Chapter 8: Noms de Guerre

Snape for his part had returned to his rooms to read the message that Hermione had left for him. He had discovered it almost as soon as he had checked the bookshelves where he found her standing, guided by the removal of dust in certain areas.

'Let us now praise famous men. . .' the passage she had marked began. He suspected it meant that he needed to stand up and be counted, that his contribution to life could be to big for him to just fade away unremarked. Her confidence in him was touching, if a little naïve, he thought. He just hoped that she didn't expect him to have a little faith.

And as if thinking about Hermione had summoned her to him (though it was more likely to be the letter requesting she come see him) the lady herself walked through his classroom door.

He immediately stood, and then wondered why.

To disguise the gesture he moved to his office door;

"This is probably a conversation better started behind the silencing wards in my office. Considering the allegiances of a good few of the ears that live in this dungeon." He couldn't help smiling at the shocked look on her face.

"Believe me; I'm well aware of the failings of my own house. That's part of the *joy* of looking after them."

Now she seemed to be suppressing the urge to laugh as she followed him into his office, then hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

Snape carefully seated himself behind his desk so that he could still see through the patch of wall enchanted to give him a clear view of what was going on in the classroom. That came in useful for supervising detentions where the potions brewed gave of foul-smelling fumes. The kind he usually reserved for arrogant Gryffindors.

However, at the moment he was more interested in observing Hermione. She was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable, and was standing in the doorway. He doubted she was up to him closing and locking the door with his wand.

"Come in. (mock impatience in his tone) You should probably shut the door as well, that activates the silencing wards."

She appeared to pause and consider a moment. Then she turned and closed the door resolutely, and pulled out her own wand to place a one-way looking charm on the door. Either of them could simply open the door to leave, but someone outside would find the door as impenetrable as a wall of stone, judging by the strength of the charm used. No simple 'alohomora' would suffice here.

It looked set to be an interesting conversation, but right now he was just proud of her for getting a sufficient grip on herself to do what was necessary despite her fears. Now all he was sensing from her was determination.

Which musings distracted him enough that he almost jumped when she brought a heavy book out of her bag and deposited on his desk with a thud. Almost, but not quite.

"Have you read this?" Straight to the point.

"Yes. I presume this is the library copy? (a nod) Then I should probably confess the removal of the pages making up chapter 6-10 was my work, as well as the contents page."

Her face was frowning. She felt confused, and mildly outraged, though whether with the distraction or with his sacrilege he did not know.

"Were they on empathy?" she ventured after a moment.

She smiled when his nod confirmed what she had suspected on reading the first five chapters of the book - that her talent was closely related to empathy, and that the two could be used in synchrony.

"Don't suppose you remember what it said?"

He sighed. She was unsure whether it was an admission of defeat or dismay at having to reveal more details on his secret. It turned out to be defeat, but not the defeat of ignorance.

He rose once again, "Whatever I do, it seems we always end up back here," he told her as he flicked his wand to reveal the archway to his rooms. She noticed he had still not changed his passwords. "I have an unabridged copy on my bookshelf. And just as you had made yourself comfortable as well." He finished with a touch of irony in his voice.

Hermione, it seemed, shared no such reluctance at entering his private rooms as she did at entering his office, and was having to take care not to step on his heels in her eagerness to follow. He hoped it was just his collection of books that she found so enticing. He couldn't deal with further complications to the relationship right now.

Locating the book on one of the higher shelves, Snape brought it down, and handed it to her, feeling very much like he was giving candy to a child. She flicked immediately to the pages that had been previously missing and began to study the chapter summaries she found there.

Snape for his part let her proceed in silence a while, before realising that she was lost in this new fount of knowledge and would need a little assistance back to the reality her body currently inhabited.

"So," he virtually growled, when shifting noisily around her had failed to capture her attention. Hermione looked up, startled. She had forgotten he was there.

"At some point are you going to sit down and tell me precisely what empathy and *mens fortis* have to do with Voldemort?"

To her credit she didn't flinch at the name, although it was the first time he had spoken it aloud in her presence. And she did sit down in the chair by the fire without him having to indicate where she should sit.

"Don't you know?" she paused, evidently doing a mental edit. "I mean, well, I didn't mean that to sound as condescending as it came out, but, well, your letter suggested that you already knew what I did, had figured out what I was going to tell you somehow."

She paused again, this time mainly to breathe, while her internal monologue adopted 'please don't be offended' as its new chant.

"No, I don't know. Voldemort intimated to me that he was behind Potter's out-of-character behaviour, so I surmised you had drawn the same conclusion from *your* letter. As to the details you find me totally ignorant. Bear in mind that this is a once-in-a-lifetime-offer, but would you care to enlighten me?"

She laughed, mutedly, before pressing her lips together to stop herself, then ventured, "there was a joke in there somewhere, right?"

"If you say so."

"I do. Anyway, my explanation. The *mens fortis* mentioned in the book, I call it chi, in the Eastern style, but no matter. I can see it in people. Around people. It tells me something about the motivations of their actions. And Harry's is very strange, like there were two people there. If I didn't know better I'd say he was pregnant. (at this Snape almost grinned)

"But if he were pregnant, the second 'person' wouldn't change so much. How much is there of the chi-that-isn't-Harry varies, and increases when he's acting really . . . strange. So I started running through possibilities of how someone else could be inhabiting him, controlling him, and who would want to, and I could only come up with one answer. Voldemort.

"As best as I can figure, it must be something to do with the scar, and the link that creates. I know that it's at least a little telepathic, because Harry gets premonitions, or can sense Voldemort through it. So maybe there's a way that the connection has been reversed and that's what's happening here.

"At least that's what I hope. The other thing I hope is that if we can figure out exactly what the connection is we can use it against Voldemort, and stop him. Maybe for good."

Snape had listened to this outpouring mainly because it had seemed as useless to try and interrupt as Canute commanding the incoming tides to recede. Hermione was a born lecturer. Now a response was required. He tried to be suitably Slytherin about it.

"We also need to try and discover what Voldemort is up to with regards to Potter."

Seeing Hermione frown trying to follow his link, he clarified. "When Voldemort summoned me he knew about the situation as it is now - you, the rape, Potter, and me. He pumped me for the details, but he had a good idea already. He seemed concerned with keeping the two of you separated."

Her eyes were definitely questioning, so he decided to tell her everything, and see what her hungry young intellect could make of it.

"Normally he holds a Revel when I am summoned, and I am forced to take part in the . . . activities for the entertainment of the other Death Eaters. Believe me when I say I took no pleasure in the process - it was about proving my loyalty to him. I think it was also his way of trying to break me down, as I had never really taken too much pleasure in Revels when I was free to attend or not as I pleased, I preferred the payback raids.

"But last night was different. No-one else was there but Malfoy senior, and Voldemort began feeding me yard after yard of disinformation. The gist of it was he wants me to take Potter under my wing and teach him some of the Dark Arts, but teach him with holes in his knowledge, so that he would be vulnerable both to attack and the strains of incorrect spell-casting. One or both could easily lead to his death, which is what Voldemort wants.

"I'm sure it was disinformation because it relies as a plan to heavily on me being fanatically loyal to Voldemort, but it does tell me three things:

"Firstly Voldemort wants me to be alone with Potter on some occasions. That would be only natural, for as a double-agent I would inform Dumbledore of the order, and together we would set up mock-meetings, away from prying eyes, to keep up the pretence of my loyalty. There must be a reason.

"Secondly, it tells me that the connection between Potter and Voldemort is corporeal not just astral. He said that Potter had to die for him to regain his former strength. Even though he was revived with Potter's blood, some of the ancient magic must still be acting against Voldemort, preventing him regaining his immortal status.

"And finally it shows that Voldemort is more aware of Hogwarts events than we care to believe. Tell me, did Potter have his invisibility cloak the second time in the tower? (a silent nod) So there's a chance he heard all of our conversation on the ledge. No it's alright (response to seeing Hermione blanche), really. But it seems coincidental that Voldemort stops trying to get me to self destruct the day after my telling you that I am incapable of doing so - "

"You don't think that I told anyone!" Hermione interrupted, sounding strangely hoarse.

"No, of course not. So that leaves Potter under an invisibility cloak listening to the details, with Voldemort listening to us through his ears. We have to assume that Voldemort can take control at any time he likes, and experiences everything that Potter does. The only reason he is not in total control all the time is that Potter can't be seen to act too strange.

"Anyway, so Voldemort now wants me to put myself under suspicion. Maybe the plan is to make my own side turn on me - I don't know."

He finished, feeling a wave of cold horror sweep over Hermione. What had he said?

"You think Harry was up there? But that means - he couldn't have known you were following - he was going to let me jump."

They both sat in silence a moment, because there really was nothing to say to that.

"You're not going to like this, but we need to know what's going on with Potter. What Voldemort's real plan for him is. We need to keep up with his actions to be able to use the link against Voldemort. I know about your argument, and it was cleverly staged, but it's not the way six-year friendships end. It's plausible - and very necessary - for you to make up."

"Six-year friendships end when your best friend doesn't bother to save your life any more." A strange fire was glowing behind her eyes.

"So you'll do it then? You'll watch him like a hawk? He thinks he's got away with it - Voldemort thinks he's got away with it - are you going to make use of this opportunity?"

"Opportunity" she spat. "What opportunity? Why should anything Potter does bother me any more?"

"Because you say you want your life back. Well take a look at things in that harsh light of day. You're Muggle-born. If Voldemort wins you'll be one of the first to die. If you want life, you ought to fight for it, because relying on yourself is all you have left. Because working every spare hour, expending every resource you have to figure out a way to turn Voldemort's new scheme against him is what it takes to win a war. Because, if you don't watch Potter, or keep this secret, the game will be up, and you'll have squandered this chance on wounded pride, and wasted a lot of effort besides."

He knew he was being harsh on her, but he hoped it was enough.

Slowly she nodded.

"We need to start by examining the ancient magic that binds the two of them together, and the ritual Voldemort performed at the end of the fourth year."

He nodded his assent and rose to retrieve yet more books from his shelves. When he had formed two reasonable-sized piles he handed one to Hermione.

"You start with the reflected curse - I'll do the restoration - I don't know details, just make a note of anything that seems likely."

With that he led her through a door into what was unmistakably a study, with a desk large enough for the two of them and her books. He conjured her up a chair, and the two began to work in virtual silence.

* * *

In his office, Dumbledore smiled, his characteristic twinkle restored a little more than it had been earlier. Staring into the fire, he reflected that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger were a strange combination, but it appeared that they worked well together.

Since Snape had come to his office in the small hours of Friday morning, Dumbledore had been wondering what to do about the situation. He had faith in Hermione's ability to cope, but he felt that taking a more active role might become necessary, even though he had instructed Snape to stay at her side until she chose to leave.

After witnessing the wordless exchange in the great hall this morning, followed by Snape's sulking exit, fearing rejection, and Hermione's gleeful one, anticipating great things, he had decided to listen in. This was something he usually tried to avoid - he found it hard to square with his ethics, but was glad he had.

They were an interesting couple to observe. And Snape certainly knew how to handle her.

She seemed to have the unique ability to respond positively to Snape's sarcastic nature, in that it made her stronger, reminded her to fight, or on occasion made her laugh. Or perhaps she simply mistook it for a joke. And because she did not respond with uniform weakness (the thing Dumbledore knew Snape despised the most) he did not do his utmost to hurt her. They seemed to bring out the best in each other.

And now they were giving their best to solving the riddle of Riddle. Dumbledore reflected, once again, that if he was thinking up terrible puns, that things must indeed be looking up.

There was very little he could do directly to help - both resented him to different degrees. Hermione, for her failure to make Head Girl, although had she but known it, which had been done to protect her. She had already become too large a target. And Snape, Snape because Dumbledore forced him day after day to live, until he realised that that was what he actually wanted to do. If that day ever came.

But he could make sure that the texts they would need could be found in the library - what they would do with them, though, was up to them. No doubt it would be something ingenious. And he could make sure the other teachers knew that Hermione Granger was to have freedom of movement - she would need it to conduct her research. He needed give no reasons, and others could draw what conclusions they may.

For now, the future was looking just a little brighter all round.

* * *

The house-elves had delivered lunch a little after 2pm, when the pair had been working for over five hours. Apparently it was normal practise for the elves to bring food to the teachers who missed meals, once the great hall closed up and the food returned to the kitchen. The house-elves had been happy to add another plate, and Hermione found herself too hungry to protest over their enslavement.

She had a new banner to carry anyhow.

She began to munch on a sandwich as she continued to read, but was surprised when Snape marked her page and closed the book.

"I was always taught that it's rude to read at the table."

She gave him an exasperated look, then shrugged. "So was I. But it's a welcome alternative to Quidditch at the dinner table."

He nodded as if she had just made a deep and meaningful comment.

"Very well."

"Very well, I can read, or very well, you won't talk about Quidditch?"

"Neither. It was very well; you can ask one of the questions that I can see burning your tongue. Just one."

"Can I look round properly?"

"I was under the impression you already had, but yes. There's not much to see though, I never finished unpacking. These are the only furnished rooms - and the bathroom of course, but that's standard, undecorated."

"I made it to the bookshelves and got distracted."

He raised and eyebrow at her as she moved. "Most impressive. Ten paces at most. Your concentration span is somewhat lacking."

However she was already opening the door to what would have been a bedroom. True to his word, it was white, bare and full of cardboard boxes.

"Don't you sleep?"

"No comment - that counts as a separate question."

She sighed, and continued, "Well, I never had you down as one for living out of boxes, for what, eighteen years?"

"I never had you down as one to trail breadcrumbs across the floor." He countered.

She looked at him a moment, head stuck out round the door, then decided he was joking and laughed.

Trouble was, he was perfectly serious. Something about her had always screamed 'obsessive tidier'.

Giving up on rational thought, and deciding her laugh made him feel more alive than he had for years, and said;

"So how do you rate Gryffindor's chances in the Quidditch cup?"

She laughed again.

A/N:

Okay, sorry for the delay in updates, but a longer chapter to make up for it.

'Noms de Guerre' is a French phrase - literally meaning, war names, but refers to someone becoming a conspirator by taking on a nom de guerre.

Thanks for all the reviews - do you think the story is going the right way, a decent balance of action and emotion etc.

All opinions welcome

Photis.