A/N: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling

Chapter Nine

They returned to their rooms, Hermione slamming the painting as she came through it.

"You didn't tell him everything!" she accused him loudly.

"What?" he hissed.

"You didn't tell Professor Dumbledore the whole truth. I heard you talking to Malfoy. Whose side are you really on?" she asked furiously.

"The winning side," he sneered.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means I am a spy, you stupid girl," he said with contempt as he looked down at her.

"Why didn't you tell Dumbledore everything?" She stood staring up at him, her hands clenched at her side, her face red with anger.

"Because he didn't need to know everything."

"And how do you decide what he needs to know and what he doesn't?" she asked flippantly. It was true that there were no solid plans for the removal of Ron but she thought the headmaster should have all the information in order to make an informed decision.

"I am playing a dangerous game of subtlety and strategy. I decide what each side needs to know and when they know it."

"So when you say you are on the winning side…?" He wasn't truly on their side. All the times she had defended him against the accusations of Harry and Ron, and they had been right all along. He was playing both sides, she realized.

"I have worked hard and long to place myself in a position where if I survive this war, I will be on whichever side claims victory."

"And if Voldemort wins? What then?" She ignored how he flinched at saying Voldemort's name; she had to know.

"I will be rewarded greatly," he said smugly. Her blood ran cold at his sureness in this and the power he held. He could tip the scales either direction with his flow of information to both sides.

"And what will happen to your muggleborn wife? What will happen to me?"

"I would protect you," he said blandly. She stopped suddenly at this answer. She had been ready to hurl a slew of invectives at him, but found herself taken aback at his response. He left her standing there in shock to put his cloak away and take a seat on the couch in front of the fire. Regaining her senses, Hermione moved to join him. She sat down, pulling her legs underneath her, facing him.

"Do you think that You-Know-Who will…I mean that…," she faltered. She was touched by his intention to fulfill his vow to protect her, but she would rather he work so that that would never become necessary. She wanted him to be on their side. She stared at the flickering flames of the fire and wondered if he could be convinced. Her anger had abated, only to be replaced with a desperation to change his mind.

"Don't think that I don't have a preference for who wins this war," he answered, his hand lightly touching his robes where she knew his arm was imprinted with Voldemort's mark.

"But wouldn't working fully for the Order ensure that we win? Or at least make it more likely?"

"I am not risking my life for nothing. This is in my best interest… and yours as well," he added, turning to look at her.

"There are more important things," she said softly, meeting his gaze.

"Such as?"

"Good triumphing over evil."

"It's not that simple," he said almost sadly.

"Why not?" she asked, scooting closer until she was right next to him, her knees against the side of his leg. He reached out and tugged on one of her curls, wrapping it around one of his fingers. He seemed less hesitant to touch her. He was getting used to her presence, to the idea that they were married, she supposed.

"Sometimes I forget how young you are, how innocent," he remarked, avoiding the question. He moved his hand from her hair to her neck caressing it softly.

"I'm neither of those things," she protested indignantly, "I was fighting Death Eaters before I left school, and I have seen things…things I don't want to think about. That's why we must win this war! But we need you." He paused his attentions to her neck, gripping her by the shoulder.

"That's right; both sides need me and will use me and then discard me when I cease to be of any value. What's wrong in trying to maneuver myself where either that never happens or that when it does I am in a position to gain something from it?" He said bitterly.

"Because there are things that are worth fighting for and worth dying for," she said earnestly.

"Like what?"

"Freedom, equality, love," she listed.

"As a Pureblood male the first two hardly concern me and I've never known the third," he scoffed.

"That's not true!" Hermione protested, "I don't believe you."

"Don't tell me you're going to profess your undying love for me now," he sneered.

She looked away from his penetrating gaze to the fire. No, she couldn't tell him that she loved him because she didn't. She felt concern for his safety. She tolerated his dark moods and the comments aimed to irritate her. She respected his bravery, his intellect, and his ability to brew the most difficult potions, but she didn't love him.

"No, but what about Professor Dumbledore? He treats you like his own son. I don't just mean romantic love," she argued, "He accepted you when you returned, forgave you. That's a kind of love in itself."

"I am merely useful to him. He would have been a fool not to take me back and the information I could give him."

"Why did you return to him? What made you turn spy for either side?" she asked. She, along with Ron and Harry, had invented a hundred different scenarios to explain Dumbledore's trust in Snape. Ron's always included Dumbledore being slipped some sort of confusion potion just prior to meeting with Snape, but Hermione and Harry had a hard time believing a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore would be so easily taken in. There had to be some other reason.

"I used to believe there was no such thing as good and evil, and then something happened that changed my mind," he skated around what she really wanted to know. Hermione decided not to press her luck.

"And now?" she asked instead.

"There are varying degrees of both, and I work to place myself somewhere in the middle."

"And what happens if the fence breaks while you're sitting on it," she said frustrated with his attitude of apathy. He snorted, it was the closest he ever came to laughing.

"That won't happen if I'm careful."

"So what happened exactly to change your mind?" she pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her. He didn't say anything but moved his hand from her shoulder to push a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear, then cupping her face he pulled her to him for a kiss. Startled, she lost her balance, falling into his lap. He snickered but helped her back up before kissing her again. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and it was a few moments before Hermione realized what he was doing.

"You're trying to distract me," she said, pulling away and resting her forehead against his.

"Is it working?"

"Only you could turn a heated argument into snogging in front of the fire," she said as she turned around and settled back into the couch sitting next to him. He wrapped his arm around her.

"I am good aren't I?" he said, all the smugness from before returning.

"If I say yes, will you answer my question?" she asked.

"Perhaps." She got the feeling he was baiting her, but she decided to play along.

"Then yes, you're good," she relented.

"At kissing or manipulating you?"

"Both," she said through clenched teeth, he was starting to irritate her. He sat smirking at her both her answer and her reluctance to admit it.

"So will you answer my question?" she asked again.

"No," he said firmly.

He stood up and headed to the bedroom, leaving her alone on the couch. She sat watching him go and then staring into the fire.

Severus Snape puzzled her even more than when she had first met him. In school she could count on him to be mean and degrading. She knew how to handle him like that. She could ignore the cutting comments or respond with ones of her own. But the chameleon she lived with now was a completely different matter. One moment he was the sneering Snape she was used to, another he was engaging and witty with a sense of humor, while other times he was tender and almost sensitive. She supposed it came from being a spy. He had to be different things to different people; he had to be able to manipulate the situation and the information to suit his cause, whatever that turned out to be. He certainly seemed proficient in handling her. She realized from the very beginning that he had been testing the best methods of controlling her, from his failed attempts at intimidation in the bathroom that first morning to the seduction he had tried on the couch tonight. She would have to be more guarded in the future, and she needed to develop some strategies of her own. Perhaps she would take a lesson from her husband.

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews. I love that some people have described it as quick while others comment on me taking it slow…though I suppose both are fair descriptions. The plot does move along quickly but the relationship between Snape and Hermione is developing slowly and, I hope, naturally.

Nore: Merci beaucoup. J'ai compris plus de francais quand je peux le lire. En parlant est presque impossible maintenant pour moi, mais c'est pourquoi je suis ici en France, pour pratiquer ma francais. J'espere essayer lire votre histoires bientot.