A/N: I will be updating this, though it will be sporadic. The Five Winters is still my priority. However, once that is complete, updates to this (still untitled) story will become more regular.

Thanks to April93 for her awesome beta-ing skills. =)

Please review!

The reason why Mother wanted her in charge was abundantly clear. In such a large group of powerful, influential, demanding men, using wandless magic in the right situation meant that she was in a position to defuse any situation that might arise. It was not a task that Hermione would have liked to be publicly assigned to do, given that she often did it anyways, but there were some advantages that went along with the job.

First off, if Mother gave her authority, the other girls would follow it. If Hermione felt they needed to be taken out of the room for a few minutes, the girls would obey without question, or—if they were too drunk to obey coherently—the other girls would help Hermione in being discrete about where she was taking their friend.

Secondly, it meant she would be able to sit with whomever she liked. Once she had gotten over the shock, Hermione had grasped this concept quickly and was planning to take full advantage of it. She might have an opportunity to sit next to Dolohov, who did not hold his liquor well and was liable to run his mouth; or perhaps Yaxley, who Hermione had identified as their weakest link. This was a perfect opportunity to gather information without restriction.

Her heart did a little jump out of her throat, squeezing painfully, constricting her ability to breathe as it did whenever she thought about Lord Snape. He had not given himself the title, and by all accounts had responded with rage whenever people called him that initially, but eventually conceded to it. Hermione supposed he found it less exasperating than 'King Snape.' The very thought alone made her giggle. She had not seen her ex-professor in nearly three years or said a single word to him for four. But she could not allow herself to be recognized when he came.

Lucius Malfoy was familiar with Sakura. Hermione could easily use his familiarity as a cover. Though she found Malfoy to be a disgusting, self-centered man, he was also unsurprisingly well-cultured and often stopped by to have Sakura and Mitsuki perform a small duet for him. He was never interested in engaging with the girls sexually, leaving Hermione with the impression that he was actually rather devoted to his wife and their marriage. For a man Hermione found rather detestable, she could not disregard the fact that he had strong family values, and this made her feel safer when she was with him. If he wasn't interested in her sexually, she need not fear being hit upon and being put in an untenable situation. Regardless, nothing could interfere with Malfoy wanting to watch them perform, and on occasion he would join them, being a marvelous dancer. Hermione had no doubt that, given he was Lord Snape's closest friend, he would be sitting next to the man. If she sat next to Malfoy, it could get her closer to Snape.

This also raised serious questions for her. How should she use this opportunity? She had steeled herself to kill him years ago, but she wasn't prepared to die doing it if there was some other way. She still wanted to live her life after the war was well and truly over. She had turned several ideas over in her head and mulled it over in the days leading up to the party, but she had nothing concrete. She started back in square one. She had not met the man for nearly three years. People changed in that time. It was quite possible he had become more paranoid, more cautious, and it would make Hermione's job much harder. She would need to assess him first and then find a way to keep him close to her until she knew how to kill him.

She would also have to be careful around him. She was well aware of his skills in Legilimency. Harry had tutored her, with much difficulty, in the basics of Occlumency during the time Ron had abandoned them in their search for Horcruxes. Harry's teaching skills were mediocre in the subject, but Hermione had grasped the concept quickly and was now accomplished enough to block out Malfoy who—as Hermione had predicted upon first meeting him since the end of the war—was an excellent Legilimens and often did surface sweeps on the people around him. Hermione used those opportunities as a light test of her skills.

If Snape decided to ransack her mind, she was certain her defences would fail. But if he merely did a surface sweep of what the people around him were thinking…

"Christine, you're daydreaming again!"

"Sorry." Hermione refocused her gaze on Mitsuki, who wore a look of childish frustration, the kind that was worn when an older sibling was caught tuning out the ramblings of a younger one.

"You haven't been listening to a word!"

"I was distracted," Hermione replied truthfully, gesturing at the Arithmancy calculations on her desk. "Please, continue."

"Well," Mitsuki said, resting her hands in her lap where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hermione's room, "I was thinking, if Malfoy's going to be there, we could dance for them again."

"Which one?" It seemed like a fair idea to Hermione.

"Angel of Music." Lucius was particularly fond of their two-person renditions of the popular muggle musical Phantom of the Opera. The irony, Hermione thought, was that he didn't realize it was a Muggle production. True to her name, Hermione always played the part of Christine, while Mitsuki—or occasionally some other girl—played the part of Meg. They all thought it an ironic play on her name, but none of them were aware that Hermione had derived her name from the play itself. It wasn't a coincidence.

And Mitsuki loved Phantom of the Opera, as well as the praise she got from Malfoy when she and Hermione performed well.

Hermione made her features soften in an expression of sisterly understanding. "Of course."

~o~O~o~

Crookshanks watched as the Magic Eye became a flurry of activity over the next few days. The girls spent their free time whispering excitedly to each other. None of them liked Snape. Two of them remembered him as their Potions professor. But such an event brought about feeling of excitement and eagerness. None of them were expecting to make an impression on him—or rather, a favourable one—but they still considered it an honour, of sorts. And perhaps a chance to make contacts through his officers, who could afford to give them elaborate gifts, things that may give them a chance to move to another country, another continent, and start over. It was the stuff of dreams in this era.

No one spoke about it with the customers. But behind closed doors, it was the only topic of conversation. Crookshanks was starting to get extremely curious and annoyed. He knew they were talking about someone—and Hermione had spoken about this… man… on more than one occasion in the solitude of her rooms. But he couldn't seem to place an identity on him. Did he know this human, who caused Hermione such grief? Was there anything he could do?

But it seemed all he was capable of doing, currently, was listening and collecting information. Soon, he would be able to put it to use. His whiskers twitched at this; he had an idea of the man they were talking about. However, he was certain that they were lacking some rather pertinent information. None of them had been there the night Crookshanks had seen white-bearded one and the dark-haired man arguing out on the grounds of Hogwarts, nor had any of them been aware that Crookshanks was in the office, visiting Fawkes, when the dark-haired man had reported that a so-called Unbreakable Vow had been taken.

Crookshanks wasn't certain if the man they were talking about was this man, but he considered it a distinct possibility.

There was more to the dark-haired man than met the eye. And from Crookshanks's perspective, if you were human, you were nearly blind.

He hopped off the kitchen counter, knowing that dinner would be served soon and Cook would need to wipe the surface clean beforehand, and sauntered over to the door, where he had an excellent view of the customers.

While the girls were on a break, Hermione was working overtime, and he saw her now, serving a table. Three of the men acknowledged her with a polite nod and accepted their tea; the fourth said something that was clearly intended to be lewd. Crookshanks's ears twitched angrily at this, but he watched as his human companion—ever composed— merely brushed off the remark with a lazy, teasing retort that had the man shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His companions chuckled in response. He sent her away with a dismissive hand, trying to save face, and Hermione spun on her heels and gracefully walked away.

It was very clear how she had changed over the years. Where she would have taken severe offense at such a thing being said to her, she now brushed it off. It was part of her job to look alluring, and though she did not have to take on paying consorts, she did have to keep the customers happy. Snapping at them for their rudeness was out of the question, but turning their comments on themselves had become an acquired skill, one that would have made her teachers proud if they could see her now.

She still got remarks about her hair. Many of the girls charmed their hair in exotic colours and styles to make it lie flat or become curlier than was their natural inclination, thus making them appear more attractive. Hermione never bothered with it. She was one of the shortest girls at the teahouse, allowing regulars to make jokes about how she was easily overlooked. She had an almost cat-like demeanour, inciting some of the men to give her nicknames that Hermione did not much appreciate. It was annoying, and though Hermione was skilled at masking her aggravation at such names, she spent plenty of time complaining about it to Crookshanks in the privacy of her rooms.

When she was at work, she was completely professional.

And very easily overlooked.

~o~O~o~

On Thursday morning, Hermione was awoken by the sound of two people arguing heatedly somewhere through the walls. She sleepily sat up, rolling off her bed and stretching before pulling on a large t-shirt and stumbling out to see what was going on.

She descended the stairs, nearly slipping on the polished wood; she grabbed onto the rail and regained her footing before continuing down until she'd reached the first floor. Crookshanks followed at her heels, bottlebrush tail fluffed up.

She heard voices, now talking in hushed tones. She slipped quietly toward the kitchen, through the door, and peered out into the main room. Her spy instincts kicked in, and she was suddenly alert and listening.

She heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy, smooth and in what passed for an attempt to soothe ruffled feathers. "I already explained to you that I was not certain as to what we would want for tomorrow," he said coolly. "I went through the trouble of stopping by early this morning to inform you, but perhaps my consideration was wasted—"

"My girls are not prostitutes, Malfoy!"

Somehow, hearing Mother use the words 'my girls' made Hermione's heart lighten. Mother was gruff, but she most certainly cared about the girls who worked at the Magic Eye, and hearing it was reassuring.

"And I never asked you to tell them to be." Malfoy sounded as though he were talking to a recalcitrant child. "Although I'm certain my associates would not complain if they were. No," he continued, "What we would like is for them to put on a show. Something to surprise Severus." Hearing him call the most important man in the country by his first name was somewhat disconcerting, but it only heightened the sense Hermione had that Malfoy was very important among Snape's ranks of officers. That kind of confirmation was invaluable. "I am a married man, but even I can say that I find them extremely attractive. Your girls have very beautiful bodies. I am not asking them to service us, particularly if they don't want to, as I fully understand how possessive some women are of their bodies." Smooth words, Hermione thought. "If they would only dress in something… appropriately revealing, I would be very pleased."

Hermione couldn't see the expression on Mother's face, and she imagined if she saw it she would see nothing—Mother was excellent at hiding her true thoughts—but she imagined she heard Mother's private snort of disgust. Asking her workers to dress in something even more seductive than their usual daily attire—and for a man as revolting as Severus Snape, no less!

But still, Hermione supposed, it was better to only have to show them something they could not touch rather than have to give it to them. After all, Malfoy was a very powerful man, and if he felt so inclined to, he could easily order Mother to have them all strip naked and prostrate themselves before them. She would have no choice to—after all, nothing would stop him from using the Killing Curse. This wasn't the same Wizarding Britain it had been five years ago.

But Malfoy wasn't interested in them. He was only making this request on behalf of his associates.

Mother knew she had no choice but to obey, but she continued to bargain on behalf of her girls. "And if your men approach them and they turn them down, their wishes will be respected."

Malfoy gave a sardonic bow. "I will inform them personally to abide by the rules."

Mother did not relax, but her shoulders sagged a fraction of an inch, as if in defeat. "Very well."

Malfoy stood up straighter. "I will be off, then.

Hermione made a choice at that moment to step in. Making certain she still looked properly sleep-dazed, she called hoarsely:

"Mother?"

The woman in question stiffened, but Malfoy seemed delighted by her appearance. Hermione stepped through the door, her curly hair made a bushy mess by sleep, giving her a bedraggled appearance.

"I heard voices," she said, rubbing her eyes in a show of waking up. "What're you talking about?"

Before Mother could answer, Malfoy interjected smoothly, "Preparations for tomorrow." Watching as Hermione tucked her hair out of her face, his eyes suddenly lit up, as though struck by an idea. He placed an arm around Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione suppressed the urge to flinch. She was surprised he even wanted to be near her in this state; she had not even brushed her teeth. "And that reminds me," he said, turning to face Mother once more, "I was hoping lovely Sakura here and Mitsuki would perform their usual songs for us. I'm certain Severus would be impressed."

Hermione found that unlikely, but she could see Malfoy was indeed looking forward to seeing it. It was the only thing he truly came to the teahouse for. He could get food elsewhere, pretty girls could be found working at almost any restaurant, and some places were fancier. However, it was Hermione and Mitsuki's music that kept him coming back.

Hermione brushed her hair out of her face and tilted her head slightly, putting on a winning smile. "Of course, Sir. We would be honoured to perform for Lord Snape."

"Excellent!" Malfoy pulled his arm away from her, a subtle smirk crossing his pale features. "I must be going, then. I still have paperwork to take care of in the office."

"Of course." Hermione bowed quickly and low. "Thank you for stopping by, Sir."

Hermione and Mother waited until Malfoy had left before the older woman turned to face her.

"I assume you heard everything."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mother."

"Of course you don't." Mother gave her a slight shove in the direction of the stairs, though her voice carried no malice. "Off to bed with you, unless you want to help us prepare the main room. You and the other girls will be resting until tomorrow morning. I will inform them of the change of plans at that time."

"Yes, Mother." Without another word, Hermione turned and headed back up the stairs.

As she climbed back into bed, she wondered if Lord Snape was aware of anything that had been planned for tomorrow. From the sound of it, all Malfoy had managed to do was get everyone to agree to come and have a good time. In all likelihood, Snape had no idea what was specifically in the works and would be in for a shock.

If that were the case, Hermione thought, then it must be karma for all those times he had sprung pop quizzes on them.