"If I were the man I was five year's ago, I'd take a FLAME THROWER TO THIS PLACE!" - Al Pacino
"Albus, this is ridiculous. You can't keep her down there." Snape was treading a well-worn line - he couldn't remember a time when Albus Dumbledore's antics didn't incense him beyond all rational thought.
Dumbledore flicked his wand lazily, "Severus, she is a danger to herself. Even her notebooks are well beyond the grasp of the Order. You know first hand how Tom turned out."
"Lord Voldemort, sir, has been ignored and unguided since you plucked him from the orphanage." With any other audience, Snape would have been well out the door by now. His position in the Order teetered precariously under Snape's usual self-control, this uncharacteristic show of emotion was bound to draw more attention than he could afford.
Dumbledore didn't seem phased by Snape's calmly delivered insult. "Lemon drop?" He held up a lemon drop, inspecting it as though he hadn't been eating them since before Severus' school days.
"No! I do not bloody want a lemon drop. I want the Order to get out of this slump, and Hermione Granger is the one to do it." Snape was standing now; it was all he could to remain in the same room.
Dumbledore popped another lemon drop into his mouth, "The Order has a leader and you would do well to remember that next time the boy speaks at meetings. I will not tolerate this from you Severus. You have been against the boy from the beginning. He is the Chosen One. He is the one who will relieve us of Tom and his followers. This child, Hermione, has been nothing but trouble since the beginning. When I find a way to to reign in Hermione's curiosity, she will be allowed to participate in the Order."
"I know she cannot participate until she is more stable, I'm just frustrated at all the men we are losing out there. I want to help." The lies fell from his tongue easily. This is what he was born to do. Subterfuge, deceit, and manipulation. Snape forced his tense shoulders a millimeter forward as if in defeat to complete the charm. Snape almost agreed to submit to Potter's station, but just as the words were forming in his chest some innate sense stopped him, "The boy however, I will not follow around like some star-struck girl. He couldn't brew a single potion correctly to save his life."
Snape knew he played his hand well when Dumbledore's chuckle reached him, "Severus, my boy, one day you will learn there are some skills that cannot be learned in a class. The capacity for love in Harry's heart far exceeds any textbook measure of worth. Now, I must be going. I need to get Andromeda before I head to the ministry, a death eater is meddling at the ministry in affairs he ought not be."
Dumbledore and Snape left the office together and we're walking down the stairs when the door just below their feet burst to open to reveal an entirely disheveled Hermione Granger. "Headmaster, thank goodness I've caught you, I always seem to miss you when you are here, there are some anomalies in the reports I am receiving about the battles, I wanted to correct them with you since these are the reports the Order reads, and unfortunately you are the only surviving witness in many of them. Do you have a minute?"
Snape made a concerted effort not to quirk an eyebrow at Hermione's findings, he interest could not have been piqued more when Albus replied, "Miss Granger, I assure you whatever is in those reports is correct, it is the sad, sad truth. I wouldn't dwell on it too much. I myself have spent hours pouring over the notes strategizing improvements to our defenses. Their sheer numbers are our downfall, but since those reports I have made significant improvements to our tactics. Perhaps you would know more than me about it really, muggle military units would use Guerilla formations in their skirmishes. Would you research that for me? As a personal favor? It has been so long since I have read muggle history." Dumbledore was flipping though Hermione's notes, glancing appropriately at each page with red ink staining its parchment.
"Right away sir, you can expect an in depth report and presentation by the end of the week. I should get started now, there's Greek, Roman, South African..." Hermione turned on her heel and sunk back into the dark depths of the basement cataloging her research needs as she went.
As soon as the door to the basement clicked shut, Dumbledore shoved Hermione's parchment into Snape's hands. "Poor girl, she is already beginning to acquire his features. Dark, sallow. Perhaps you should keep an eye out for her." Dumbledore began to walk towards the kitchen, the Order's unofficial rallying point, where Tonks was likely to be. "Severus. Those papers. Get rid of them."
Snape already knew he had no intention to get rid of the papers as soon as Dumbledore slipped them from Hermione's unsuspecting fingers. The old man very rarely let information slip. All too often Snape, after a meeting with Dumbledore, would notice the slightest gaps in his memory. These papers were a rare occurrence. Likely they held no tangible information, almost certainly because he was able to hold them in his own hands, but if there was something Hermione Granger wasn't supposed to spend time dwelling on, it was good news to him.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place was always quiet. After a few key appearances in high-traffic areas of the house, Snape felt comfortable leaving for the day without anyone noticing his absence. First order of business: Knockturn Alley. Snape rounded a corner into a dark hallway with sheets hanging obtrusively from the walls - Potter's attempt at removing the elf heads via Standard Book of Spells, Grade One obviously failed and the sheets were his second choice. It suited Snape just fine, no one came down this hallway so it was the perfect place for his departure to go unnoticed.
His next breath singeing his lungs marked his arrival. Snape had arrived closest to Diagon Alley were the lepers like to set up shop. Snape quickly removed himself from the foul smelling concoction the man next to him was alternately sipping and smelling. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape caught sight of the pub, the reason he was here in the first place. Folding his hood over his face, Snape made his way anonymously toward the entrance. His favorite corner booth was open. Just after positioning himself at angle where the whole room was visible, Madam Nemophila appeared to take his order.
"Firewhiskey; neat. And a Daily Prophet." Snape didn't bother concealing his voice. Those who would recognize it, would fear it.
The Atrus was consistently full, not to capacity, but well enough that conversation at the bar was not forced. Today seemed to be more temperate than most, at first glance there were no drunks, no underhanded dealings, and no fights. Thus, the perfect place to contemplate whether or not to return home at long last. Knockturn Alley is a rest stop on the way to home. A place where the light and the good are only a block away, but the comforting warmth of the Dark Arts are accessible. Now to define home. For Snape, home had been limited to Hogwarts for the past seven years. Spinner's End was too close to the Lord's reach for, in Dumbledore's mind, a recovering addict. Hogwarts itself was suffocating. The intolerable children never realize the very knowledge they so ardently ignore is the key into the wizarding world. The professors, coddling and smothering where ever possible. Dumbledore, practically giving away diplomas to his favorite students so he could keep them close to the battle.
Nemophila returned with his firewhiskey and newspaper. He waved her away. There, on the front page of the Daily Prophet, was Albus Dumbledore. Delivering some kind of speech. The transcript was printed below:
"Wizards and witches of London. I cannot, in good conscious, ignore the increasing threats of our enemy any longer. Effective immediately, a nationwide curfew is in effect. This is not cause for alarm. This is merely a way to take the temptation from our attackers. We will not be made victim. Additionally, taxes are being levied to provide the full-time service of the entire Auror Department. These taxes will not fall heavily on the weak, victimized, or oppressed they will be levied from those most able to afford them. These taxes will aide the entire Ministry of Magic. I humbly take this time to call on our society's children, anyone graduating in the past five years with five or more NEWTS and in good standing with the Ministry, has been offered a place in Accelerated Auror training, starting immediately. These measures are for the good of our society, for the good of the light, and for the good of the entire wizarding world."
Snape couldn't stand to read the rest of the article. In summary: restriction, taxation, conscription, and control. The Prophet found dozens of testimonials to embolden the story, fathers proud to send their children to fight, wealthy entertainers volunteering more than their share of the taxes, Ministry officials desperately praising Dumbledore from saving their departments from shuttering their doors. The whole spectacle was a sickening display designed to placate the masses.
No, home this time was going to be far more dangerous than Spinner's End. He was going right to the source. Snape threw back his firewhiskey and flung a galleon on the table. Not bothering to wait for his change, Snape headed for the door. His black cloak billowed behind him as he wound his way through the Knockturn district.
'Those insufferable fools. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. To be manipulated by an aging wizard, a wizard revered as the only man Lord Voldemort fears, is deplorable. Homebound at risk of being arrested and questioned with Veritiserum without cause. Taxed to pay for Dumbledore's private army. Children, just barely of age, drafted into his army. Perhaps I will keep an eye out for Hermione; she is surely going to find out eventually. Albus did offer. There is no way she could have read that article and still looked Albus in the eye. Hermione would catch on to these things. She could brew a nice potion, too.' Snape's lips curled into a tight smile at the thought. He would want her.
Snape landed outside the entrance to Lord Voldemort's home in Kensington. Home at last. He could see his window across the courtyard with his curtains drawn just as he had left them. Snape never had time to stay the night here; Albus preferred his jaunts into the Dark Arts to be short, forced, and brutal. No time to dwell on the delicate intricacies of the art. Snape strode to the front door and was greeted by a house elf he didn't recognize. "Mister Snape. Olli is very pleased to welcome you back. Master is expecting you. Come, come. Olli will take you to him now."
The walk through the mansion was quiet. Snape nodded to Rookwood and Roiser, who paused in their game of chess to cast a proud glance Snape's direction. Olli was bounding a few steps ahead of him, pausing, remembering his task, returning to Snape's side, and repeating the whole cycle again every few steps. Lord Voldemort sat facing away from Olli and Snape's approach but rose from his chair in an uncharacteristic form of greeting.
"Lord." Snape had not planned his departure from the light side much further than making it to Atrus, so he resorted to old formalities. He placed his left arm behind his back and his right in front of his waist, tipping forward from the hips in the customary bow. He made sure to hold his position a beat longer than Lord Voldemort.
By the time Severus looked up, Lord Voldemort was already making his way towards him, arms outstretched. "Severus Snape. Welcome home." Lord Voldemort clasped Snapes forearm so his palm covered Snape's Dark Mark. Lord Voldemort free arm firmly held Snape by just above the elbow in a pseudo handshake. "Ah, yes the article. Interesting piece. I see you didn't make it to the next page. A humorous account of a skirmish in the Underground, apparently I lost no fewer than twelve men." Snape looked ill. "I could always read your mind you know, even when you were at the height of your betrayal. I always knew."
"Forgive me. I was foolish." When Snape was confronted with the unknown, in this case, almost certain death for his betrayal his modus operandi was to put things simply.
Lord Voldemort seemed to take a moment to breathe in the chilled air drifting across the balcony, before he responded, "That conversation is for another time. I always knew you would return and with you would come much, much more than you could have gotten while staying loyal to me. Although, I feel you are coming to me now with more than just information on Order business. Tell me. I only ever get emotions from your brain." Lord Voldemort settled into his chair as if to emphasize he saw Snape as no worthy threat.
"There is a muggleborn." Snape started with no real intentions for the outcome of this conversation.
Lord Voldemort waved his hand in a small but powerful gesture, the type careful to not waste any energy, "You know none of that concerns me. Get to the meat of the matter."
"She is Harry Potter's best friend. She wants out of the Order. She just doesn't know it yet." Snape had half the mind to stop himself, apologize for his absurd imagination, and never look back. "She is brilliant, even I admit it. Amazingly hardy, too. She has been locked in a basement for at least two months and shows no signs of dementia."
Lord Voldemort interrupted, "The Order is holding Potter's best friend hostage?"
Snape shook his head, "Yes and no. She is unaware that her situation is dire at best. Dumbledore is keeping her in the basement until he can concoct a way to break her mind. She thinks she is being kept on research duty because she is the best at it. Which she is, but no one reads her reports, anyways, no matter how much she dumbs down her language."
"This is curious, but none of my concern. In her current situation she is neither helping nor hurting my men, so I have no reason to remove her from there. Nor do I have any incentive to do, lest she prove herself both capable of rationalizing a change in allegiance and the magical and intellectual power to make her worth my while." Lord Voldemort paused to let his rationale speak for itself.
Damn Hermione Granger for nagging her way into his thoughts. Snape patted his breast pocket to locate the parchment Dumbledore had told him to dispose of, pulled it out and handed it to the Dark Lord.
"I see. Potter's best friend seems to be doing me more good in her current predicament." Lord Voldemort shuffled though the parchment, noting the corrections in red ink.
"She is looking for a mentor. Hermione. Hermione Granger. She covers university level courses worth of material in approximately a week." Lord Voldemort did not seem impressed; he had not looked up from the reports yet. "Lord, she only allows herself an hour a day away from Order business for her independent studies, and she has no one to teach her."
This, finally, got Lord Voldemort's attention. Snape was relieved he had not entirely wasted the past twenty minutes of Lord Voldemort's time. "This girl, Granger. Is not, nor will become an Order member until Dumbledore breaks her mind?" Snape nodded in response. "Then she is at no risk of fleeing?" Again, Snape nodded in response. "Then she will stay where she is until you are sure she is ready. Now that I have temporarily quelled any elaborate jailbreak plans, have you yourself broken out, or just here on holiday?"
"Closer to a lunch break than anything, Lord." Snape began to dread the moment he had to face Dumbledore. The Daily Prophet wasn't allowed in headquarters because 'it's doomsday approach to the war weakened moral', now Snape knows its because he doesn't want the Order members who all seem to be on perpetual coffee break, to have too much time to mull over his barbaric policies.
Lord Voldemort was having some trouble deciding what to do with Snape. All parties involved hoped Snape had intentionally severed all ties on his way out, so there wouldn't have to be a discussion about under what capacity Snape would return to the Order. "I'll leave you to it then." Lord Voldement collected his lengthy frame underneath himself and stood deliberately. The end result was much more imposing than Snape's warm, by all comparisons, welcome.
Snape was dumbfounded to say the least. Lord Voldemort was essentially cutting him loose. Snape had come with every intention of shackling himself to the genius he so feared seven years ago, and now he was cut free. In that small moment, the dawning of realization that he was indeed a free man, Snape decided that if he was going to come back to Voldemort's cause he was going to bring Hermione with him.
On the way out the door, Olli reappeared. "Mister Snape. Olli is very sad to see Mister Snape go. Olli hopes very much that Mister Snape will return, very soon. Olli is most excited to prepare Mister Snape's quarters." The overzealous elf was yammering the whole way to the door. Once outside, in the middle of muggle Kensington, on the most coveted street in the parish, the door seemed to have closed itself.
Back inside, Lord Voldemort made his way to the library. The library had a link to every wizarding family's home, at least the one's worth knowing. He put his finger against the portal and ordered in the voice so many had come to think as synonymous with death, "Kreacher!"
Instantly, Kreacher's face appeared. "Master was wanting Kreacher?"