"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

-William Shakespeare

"This wasn't exactly," Hermione said as Malfoy made his way into the kitchen of Muron Castle, "what I pictured when I thought of breakfast."

She held up two large celery stocks with her left hand.

Malfoy smirked as he sat down in the chair opposite her.

"What did you expect, Granger? Snape and I are both fugitives. Did you think we'd make a lovely couple grocery shopping together? Me pushing the cart and Snape skipping merrily down the aisle, asking if he can put more chocolate frogs in the basket?"

Hermione laughed lightly at the visual.

Since when does Malfoy make me laugh?

When was the last time I laughed, period?

Malfoy smirked at her response, "Look, Granger," he said after a moment, "About earlier in the entryway..."

"Stop right there, Malfoy," Hermione interrupted, motioning with the hand that was free of celery.

"I know what you're going to do. You're going to apologize...yet again. And really, as nice as that actually sounds, I don't think that I can take another apology from you today."

Malfoy started to shout something incoherent before Hermione cut him off again.

"Look. It's a thoughtful gesture, it really is! And that's what I'm trying to come to grips with! It's thoughtful. You and thoughtful in the same sentence...it's a complete oxymoron to me, Malfoy. I'm still trying to grasp the concept that we can actually be in the same room together without hexing one another into oblivion. Don't you see? This all still seems like some strange dream that I can't quite shake," she sighed deeply.

"I keep expecting to wake up at any moment and have you call me a 'mudblood'. Now, that would seem more like reality to me," Hermione added as she scanned the kitchen for some pumpkin juice with one last futile glance.

Malfoy was silent across the table for a long moment.

"I told you that I don't care about blood, Granger," he said.

"I remember what you said, Malfoy. I just have a hard time believing it. And can you really blame me for being so skeptical? We have been quite literally enemies for as long as I can remember - and you can't even imagine the kind of retention my mind has. Don't get me wrong, I very much like that we can be semi-civilized towards one another, it's just..." Hermione trailed off as she chewed thoughtfully on a celery stock, "...it seems so surreal."

Malfoy looked at her pensively, "Is there anything I could say that would make you believe me?"

"Malfoy, how could I not believe you? You told me under Veritaserum! I know it's the truth. I just need a moment to process it. A little time...," she trailed off.

A little sanity is more like it.

"Please, I just need a moment to think clearly so I can focus on everything that's happened," she concluded, as she pulled her wand from her cloak, and vanished what remained of her 'breakfast'.

Malfoy started at her a moment longer and then pulled his own wand out of his cloak and fingered it lightly; habitually.

"I want to tell you something, Granger," he said as he looked up to her face, "I think that it will help you understand where I'm coming from."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then nodded for him to continue.

"I know you're aware of most of my doings during our sixth year," Malfoy began, as he continued to finger his wand, "But what you don't know is everything that happened to me while I was working away from Hogwarts."

He pulled up the sleeve on his left forearm, "Like this, for example."

The Dark Mark stood out like a sore thumb on Malfoy's pale skin. Hermione had to fight a curious sensation to reach across the table and touch it.

"You don't need all of the details," he continued as he lowered his sleeve, "...but I was told to either take the Dark Mark or watch my mother be tortured and murdered."

Hermione's eyes widened with a look of astonishment on her face.

"Don't look so shocked, Granger. They're Death Eaters. It's what they do. You are an Auror, aren't you? I know that you've heard and seen worse. They live to torture, murder, and to serve the Dark Lord. This isn't a news flash," Malfoy said, nastily.

"Once you're a Death Eater, you're in it for life," he continued, "...or until the Dark Lord decides that your usefulness is over," he back peddled.

"So really, the fact that I'm here right now talking with you should show you the lengths that Snape has gone through to protect me."

Snape has been protecting someone besides his own hide?

There's a shocker.

"Anyways," Malfoy continued, as he shook his head slightly, aware of his own tangent, "...soon after I took the Mark, I was ordered to attend a raid with my father, Snape, and a few other Death Eaters. Nothing I had ever heard or seen about Death Eaters up to that point could have even remotely prepared me for what happened, or how I would react."

Another pause.

"It was a muggle house. Simple. Nothing too extravagant. I remember seeing a cat in one of the upstairs windows as we came up the walk way. It was uncommonly tiny...probably just a kitten..." he trailed off.

And then he remembered himself.

"As Death Eaters, we were meant to make an example of them. Our actions were supposed to show how we, as wizards, were superior to muggles. Superior, Granger. Death Eaters show their 'superiority' by destroying those who are helpless to defend themselves."

Malfoy paused in his reverie and looked down at his hands with a pained expression on his face.

Then it really does haunt you.

Do you see their faces when you sleep?

"I had cut my shoulder on a loose piece of wood in the threshold as we made our entrance. My blood and their blood...it was...it was the same. There was no difference in those creatures that the Death Eaters considered to be sub-human. We were the same. Exactly the same. And all my father's lectures and preaching on the divine rights of purebloods came crashing down on me in that one moment."

And Hermione took note of Malfoy as though she had never seen him before.

As if this was a stranger before her.

But he is a stranger.

I don't know this man at all.

Hermione's mind kicked into overdrive as she flashed back to her sixth year. The Daily Prophet was constantly bombarded with articles on muggle attacks by Death Eaters. Entire families were whipped out; no one was spared.

Women.

Children.

Babies.

None of it mattered. It was a moot point to them.

The Prophet spared no expense on informing readers of the grotesque manner in which many of the bodies were found. Fathers strewn out protecting wives; brothers protecting sisters. But by the end of her sixth year, all of the killings had clumped together into one horrific event in the back of Hermione's mind.

And the Order thought things were bad then.

Look at us now.

Malfoy looked to Hermione, waiting for her to say something.

Anything.

But when she continued to silently regard him, he pressed on, "I think Snape knew in that moment that it was over for me. He knew that I would never be able to have that life. But he also knew that if I didn't 'choose' to have that life that I would be killed. So he helped me as best he could without breaking his cover."

"He's been my refuge here every day since that moment. It's only because of him and Dumbledore that I am alive, talking to you right now."

And in that moment, Hermione was certain of two things. First, that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard that ever lived. Period. Any man that could sacrifice his life, while ensuring the safety of two others, and securing one's position as a spy was beyond great. It made him...glorious, magnificent.

A genius.

And secondly; Severus Snape was a far more courageous man than she had ever given him credit for.

If Harry only knew.

Hermione was still staring dumbly at Malfoy until she finally found her voice.

"And so...so have you been here all this time?"

"For the most part, yes," he answered.

"What about Snape?"

"The majority of the time he's either with the Dark Lord, or off on a mission for him. He's been the Dark Lord's right hand man since Dumbledore's death. He can never stay for long. It's too dangerous for him," Malfoy added.

Hermione was contemplating that thought when Malfoy spoke again, "And that is the main reason why you're here, Granger. Snape can only pass along minuscule pieces of information while I do the leg work as best I can. It's rather difficult. Even with Polyjuice Potion, I have to be extremely careful," he said.

"I have both sides that want me dead."

Hermione regarded Malfoy silently for a moment longer.

This was certainly not what she had signed on for.

And suddenly she flashed back to when she had first received her acceptance letter from Hogwarts. With her newfound excitement upon discovering that she was a witch, she could have never imagined what the future would hold for her. Her eleven year-old self had plans. Those plans were to study, work diligently, and to be the most proficient witch that she possibly could.

She had so much to make up for! Eleven years not knowing what she truly was! She was bound and determined that she would read everything there was to know about magic. She could hard wait for seven undisturbed years of blissful, magical education to begin.

Boy, did her eleven year-old self have a rude awakening coming.

Hermione had never asked to become Harry Potter's best friend. It just happened. She did not ask to have her life threatened countless times while she was at Hogwarts. It just happened. And she did not ask for the love of her life to be murdered right before her eyes when it should have been her.

It just happened.

And now, she had a new sense of certainty that she had never known before.

I didn't ask to help kill you, Voldemort.

But I swear to you; It will happen.

Hermione's eyes met and held Malfoy's.

"What would you have me do?" She asked, quietly.

Malfoy smiled widely at her from across the table. Slowly, he stood, and extended his hand

"Welcome aboard, Granger."

A smirk of her very own crossed Hermione's lips as she shook Malfoy's hand.

And so, it begins.

The sound of footsteps nearing the kitchen made Hermione retract her grip and look toward the entrance.

Snape emerged through the arched entryway, hidden behind a mass of books, parchment, and potion bottles that he carried haphazardly in front of him.

"I don't have the luxury of time, Miss Granger," Snape spoke as he unceremoniously dumped the items he was carrying onto the main table.

"I have only precious minutes before I must return to the Dark Lord," he added. This time, his gaze darted towards Malfoy.

"I am going to explain to you what needs to be done here, and I would appreciate it if you could keep your infuriating questions to a minimum - no doubt it will kill you to do so," he scoffed as he searched for a book in the muddled pile, "Because as I just mentioned; time is a luxury that I cannot afford."

He still talks to me as though I'm twelve.

Hermione nodded for him to continue.

"The ring, the diary, the locket, and Hufflepuff's cup have all been destroyed," he said sharply.

Every Horcrux he mentioned was followed by the succinct turning of pages.

"Knowing the Dark Lord and Nagini are both separate pieces of His soul, it leaves us with one that is yet to be discovered."

Your cleverness astounds me, Snape.

Hermione bit back the retort and motioned him on.

"I only have a small amount of Polyjoice Potion left," he continued, as he held up a small vile with his bony fingers, "...which means that you both will have to begin brewing more immediately. "

He studied the clumpy liquid a moment before continuing.

"I was made aware in your second year; if I'm recalling correctly, Miss Granger, that you at least know the ingredients it takes to brew the potion successfully. You managed to steal them from my storage cupboard without incident," he spat sarcastically.

Hermione tried to conspicuously adjust the hem on her robe.

Guilty as charged.

But Snape didn't linger on the subject long, "I'm going to be very blunt about what is to be expected of you, Miss Granger. This isn't a game. And whenever that Gryffindor foolishness rears it's ugly head at you; I want you to ignore it at all costs."

That was one blow too low.

I don't care how damn courageous the man is; he's still a slimy, Slytherin git.

"And what," Hermione spat, as she rose to her feet so she was inches away from Snape's face, "exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Any foolish little whim and floats into your silly mind should go in one ear and out the other. You are to do exactly as I say, without question," Snape shot back. His hooked nose was nearly touching Hermione's forehead.

"Well, then it certainly is a wonder as to why I'm even here!" Hermione shouted, "What am I supposed to be doing then? Sitting here and cooking Malfoy dinner every night? Tidying up the castle? If that's what you had in mind, Severus Snape, then let me tell you something-"

"ENOUGH!" Snape roared.

Hermione's chest was heaving with such force that she was certain her lungs were going to burst out of her chest.

Bastard.

"Did I not request," Snape began; his voice several octaves lower as he carefully annunciated every word, "that you let me finish what I needed to say without interrupting with your moronic questions?"

"You did request it," Hermione spat vehemently, "I just never said that I would oblige."

"Granger, that's enough."

This time, the voice was Malfoy's. And she was just about to start in on him when he spoke again.

"Snape doesn't have much time. You can argue with me later. We can't compromise his position."

Hermione looked down at the items Snape had thrown on the table, feeling slightly foolish.

Well, he started it.

Snape seemed to be steadying himself before speaking again, "Miss Granger," he began, "The reason why I was imploring you to use your head is due to the fact that you, and not Draco, will be doing the majority of the field research by yourself."

"What?" Hermione asked, with surprise.

"What!?" Malfoy demanded.

He arose from his chair with such force that it went crashing to the floor the instant he pushed back from it.

"Draco," Snape warned, "You know that I have little time before I must leave."

Malfoy started to protest, but Snape cut him off once more, begging Malfoy to understand.

"Draco, listen to me. The Dark Lord is on the move. You know this. He is growing increasingly impatient and it won't be much longer before the Ministry has been infiltrated. It has grown too dangerous for you."

Malfoy stared at Snape like a fish out of water, too shocked to say anything.

Clearly, he didn't see this hand in the cards.

Humph. So, let's see how you like it.

"Sir, you can't honestly be suggesting that-"

But Malfoy was cut off as Snape quickly closed the distance between them.

Snape placed the palms of his hands on the back of Malfoy's head, and pulled it down toward his own so that their foreheads were touching.

Eyes closed, he whispered so that Hermione had to strain to hear, "I cannot risk losing you, son."

Embarrassed that she was witnessing such an intimate moment; Hermione turned her attention to the stone ceiling and began to count the cracks in the stone nearest her.

Five. Six. Seven.

"Swallow your pride. I know that you understand the severity of the situation. You still have a part to play, but if you're going to play it right, you must bide you time," Snape continued as he stepped back and looked up at Malfoy.

"There is still a future for you."

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

A silence fell over the pair and Hermione continued to silently count.

"Miss Granger," Snape said, after a moment.

"Yes?"

A long sigh escaped his breath.

"You will be needed to do the field work. Most of your time will be spent in the castle, researching with Draco, but the time will come when we will need you to physically find that last Horcrux."

Hermione's soft sorrel eyes met Snape's.

"I understand," she said.

"I won't let you down."

And for the first time in living memory, the corners of Snape's lips twitched up in what could have possibly passed as a smile on some distant planet.

"Then I will leave you to your research. Begin brewing the Polyjuice Potion immediately," he said before turning his attention to Malfoy.

"I don't know when I'll be able to return or correspond. Keep a whether eye, and inform me the moment you have a breakthrough."

Malfoy nodded.

Inform him? And just how are we supposed to do that when he's following Voldemort around all day?

Maybe a written warning beforehand would be in order.

"Dear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,

Would you kindly pass this letter onto Snape? It contains information solely regarding the means to kill you.

Cordially yours,

Hermione Granger"

As Snape and Malfoy were leaving the kitchen, Hermione called out, "Wait!"

Snape turned around with an annoyed expression.

"Sir," Hermione began, "...it's just that I'll need to tell Harry something. Please, you must understand-"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, Malfoy told me that you had 'taken care of it'!" Hermione shouted as she walked over to where Snape stood. She was sure to shoot a fierce glare at Malfoy as she made her way over.

"Miss Granger. Let's think logically about the situation for one moment. The Dark Lord can access Potter's brain at any given moment. If he were to find that you were in leave with myself and Draco, it would destroy the entire operation. Not to mention; kill us all."

"Voldemort hasn't gotten into Harry's mind for years-"

"Do NOT say his name!" Snape demanded.

Hermione eyed him silently for a moment.

And why the bloody hell not?

"At least let me send word to him that I'm alive. All that he knows is that I went to Malfoy Manor to try and get into the library. If he doesn't hear anything from me soon, he'll do something rash - if he hasn't done something already."

"And don't bother trying to deny it, Snape; you know it's true," she said as she folded her arms across her chest.

Snape looked her over for a moment before conceding, "Potter was always pitifully rash. Send word. A letter is too dangerous. Use the other way. Make if brief. Say nothing that doesn't need to be said."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

I'm not an idiot. So why does he continue to treat me like one when he is asking for MY help?

Snape turned away from her and he and Malfoy headed out of the kitchen, and towards the main doorway.

Hermione could hear them muttering for a few moments before the deafening sound of the great front door reached her ears, and then all was silent.

Malfoy's footfalls broke the silence as they neared the kitchen. When he walked through the archway, he looked momentarily apprehensive. The expression quickly vanished as his eyes found Hermione's. It was replaced by his characteristic smirk.

"Well, it looks like it's just you and me now," he taunted.

"Don't get too excited," Hermione replied as she rummaged through her robes in search of her wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Sending Harry a message. The 'other way' that Snape referred to was the Patronus," she said as she triumphantly found her wand.

"I know that, Granger. I'm not an idiot. Who do you think would have made Head Boy if I had been allowed to return to Hogwarts?" Malfoy asked.

"Certainly not you," Hermione replied with a smirk.

Malfoy gave an exasperated sigh, evidently deciding it wasn't worth the argument.

"I'm going down to the dungeon to get a cauldron simmering so we can get started on the Polyjuice Potion. It'll take a month for it to be ready," he informed her as he headed for the archway.

"The dungeon?" Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Malfoy merely nodded.

"Just how big is this place?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"Big enough," he replied, vaguely.

And with that, he left.

Hermione continued to stare at the empty space which Malfoy had recently occupied. After a moment, she shook her head, pointed her wand straight ahead, and tried to think of the happiest thought she could conjure.

Hogsmede.

At the Three Brooksticks with Harry and Ron.

Laughing and drinking Butterbeer.

Hermione smiled slightly as she prepared to speak the incantation.

Malfoy - telling me that I'm pretty.

Hermione violently shook her head and then looked down at her wand in shock.

Where the hell did that come from?

Steading herself; she began again.

My first kiss with Ron.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery, vaporous otter shot out of Hermione's wand and began to playfully circle around her.

Keeping her wand pointed directly at the otter, Hermione spoke her message.

"Harry. I'm completely fine. I'm safe. Please don't worry. I'm following something that may help us find what we're looking for. I don't know when I'll be able to contact you again. Please be safe - and tell Mooney everything. He can help."

Hermione paused before she concluded, "We're almost there. It will end."

And with a skilled flick of her wand; the otter vanished.

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