"What? It's that simple?" Hermione asked, relaxed now that she knew who these men were. Oh, how they reminded her of Harry and Ron.

Sirius shuffled his feet a bit, looking down at them before meeting her amber-brown eyes with his grey. "Not usually. But, I mean. What a better reference than Dumbledore himself?"

James nodded, a stern look set about his eyes and jaw. "Please, Miss Granger. You've skills most of us wouldn't even know what to do with. Advanced Arithmancy? And Ancient Runes?" He shook his head incredulously. "Mind, our Defense skills are superb."

"Please don't flatter yourselves," Hermione said around a chuckle.

Sirius grinned. "I like her already, Prongs."

"What does this-this being in the Order constitute?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

James leaned against a nearby table. His hand went to his hair before he stopped himself and let it drop to his side once more. "Information collection, mostly.

"Not quite surveillance," Sirius said, "as much as it is…carefully selected words that inspire other parties to omit—"

James waved his hand impatiently. "Padfoot. Please." Then he said to Hermione. "Basically, we think it would be best that you spy on Sniv—Severus Snape."

"Why? Why me? Why not another member of the Order who is here?"

"Surely you don't mean Dumbledore!" Sirius couldn't help his raised voice. "He's got too much going on, doesn't he? With the Ministry and all his…Dumbledore things."

James was nodding. "Exactly. Snape would know what Dumbledore or someone else was up to. You're new."

"These are dark times," Sirius said, becoming interested in his nails. "Sometimes its easier to get closer to someone new. Someone who doesn't know your past, or judges you because of your past. Blank slate and all that. It's the familiar that we should all be concerned of."

James rolled his eyes in such a Harry way that Hermione rubbed at her eyes to make sure this was a different man. James murmured something about melodramatics or theatrics to which Sirius grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Hermione didn't want to tell them that she was already on a mission to spy on Severus Snape, and that she already had information. No, she would collect and keep all information to herself, unless she thought there was anything anyone in this time could do.

"We have meetings from time to time, the Order. We can owl you with the next one if you're interested." Sirius offered. His loud voice had finally gone down some. He seemed like the kind of man that struggled with indoor voices. In fact, he probably didn't have one.

Hermione told them that sounded lovely and bid them goodnight, only too happy to get out of the staffroom. She waited until they went through the front doors before she turned on her heel and headed once more towards the dungeons.

The castle found silence this night. Not even the ghosts were around. She knew it was well past midnight already and that she was going to hate herself in the morning with such a lack of sleep. At the same time, she knew that if she made it upstairs to her rooms that she wouldn't be able to sleep because she would lay awake, staring up at the ceiling had she not gone back to the dungeons and to Snape. She was going to use the apology she'd planned to give him earlier as an excuse to see him once more. She was curious to see if there was anything else she could unearth from the interaction she overheard.

She already found herself at the door of his office and knocking before she could stop herself and give more thought to what she was doing.

Nothing.

She almost turned to leave, but was rooted on the spot. She knocked a bit harder, louder. She crossed her arms and briskly rubbed her biceps, sighing gently.

The door was yanked open. Snape's pale face was twisted into fury. His black eyes glared down at her, livid. He was still fully dressed, however, his cloak and outer clothes were off. He was clad in a white button-down shirt, still tucked into his trousers, but unbuttoned down to his chest. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was in his socked feet—perhaps he was getting ready for bed.

"Miss Granger—" His mouth didn't seem to have moved.

"Sir, please, I wanted to come say that I'm—" Words had never flown so fast from Hermione's mouth.

Snape held up his palm to her. "There is nothing so important that you could tell me right now that could not wait until morning. Now, if you please—" He began to nudge her out of the door's threshold so he could close it.

But Hermione felt brave. She flattened her hand against his door and pushed it back open.

Snape's face was even more livid. He wrapped his fingers around her slender wrist and pulled her close to him. Had they been the same height, they would have been nose to nose. Instead, he was a head and a half taller than her; she caught an eyeful of his bare chest exposed from his unbuttoned shirt. Apparently, he was pale everywhere else. There was a slight sprinkle of dark hair and she felt herself flush. She inhaled his scent: old books, mint, slight whisky, sweat, and something woodsy or outdoorsy.

"Look at me," he demanded.

She did.

"You have no right, coming down here in the dead of night. You have even less of a right than that pushing your way into my space, Miss Granger." His eyes appraised her, looked her slowly up and down. He could smell her fear. She was like a student, like a child. He loosened his grip on her. Her skin was burning where he touched.

"But I heard—" She was going to completely forego the dinner seating arrangement apology and instead tell him everything about Regulus.

He shook her arm as though to silence her. That was then his own arm caught her eye and there it was: his Dark Mark. No more than three or four years old on his tender forearm skin. He caught her looking at it and went to say something or to push her out. Before he could do that, she wretched her arm from his hand, kicked the door shut, and pushed him into the room as he was caught off guard. She pushed him all the way into his desk. His legs buckled and he sat down hard on top of his desk. They were now at eye-level.

"You are going to be quiet." She demanded, fire burning behind her eyes.

He scowled at her.

She noticed how pleasant his office felt with the fire going. The coziness of the room was the complete antithesis to the dungeons outside of these walls.

"I came here to tell you I was sorry for sitting in your fucking chair. Wasn't my fault. McGonagall asked me to." She waved her hand. "It is no longer important. I heard your friend telling you about Horcruxes. Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Snape went to say something like don't know what you're talking about before she raised her eyebrow is a sarcastic oh, please let's go there way.

"I have information about Horcruxes in general, and his specifically. I think we could help each other."

"I doubt that very much," he snarled at her, going to press himself up from his seat.

Hermione pressed her small hand onto his kneecap to stop him. He looked down at her hand. She did not remove it as she continued speaking to him, "The Order of the Phoenix wants me to spy on you. You help me with this Horcrux, or any others, that you know of, and I protect you from the Order."

He went to pluck her hand off his knee, his thumb sliding under her fingers, his other fingers resting on the tops of hers. He went to drag her hand away, saying, "I do not need protection from the Order."

"Yes, you do." She looked down at their fingers and spoke to them. "Those Aurors, Black and Potter, are hasty. There is a good chance they will try to find anything possible to pin on you to put you away in Azkaban. I can't have that. I need your help."

He brushed her away from his knee and stood up. "I help far too many people, Miss Granger. Most of them are incompetent. How I hoped you'd be different. That you'd stay out of my life. Alas, here you are, calling after me in the dead of night." He stood and looked down at her. They were still so close and she slyly inhaled his scent once more, pressing it into the furthest reaches of her memories.

Nothing too serious about it, she rationalized. It was just one of the most pleasant scents she'd come across.

He was showing her to the door, walking closely behind her.

"I know you don't care about him. You feel nothing for him. Not even loyalty. I think you're scared of him. Of Voldemort. If you could get rid of him somehow, would you? Wouldn't you like to get out of his ranks? I can help you, Professor. Er, sir. " Her hand was on the doorknob. How she hoped he would tell her to stay and tell him more.

He sighed gently, but said nothing. "Please, Miss Granger. Get out."

Hermione does leave.

Snape locked and warded his doors before going back to his fireplace. He gripped the top of the mantle, leaning forward, as though about to plunge himself into the flames. It was more than he deserved, really. Could Granger really help him? He'd been sitting on more information of his own. It was getting harder and harder to hide it from the Dark Lord during Death Eater gatherings. Perhaps Granger could keep his secrets. He needed to tell someone about that prophecy he overheard in the Hog's Head only weeks ago. She was ideal. She was new.

He moved from the fireplace and into his rooms. He threw himself down upon his bed, still dressed. He rubbed his palms together slowly, still feeling where her skin had been only moments ago. He'd never snatched anyone up like that before. It had thrilled him, just as it had thrilled him to pull her close and inhale the scent that wafted up from the top of her mad hair. Old books and lavender…something citric…tea with milk. He pressed a hand onto his flat abdomen and slowly rubbed back and forth, closing his eyes.

Miss Granger, Miss Granger.

If he took her up on whatever it was that she was offering, then he would have to teach her Occlumency and Legilimency. They would be flirting with disaster on both sides of this oncoming war. It would be in both of their best interest (mostly his) if they both grew strong at hiding memories of their encounters and shared secrets.

He opened his eyes and reached for his bedside table. He pulled the drawer open and found a blank scratch sheet of parchment and a nearby quill. He wrote a simple 'yes' on it, and then tapped his wand wordlessly onto the paper. It sealed itself. He walked over to the fireplace in his bedroom and tapped the paper again, transfiguring it into a small bird, before sending it into the unlit fireplace where it shot upward and would land in her own, drifting until it found its way onto her desk, or somewhere equally noticeable.

Snape dragged himself back to bed after shedding his clothes and didn't bother with nightclothes or a robe. He slipped in between his cool sheets and smirked at himself as he thought about breakfast next morning.

He would have it in his favorite chair.