Chapter 6

She heard the door close as her friends left the room, and it sounded to Hermione like a jail cell closing her in. She put up her shields, prepared to see how Moody would act with her alone. She had to admit, she was scared. Hermione had heard stories of how far Moody would go to capture Death Eaters; the fact that the Dark Lord himself said to never be alone with him was proof enough of his power. And yet, within the first week, she already had managed to go get herself right into a situation she had wanted to avoid. Moody waved his wand and a chair came pulling up next to his desk. He gestured for her to sit.

"Very impressive work with the Imperius Curse, Miss Granger." He said, coolly, grimacing, though she assumed it was an attempt at a fake smile.

"Thank you, Professor. It was just beginner's luck."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Hermione didn't reply, not sure what to say. This was not that start of the school year that she needed. If this kept up, Moody would expose her and her friends by the end of September.

"Did your father teach you? I assume it was his master's idea."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione replied, quietly.

"I'm a busy man, so let's skip the part where you deny it."

Hermione stared at him, trying to keep her face neutral,

"What it sounds like you're implying is that my father is somehow connected to the Dark Lord, which was proven false by the Ministry years ago. Besides, last I checked, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead. Have I been misinformed?"

"Don't be smart with me, girl. I've talked to Dumbledore and Potter. Slytherins are the only liars around here, especially children of Death Eaters."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, sir."

Moody stood up, limping around his desk to stand next to her. She stayed silent, but lifted her face to stare up at him.

"I'm going to wear you down," he promised, towering over her, "I am not going to give you a second's peace until you are begging to tell me everything."

Hermione took a shaky breath, but smiled outwardly.

"Have a good day, Professor Moody."

With that she turned around and walked out of the room. The second the door closed behind her, Hermione glanced back, worried that he would follow her. When it became apparent that he was letting it go for now, Hermione hurried away from the classroom.

Hermione headed down to the dungeons, already late for Potions. What am I going to do about Moody, she asked herself, what am I going to do? She stopped outside of the Potions classroom, leaning against the wall. She glanced at her hand, noticing that it was shaking. Oh Merlin, I'm in over my head here. He's a former Auror, he's seen right through me from the start, all because I wanted to show Potter my true colors at the Cup.

"Damn," she whispered, "damn it."

And Dumbledore knows too, what have I gotten myself into?

Hermione didn't know how long she stood there before she finally calmed down enough to enter the room. At least that's one good thing that came out of that conversation, she thought, there's no way Professor Snape can avoid giving me detention.

Taking a deep gulp of air, she pushed open the door to the classroom.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you finally decided to join us," Professor Snape said, turning around to face her, "I trust you have an excuse for your tardiness."

"I don't," she said, tersely. He raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"You're nearly an hour late."

"I know, sir."

He sighed, and Hermione sat down next to Draco, waiting for the punishment.

"Detention tonight—after dinner."

She took a sigh of relief, "Yes, sir."

"How did it go?" Draco muttered, sending her a side-glance as he stirred the potion in front of him.

"Badly."

"What happened?" He stopped stirring and picked up his knife to chop the next set of ingredients. Before he could begin, Hermione grabbed the blade from his hand and pulled the cutting board out from under him. She didn't speak again until she had begun cutting the Valerian root.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Draco cast a look in her direction, "So it really was that bad."

"We're screwed," she told him, passing the chopped ingredient back over to him.

"We are not screwed," he assured her, but he paused, "Tell me, Hermione."

Hermione prepared herself for Draco's negative reaction,

"He told me he would wear me down," Hermione said, quietly, "and eventually I would beg to tell him everything."

Draco's eyes darkened with anger, as Hermione expected. He put down the next ingredient, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"If he thinks he can get away with threatening you, I swear—"

"We're in over our heads, Draco, we can't do this—he's going to figure me out, he's going to figure us all out."

"Calm down, Hermione," he said, placing a hand over hers on the table, "we just have to take it all one step at a time."

She nodded, unsteadily.

"Good. Now, pass me the porcupine quills."

As Hermione headed toward detention after dinner that night, she waved her wand and the time appeared: 6:57. She had calmed down a bit, and had even been able to come up with a decent plan. During lunch, she had Owled the Dark Lord with the idea. At 7:30, the Dark Lord was going to call Professor Snape with his Mark. Professor Snape wouldn't be able to leave directly while in detention with her, but his mind would immediately show his loyalties.

She walked in without knocking, heading straight up to Professor Snape's desk.

"You'll be cleaning the classroom, Miss Granger. Shouldn't be too bad, I made a couple of second years do it last week."

"Thank you, Professor."

She started with the tables, keeping a close eye on the time. Professor Snape was right; the room was pretty clean already, giving his favorite Slytherin preferential treatment, as always. Merlin, I hope he's loyal to the Dark Lord, Hermione thought, I would hate for him to have to die for his allegiances.

Hermione sat down at exactly 7:29 pretending to be washing the table closest to his desk, as she stared at Professor Snape. He grimaced and looked at his arm in disbelief. Hermione pointed her wand at him from under the table, focusing, and began to whisper,

"Legili—"

The door swung open, and Hermione whipped around in her chair. Professor Moody sauntered in, casually. They made eye contact immediately and Moody smirked. At the same moment, Professor Snape jumped up to meet him, trying to look nonchalant. When Moody reached him, Professor Snape leaned forward to whisper heatedly in Moody's ear. Moody nodded, and gestured at the door. With that, Professor Snape walked out of the room.

Dear Merlin, that did not just happen, she thought to herself, I just screwed that up, magnificently.

"I will be supervising the remainder of your detention, Miss Granger."

"Actually, I believe I was just about done." Hermione said, standing up. Moody walked slowly up to the desk she had just been occupying and ran a finger down it, then examined it with a serious expression on his face.

"No, I don't think you are. Clean the tables again."

Hermione was on edge for the remainder of the detention, her shields in place, but Moody never even attempted to enter her mind. Is this how he's going to break me down, she wondered to herself, letting me think I'm safe so I'm vulnerable to attack? Three hours later, when he had finally let her go, Hermione was so tense she felt like her back might break. She knew that her friends would be waiting in the common room to hear how her night went, and she couldn't bear to tell them that she'd failed—that Professor Snape now would go to the Dark Lord, either of his own volition or with Dumbledore's permission, and Hermione wouldn't be able to tell Him anything about his allegiances.

She headed outside and made it to Hogsmeade before she had even realized she walking in that direction. It was just before midnight, and the streets were calm. The only noise was coming from the boisterous drunks in the Three Broomsticks, and so that's where Hermione entered. It wasn't nearly as crowded as the shouts and music had made it seem, so Hermione found a seat at the bar easily. Surprisingly, Madam Rosmerta approached her within minutes, taking her drink order—a Firewhiskey. Hermione's father had a particular fondness for the drink and always nursed one when he was stressed. Apparently, it was a family trait because that was all Hermione was craving at the time.

Smiling in thanks, Hermione tossed a few coins on the bar before grabbing the shot glass. Here's to you, Hermione, she thought, bitterly, for ruining the best chance you had at determining Snape's loyalty. She threw back the shot quickly before gesturing for another one.

Author's Note: -ducks behind wall to avoid things being thrown at me for underaged drinking- I really enjoyed this chapter, and Hermione's slow but sure spiral into "how the fuck am I going to pull this off?" Before you review and say to me that she's too young to be drinking and that it's unrealistic or just that you don't like it... just don't. She's in a stressful situation, and sometimes alcohol abuse is a result of that. Not that she's abusing it or will, but all I'm saying is that situations occur and that can be the result. I hope you liked this chapter, it took me a long time to write it! I had some severe writer's block, so please review and tell me I'm pretty and that you like it. Just kidding, but seriously, I could use some compliments it has been a long couple of weeks.

Thanks to Bobbie1776, AmayaBlack, atlas-graceland, Pank98, Santana Starr, Aghaliam, aeireis, hoshiakari7, ficfangirl21, gabroche25, zombiekins5948, and two guests for reviewing.

I specifically want to thank not really sane fairy, your review definitely influenced the way this chapter went, and I hope you enjoyed it and thought it was more interesting-eeek, I don't know, I mean, let me know!