a 'mental report' into a magical device embedded in their arms every ten minutes. This magical device was extracted from his body and told us that Dougall had a secret meeting with someone who looked very much like Auden Strong
"Not good that," Moody grumbled from behind his cup of coffee. "Not good at all."
Only now did Snape raise his head from the parchment he had studied. "That is the understatement of the month, Mad-Eye," he commented calmly. "Strong is a known supporter of the Dark Lord. If he contacted Dougall, it means that Voldemort intends to rely on more than just manpower during his next battle. If Dougall travels to England, that means he is most likely interested in taking the order. And we can't risk the use of unknown weaponry on the Death Eater's side. This could turn the tide to their favour."
"I used my influence in the ministry to "accidentally" meet his secretary, a very charming woman by the way," Bill continued, grinning broadly. "We got into talking, and after I invited her to a glass of wine or two, she told me all about her boss' activities in England. Imagine how surprised I was when a very familiar name popped up…"
"It seems that my brother Aberforth has invited Mr Dougall to one of his infamous balls, and Mr Dougall has accepted gladly, knowing that my dear brother has a … hand for the more beautiful part of the female sex," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.
"I contacted my brother immediately, and though he was slightly hesitant at the beginning, he was courteous enough to send me six invitations, for me and whatever colleague or student might want to visit the ball. He was rather curious to meet you, Harry", Dumbledore smiled.
Snape took over the thread of conversation while Harry tried to reconcile himself with the fact of another ball. He had still not gotten over the experience of the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and somehow, he expected this to be not much better.
"Thus, as it seems that Mr Dougall is all too inclined to interact with females of a certain attractiveness, all we need is a female Order member that will render him talkative during the festivity, and get near enough to him to check his private notes and schedules."
"You mean like Mata Hari," Harry asked, creating a good bit of confusion among the not muggleborn Order members.
"Who's Mata Harry?" Tonks inquired, clearly mistaking her for one of Harry's relations.
"Well," Hermione sighed once the discussion about World Wars, female spies in general and the infamous Mata Hari had subsided. "As long as we can make sure no Death Eater enters the vicinity of that ball, I guess I should take the job."
Her announcement was met with a simple nod from Snape and doubting to astonished looks from the rest of the Order.
"Not a good idea," Moody finally said. "We should let Tonks do it."
"You know that we're seriously low on female spies", Hermione protested. "And Tonks wouldn't manage to hold up appearance for more than five minutes… sorry Tonks, nothing personal."
Tonks just winked at her, obviously glad that she hadn´t been forced to make the point.
"So unless you want to employ Professor McGonagall or Mrs Weasley," Both women visibly bristled at the thought of it. "I am the best for the job."
Nervous silence settled inside the room. Finally, when obviously realizing that no one else would say it out loud, Bill cleared his throat.
"I don't want to be personal either, Hermione", he started, desperately looking for help within the circle of Order members, "But we need someone with… very special talents for this job. Someone extremely beautiful, seemingly dumb and…" Harry noticed Snape's lips twitching wildly and the half amused, half angry expression on Hermione's face and knew that Bill had managed to get himself into a mess the size of America, "… and very seductive."
"I can be all that, Bill", Hermione simply answered, and when she saw the continuing look of disbelief on his face, smirked, "If you don't believe me, just ask Severus."
Across the room, a muffled sound was heard as Molly Weasley very nearly choked on her tea.
Had the silence been nervous before, it now became increasingly embarrassed. Harry, refusing to meet anybody's eyes, took sudden interest in his badly polished shoes. He hadn't been mad enough to start this discussion, and he certainly would not be the one to tell Hermione that Severus Snape's opinions of beauty and seductiveness did not necessarily agree with the rest of the world.
The silence stretched, until the velvety voice of the Spymaster himself released them.
"I'm afraid they lack faith in you, Hermione. A pity."
Heads shot up towards Hermione, who crossed her arms before her chest in mock defiance.
"You are the Spymaster, it is your decision," She pointed out half amused, half irritated. "Or do you lack the faith, too?"
He smirked at her, as sardonically as anyone had ever seen him smirk. "Good gracious, I'm not mad," He drawled. "I wouldn't leave the thing to anyone gifted with less… developed talents than yours."
His open leering created another uproar of shocked murmurs, but she just smirked back at him and cocked an eyebrow, imitating him so perfectly for a moment that everyboedy's belief in her acting talents rose enormously.
Then, all traces of humour left her as she faced the Order members sitting around the table.
"Right then. We need the guest list," She said, her voice all business now. "I need to know how tall he is, and what type of women he prefers, the unruly ones, the stupid, simpering ones, or the seductive ones. We have to make sure that no Death Eater comes near the place, and I have to know the exact colours of the rooms' decorations and the servants' liveries. I also have to know how he normally dresses and where he keeps his personal belongings – whether in his trouser pockets, in some pocket of his robe or in a bag attached to his body. Professor Dumbledore, you had best contact your brother again about the details, and Bill should surely manage to accidentally meet that secretary of his once more? Ask her if her boss molests her, and she will surely plunge into a detailed description of his favourite type of women."
"Why do you need to know all that?" Tonks asked, bewildered. Clearly she wouldn't have put as much thought into the assignment.
"Because, dear Tonks," Hermione grinned. "If you want to seduce a man, you have to do it just perfect."
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! Next chapter, we're going to go dark again. Really dark, so brace yourselves!
