Hermione tapped her quill on her parchment, not noticing the dark splotches it made. Where is he? She thought, biting her lip and twisting her neck around to look at the glowing void left by the open dungeon door.

He said twelve o'clock, he said twelve o'clock. I swear to Merlin that he said twelve o'clock.

Hermione had never been asked to Professor Snapes office before and what with nearing the end of her seventh year, and stubbournly sure she had done nothing wrong, she was clueless as to why. Having approached the room five minutes early, she found the door open and took it as an invite to go in. The room was quite empty so she figured the Professor was running late from a class and decided to settle herself, choosing to take a seat in front of his desk. She took out her quill, some ink and a piece of parchment to scribble down some notes she had locked into her brain during transfiguration class.

Now she had long sense run out of things to write and, noticing the dark smudges of ink sinking into her work she decided to pack her things away with a grimace lining her face and a huff escaping her lips. Hermione was not worried about Professor Snapes well-being at all. She had no care for a man who held only contempt for her. No pity for a man who made her class-time agony, especially during the last few months.

She was, however, anxious. What had he planned to discuss with her? Why had he asked to see her? Had she done something wrong?

She bent her neck back and looked up at the cold, dank ceiling. She pulled her bushy brown hair out of her round, brown eyes and held it up in the air, cooling her neck. With a sigh she let it fall again. I am so bored she thought. Why did I not bring a book?

There was a large banging noise from behind and Hermione jumped out of her seat with a start. Heart pumping hard she whipped around only to be confronted by a puffed chest and a contemptuous sneer.

"P-professor, I'm sorry, I-I didn't…"

"Miss Granger, I would have hoped that with your intellect, manners would not evade you." Snape interrupted her with his usual silky manner.

"I-I…"

"I am of course, disappointed. I suppose waltzing into empty offices uninvited is a muggle custom is it?"

"No…I…"

"Do not answer that! Fifty points from Gryffindor, now sit down Miss Granger!"

Moving of its own accord, the chair knocked Hermione behind her knees and caught her as she fell.

Hermione watched as Professor Snape swept behind his desk in a most dramatic gesture and floated down into his chair, all the while maintaining the scorn spread across his face. Hermione could not remember him ever looking at her with that much disdain, and suddenly she was quite afraid of what he was going to do to her.

"That was a very disrespectful thing to do Miss Granger," Snapes face softened, Hermione let go of her breath. "I understand you may feel above the practice of waiting to be let in and I do hope at our next meeting you shall pertain to such practices."

Hermione gulped, "N-next meeting, sir?" She didn't even know what this meeting was about and now he was establishing a next meeting?

"Yes…well, we will discuss that later, for now, I shall speak and I shall not be interrupted, understand?" Snapes eyes narrowed, Hermione nodded her head and looked down at her feet, what is going on?

"You are the best student in my class and indeed, in your year."

Hermione shifted in her seat and stared hard at her feet as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Snape noticed this movement and averted his eyes. "No need for modesty Miss Granger, I am not complimenting you, I am merely stating a fact, a fact that has not gone unnoticed, even by me.

"I am in need of a consultant." Hermione could feel Snapes eyes suddenly burrow into her.

"And the problem is," Snape continued to stare, his voice pompous and sarcastic, "I need the best, and to my utter dismay," He looked away into the darkness, his voice growing softer and a little forlorn, "I need you."

Hermione gasped. What on earth? What for? Why in the hell would Snape need me?

She remained silent.

Snape shifted his sight back to her, trying to meet her eyes. Hermione looked at him unconsciously then looked away quickly. His eyes fixated on her and to Hermione cowering in the chair, he seemed like a wolf readying himself for the kill.

"I need your word that you will not tell a soul what you are about to hear, do you understand?" His silky voice became slightly raspy.

Hermione nodded without looking at him. She had never been so scared of a man in her life.

"Your word Miss Granger!" Snape belted.

Hermione felt on the verge of tears, she was confused and completely enraged, and over-all, she felt ridiculous. Like a four year old being sent to her room for something she didn't even understand. A consultant? She thought.

"Miss Ganger!" Snape snapped.

"Yes…I…I give you my word."

Her words echoed in the eerie silence that followed. Hermione poured over what had just happened in her mind, she felt small in her chair as she watched Snape stare at something behind her transfixed. She would have turned around to see if there was something there if she hadn't of felt as if Snape would chop off her head at the instant she moved.

His eyes returned to hers, she figured that he was just gazing into space.

He shifted forwards in his chair and Hermione wished with all her might that she could just dissaparate out of hers and find herself in a place far, far away from this dungeon.

"Let me begin by telling you that none of this was my idea," Snape had a very conversational tone, quickened and a lot less delicate then Hermione had ever heard him speak as. "Dumbledore, and the order alike, have all agreed that you are the brightest witch in Hogwarts, and indeed, you show great adaptability to anything put in front of you, even the most advanced of magic.

"I however, think they give you more credit then you deserve," Snape leaned in further and became careful again with his words. "Now, this is your opportunity to prove me wrong.

"As you know, the order is not inclined to baby-sit. We do not let young ones into the order. Yet, we are not stupid."

Hermione's mind suddenly emptied. Me? In the Order?

Snape cleared his throat. "Well, at least, most of us aren't."

Hermione suddenly thought of Sirius, and felt a surge of disgust for Snapes utter immaturity.

Snape continued looking slightly satisfied. "We know when we cannot let someone with such…potential go to waste. We feel, or at least, Dumbledore feels that you can be of much use to us, and more specifically me."

Hermione was aghast; Dumbledore wants Snape to use me?

Snape snickered. "I was astonished as well. You could be of use to me? HAH!"

Hermione gripped the armrests of her chair and puffed herself up.

"I am of course, in no position to question Dumbledore's judgment. So here you are, and I am now required to ask for your consultations during certain appointments across the week. This will add nothing to your academic record and suffice to say, will be kept completely secret, even from your little friends, Potter and Weasley."

Snape paused. Hermione was wide eyed and utterly confused. Somehow, Snape had managed to compliment her, insult her, explain everything and explain nothing in one sitting, and had left her completely bewildered. She decided to forgo the interruption clause in order to decipher the entire speech.

"So…I…I will be working alongside you…for the Order?" She stammered.

"Yes you will." He said, as he stood up abruptly. He swept towards Hermione's chair, ushered her up and drove her towards the door.

Hermione had little time to grab her bag let alone decipher what on earth was going on. As she scrambled out the door Snape grabbed her arm and bore his sharp eyes into hers.

"I hope you understand the consequences if you agree to this arrangement" He hissed in her ear. "You have three days to give me your answer."

He shoved her out of the door, whisked around and slammed the door behind her back.

Hermione tugged at her robes, they had become unbearably uncomfortable. What on earth am I going to do? She asked herself as she headed up the stone steps towards her next class.

Hermione was never one to make any decision lightly. She had spent the past three days constantly mulling over the meeting she had had with Snape, weighing up all possibilities, and sorting her own mental anguish. She deliberated over the aforementioned consequences Snape had gladly hissed into her ear, and found the only consequence of saying yes to this opportunity she could possibly find unbearable was that she had to work with Professor Snape.

Hermione was anything but a coward, and she couldn't help but be incredibly excited over the fact that Dumbledore believed that she could contribute to the defeat of Voldemort. Not only excited, but slightly big headed in fact. She had the opportunity of a life time in the palm of her hands.

However certain questions still plagued her. Like why was she chosen? Snape certainly gave her no explanation and Hermione was never silly enough to assume it was purely for her smarts. She also wondered how Dumbledore could leave her in the hands of that cold, vile excuse for a wizard. Someone who had loathed her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. She could not comprehend Dumbledores reasoning behind this entire affair, and, for the first time in her life, doubted him.

It was a Sunday, the third day, the day on which she had to make a decision that would no doubt change her life path. Her mind had been absent from all classes and weekend affairs over the past few days, and as she watched Harry and Ron head towards the quidditch pitch on the unseasonably warm winters day, she felt a jagged rock sink into the pit of her stomach.

It was fast approaching twelve and her deliberations would soon be at an end. As she begrudgingly thumped her way down the steps toward Snapes dungeon office, she could not help but wish it were someone else. She would have gladly worked under Professor McGonagall's wing, or Remus, he would have been a wonderful person to work with. At least she would have felt safe.

Hermione looked out the last window as she headed underground. The blue sky and bright sun mocked her begrudging state. She felt a surge of unreasonable anger that quickly fled her mind as she approached Snapes large, black door. Instead, she was overcome with fear.

Again, the door was open, yet Hermione was not stupid enough to just walk in, having already made that dismal mistake once. She lingered in the doorway for a short time, contemplating knocking, but afraid of disturbing the black silence in front of her.

She took a deep breath, made her hand into a fist and raised it to send a knock into the blackness. The thud of her fist echoed into the room, and she heard a shuffle of papers and then a figure in black approached the door.

"Ah, she has manners after all." Snape noted, smirking at her. "I see no point in asking you in until I hear your answer, a simple yes or no will do."

Hermione didn't expect that, she had expected a discussion of sorts, to help with the incredibly hard decision facing her. She cleared her throat and muttered something under her breath, inaudible to the human ear.

"Ahhh…" said Snape, eyes widening. "I hear uncertainty, well, if that is all you can muster, I will see you in class tomorrow." Snape turned on his heal.

Hermione gasped. "Yes!" she barked, not containing the horror on her face as she uttered this word. "I will…uh…I will work with you, for the Order."

Snape turned back with a start, his eyes narrowed and his lips curled. "Are you sure Miss Granger? Are you sure you are prepared for such a task?"

His silky voice caught at the back of his throat, leaving the last sentence choked.

"Yes, I am." Hermione stated with more certainty then she felt.

"Very well," Snape snapped, "You will go to your room and change into your robes. We will meet here at twelve forty five."

Hermione whipped around and clambered up the steps. Her heart tightened. Why did she feel as if she had just sold her soul to the devil himself?

It was a breathless, frazzled girl that stumbled down the steps, reaching Snapes office door at precisely twelve forty five. She had never appreciated before how long it truly took to climb all those stairs up to Gryffindor tower. Completely exhausted she mustered up the strength to pull her small fist up and wrapped gently on the door.

No answer.

Waiting a short while, she scoured over all possibilities of what may have happened to Snape, although she wasn't so much worried as completely annoyed that she had put in so much effort to get there on time when he was late. Probably deliberately disrespecting me she thought, gritting her teeth in an effort to control her temper.

"Hello Miss Granger," said a cool, smooth voice from behind. Though the voice sent shivers down her spine, Hermione made an effort not to turn around, and instead stared hard at the snake engravings on the door as she felt Snape brush by her and saw his ghostly hand twisting the door knob. Watching him sweep into the room, black robes trailing behind she followed him obediently.

"Always keep the enemy guessing Miss Granger," Snape told her as he floated into his chair, his head bowed and his eyes examining a long scroll of parchment set in front of him.

Hermione merely made an effort not to roll her eyes, but a disturbing thought sprang to mind. I'm the enemy.

Snape remained still, examining his parchment and seemingly ignoring Hermione's existence. Hermione took the time to absorb the room and its contents. After all, she would be spending a lot of time there; she may as well grow to be at ease with it.

The first thing Hermione noticed was the utter darkness of this place. If it weren't for the three candles that seemed to be forever burning in a golden haze on Snapes desk, the darkness would cloak their eyes. This made any effort to see around her almost impossible. Though she could make out shapes of bookshelves and vials full of coloured liquids and what she assumed were dead animals, she could not see any further detail, so instead turned her eyes back to the desk.

Snapes desk was modest. It was small, and was made of a dark stained wood that looked very much past its' use by date. Hermione could make out messy etchings in the wood, but it was so worn it was hard to tell exactly what it said, though she could tell it was written in a Latin dialect. The desk was baron, apart from the three candles, a few bottles of ink, a few spare quills and the long parchment Snape was devouring with an intensity in his eyes.

Hermione watched Snape, with a lack of anything better to look at. She studied his curtain of black hair, one side tucked behind his ear, the other draping over his eyes. She watched his hands, propped on each side of the parchment, softly clenched into fists. His nose was his most obvious feature, framed by his hair it was slightly crooked and pointed down.

Hermione wondered what would happen if she interrupted him, she was quickly becoming bored and restless, and again, like the last time she found herself in there, wished she had brought a book.

She shifted in her chair and Snape looked up.

"Patience is a virtue Miss Granger." Snape had a crooked smile etched across his face.

Hermione sank into her chair, the silence was so blatant, and the boredom so bland that she felt she might actually fall asleep. She felt a warm hand rest upon her shoulder and she snuggled closer to it, holding it in her hands she pushed it up to her cheeks. She smiled a comfortable loving smile.

"Miss Granger!" Hermione jumped with a yelp. She had fallen asleep. She was mortified.

"You must always be attentive, always be alert, always be watching. If I had been your enemy, I could have slit your throat." Snape moved swiftly back towards his side of the desk. Hermione was wide awake.

"Always know your enemies weakness," Snapes lips curled. "It seems you get bored a little too easily Miss Granger."

"So that was a lesson?" Hermione said tentatively.

"It was a test, a test you failed." Snape smirked.

Hermione gulped. Failed? She had never failed anything in her life.

"Fear of failure, another weakness."

Hermione had a strong sense that Snape had read her mind.

"And I assure you," Snape interrupted her thought pattern, "I do not need to read your mind to discover your weaknesses. Your biggest weakness seems to be the fact that you wear your heart on your sleeve. A muggle expression, no? I have no need to read your mind if it's written all over your face."

Hermione felt amiss. He was playing games with her, and all she felt like doing in that moment was ripping her face clean off and running out the door. However, sick of being bullied and feeling small and very unlike herself, she felt the sudden urge to forgo the teacher-student relationship and snap back for once.

"Couldn't hiding your heart behind a cruel, snide demeanor also be considered a weakness?" Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, she felt her sudden sense of pride and anger melt into a bucket of fear. Oh shit… she thought.

Snape merely widened his eyes in surprise. "Oh yes, it could Miss Granger." He muttered harshly as he turned his back to her.

"Or at least a sign of underlying weakness?" Hermione was shocked at her own boldness and wanted to clamp her mouth shut with a vice. Snape did not flinch. Instead he remained back facing her, silent. Hermione was scanning him for some sign of a reaction, she half expected him to turn around with tears streaming out of his eyes. Maybe she had hit the nail on the head.

Or maybe not she thought as he turned to face her. His lips curled into a smile, his eyes suddenly burrowing into hers. They looked like black pools glistening in the candle light. He moved towards her slowly. She felt her face tighten and her body pressing into the back of the chair. Was he going to hit her? Her hand scrambled inside her pocket, looking for her wand which she gripped so tightly that she felt the wood cut into her palm.

He gripped the sides of her chair and bent slowly towards her. His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips. The tip of his nose touched the tip of hers and she felt a drop of her own sweat fall from her forehead and slide down her cheek. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and holding her breath, she prodded it into his gut.

"Do not pretend to know me little girl." He hissed to her lips, paying no attention to the wand.

Hermione scrunched her face up tightly, shutting her eyes. She was frozen and small, her wand heavy under Snapes weight.

Snape relinquished his position, backing away briskly and turning his nose up at Hermione.

She felt the weight lifted and the sense of him so close to her gone, but she feared opening her eyes.

"Oh open your eyes, child." Snape snapped. With a swish of his black robe he was back in his chair, staring at the parchment once again.

Hermione opened one eye at a time, fearing what she would see in front of her. She was slightly startled to find him so far away so soon, and her body immediately relaxed sending shivers down her spine. Her heart still pounded hard and her mind raced with thoughts of fleeing the scene. Run away, RUN AWAY! Yet she was glued to the chair, staring at the man in front of her, transfixed on his calm expression and utter concentration on whatever the hell was written on that parchment.