Hermione let out a breath as her heart sunk back down to her chest from where it had been hovering in her eardrums.

"Sorry," she said softly, sliding her wand into her back pocket.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione gave him a shadow of a smile. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"You seem awfully jumpy."
"I'm not. I'm just…very tired."

"Ah. Taking over for the old greasy git has finally started to take its toll on you, hasn't it?"

Hermione's face was unreadable. "Yes."

Suddenly the large chandelier above them burst into life. They both turned to see Dumbledore standing at the head of the stairs leading down to the kitchen, his wand in his hand.

"Why don't you two come down for dinner?" he said, smiling. "Lupin's made a marvelous roast."

"We'll be right down, Sir," Hermione said, turning to rifle through the pockets of her coat.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, before he turned and headed back downstairs.

Hermione felt her fiancé move up behind her.

"Think he knows about us yet?" he said quietly.

"That man knows about everything," Hermione said, pulling a small notebook and a pen out of her coat pocket. She turned around to face him. "You know, we're going to have to tell everyone sometime, Harry."

He grinned at her, his green eyes glittering in the light from the chandelier. "How about tonight?"

---- ------------------ ------------------------------------

"Damn her!"
Snape threw the door shut behind him. It slammed into the frame, quickly resealing itself with various wards.

"Her report had better be flawless," he murmured, rubbing his hands over his face in an agitated fashion. He had almost learned to completely repress the shudder that fought to run through him when his fingers touched his soft, white mask.

Heaving an injured sigh, he threw himself down on the nearest chair, the fireplace at the end of the room roaring to life.

"Hermione," he sighed. "I hope for your sake that you know to keep your silence. If the others find out about my condition, I won't be the only one in trouble."
His eyes strayed to the fire.
"Oh no," he said softly, "I'll be far from the only one in trouble."

--- --------

"The one hundred and eleventh meeting of the Order of the Pheonix will now come to order."

The basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, which had always seemed so spacious to Hermione, now felt as though it were ready to burst at the seams. It was exceedingly crowded around the wooden table where most of the Order sat, while still some were left standing, leaning against the counters and walls. Ron had offered his chair to Tonks, and, being the gracious guest, had sat on the stove top himself. Hermione was in the process of idly waiting for Fred or George to ignite the stove from the other side of the room, when Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table, rose to his feet

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "thank you all for coming on such short notice."

There was a murmur of assent around the table, and Hermione distinctly heard Mundungus, who was a few seats away from her, mumble something about missing out on a 'fine shipment'.

"You are all, perhaps, wondering what I have called you here for," Dumbledore continued, his glasses glimmering in the candlelight. "We are gathered today to discuss a very grave matter. I am sure that you are all aware now of the disappearance of Severus Snape."
Nearly everyone nodded mutely, or gave some indication that they had understood.

"He has been missing for three months time. I have owled St. Mungo's repeatedly, and they assure me that he is no longer in their care. However, we have also heard no suggestion that he is no longer attending the meetings of the Death Eaters. This leads me to believe that he is, indeed, alive."

At this, several Order members began murmuring to one another, while others just shook their heads lightly in disagreement or disbelief. Hermione lifted her shaking hands from the table and folded them in her lap.

"And so," Dumbledore said, now sweeping around the room. "I would suggest that we begin a proper search for him. I know that Remus and a few others have been scouring the countryside on their days off, hunting for any hint as to his whereabouts."
"We've been unsuccessful so far," Remus added. "Although we did get an account of a hooked-nose, black-haired, tall man from a witch in Glasgow, but I would estimate her to be around a hundred years in age, and the number of cats with which she occupied her flat may hint at a bit of mental instability…"

"In light of this unsuccessful casual search," Ablus interrupted, his eyes sparkling, "I propose that we form an organized search system. Is there anyone who would like to volunteer to head this party?"

Hermione's hands shook more violently as no one in the room moved. Finally, clearing his throat slightly, Harry, who was seated immediately to her right, stood up.

"I will, sir," he said.

Dumbledore hesitated a moment.

"I would not ask you to take on more responsibility than necessary, Harry," he said evenly, surveying him over the top of his spectacles.

"Please, sir," Harry replied, "I haven't had much active duty in the Order. Besides, Professor Snape saved my life." He felt Hermione's hand snake up and interlace her fingers with his own. He squeezed it lightly.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded after a moment, "you will lead the effort to recover Professor Snape."

Harry took his seat again, Hermione turning to give him a small, watery smile. She knew what sort of effort it had taken for him to forgive Snape for Sirius' death, even though it hadn't really been Snape's fault to begin with.

Hermione wasn't paying attention as ten or so other members eventually raised their hand and volunteered to help. She sat deep in contemplation, still trembling lightly, and trying to focus on Harry's thumb running across her fingers.

What was going to become of her? Could she really continue to accept instruction from Severus? Should she tell Dumbledore that he was, indeed, alive? What would happen to her if Severus was angry? She had no idea what sort of access he had to her. He had already been trailing her for weeks without her knowledge, and he had managed to kidnap her once. What would stop him from doing it again? And what if she couldn't get away this time?

And yet something deep inside her compelled her to keep quiet.

Under the table, Harry squeezed her fingers gently. Hermione's chair shook slightly with the strength of the tremor that ran through her.