A/N: I had my last class today. Exams are next week. After that, I have to turn in my computer to the school. I'm posting this chapter now, and it may be another two or three weeks before I have everything set up to continue posting. Sorry...

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

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The next day, Hermione left the Burrow before any of them awoke. When Harry went down for breakfast, he was told by a still-shaken Mrs. Weasley that Hermione's husband had stopped by at the early hours the morning to take her home. Molly had chewed Harry and Ron out thoroughly for not telling her that they had expected an attack on the Ministry, and had then dissolved into tears in the midst of demanding to know what they thought they were doing in attempting to answer the predicted attack. Mr. Weasley had made it out of the chaos very nearly unscathed save for a few scratches and broken glasses, and had been present when the Death Eaters were identified.

"Most of them got away," He told Bill, when his eldest son came to visit the next day. "They never intended to stay for long, I don't think. It was just a distraction after the initial attack."

"How did they get through the wards?" Bill asked. "You can't just crash into the Ministry without doing some serious curse-breaking."

"Hermione reckons it's because of Charlie," Ron said, taking a seat at the breakfast table. "Dragons are immune to most of our magic, and they can get through Wizarding wards like it's nothing. That's probably why they had him attack first, to create an opening for the diversion."

"And where's Charlie now?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks at this, and shook their heads. Aside from having no answer, they also had more pressing matters on their minds. Harry wanted to have a talk with Dumbledore as soon as possible about the ritual the dragon had performed, and the loss of Gaunt's Ring. The dragon had eaten it. It was gone. There was no getting it back. This, Harry reflected, was probably for the best—but Dumbledore still needed to know.

He also wished Hermione hadn't left.

~o~O~o~

"Draco told the Dark Lord that you had possession of the book to save his own skin," Severus said, as Hermione settled herself in an armchair by the fire. They were at their quarters at Hogwarts, where She had slept most of the day away, and was finally awake again. "I believe he thought that this would cause the Dark Lord to send me to retrieve it, not for the Dark Lord to send a half-tamed dragon crashing into the Ministry."

"Draco shouldn't have tried to predict the Dark Lord's moves, but I honestly can't blame him," Hermione muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Draco is a Slytherin with a good sense of self-preservation. I agree, though, I honestly don't think he intended for the Dark Lord to respond by violently targeting me."

"That must have been some dreadful naivete on his part."

"He believes you're a Death Eater. I'm certain he thought that the Dark Lord would send you to retrieve the book—a surprisingly good plan, given you're an expert on dark objects and he had no success in kidnapping the book himself." Hermione gave him a wry smile. "I suspect he wanted to send the right man in for the job."

"He had a half-baked plan that was contingent upon a homicidal megalomaniac being predictable," Severus sniped. "And furthermore, it compromised my position. My only saving grace is that I could honestly tell the Dark Lord that I didn't know he was searching for the book."

Hermione grimaced. "Did he punish you? You never said."

"Most of the punishment went to the dozen who accompanied Bellatrix." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "Now he's searching for Charlie. He wants his dragon back."

"Charlie's gone, Severus," Hermione said heavily. "So is the book."

"I'd heard as much, though I still fail to see how one has to do with the other."

Hermione took a moment to consider how best to explain, and then gave him a compressed run-down of the events that led up to the book-bound dragon within Convulsions of Nature resurrecting itself.

"I… I have never…" Severus muttered, now reaching distractedly for the cabinet that held their dwindling supply of alcohol. His fingers found the glasses, and a bottle. "I couldn't have even conceived of such a thing…"

"It's for the best," Hermione said half-heartedly. "There's no getting the book back." She also didn't want to add that she was fairly certain there was no getting the Philosopher's Stone back—the Death Eaters hadn't known it was still in Charlie's belly, and the dragon hadn't been kind enough to return it to them before his departure. It was gone, along with Gaunt's Ring. "And I doubt the dragon will be half as cooperative as Charlie was. My only regret is that its years of saved investments up in smoke—I paid Borgin an arm and a leg for that book."

Severus snorted. She had indeed placed a large portion of money in the Muggle stockmarket, which had resulted in steadily-growing wealth over the years due to her foreknowledge of which companies would be most successful. There was no other way they could have ever paid for the book, he reflected. They were well off for it, but it didn't lessen the loss.

"It's a small price to pay," he reminded her, now pouring himself a glass. She motioned at the second glass, and he poured her a shot as well before watching the glass silently float into her hands. "The alternative would have been the Dark Lord getting his hands on Convulsions of Nature much sooner. What you were able to do with that book was one thing—but his ambitions are another matter entirely."

"I was able to use the book to develop a ritual to separate the Dark Lord's fragmented soul from Harry's," Hermione said, lifting the glass to her lips. She took a sip. "I never realized how much the book learned from me, though—that's why it was able to perform it. Brilliant creature, that dragon."

She kissed him then, somehow making it to her feet and crossing the distance between them in two light strides. His glass slowly lowered until it was carefully set back on the table, and his fingers brushed their way up to her face to wind through her hair.

"I was worried for you," she admitted quietly, pulling away to look him in the eye. "When Kreacher told me you were in the cellar with Charlie."

"That the blasted beast might eat me?" he asked half-humorously.

"That you might have also been a prisoner."

There was a long moment, and then Severus's head tilted forward, curtaining his face with his lanky hair. He let out a deep sigh, and then said—

"It doesn't matter if he chains me in the cellar or keeps me to do his bidding." He shook his left sleeve, the buttons silently coming undone and the cuff rolling back obligingly to reveal the ugly tattoo beneath. "As long as I bear the Dark Mark, I am his prisoner."

Hermione placed her hand over his. "Not for much longer. The only thing holding him to this world is Nagini and himself." She gave him a calculating look. "Which brings us to our next goal…"

"You want to poison that snake, don't you?"

Hermione smirked at how predictable she was to her husband, but then it quickly evaporated. "Do you have a better suggestion?"

He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes growing calmly blank as they always did when he was deep in thought and in the privacy of his own mind. Hermione stroked his hand with her thumb while she waited for him to come back to her, and when he did, his hand closed over her own.

"No. It's the simplest and easiest solution available to us." There was a pause, and then he said what they were both thinking. "But when Nagini inevitably expires, I will be the primary suspect. He will attempt to kill me, if I am not already gone."

"And when you fail to show up at his summons, his suspicions will be confirmed."

"It means we will have played our hand. To both the Dark Lord and to Dumbledore."

Hermione bit her lower lip. "My task is to handle you and help you maintain your cover at all costs. If you poison Nagini, your usefulness as a spy is finished. And Dumbledore will be furious…"

"The question is not whether I am unwilling to face the Headmaster's wrath," Severus said quietly, "but whether you are prepared to finally tell him that you have not been playing by his rules."

There was a long silence as Hermione pondered this, Severus patiently waiting for a response. He could see all the thoughts flying across her face—consideration at how powerful the Dark Lord was now and how much more powerful he had yet to become; what the odds were that their plan would be successful; the potential repercussions for him within Slytherin house at his betrayal. All this, he knew, was being sliced and diced and carefully dissected by the razor-sharp implement of Hermione's acumen.

And then her face became set with determination.

"I'm ready to bring us one more step closer to ending this war," she said.

~o~O~o~

The remaining two days of Easter Break was spent in Severus's private lab at Spinner's End. As an accomplished Potions Master, he could rattle off a list of untraceable poisons that left the victim dead with signs of other fatal medical diagnoses, such as an untimely heart attack or a stroke. But they knew that the Dark Lord would not see Nagini's death as an unfortunate natural passing, no matter how clever the concoction, and thus did not put their focus toward that sort of poison. The plan, then, was to focus on a poison that would be easiest to deliver and a certain killer. They couldn't afford for Nagini to survive the poisoning—there would be no retries.

They debated various methods without coming to a full agreement.

"He lets her have the run of the place, doesn't he?" Hermione asked, flipping through a simple text of common household pest-killers. "I know there are rats in Malfoy Manor, they can't keep the place perfectly immaculate. If you were to release a few in parts of the house she's likely to be about…"

"I propose one of Lucius's peacocks," Severus said, turning around in his chair. "She's been known to eat them opportunistically."

When school resumed, they went about their duties as though nothing had happened. And yet, that did not stop the students from talking about what had happened at the Ministry. As usual, everyone seemed to know—helped along by the Daily Prophet, of course—that Harry had been at the center of it. Or rather, Hermione was grateful that everyone seemed to interpret it that way. Harry had been in the thick of things, but there was fortunately no mention of her at all.

Dumbledore summoned her to his office the following Saturday, and it was with a fearful heart that Hermione sat down in one of the cozy chintz armchairs and rejected the offer of a lemon drop.

"I have some news that, I believe, changes the nature of this war," Dumbledore told her, pouring them both a cup of tea with a flick of his wand. He gave her an assessing look. "You were already aware that part of Voldemort's unstable and shattered soul had attached itself to Harry, were you not?"

"Yes," Hermione said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. Of course she knew. The Headmaster had undoubtedly had to know that whatever he told Severus at this point was akin to telling her. "And that he'd have to… that he must die, in order for Voldemort to die as well."

Dumbledore sighed. "As it turns out, this may not be the case." And then his expression brightened into one of such happiness that Hermione was rather taken aback. "I was not there to witness it, but Harry explained to me that the red dragon which took Charlie's body for his own performed a unique sort of ritual that almost cleanly separated his soul from Voldemort's."

Hermione pretended to be surprised, though her elation was nothing but genuine. "You mean—you're saying he doesn't have to die?"

"Harry is no longer attached to Voldemort, Hermione," Dumbledore said gently. He gave her a moment to let this sink in, and then said, "Which brings me to another matter. Gaunt's Ring, which you were so kind as to hold on—"

"I gave it to Harry," Hermione interjected quickly, thinking the Headmaster was about to ask for it.

"The dragon ate it."

Hermione blinked, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Oh."

"Yes, indeed. I'm afraid there's no getting it back. Pity, but perhaps it's for the greater good…"

But Hermione wasn't listening. Dumbledore had just told her that one of the Hallows, a vital piece to his plan, had just been irrevocably removed from the equation. Her mind whirled as it tried to absorb the impact and consequences this might have on both his further pursuits and her own plans.

"…This means that a great many things must be reconsidered, but in the end, we are one step closer to defeating Voldemort…"

Dumbledore no longer had a viable plan. Right now, there were only two obstacles in the way of Voldemort's death—Nagini, and the slimy snake-face himself. And she and her husband were already planning to off the first. They would certainly consider trying to poison the latter as well, but he reportedly never ate, and Hermione frankly wasn't willing to risk her husband's life to try and kill him. They could attack him from a different angle later—at this point in time, their joint concern was focused on making him mortal again.

"Naturally, I think Severus should be told…"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione said, not quite following where this had come from.

"About Harry's chances of survival, Hermione. His death is no longer guaranteed as a matter of course."

"And you want me to tell him?" Hermione asked dryly.

"No, I'm afraid I had best do that myself," Dumbledore said, giving Hermione a slight smile from behind his great white beard. "If you would be so kind as to send him up to my office after you've left, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Their discussion was clearly over. Sensing she was dismissed, and all the more relieved for it, she politely excused herself and left. When she had traipsed the several floors down it took to reach their quarters, closed the door behind her and peered around.

"Severus?" she called.

"Over here," he said, looking up from his cauldron, though she could only see the top of his head from behind the chair. He had set it up over their fireplace and was kneeling down beside it to attend to it. Their favored sheepskin rug had been safely removed beforehand. "What did the Headmaster want?"

"Lots of things, the least being that he wants to speak to you," Hermione said, walking around to the fireplace. "I'm not sure how I feel about you brewing poison in the sitting room, Severus. We do eat here."

"It's the only place that the Headmaster doesn't have eyes," Severus replied. It was true. They had exiled the portraits that Slughorn had chosen to keep in the rooms when he was Potions Master. "Why does he need to see me?"

"I suspect he wants to apologize for making you believe Harry was going to die," Hermione said, kneeling beside him. "That's only a hunch, of course."

"He probably expects me to act disappointed," Severus muttered, as he began counting out his lionfish spines. "I'm glad Potter is no longer expected to die as a part of the Dark Lord's demise. That does not change the fact that I think he is a reckless and arrogant dunderhead who has no place being in my classroom. I'm not about to jump for joy."

"You must admit he's improved," Hermione said lightly.

"His improvement comes from the fact that he has finally realized the importance of reading and following my instructions to the letter," Severus ground out. "He has no natural inclination for the subject, and his essays are as dismal as ever."

"At least he's never destroyed a cauldron," Hermione pointed out. "Not by accident, anyway."

Severus turned to look at her. "Are you implying he's destroyed a cauldron on purpose, then?"

"Second year," Hermione said, cheeks pinking. "It was a diversion so that I could steal Boomslang skin from your stores. But you already knew that, I think."

"I did. It had blissfully slipped my mind until now. Are you sure I can't still get him expelled for that?"

"Quite sure, dear."

He left and she took over the brewing, endeavoring to keep the floor clean of contaminants as she did so. She was required to let the potion simmer for a quarter of an hour some thirty minutes later, and it wasn't until she had resumed stirring that her husband stormed back through the front door.

"That doesn't sound good," she remarked as the sound of his boots hitting the floor were followed shortly by them being kicked out of the way.

"It never is," he sniped.

The headmaster had a particular talent for putting her husband in a snit. And unfortunately, since she was in the middle of handling a potion, she couldn't focus her considerable talents into coaxing him out of it. Instead, she gestured for him to come over, and then pressed the stirring rod into his hands.

"Have fun with that. I have papers to grade."

He let out a muttered epithet, but when she glanced over her shoulder, it was to find he had settled himself back into brewing. She knew brewing calmed him; it was something he could and often did on autopilot. She pulled her second-year essays out of her side of the desk, nabbed her husband's favored quill and a fresh bottle of red ink, and proceeded to bleed over them.

When he finally reached a stopping point, knowing that the poison would have to be left to cool for some time before it could be continued, Hermione set the grading aside and was pulling him to his feet almost before he realized what was happening, and kissed him. It was soft but demanding, just like she was, and his resistance melted away almost immediately; his furrowed expression and frustration seemed to dissipate, unimportant in the face of his wife's affection.

"I think I know of a way to make your evening better," Hermione said, pulling his head down by the front of his shirt to murmur into his ear. "Don't you agree?"

~o~O~o~

Long after Hermione had fallen asleep, Severus lay wide awake in bed with only his thoughts for company. He was curled up against her, and his hand drifted through her hair every now and then as he considered the dilemma before him. Both an opportunity and a painful decision that his wife had finally forced to the table.

Would he give up his position as a spy to destroy the Dark Lord's last horcrux? Or would he change his mind and tell Hermione that he was more valuable as the only double-agent within Voldemort's ranks?

He was tired of spying. He was frankly tired of risking his life day in and day out for a reward that seemed a long time in coming, and any way to speed up the process was welcome to him. He was sick of walking on eggshells around an unpredictable, homicidal megalomaniac with little compunction about torturing his followers. Particularly now, that his moods were growing even more unstable, and his suspicions were starting to fall upon his Potions Master because of his wife. It was very tempting to simply quit while he was ahead and simultaneously flip both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore the finger while he was at it.

But years as a spy had rapidly cooled his heels on making rash decisions. If he cut his ties within the Dark Lord's camp, there would be no going back, and they had no other source. There was no-one but him. It was why Dumbledore had been so stern about the necessity of Hermione helping him carefully cultivate his position within their ranks.

He was willing to follow his wife's orders, but he also wondered if she had thoroughly thought this through. His marriage to Professor Granger was common knowledge among the Dark Lord's circle, and he suspected several of his Slytherins were already aware through their parents, though they fortunately kept their mouths shut. Aside from the minor inconvenience that would be caused by students talking, which Severus hardly considered worth giving much merit in the decision-making, openly defecting would have a serious effect on his relationship within his house.

He could do it. Take out Nagini, removing the Dark Lord's last horcrux, and make their enemy mortal once more. He couldn't hope to poison the Dark Lord, he was too well protected, but he could make him vulnerable. Send a message to his Slytherins, many of whom were considering a place among his ranks—though many of them held strongly to their notions of blood purity, Severus was certain they would still fear him enough to at least give him their ear. He was their feared teacher, their trusted Head of House, and until the moment of his announced defection, one of the highest-ranked members among Lord Voldemort's circle. He would still command a certain level of unshakeable authority.

His life would still be difficult even if he was no longer a spy, he allowed. He would be one of the Dark Lord's targets, right alongside Muggle-borns and Blood-traitors—moreso, possibly, as the Dark Lord would take his defection as the greatest of insults. He still had a son to protect, though he was fortunately disassociated from his family name. He had a wife who could take care of herself, but with his defection, she would lose a bit of the protection that her connection to him had allowed her to enjoy. She would become targeted, rather than merely tolerated.

Additionally, her identity as Hermione Granger—the 5th-year student who had mysteriously disappeared—would almost certainly be revealed.

No matter how he looked at it, his defection was a disaster waiting to happen. There were so many chains of events that could unfold, and all of them resulted in having only his wife at his side to get through them. Dumbledore would surely be furious, and Severus sourly predicted that he would get no help from the Headmaster.

But it was still their decision to make. At this stage in the game, they had a better view of the chessboard than Albus Dumbledore. And though Severus admired, respected, and even felt some degree of affection for the Headmaster… he agreed with Hermione: it was time to take a risk to kill the black queen.

Still unable to sleep, and fervently praying that they were doing the right thing, he slowly extricated himself from the bed—careful not to disturb Hermione—and padded out to the living room. The cauldronful of poison awaited him from its place by the fire, and he bent over to examine it. A thought occurred to him, the realization that this would never do: Nagini was a horcrux. She could surely be killed by normal means, but the piece of the Dark Lord's soul inside her could not. He wished it had occurred to him earlier that normal poisons would not do the trick. A flick of his hand, and a book wriggled out of its place on the bookshelf above the mantle and sailed into his hand. It was a thick tome, bound in black leather that had not been cleaned in a long time. He snapped his fingers with a muttered "Lumos," and allowed himself to fall into one of the armchairs. Holding a tiny ball of light between his thumb and forefinger, he scanned through the chapter on Horcruxes in of Secrets of the Darkest Art. After bypassing the explicit instructions on their creation, he came across the passage he was looking for:

Horcruxes are extremely dangerous to create, and just as terribly difficult to unmake. If the horcrux is inanimate, it is nearly indestructible; the normal means of killing it, by either curse or physical injury, will be ineffective. It must be doused in the acidic and virtually incurable venom of a Basilisk or smelted within the uncontrollable and vicious flames of Fiendfyre. In the event that the horcrux is animate, the Killing Curse is just as effective.

There was nothing, not a word, on poison. Severus re-read the passage once more, and then looked over the rest of the chapter to ascertain he had not missed anything, before shutting the book with a snap. He was wrong. They could not poison Nagini, not unless they did it with Basilisk venom. A finger came to his lips to trace them as he glowered at the fireplace, which seemed to be crackling merrily just to spite him. It was fortunate that the Killing Curse would work in a pinch, but he planned to be long gone before Nagini expired, and he was rather reluctant to unleash Fiendfyre upon his godson's residence.

Then the answer came to him. They did have the correct poison on hand. Potter had left the corpse of an enormous, millennium-old Basilisk down in the Chamber of Secrets. He had destroyed the Diary horcrux with one of its fangs. Potter could give them access, and given he was no longer linked to the Dark Lord's mind, Severus had no fear that their plan would be accidentally exposed by involving him. Not if they were otherwise discreet.

Very well, Potter, he thought moodily, placing the book back. It's time you made yourself useful…

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~Anubis Ankh