A few quick notes: You might have noticed that Hermione switches between "Severus" and "Snape" seemingly at random. It is not. It either reflects how she is thinking about him or feeling in general (i.e. confident or not). She does this with Arthur as well- she follows Snape's lead calling her close friend and father of even closer friends by his name, but when she is reminded he used to be her boss and is her Minister of Magic, she reverts to his title (good catch, BTW).

Chapter 6

She sat in the chair across from him and they stared at each other. Hermione braved his dark eyes and saw, instead of the long cold tunnels she remembered from childhood, a rather warm steel door, through which she was not permitted entrance. It was fine, though. He had pretty eyes.

He got up and sat on his desk facing her. "May I?"

She felt his presence, as though sensing someone hovering behind a closed door, and nodded her compliance, adjusting herself in her seat to better face him. She was made aware of memories of her DADA NEWTs exam and some of her projects at the Ministry. Memories flew by. She was in his lab brewing potions for Madame Pomfrey and the corps of mediwitches and wizards helping against Voldemort. She was holding down Ron's arm as Madame Pomfrey administered his injuries. At a meeting at Grimmauld Place. The last Order meeting. Draco was there, laughing cautiously. She felt Snape linger in her gaze on Draco. And follow that line of thought. She pulled away, gasping for breath and smiling, letting Draco lead her by the hand to the bed.

"No!" She gasped as though emerging from a body of water and shook her head breaking eye contact. "That's mine."

She felt betrayed. She had trusted Snape and allowed him access to her memories. "You could have asked about him."

"I'm sincerely sorry, Miss Granger. I have no excuse for invading your privacy. But I promise, I never would have taken your thoughts there had I any clue… I never asked about Draco because I couldn't bear to hear you tell me you wouldn't suffer him and knew nothing."

In his classroom she would never have thought him capable of such sympathy and she broke her own heart all over again by reminding herself he had never seemingly received any, himself.

"I'll tell you anything I can about him, Severus."

He answered her with a curt nod.

"So, what will we be working on, Professor?"

"Hmmph"

Snape got up and started pacing around the room. Although he lacked his former malevolence, he still had an intimidating presence. It was exciting to see how quickly he regrouped.

"I think you were right when you told Arthur that you were not qualified. You are not."

Hermione's pride got the better of her. "I'm not?" She asked incredulously.

"Well, no, Hermione, you're not.

"Well why not? How would I be qualified?"

"You'd have taken a Dark Mark and you'd know twice as much about the Dark Arts as your friend Potter. No, Miss Granger, you were entirely correct. You are not qualified and I don't think you can help me."

"You're doing the research, then? Practical applications for the Dark Arts developed by yourself and Voldemort." Snape winced and Hermine shook her head, communicating she was sorry to remind him but she plowed on. "Like the spell Latifah used on me in the market, to locate me. What else are you working on?"

"What do you think you can contribute?"

"I don't know what you need me to do. Look, I know I wasn't nearly as successful in Defense as Harry, but you know he was exceptional. Only you and Voldemort ever scored higher on that NEWT." She got up and faced him standing. "My methods are sound and you know it. You told us in our fifth year that potions achievement could translate into success in any endeavor. And I beat your NEWTS score in potions." She hoped he didn't remember that she had taken the exam several years after she should have during which time she had brewed for the Order and professionally with the Ministry.

He looked at her, amused. "What do you think I'm working on for Arthur?"

Hermione paused. This was her test; if she passed she would be allowed to take part in the most important research currently being conducted anywhere in the world, with a Master. One did not achieve the rank of a Master in DADA, like they did in Potions, but undeniably, there was no one better to study the Dark Arts with than Severus Snape. The world knew his name. And still trembled.

She would have her pick of assignments and the knowledge of the Dark Arts she would gain from him would allow her to name her salary. Based on their practical applications and not fear, of course.

Hermione bit her lip and slowly walked towards the bookshelves deep in thought.

"You are doing Dark Arts research, but there is one project Arthur needs completed sooner than the others." Snape slouched languidly into the couch and watched her as she paced, dragging a finger along the spines of his books, thinking outloud. "The Ministry must have unfinished business from the war. I would know if there was an immediate threat."

Snape snorted. Hermione looked at him. "Well, I would."

Her thoughts drifted back to the spell Latifah had used, once again impressed by the strength of magic it required, considering it used only a temporary marker, and not a Dark Mark, like what Voldemort had used.

"I should have a Dark Mark to be of use to you…" Hermione's mouth opened as the realization hit her and she turned to look at him. The amused expression on his face had been replaced by one of cunning, his eyes narrowed. "They're not gone."

He shook his head.

A slow cold panic began to wash over her.

"He is destroyed Hermione. Don't fear him anymore." Severus correctly interpreted her expression. "When I returned to him after proving myself to be his most loyal and worthy subject he enabled me to summon the Death Eaters through the Dark Mark. The Marks remain through a weak link from me."

Hermione crossed the room and sat next to him on the couch, needing to be close to another person. Her friendship with Harry, Ron, and Ginny had spoiled her for companionship and realized for the first time that she hadn't really missed them until now.

"If you had access to the arm of a Death Eater, one of those captured in Azkaban, could you summon those who have eluded capture?"

"No. Voldemort controlled us through the Dark Mark. We would be driven insane by the constant pain if we resisted. I could only signal my desire to see those I chose, and they, in turn, could choose whether or not they would come. I have been revealed as a spy. If any came to my location it would be to kill me."

"So you are trying to discover a way to capture the remaining DEs using the faded Marks?"

Severus nodded and Hermione flushed with pride, taking the place of earlier panic. This was the first time Professor Snape had ever given his approval of her.

He was still looking at her.

"I know that I never encouraged you at school like Minerva and the other professors did. I hoped you would take my blunt criticisms constructively. You tended to memorize what you had read and did not, I believed, have the capacity for original thought. You have accomplished very much since our last class together.

Leave it to Snape to combine a slight with a compliment. "Professor, I very much want to work with you on this project."

"Yes. You will be helpful. Come tomorrow after lunch and I will show you what I have been doing."

Hermione felt as though she had been dismissed and rose from her seat. He, too, rose and offered her his hand. It was large, warm and dry. He squeezed hers, not shaking it and let it go.

"I'll see you at dinner."

Hermione smiled and left the room.

She didn't go straight to her rooms or to where she knew the girls would be, but instead ambled slowly through the house. She thought about the memories Snape had seen and dwelled on the ones she had submerged the deepest, of her frineds' pain and of Draco.

It had all started so innocently. When Snape deposited him to Grimmauld Place magically blindfolded with a note in his hand the whole place had been in an uproar. Before his death, Dumbledore had obviously made Snape the secret keeper and the instinctive reaction was to prepare the evacuation, anticipating an attack at any moment. Hagrid, visiting with Molly through the floo had been the calm voice of reason and insisted on taking the note himself and sitting poor Draco down. The note had directed Hagrid, Minerva, Remus, and Draco into a meeting with Dumbledore's portrait at Grimmauld. Harry of course had been livid, but Draco had been so calm and so clearly in pain.

"Please Harry."

Harry later said it was Draco's steady desire to face Dumbledore that pacified him, he was ashamed to admit he didn't want to hurry so Draco's injuries could be addressed. They had the meeting and Harry had been called in to take Draco's place. Draco sat at the kitchen table surrounded by threatening-looking Weasleys and herself. He had been so polite accepting tea and biscuits from Mrs. Weasley and allowed her to attend to his superficial injuries, the extent of which were later proved to be extensive, epidermal manifestations caused by crucio, by Voldemort himself.

He had been so wasted when he had arrived, nearly in physical shock, resigned to whatever punishment the Order would inflict on him. Minerva would later tell her that Snape had delivered him to them trusting that they would help him, not expecting them to allow him to stand trial. Draco did not have the same faith in the Order however and sat quietly, fully expecting to be taken to the Ministry. He was left mostly on his own, but his presence was insisted upon at every meal. Harry insisted upon sitting next to him but did not force him to speak. He never failed in his manners, though which impressed Molly to no end. When he was assigned with the cleaning of Mr. and Mrs. Black's former room a few days after his arrival, he immediately stood up, nodding absentmindedly to Molly's warnings about the dangers. She had suspected that he would be successful where all others had failed, but was still concerned about his well-being

The room would not open for anyone but Sirius, it had guarded itself well against those of unfit blood and "blood traitors," but sprung open as soon as Draco commanded. Kreacher had sensed the opening and appeared instantly at Draco's side, recognizing him as Narcissa's son. Draco continued working on the house, going back over the rooms they thought they had thoroughly cleaned and eliminated the final booby traps. Draco had a way of bending Kreacher to his will that made everyone cringe but made Kreacher gleefully, almost orgasmically happy to submit. As a pure-blood and according to the last known wishes of Mrs. Black, Draco was fully embraced by the house. He was the only one able to remove the final wards lifting the enchantments maintaining pure-blood control over the house.

Hermione had finally made it back to her rooms and sat on the balcony facing the ocean, savouring these memories she had not allowed herself to think about for quite a long time. Draco had first won over Molly with his hard work and manners. She undoubtedly saw him as just another boy not unlike her own troublemaking sons. He had clearly been a Mama's boy, and separated from his own mother, had developed a strong affection for her in return. He and the twins got on well almost immediately after he began cleaning out the master suite and he surreptitiously began providing them with the dodgy things he found within the room when they visited. He further impressed them when he forced them to promise to never name their source because he didn't want Molly to be angry with him.

Harry was gentle with Draco. He explained to Hermione that Dumbledore had allowed Draco to be recruited and proceed with Voldemort's plans despite Snape's wishes to stop the events from transpiring, truly believing he could save Draco. Dumbledore's portrait had apparently apologized to Draco. Dumbledore had been willing to sacrifice his own life, but he needed Draco to bring events to a head. He had, in a sense, sacrificed Draco's innocence and nearly his life, too. Harry could relate to feeling like a marionette.

Nobody would have guessed how quickly Ron and Draco would become friends. It only took one, knock down, drag out fight, bloody lips, bloody noses, and black eyes. And then spontaneously blaming it on the house when Mrs. Weasley began to lay into them. And laughing about it for hours later.

Hermione, naturally, had been the last to be charmed. She thought she could never forgive him for his racism, which everyone else seemed to easily overlook. She had been shocked to discover that he had had a schoolboy crush on her for years. And now that he was on better behavior, he had begun to use a different approach to try to seduce her.

Hermione blushed to herself. She had been pretty easy. But there was a war on, she had reasoned. The final battle could be any minute now, any day. This is what he whispered to her as he separated her from the crowd after what ended up being the final Order meeting. He was certainly tempting, Ron was roguishly handsome, but they had just never seemed to get off the ground, they were too different and remained friends. Draco at that point had become a bit of a confidant, and he had been second to her in class rankings. They could talk about anything and he would help out in the lab. His attention was good for her ego, too. She was used to being admired for her intelligence, but Draco provided the attention she needed at that point in her life.

So she had allowed him to seduce her and she hadn't regretted it for a second, even when she last looked upon his beautiful face at his funeral a few days later, with Voldemort dead and the Death Eaters scattered.