Disclaimer: © 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

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After the Christmas dinner fiasco, Molly was in a truly foul mood. Any person unfortunate enough to cross her path was treated to a series of invasive questions about their activities and whereabouts, and usually resulted in Molly assigning an arbitrary and often unpleasant task. This was how Neville and Filch found themselves testing every flagstone in the Great Hall for structural integrity and how Ginny and Fleur ended up casting mending charms on all the bed linens that the house elves had deemed too worn for student use. Even New Year's Eve had been so full of busy work that everybody was asleep by ten o'clock.

For her part, Hermione had been given an absurdly large amount of ground to cover before the students returned, which kept her too busy for the next week to even think about plotting to remove the headmistress or researching Severus's Unbreakable Vow. She hadn't seen the woman this single-minded of purpose since Bill and Fleur's wedding, and she knew better than to attempt to skive off. She also suspected that's why she had seen neither hide nor hair of Severus since Christmas.

Fortunately, the castle came to her aid in unexpected ways. She was delighted to discover that word of what she was doing had spread through the paintings and that a number of them, especially those that concealed long-forgotten rooms, were dying to give away their passwords. She discovered so many interesting rooms that even the headmistress, who was fascinated by the room that housed several centuries of fruitcake, couldn't find fault.

By the time classes resumed, the worst of the headmistress's ire faded, or at least went into remission. Hermione still felt as though Molly suspected her of complicity in the Christmas massacre, but she was less openly hostile and accusatory during Hermione's daily reports. The night before the students returned, Molly had grudgingly granted Hermione more hours of the day to spend studying the construction of the rooms she'd discovered. Hermione fled her office before she had the opportunity to change her mind.

The students' return was as noisy and distracting as she had expected, but per the headmistress's orders, they left her alone for the most part during the few hours of her day that coincided with hers. A few of the boldest students approached her in the library to ask her about killing Voldemort, to which she'd tersely responded that they ought to ask Harry Potter. Not for the first time, she was hugely grateful that she had chosen the Department of Mysteries over teaching at Hogwarts.

Research on the Unbreakable Vow was not going well — even the most technical monographs on the subject were disappointingly incomplete and took the vow's inability to be broken as a given, rather than simply a name. As she had proved to Harry's undying gratitude, Permanent Sticking charms could be unstuck with combination of magic directed at structural irregularities on the stuck object and destructive intent. Sadly, the Mag-Spec data was mysterious and oddly inconclusive. She didn't have any knowledge to speak of on the structure of compulsive magic, which was proving to be a hindrance. She made a note in her self-encrypting notebook to ask Severus for a bit of Veritaserum to test, hoping that she'd soon have the opportunity to speak with him.

She stacked the books she'd been reading neatly at the corner of the table, and raised her arms in a bone-cracking stretch. She'd spent too much time on the problem — it was time to think about something else until inspiration struck.

It was still two hours until dinner. A walk might do her a world of good. The halls were relatively empty, since the final class of the day was still in session. Fleur's classroom door was open. She was teaching Warming Charms to the second years, and she was doing a good job of it, judging by the heat pouring out into the hallway. She gave Hermione a smile as she walked by.

Ginny was overseeing a largely unsuccessful sixth year class attempting to change rabbits into carriage clocks, Arthur's Muggle Studies class seemed mildly amused by his inability to put an antique telephone that he'd taken apart back together again. Hermione shook her head. Ginny and Arthur were both competent, intelligent people, but clearly, teaching did not number among their talents.

Hermione was suddenly seized with the desire to see how being under the Fidelius Charm affected Severus's ability to teach. She walked quickly to the nearest unused classroom, shut the door behind her, and broke into the observation room that she knew was concealed next to the window. She made her way to Door Central and slid through the door with the cauldron on it.

To her surprise, Severus's class looked the same as it ever had — scrolls of homework lay in a neat pile on his desk, the next day's homework and instructions were written on the board in his spiky script, and the man himself was stalking the aisles, as usual. However, instead of watching him with fearful, furtive looks the way her classmates had, the first years were all focused on their brewing, save for a few who were still slicing sassafras roots. Hermione was perplexed for a moment, since none of the first year potions she'd brewed used the plant. However, she recognized the other ingredients as a comprising a cure for nausea that the Hospital Wing always kept on hand. Perhaps Severus had altered the recipe, since students occasionally preferred the nausea they already had to the nausea induced by the potion's awful taste.

The other students were watching their cauldrons and stirring occasionally as the sweet, earthy aroma of sassafras pervaded the classroom, imbuing it with an aura of peace. That was what was so disconcerting — Potions was never a relaxing class. Stimulating, yes, and occasionally life-threatening, but never with the quiet confidence of these first years.

Severus paced up and down the rows, but since none of the students were aware of his presence, he observed them with much less swooping and looming over shoulders. When unobserved, she was surprised to find that he watched his students with a kind of quiet pride. Hermione wondered how long it would last once a student made a mistake.

She hadn't long to wait — one first year didn't look closely enough at the bottles in his potions kit and was about to add Flobberworm skin instead of Murtlap skin. However, instead of shouting as Severus would have done when she was a student, he raised his wand and sealed the lid of the cauldron so that the ingredient slid into the fire. The student frowned, stared at the instructions on the board. He rooted around in his potions kit for a moment before procuring the correct ingredient, which he added without Severus's interference.

Severus continued about the room, correcting a few more students with minor spells to prevent accidents, until every student had a dark, treacle-like potion bubbling merrily in his or her cauldron. He checked the last of the cauldrons, and flicked his wand in a broad arc. Glass flasks appeared on each desk, and several students grinned broadly. The quietness evaporated immediately, as all the students began talking as they filled their flasks with their potion and began cleaning up. One student was even so bold as to taste the potion that she'd just completed, and she seemed quite relieved when nothing in particular happened. The students appeared to be having fun, something that the Professor Snape she'd known would never have tolerated.

However, Severus stood in the corner watching the students file out with a bemused expression on his face. When the last of the giggling first years had left, he locked the classroom door with a wave of his wand and went from workbench to workbench evaluating the potion samples.

Awkwardly, Hermione knocked on the hidden door. His head snapped up from his work, but his expression was far from surprised. "Granger," he said in a resigned voice.

So he did did know about Door Central and wasn't bothering to hide it. Hermione opened the hidden door and stepped into the room. "I'm sorry for interrupting your work. I had hoped to speak with you before supper."

"I'll be with you once I've seen to the last of these. It's easiest to judge their efficacy when the potion is still warm."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You can tell how effective they are just by looking at them?"

He held a flask up to the light. "I can judge clarity just by looking at them. I judge efficacy by smell."

Hermione pulled the Mag-Spec out of her handbag. "May I?"

Severus grunted his assent, and Hermione held the machine over the top of a sample flask. The green light turned red, and the potion's histogram appeared on the screen. Like most medicinal potions, the graph was very active in the earth quadrant of the graph. She didn't know enough about the potion itself to judge whether it had been made correctly, since she'd only done three sets of experiments on potions and potions ingredients, but the histogram from a second student sample was nearly identical, which meant that either both students had made the same error or that both students had succeeded.

She sat down at a desk and watched him move from desk to desk, assessing each potion methodically and marking the students' grades in his ledger, she was struck again by the difference between the Professor Snape who'd taunted and terrorized her and her friends and the man who oversaw the focused, well-disciplined class she'd just observed, especially since this was the first time that she'd ever seen Severus Snape practically humming with satisfaction.

All right, the second time, but she quickly squelched the traitorous thought as soon as she recognized it. But like most traitorous thoughts, it had brought friends.

She found herself listing all the things she'd never considered about Severus Snape before watching his most intimate moments, such as whether his skin smelt of cedar, what he imagined when he pleasured himself, and if his skin was as smooth as it had been in her mind.

There was a loud popping sound, startling Hermione out of her ruminations. Having finished examining his students' potions, Severus had Vanished the sample bottles and was gathering the first year's homework scrolls from his desk.

While she was intensely grateful that he didn't seem to have been eavesdropping on her thoughts, she was also kicking herself for not anticipating this. She knew that sexual gratification was one of the strongest positive stimuli in existence. By allowing herself to indulge in thoroughly unprofessional fantasies, she'd essentially conditioned herself to respond to his presence. She scowled and pressed her legs firmly together and banished all erotic thoughts. If anybody was going to behave inappropriately, it certainly wouldn't be her.

Severus walked towards her, laid the homework scrolls on the bench, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Hermione," he said, drawing her name out in a way that made her want to purr. "To what do I owe the honor?"

The acerbic tone of his query was sufficient to keep her from slipping back into her daydream. "I should think that obvious from my mode of entry," she replied, pleased that her voice sounded crisp and confident.

"You've finally found the Aperterium, then," he said, affecting boredom. "I'm surprised it took you this long."

Hermione was impressed. "Aperterium" was a much better name than "Door Central," though she'd renounce research for Divination before she'd admit it. "Is that what it's called?" she asked mildly. "I found it before Christmas. It's a rather interesting relic of bygone paranoid days, don't you think?"

"Clearly, you think it's something more than a relic if you're speaking with me about it," he replied, seating himself at the desk at the front of the room. "I also notice that you've yet to alert the headmistress to its presence. I congratulate you on a fair attempt at nonchalance, but if you don't begin asking questions, I fear that you may explode all over my classroom. Out with it."

"If you insist," said Hermione, no longer bothering to conceal her excitement. "How long have you known about the Aperterium?"

"Albus showed it to me in what would have been your sixth year at Hogwarts," he said. "We both knew at that point that I was likely to succeed him in the event of a Ministry collapse, and he wanted to ensure that I would have all the tools necessary to protect the little blighters from getting themselves gutted by Death Eaters."

Hermione shuddered imagined the amount of energy it must have taken for Snape to effectively make use of Albus's gift while attempting to fulfill his obligations as headmaster. "It's Dumbledore's work, then?"

"Almost entirely," said Severus. "It took him nearly two decades to create it, including developing magic that allowed him to anchor magical rooms to two locations. I strongly suspect that Flamel helped. He was always haranguing Albus to be more active in suppressing budding supporters of the Dark Lord."

Hermione looked sharply at him. "You mean that Dumbledore created it to spy on the students?"

"Did you think that the Dark Lord only recruited adults?" He sneered. "Of course he created it to spy on students! Most nights, the house elves were under orders to watch and listen, then report to him. Didn't you ever wonder how he knew everything going on at Hogwarts?"

"We always thought it was the portraits," murmured Hermione.

"That is what you were meant to think. In reality, very little was entrusted to the portraits because they are simply too unreliable. However, it was an enormous advantage for the portrait subjects to be seen traveling from painting to painting because the students believed that's how teachers kept track of them. You won't find Aperterium gateways on corridors containing paintings because they would have been useless. No conspirator with any sense would say anything of importance in an area that was likely to be spied on. That's why the common rooms themselves contain no paintings — to encourage private discussion within eavesdropping distance."

"So what did you and Dumbledore plan to do with the Aperterium afterwards?"

"You mean after both of us were dead? Nothing."

"Nothing? You would leave such a powerful tool simply lying around Hogwarts for anybody to find?"

"Not just anybody," said Snape, with heavy irony. "It would take a stunningly perceptive wizard to notice the miniscule amounts of magic given off by the presence of the gateways, and one of particular skill to break through the spells hiding the door. It would take astounding wisdom to recognize the gateway as anything other than another hidden closet and a huge amount of dumb luck to locate the doorknob leading to the Aperterium. Or, as we've discovered, a nosy witch with a Magispectrometer."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "It's quite understandable that you didn't foresee that particular eventuality."

"How magnanimous of you," he said blandly.

Hermione ignored him. "Now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you using the Aperterium for now? Surely you're not simply keeping it around for the next time a megalomaniac takes over the Ministry?"

"One already has taken over the Ministry using her son as a proxy, and the Aperterium has been a most useful and entertaining tool against her."

"So that's why she's having me map the castle!" Hermione exclaimed, relieved that the pieces were falling into place. "She knows somebody is opposing her with means beyond her control, and she wants me to find who and how."

"Got there finally, did you?" he drawled.

"You realize that she's giving up a good chunk of school funds to support my work. Whatever you did to her must have put a real bee in her bonnet."

"I believe the final straw was when she woke to find that the spy mirrors in her private quarters had been spelled to show live, in-color, pictures of the inside of her own toilet, complete with stereophonic sound. I fancy it occurred during her husband's morning constitutional."

Hermione's entire body jerked with the effort of containing an undignified guffaw. "That might do it," she conceded, lips quirking into a smile.

"Now," said Severus, "one question remains: how did you connect the Aperterium to me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Simple deduction. You'd have discovered the bookshelf illusion in your quarters the moment you tried to put a book on it. It only stands to reason that you'd be aware of what it was hiding."

Severus's eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly wanting to ask when she'd been in his quarters but not wishing to give her the upper hand. Not wishing to leave herself vulnerable to Legilimency, Hermione thought very hard about liquorice allsorts instead of the circumstances under which she'd discovered the illusion in Severus's quarters.

He finally gave up with an irritated sigh and crossed his arms. "Very well," he said. "It seems as though the only way I may retain a modicum of privacy is to give you what you so obviously want. If you are willing to negotiate, I can offer you a complete and up-to-date map of the Aperterium."

Hermione didn't bounce in her seat, but it was a near thing. "That would be helpful," she said, "but you mentioned negotiation. What is it that you want in exchange?"

"Nothing that won't benefit you directly."

"I'm not so dim that I'll agree without knowing what it is."

"Teach me to use the Mag-Spec."

Hermione was so surprised that she said the first thing that came to mind. "You're joking."

"I am perfectly serious. What possible objections could you have?"

"For starters, it's a Top Secret project. I'm bound by my contract with the Ministry—"

"Which doesn't apply because you are currently in the employ of Hogwarts, not the Ministry," finished Severus smoothly.

Hermione blinked in surprise. He'd clearly given this quite a bit of thought. "All right, then. I'm the patent holder. It's not in my interest to give anybody inside knowledge of the technology."

"The Muggle world I was raised in didn't have home electronics. The inner workings of your device are far beyond my understanding of the technology. Besides, I'm not asking you to show me how to build the bloody thing. I just want to know how to take readings and interpret the data."

Hermione wanted to believe him, but the intense desire for privacy that had aided her meteoric rise in the Department of Mysteries was stronger. "And I'm just to take your word for that? What's to stop you taking it apart and doing just that?"

"Put a Protection Charm on it. Wrap the wretched thing in tamper-proof plastic, I don't care. I'm offering to do work for you that you can use to obtain funding during the next cycle in exchange for only the time it takes to train me. Only an idiot would refuse such an offer."

"This 'idiot' idly wonders what's in it for you."

"You mean beyond the ability to assess the efficacy of ingredients before they go into potions, thus allowing myself never-imagined levels of accuracy?"

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms. "I want to know why you're so keen to help me now when, as you pointed out when we first met in the Great Hall, you have no motivation to make things easy for me."

"I'm not helping you," he snapped. "I am helping myself — something that you seem unwilling or unable to do."

"That was a terribly effective slur against my ability and motivation, but I don't buy it. You don't like me. Yet you're volunteering to spend a great deal of time in my presence — in fact, you're offering to help me so much that I would, indeed, be an idiot to refuse. But it does make me wonder why you're offering me such a good deal. I want to know exactly what to expect."

"And that, Miss Granger, is why you could never be a Slytherin."

"Thank heaven for small mercies," she shot back. "It must be exhausting."

He gave her a sour look. "If it will make you feel better, I am willing to say that the past weeks have afforded me the opportunity to re-evaluate certain aspects of my situation."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He seized a scroll from the pile in front of her and unrolled it fiercely. "The details are irrelevant."

"On the contrary, the details are essential. If you can for once in your life forego the double-talk and insinuation, I'll start teaching you immediately."

"I could lie," he pointed out.

"If it were a good enough lie to stand up under scrutiny, I'd be willing to accept it."

"In that case, I wish to use our time together gauging your interest in me with the eventual goal of ravishing you across one of the student benches."

"That's not a very good lie," said Hermione, ignoring the rather athletic dance that her stomach was doing.

"No, it isn't. Terrible, in fact."

"And it's not at all practical. The benches are in wretched condition. I'd get splinters."

"True," he agreed. There was a ghost of a twinkle in his eye as he took a seat next to her on the bench. "Then perhaps this explanation will be more amenable to you. In addition to developing a clearer way to determine the efficacy of potions ingredients, I hope to stimulate your interest in a potions project of mine. I think you'll find that its aims are not incompatible with your own side project."

Hermione's lungs joined her stomach in a fast two-step. "You have been working on a way out of your Unbreakable Vow," she accused him.

"Not directly — the vow precludes that, but there are similar forms of compulsive magic that I have been interested in, such as the Imperius Curse—"

"—or Veritaserum," Hermione finished giddily. "Of course, they must be related somehow."

He smirked at her. "I take it that you accept my explanation, then? In that case, I believe you requested from me a list of tasks that you must complete before gaining my material assistance in removing Molly Weasley from Hogwarts."

"But if we're to be collaborating on the Mag-Spec—" began Hermione, but Severus cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Those terms have been settled. Quid pro quo: Mag-Spec training in exchange for Mag-Spec potions data and access to compulsive magic. Consider yourself fortunate that our agreement has removed every item from the list, save one. Now, I'm willing to postpone the start of our agreement to give you sufficient time to make for me a door that will allow me to take meals in the privacy of my classroom."

She sighed. "You know, asking me nicely would have worked far better than extortion."

His snort was eloquent.

"Yes, yes, I could never be a Slytherin," she grumbled.

"I think the wall behind my desk would suffice," he said silkily, producing a grading quill and unrolling a piece of first year homework.

She was torn between scowling and laughing. "I feel precisely as if I've been had."

"Dear girl," said Severus, "I promise you that should that particular eventuality arise, you will most certainly be aware of it. Now, if you don't begin immediately, you'll be late for supper. And be sure that you don't make the door too close to the blackboard. I detest the taste of chalk dust."

Hermione huffed loudly, irritated that he could sarcastically flirt and then order her about like a first year in the same breath, and produced the Mag-Spec to find the locational data she'd need for the SMAC. The annoying man himself was bent over the pile of homework, his quill scratching comments in the essay margins.

She was nearly finished with her calculations when his instructions hit her full force. Make for me a door that will allow me to take meals in the privacy of my classroom. She nearly cackled aloud when she realized that he'd failed to specify something very important. Bending over her notebook to shield her calculations from his sharp gaze, she consulted a map that she'd saved to the Mag-Spec and located the correct coordinates. If this worked as well as she suspected it would, it would also provide a solution for a logistical problem she'd been pondering for several days.

She created a magical closet in the wall per Severus's specifications and closed herself inside so prevent him from realizing what she was doing. She was relieved to find that SMAC spell was easier to cast the second time, though she was still panting and sweaty by the time the door had appeared on the wall. She knew that the room to which she'd connected the closet was unlikely to be occupied, but she was still cautious when she opened the new door. As expected, the room was dark and silent, and a Lumos spell revealed, to her relief, that it was the room she had targeted. She grinned and cast an illusion on the far side of the door she'd created and returned to the closet in Severus's classroom.

When she emerged from the closet, Severus glanced up from his marking to examine her handiwork. "I'd have put it a few inches to the left, but I suppose it'll do. Now, you're not going to leave it like that, are you?"

"I should, just to serve you right," she said, somewhat breathless from exertion, "but I hate to leave a job unfinished."

He shot her a suspicious look. "If I find that you've cast a faulty illusion on either door—"

"I wouldn't do that," Hermione protested. "I said I'll conceal it for you, and I'll do it properly. Don't you have any more essays to deface?"

He muttered something in which she clearly heard the word "impertinent," but he returned to the pile of parchment.

She was fairly exhausted by the time she finished the second illusion, and stepped back into the classroom, where Severus was still marking homework.

"It's finished," she said, sinking down in the comfortable chair that sat behind his desk and opening her beaded bag.

"Finally," said Severus. "Celine!" he barked.

A House Elf appeared and bowed. "What can Celine be doing for sir?"

"I would like supper," he said. "You may deliver it through the hidden door that Miss Granger is about to show you."

Hermione temporarily lifted the illusion and showed the closet and hidden door to the elf, who stepped through it with trepidation.

Hermione looked disapprovingly at Severus and returned to rummaging through her bag. "I thought you said that Molly and Percy were the only ones who knew about you."

"Molly got tired of my complaints and revealed my secret to the least experienced House Elf. The tea she makes is better used for polishing first year cauldrons, but you could bounce a Galleon off the bed after she's had her way with it."

The elf appeared in the doorway, tugging nervously on her ear. "Celine is sorry," she said, "but elves is only allowed to serve food in the Great Hall."

"You needn't leave the Great Hall," said Severus, rising impatiently. "Simply give it to me through the door."

"Celine cannot do that," said the distraught elf, giving her ear a half twist, "The door is not leading to the Great Hall."

Hermione, who had located the item in her handbag that she'd been seeking, looked up just in time to appreciate the thunderous look that appeared on Severus's face.

"What is the meaning of this, Granger?" he hissed.

"I followed your instructions precisely," she retorted, tapping her wand on the small golden object she'd removed from her bag.

"You heard the elf. That door does not go to the Great Hall," he said.

"You said you wished to take meals in your room," said Hermione with ill-concealed glee. "You didn't specify that those meals should originate in the Great Hall."

"Blasted girl!" he growled. He opened the door himself and peered through. "Where precisely is this?"

"It's a private room at Madam Puddifoot's," said Hermione with satisfaction. "Her tea is quite drinkable, and you could bounce a Galleon off her fish and chips."

"You seem to have forgot that I am under the influence of the Fidelius Charm," said Severus, whose expression had darkened further.

"Nothing simpler," said Hermione. "Send Celine for take-away. And now that that problem is solved, I'll expect you in that private room at seven o'clock tomorrow evening."

Outrage warred with curiosity on his face before curiosity won out. "What happens tomorrow at seven o'clock?"

Hermione returned the enchanted Galleon to her handbag. "We're meeting with a reporter."

He scowled. "I haven't the pleasure of understanding you."

"Creating a door through which you may take meals fulfills my side of the bargain. Making sure that it opens into the last place Molly Weasley would look for either of us makes it easier for you to fulfill yours. Have you ever heard of a publication called Magical Pedagogy Today?"

"No."

"Why am I not surprised? Have you ever heard of a reporter named Quentin Cooper?"

"No. Wait. He's the reporter to whom Molly assigns my usual seat of dishonor in the Great Hall when there are press conferences."

"The same," said Hermione. "Did you ever wonder what he did to deserve such treatment?"

"No," he sighed. "But I don't suppose you'll make a door that leads to the Great Hall for me unless I allow you to tell me."

"True," she said with a smile. "And I really must insist that the word 'please' be involved."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next evening found Hermione sitting in the small, private room that was decorated with dozens of tiny gilt statues of wizards and witches in various sexual positions. The door opened, and the proprietress stuck her gray-streaked head into the room.

"Care for anything while you're waiting, m'dear? Fish and chips are on today," she said in a kindly voice.

"I'll just have a spot of tea, thanks."

"Biscuits? If your gentleman is running late, you might be glad of them."

"All right," said Hermione. "Dark chocolate, if you have them."

"Naturally. Also, there's a list of specials by the wall. You're free to take it with you," she added helpfully.

"Thanks, Madam Puddifoot" said Hermione. "I think I'll be all right."

"Suit yourself, luv," she replied with a wink. "I recommend number sixteen. Good for relieving tension, that." She bustled out of the room, humming tunelessly.

Hermione absently began flipping through the "menu" of various implements offered by Madam Puddifoot's for the "relaxation and pleasure of its varied clients." Slightly interested, Hermione located number sixteen, which was a "discreet, completely silent personal massager" available in an array of colors and textures.

She was distracted from her perusal by the sound of a throat being cleared. "Your reporter friend is late."

"He had an important interview today," she replied. "We'll give him another half hour before assuming he's not coming."

"Wonderful, another half hour of waiting in this Parisian cat house masquerading as a tea shop for a professional snitch who will probably put me on the front page of tomorrow's paper rather than help us."

Hermione knew he was nervous about letting her reveal his presence to someone else, a reporter in particular, but knew there was little she could say that would calm him. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, Severus. Now, you probably shouldn't hover in the doorway like that. You might get stuck," she said, as she became more engrossed in Madam Puddifoot's more unusual offerings. "It could be awkward explaining how your top half came to be in Hogsmeade when your bottom half is in a closet off the potions classroom. Now either come through or go back to marking homework."

Grumbling, he climbed through the portrait and sat beneath the hidden door, scowling at her. "Granger—" he began.

"It's not Hermione any longer? I'm hurt."

"Would you put that ridiculous thing down?" he asked querulously.

"It's not ridiculous," said Hermione. "I'm finding it quite educational — the illustrations move."

He crossed his arms. "Shut up, Granger."

At that point, the door opened, and Coop, wearing a trenchcoat and fedora, sidled into the room.

"A flasher," commented Severus. "My day is complete."

Hermione took one look at Coop's outlandish ensemble and burst out laughing.

Coop looked slightly hurt. "What?"

"You look like something from a Raymond Chandler novel."

"Is that good?"

"It might be if this were Los Angeles in 1940. What on earth are you wearing?"

"Muggle reporters wear this sort of thing, don't they?"

"Not outside lively imaginations of many years ago. Why are you trying to dress as Muggle reporter?"

"I'm trying to arrange an interview with someone at a Muggle school," said Coop. "In her last interview, the headmistress cited studies about single-sex classes, but it turns out that the only studies that have been done about their effectiveness were done by Muggles."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "That's rather brilliant."

Coop preened. "One doesn't get on the headmistress's naughty list without having something to back it up."

Severus snorted.

"I can make you a convincing press pass and advise you on slightly more credible clothing," said Hermione, "but I'm going to need something in return."

"I'm afraid I don't have any evenings free for at least two months, but in addition to an inimitable plate of fish and chips, Madam Puddifoot offers an excellent selection of consolation prizes. My investigational skills are, of course, at your disposal."

"You're too kind," said Hermione sarcastically. "Now sit down, I have something important to tell you."

Coop removed his trench coat and gave Madam Puddifoot, who was delivering the tea and biscuits, a smile that made her giggle. "I am at the lady's disposal."

Once the proprietress had closed the door firmly behind her, Hermione leaned forward and said in a low but clear voice, "The Potions teacher of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is Severus Snape."

Coop's eyes widened, but his jaw went slightly slack for a moment before he shook his head. "Sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. What was that?"

Hermione shot Severus a look of surprise. He shrugged, and she tried again. "Severus Snape is teaching at Hogwarts. Molly Weasley's basically made him a servant."

Again, a blank look crossed Coop's face. "I think some tea will do me good," he said, pouring himself a cup and adding a dash of milk. "I swear, I can see your mouth moving, but I can't understand a word. Could it be that her lips have bewitched me?" he asked apostrophically.

Hermione sat back with a frown. Clearly, her discovering the secret that the Fidelius was hiding did not give her the same ability to spread the word as somebody to whom the Secret Keeper had revealed the secret. She was dismayed by the limitation, but she still had plenty to tell Coop.

"Right, so here's my plan: I'm trying to devise a strategy to make Hogwarts great again."

Coop stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, and Hermione's heart sank, fearing some sort of miscommunication curse at play, when she realized that Coop had heard her, he was just unsure of how to respond. "I think I'm missing something," he said at last. "I thought we were trying to get rid of Molly Weasley."

"No, you have the particulars. What you're missing is the reason that restoring Hogwarts to its former glory will make Molly more likely to leave."

He looked at her for a moment, puzzled, and then his jaw dropped. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "I'm an idiot."

"You being an idiot will make Molly want to leave?" came a voice from the doorway.

To Hermione's shock, Neville Longbottom stepped through the door.

"If that's all it took, she'd have been gone long ago," said Coop cheerfully. "You're Longbottom, right? I didn't know you were in on our little conspiracy."

Neville reached into his robe and pulled out the Galleon that Hermione had given him their fifth year. "My lucky charm has never steered me wrong. I'm just glad you're still here. I looked everywhere but I couldn't find Luna. She's probably still trying to rid the castle of Crepuscular Dwentids."

Hermione nearly kicked herself for not anticipating that Neville might still have his Galleon. "I'm glad you were able to make it, Neville," she lied glibly. "This is Quentin Cooper from Magical Pedagogy Today."

"And you're going to help us?" asked Neville doubtfully.

"For you, gorgeous, anything," said Coop, batting his eyelashes outrageously at Neville.

Neville turned scarlet.

"Right," she said, "here's the crux of the situation: in a misguided attempt to bring all of her family under her control, Molly has been systematically dismantling Hogwarts in hopes that her relatives will help out of a sense of familial obligation."

"So the worse things get at Hogwarts, the more Weasleys are required to keep it running," added Coop. "Hermione here thinks that making Hogwarts a better school will allow those for whom teaching is not their first choice to make their own way in the world, thus foiling Molly's plans."

Neville's ears were still pink, but his eyes were shining with excitement. "How can we do that?"

"That's what Coop is here to tell us," said Hermione. "We need to know what sorts of things headmasters and headmistresses have done to raise the profile of the school, or at least attract more students and raise money."

"Well, there were all sorts of Quidditch tie-ins," said Coop. "But there's no talking to her on the subject because it would mean having mixed classes again."

"There was the Triwizard Tournament," offered Neville. "We were able to install double-paned enchanted glass in all the greenhouses with the public admission fees from the First Task alone."

"Given that a kid died during the last tournament, it'd take some serious diplomacy to make the Tournament happen again," commented Coop. "Besides, it took years to plan, and I think we'd all be much happier with Molly gone as soon as humanly possible. Since we're in the middle of a school year, it's a good time to start ingratiating ourselves to parents. I think our best bet is to get our hands on enough filthy lucre to convince those teachers who are here for Molly that the school can get on without them."

Hermione was gratified that no derisive snort from Severus was forthcoming. "Any ideas off the top of your head, Coop?"

"McGonagall held a public ball as a fund-raiser in ought two," said Coop after a thoughtful pause, "but I'm sure I can find something grander if you give me a few days."

"If you like, I can bring up the subject at tonight's staff meeting," said Neville. "I could pitch it in terms of getting funds to buy the platinum-plated flower pots required to grow a Variegated Blingerer."

Hermione frowned. "What's a Variegated Blingerer?"

"No idea," said Neville with a smile, "but I'm sure Luna will have my back when I describe its myriad and important uses."

Both Snape and Coop snorted appreciatively, and Coop gave Neville an appraising look.

"Are there any other teachers who might be willing to incur the headmistress's wrath if it means that they'll be able to afford better teaching materials?"

"Parvati," answered Neville immediately. "She's been complaining for years that she's teaching three subjects with the funding for one. And Fleur would do anything if she thought it'd annoy Molly. Bill, Luna, and Ginny are always looking for new ways to engage their students, and Arthur will be in favor of anything that Muggles have tried. Pince and Filch will most certainly join in if the others do."

Hermione was impressed with Neville's incisive appraisal of his colleagues. "Percy?"

"He won't do anything that Molly doesn't approve, but he might surprise us if the others get permission first."

"All right then, Longbottom," said Coop, "do you have anything in mind for yourself?"

Nevillle frowned. "Gran used to organize garden shows to benefit St. Mungo's. There are loads of useful plants in the student greenhouses that people might find interesting."

"Armando Dippet threw a garden gala in fifty-seven," said Coop. "I seem to recall that they made all sorts of improvements to the Quidditch pitch with the proceeds. Do you think you could have something show-worthy by spring?"

A mischievous smile spread across Neville's face. "That wouldn't take me until the spring," he scoffed. "But I will need to recruit enough students, and the others will have my head if anybody's homework suffers," he said, subverting his otherwise impeccable bravado.

"Perhaps I ought to rephrase," said Coop. "Would you have sufficient time to design and execute the sorts of gardens that people would pay to see? As nice as the greenhouses are, they don't have much in the way of ambience."

"There are a number of private gardens at Hogwarts that you will have no doubt discovered by then," added Snape, to Hermione's surprise. She repeated his comment, which elicited a thoughtful look from Coop and a vague nod from Neville.

"So that's your top-secret project?" asked Neville. "Finding hidden rooms?"

"That's what the headmistress wants," said Hermione noncommittally.

"Then will you be allowed to tell me if you find any hidden gardens?"

"I don't need anything special to find hidden gardens," said Hermione. "In fact, I can already tell you the locations of two just from reading Hogwarts: A History."

"The public does love a secret," agreed Coop. "I think it's a great idea. Tell me what you have in mind, Longbottom."

The reporter and the herbologist then put their heads together.

Hermione was still slightly discomfited by Neville's presence, but she forced herself to relax. Clearly, they were on the same page as far as the headmistress was concerned, and Neville's discretion and motives were beyond reproach. Furthermore, she'd been somewhat concerned that there would be problems getting the headmistress to go along with plans to spruce up the school, so there was a definite advantage in having a teacher on their side who could actually argue their cause to the other teachers.

As if reading her thoughts, which she supposed he might have been, Severus chose that moment to whisper in her ear, "He's not what I would have chosen in an ally, but I suppose he'll do."

"Such extravagant praise," she whispered back.

"What was that, Hermione?" asked Neville.

"Just thinking aloud," she said with a shrug. "I think I need to get back to the castle. Just to sum up: Neville is going to drum up support for external fundraisers at the staff meeting, Coop is going to see if there's anything more lucrative Hogwarts can do than a garden show, and I'm going to do some research to see if I can locate any hidden gardens."

"Sounds like a plan," said Coop. "Would you like an escort back to the castle?"

"There's no need to trouble yourself," said Neville. "I live there, too."

"Then it's settled," said Coop. "Someone has to keep you lovebirds from tarnishing Hogwarts' sterling reputation with your antics. I'll walk you both."

"That man would flirt with a lamppost if it provided him with a flattering light," remarked Severus.

"You will do no such thing," said Hermione, scowling at Coop. "A fat lot of good our meeting in secret would do if Molly saw you."

"You have absolutely no sense of adventure," sniffed Coop. "Since more pleasant company has been denied me, I have no recourse but to speak with Madam Puddifoot."

"If you find anything stimulating, do send it via anonymous owl," said Hermione, pulling on her overcoat, "unless it has to do with the conspiracy, of course. Otherwise, we'll meet here at the same time next week."

"All right," said Cooper, standing. "See you next week at the latest, then."

"It was a pleasure meeting you," said Neville, suddenly shy.

Coop leaned over and brushed his lips against the knuckles of Neville's right hand. "The pleasure was all mine," he said in a voice that made even Hermione shiver.

An unsubtle cough from Severus warned her to get on with it, and Hermione allowed Coop to escort her and Neville to the door of the tea shop. Neville offered her his arm, and Hermione took it, grateful for the additional warmth in the chill of the late afternoon.

"Wow," said Neville. "I have to admit, I feared the worst when the Galleon said to meet you in a back room at Madam Puddifoot's, but I should have known you were up to something clever."

"What do you mean 'the worst?'" asked Hermione. "Did you think I was trying to compromise your virtue?"

"You're an amazing girl, Hermione. Beautiful, brilliant, fun, any bloke'd be lucky to have you. But, well, I'm looking for something a bit different. Something that has to shave every day, if you take my meaning." Neville's voice was light, but she could feel his body tense for her reaction.

"So you're into girls with hormone problems? Kinky," said Hermione.

Neville's earnest nervousness faded into a smile. "I've become something of a herbologist stereotype, I'm afraid."

"Neville, you could never be a stereotype. Besides, you'd look wretched in pink."

This time he did laugh. "So, tell me about Quentin Cooper."

"Ha!" exclaimed Hermione gleefully.

"I don't know what you mean," said Neville primly. "I just want to know how he came to be involved. I don't get the impression that you know each other particularly well."

"We don't, but he does seem genuinely concerned with the subject of teaching, which, your excellent self excepted, of course, has deteriorated significantly since we were students. I thought his expertise would be helpful."

"Certainly," said Neville, whose thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

The nearing lights of Hogwarts illuminated the dense clouds overhead, and a fine mist swirled around their feet.

"There's something else going on, isn't there?" asked Neville abruptly.

"Sort of," said Hermione carefully. "What have you seen, Neville?"

"Nothing specific," he said. "It's just an odd feeling that I've had since I started teaching here."

"What do you think it is?" asked Hermione.

"I haven't any idea," said Neville with a calculating expression on his face, "but I think you do. As soon as I brought it up, you shut yourself tighter than a moleskin purse. Don't worry, I'm not trying to pry, but I wanted to make sure you knew."

Hermione sighed. Sometimes she wondered if she'd have more friends if she didn't have to be constantly concerned with spilling Ministry secrets when she talked about her work. "You're right," she said. "I do know what's going on, and it'd blow the roof off Molly's tenure as headmistress if it were to be discovered."

"Then why not just get it on the front page of the paper instead of mucking about with flowers and fundraisers?" asked Neville.

"Because as satisfying as it might be for Molly to receive hundreds of Howlers, I'm not trying to cause a scandal. I'm trying to make Hogwarts a better place for everybody."

"Like it was when Dumbledore was headmaster?" asked Neville.

Hermione nearly scowled when she thought of the man who twinkled so benevolently but made House Elves spy on students, but the urge faded at the memory of all the garishly decorated holidays and the warm feeling that Dumbledore's welcome speeches always gave her. Whatever Dumbledore's faults had been, he had mastered the art of teaching students both academic and life skills. "More like it was under Dumbledore, anyway," she said quietly.

"It's odd," said Neville. "In some ways, I think Molly's an awful lot like Dumbledore was, but I can't say I like the direction she's taken the school."

Hermione grimaced. "That's for sure."

Neville sighed. "It makes me wonder what the old place would be like if it were run by somebody whose primary focus was simply running the school, rather than fighting a war, bringing the school under Ministry control, maintaining the appearance of loyalty to Voldemort, or trying to get every Weasley in Christendom to work here."

Hermione regarded Neville appreciatively. "I think to some extent, bigger concerns go with the office, especially since it seems that teaching experience or service to the school isn't enough to be appointed. It's as if the board is looking for celebrity and politics rather than the potential to be a good administrator."

"Would you ever consider it?" asked Neville hopefully. "You've run your own section in the Department of Mysteries and you're a bigger hero than Molly ever was. If you said you were interested, they'd throw Molly over in a heartbeat."

"I really couldn't," said Hermione. "I know it sounds kind of conceited, but I'm convinced I can do more good with my research than I can at Hogwarts."

"I figured," said Neville, shrugging. "But it couldn't hurt to ask."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you as soon as I'm able.'

They walked, immersed in thoughtful silence until they reached the winged boars that flanked the castle gate. Hermione ran a hand over her hair and found that it was damp from the mist.

"Wonderful," she grumbled. "As if I weren't disheveled enough already."

Neville smiled fondly at her and impulsively drew her into a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head. "I wouldn't have you any other way," he said.

"I thought you wouldn't have me at all," she replied cheekily.

"Uh oh," said Neville. "Don't look now, but we have an audience."

Hermione glanced at the castle and saw that a veritable gaggle of students was staring at them from a window.

"Might as well give them something to talk about," said Neville, bending her over backwards in what would look, from the window, like a passionate kiss.

"Neville!" she scolded. "As nice as it is to have a reason to have been with you at Madam Puddifoot's, Molly will have my head for this."

"Don't be silly," he said lightly, righting them both once more. "If your theory is correct, then our being together would bring you under her control by proxy. She'll probably offer you a job. Besides, while I'm not ashamed of being a broom-polisher, Molly looks down on that sort of thing."

"If she didn't have so many children, you'd think the woman had never had sex," said Hermione.

"Oh, she has no problem with sex — it's how children and grandchildren are made," said Neville. "I think it's people having fun that she resents."

"So in order to stay on her good side, I should act like I'm shagging you but not having any fun doing so?"

"No need to go that far," said Neville, holding open the door for her. "I have a reputation to uphold."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~