Hermione didn't know what she expected when she told Snape about Moody's true identity, but the small, vindictive victories he made over Crouch were enough to keep her both exasperated and amused. She figured since they hadn't gotten along even before she told Snape about it, his renewed motivations to piss the Defense professor off would go unnoticed.

She did notice a particularly green tinge to Moody's face when he sipped from his hip-flask, and wondered if Snape was purposefully contaminating his boomslang skin (it could taste incredibly nasty if left in a warm environment for too long).

She finally got the nerve up to ask Snape about this, one evening when she was explaining the third return of Voldemort. "I couldn't help but notice, Snape, that Crouch has looked quite green recently. Have you been messing with his boomslang skin?"

Snape gave a characteristic smirk. "I give no quality gaurentees for the student stores. After all, a lot of dunderheads find themselves searching there."

"Ah yes, I can see many students leaving a jar open in your frigid stores, and somehow warming enough to generate quite an odor." Hermione said seriously. That got a smile – an actual, real smile! – from Snape.

"Unfortunately, I cannot spend all my time discussing the student stores," he said, returning to his traditional stone-face. "I must ask you what your plans are for the rest of the horcruxes."

Hermione sighed. "I wish I could bring you happy news about that, but I'm stalled right now. I know where Harry is, of course, but I need to run the equations for his survival. They need to be as close to foolproof as possible. There's no way I can let Harry die."

Snape titled his head in question, greasy hair moving with him like a sheet. "What have you thought of?"

Hermione shrugged. "I have a few options, none of them viable. In the last timeline, he let Voldemort kill him, and he only ended up killing the horcrux in his forehead. But there's got to be a way to destroy a horcrux without killing the host. There's got to be."

"Have you considered casting the curse yourself?"

Hermione reeled back in shock. "You want me to kill Harry myself? Are you mad?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Have you exercised your addiction to arithmancy with that question?"

"There is no question there. I couldn't kill him!" She cried. "No, I haven't run the numbers yet. I didn't view that as a viable option."

Snape stood, clasped his hands behind his back and looked at something on his desk. "That's the thing, Miss Granger. When viable options fail us, we must get desperate. It's that or simply give up, which I do not consider an option. I implore you, run the numbers."

She frowned, but said, "I suppose there's no harm in just making the equation. But I'm afraid that's not the only challenge with the horcruxes. It seems like we have a lot of time, but the end of the year is approaching faster than I'd like." Hermione wasn't quite sure when she started considering them a team, but Snape had already proved himself a more capable and thoughtful ally than anyone else in this timeline, albeit one with sometimes terrible ideas.

"The fifth horcrux. Hufflepuff's Cup. I have no idea where it is, if it's where we found it last time, or how to get there."

"Where was it in your last timeline?" Said Snape.

"Oh, it was in the Lestrange vault in Gringotts. I just don't think we have a good way of getting in there, and I can't imagine breaking in just to find that it's not there." Hermione mused.

Snape looked shocked. "You broke into Gringotts? And survived to tell the tale?"

"Oh yes," Hermione waved it off. "That's not the important part. The thing is, I don't even know if it's there or not. What if Voldemort only gave it to Bellatrix after he broke her out of Azkaban?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange broke out of Azkaban?" Snape said, whispering in what Hermione could guess was fear. "That crazy bitch should have gotten the Kiss."

"Oh I quite agree. In my last lifetime, I had quite a few lovely scars from her. The most memorable spelled out 'mudblood." She stroked her arm absently. The scar was gone, but the memory would never leave her. It wasn't her first scar or her last, but it left the biggest impression.

"So you're looking for a cup?" Snape said, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic. "What does it look like?"

"It's just a gold goblet with handles. Pretty unremarkable, as it were. But I'm sure it's in a book somewhere. By the time we had it last time, we were so far away from a book that I couldn't cross-check what it looked like, but I'm sure I could look –"

"No need." Interrupted Snape rudely. "I know just what you're speaking of. After I… shared the prophecy with the Dark Lord, he rewarded me with a special task involving a golden cup. I know precicely where it is."

Hermione gasped. "You're kidding! What are the odds that you'd be the death eater he trusted – no offence, of course – but that's quite a boon!"

"I wasn't a spy at the time, if you recall. He had much more trust in me before I was teaching and living behind enemy lines. Or perhaps his mind was going, and he had split his soul one too many times."

"This is excellent!" Hermione said excitedly. "Where is it?"

Snape hesitated. "I can go myself, Miss Granger. I have the location, and I can retrieve it with much more ease than you."

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap. "Thank you for your help, but I'd like to come. I need to be certain that it's really Hufflepuff's cup."

"Do you not trust me, Granger?" Snape said, voice dangerously dark.

"It's not that I don't trust your skills and information, but I don't think you should go alone."

"So you do not trust me." Snape said, continuing before she could deny it once more. "Good, I almost took you for a fool." Hermione opened her mouth in denial once more, but he stopped her yet again. "I do not demand your trust, Miss Granger. I am satisfied that you included me in your planning. I want the Dark Lord gone as much as you do."

Hermione nodded briskly. "Well then, that's good. Brilliant. So we'll go together?"

She had the briefest of thoughts that she had just been tested, and realized he probably wanted to make sure her 'Gryffindor sensibilities' didn't get in the way of common sense. Thankfully, Hermione had more common sense than the rest of her year combined.

"Very well," said Snape. "But it will have to wait until Yule, when we are no longer watched very closely."

Hermione smiled broadly. "It's settled. Thank you, Snape."

Without another word, (Snape held no ceremony on goodbyes, a practice Hermione was happy to follow) she left for her classroom, which currently hosted a bubbling cauldron and a few chalkboards filled with arithmancy equations, Elder Futhark runes, and little notes. Hermione took no time to collapse in her transfigured bed, and drifted happily off to sleep.

The next morning was a tiring one, for all that it was a Friday. The students were rowdier than usual, anticipating the weekend. It was a Hogsmeade Weekend, and she was certain her peers had slept dreaming of sugar quills and dungbombs. She envied them, she realized. She wished she was as innocent, as untouched, as they were.

Hermione shook off her morose thoughts and dutifully followed Harry around. He seemed moody, and she breeched the topic lightly, on the way to double potions.

"How are you, Harry? You look a little… off."

Harry gave an attempt at a smile but looked down quickly. "I'm worried about this stupid tournament. Merlin, I can't even learn the spells the Gryffindors have been teaching me. How am I supposed to survive whatever they throw at me?"

Hermione put a hand on his arm comfortingly. He flinched slightly, but didn't shake her off. "Oh Harry, it's not fair, what they've done to you. You shouldn't have to participate at all. What have you not been able to learn?"

Harry frowned. "They're teaching me Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, 'Mione. I should be able to get them! That's my best subject."

"Why don't we practice for a while? No new spells, just the ones your working on." She muttered over her cauldron. Snape was looking at them sharply, but hadn't yet said anything.

"How will you know them, Hermione? Erm, no offense, but they're a bit above your level." He looked at her guiltily. She shrugged it off.

"I know I'm not the best at Defense, but maybe you can teach me what you've been learning. Did you know you learn 22% better when you teach someone else?" She added for good measure.

That got a chuckle out of Harry. "I didn't know that."

At that moment, a small first year knocked on the door and announced the Weighing of the Wands.

AN: I know the "mudblood" scar didn't happen in the books, but it was a really powerful scene so I included it. Thanks for the amazing response, everyone! I'm so glad you're enjoying my fic, and I promise I'll get around to responding to your comments!