A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating this story. Real life and real writing deadlines interfered for a time. But I expect to update more regularly for the foreseeable future. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews so far. They mean a great deal to me as they are the only feedback I get from this solitary project. Please let me know what you think of this new chapter.

Albus Dumbledore rushed into the portrait frame with wild eyes, his usual twinkle gone and his face showing panic rather than his usual serenity.

"Severus, my dear boy!" he said in a voice choked with emotion. "Phineas said you've gone to the safe house. What has happened? Have you been discovered?"

"No, Albus. My cover is safe for the moment, and I will tell you everything in time. However, I have someone here with whom you should speak. We need to allay a few concerns over my loyalty before we proceed."

The wizened old portrait turned his gaze from Snape and sought out the other occupant of the room. "Miss Granger, how entirely unexpected to see you. You are a welcome sight, to be sure, but if you are here with Severus, then that means things are grave, indeed."

"Oh Professor," Hermione replied, with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. "I never thought I'd see you again, not since … well, you know." Her eyes slid to Severus briefly before returning to the portrait. "I don't know what to think, being here under these circumstances. Professor Snape had told me several things, but I …"

"You don't trust him."

She nodded, again eyeing Snape with no small amount of trepidation. He returned her gaze with a frank, open look that she would never have expected see from the man. Turning back to the portrait, she decided to start with the biggest question in her mind.

"He said you asked him to kill you, that he's always been on the side of the Order. How can that be?"

"Ah, I see. Well, let me settle that question. I was cursed to suffer a slow and painful death because of a lapse in judgment. My own, that is. You remember the state of my hand in the last few months of my life? That was the work of the Gaunt ring, which I foolishly put on in an attempt to tap its power for good. I did not fully understand the dark magic of a Horcrux, you see. And so began a desperate race to figure out what Tom Riddle was up to and destroy him before I myself was destroyed.

"When it became clear that I would lose that race quite a bit sooner than I would have liked, either at the hands of Draco Malfoy or in the throes of the curse, I begged Severus to intervene, to end my torment and continue as he had for many years … a spy for the Order, working to bring Riddle down from the inside, even as you worked to destroy him from the outside. I regret a great many things, Miss Granger. But I do not regret my decision to entrust Severus with this task. You must understand."

Hermione sat back in her chair, mouth slightly open in shock. He asked Snape to kill him? To sacrifice his position within the Order and bring the malice of the Light down on his shoulders? And then to follow that with three years and counting of playing the part of Death Eater and evil headmaster on a full-time basis? My god, what a tragedy!

She glanced once again at Snape. His mask of calm had slipped a bit with the retelling of the story, and he looked almost haunted by the weight of his deeds, but then his eyes snapped up to hers and he straightened in his chair. A familiar scowl set in as if he were daring her to pass judgment on him.

"Alright," she said, looking back at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. "Suppose I believe you. That doesn't exactly answer the rest of my questions. What is this about Harry being an accidental Horcrux? Professor Snape said his death was necessary. Why? And why didn't you ever tell us?"

"That, Miss Granger, is in many ways a far more difficult tale to tell. You see, I couldn't tell you three at first because I wasn't entirely sure myself, at least for a time. It always puzzled me how Harry seemed to have a mental connection to Riddle. The pieces of that puzzle fell into place once I realized not only that Riddle had made several Horcruxes but also under what circumstances those objects could be made. From there, it became so clear to me that it was almost shocking none of us had figured it out sooner. Harry was indeed a Horcrux, and he would have to die before Riddle could be made mortal once again. It was imperative, but only after the other Horcruxes had been found and destroyed. He was to be our trump card. Yet still I said nothing. Can you imagine imparting that knowledge to a teenage wizard? Who would blame him if he ran away to spare his own life? No, better that he continue on his course as defined by the prophecy."

At this, his eyes widened and he turned once again to Severus. "And what of Harry, Severus? What of the Horcruxes? Please, I must know what has happened."

The dark-haired wizard glanced at Hermione briefly before speaking. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lower lip quivered dangerously at the memory of her friend's demise. "It is done. He played his role well, in the end. All of the Horcruxes have been destroyed. The Dark Lord is mortal once more," he said. "For now, at least. He knows, Albus. Potter showed him his memories at the very last moment. He knows, but he thinks he has neutralized every threat, so for the time being, he feels safe."

The portrait's figure slumped into a chair within the frame, as if he were physically unable to continue standing under the weight of that knowledge. For a moment, nothing could be heard save Hermione's sniffles, and a subsequent rustle of cloth as Snape extracted a handkerchief and passed it to Hermione in irritation.

Finally, Dumbledore regained his ability to speak. "Has he? Neutralized every threat, that is? What of the others?"

Seemingly unable to meet the portrait's gaze, Snape studied his long fingers, moving them restlessly as he spoke. "They are all gone, Albus. They were unprepared, outnumbered. They did not stand a chance against his forces during this final battle."

A strangled gasp emanated from the frame. "Gone? All of them?"

"To the last, as far as I can tell."

"But it's not possible! Minerva? Filius? Arthur? Surely not the students …"

"Yes, Albus, and many, many more! Shall I name them one by one and describe their injuries to you as well?" Snape huffed loudly. "I saw it all and did nothing to stop it. Not for Potter, not for Weasley, not for Minerva … none of them. You will be happy to know that, even in that hell, I was and ever am your faithful servant!" At that, he pushed back his chair abruptly, stood and stalked to the kitchen sink, where he braced his hands on the counter and hung his head in defeat.

Hermione gasped at the venom in Snape's voice. She had never heard anyone speak so bluntly to the headmaster. A quick glance showed Dumbledore to be nearly overcome with grief and shock at the news, though he didn't seem particularly troubled by Snape's behavior, suggesting that they'd been through such matters before. "The Order, gone!" he said, while clutching his beard. "Merlin help us!"

"Merlin cannot help us – or them – now," Snape said in resignation. "What is done is done, and we haven't time to wallow in grief or self-pity. There are too many other issues to hand. Besides, the Order is not gone, not entirely." At this, he turned away from the sink and fixed his gaze on Hermione. "There are two of us left, aren't there, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, well, about that, Professor Snape … why exactly am I here?"

"Would you prefer I had left you to your own devices?" he asked, incredulous that she would question him. "I'm sure Jugson had nothing but noble intentions where you are concerned."

"You know what I meant," she snapped. "Why me? You've never shown any concern for me, and in fact, I would have bet money that you didn't care whether I lived or died."

"Oh?" he said, eyes flashing in anger. "If that is true, then why on earth would I have saved you from a full-blown werewolf that night in the forest? Why would I have alerted the Order when you went haring off to the Department of Mysteries? Why would I have made sure you had supplies, information and, oh yes, the sword of Godric bloody Griffyndor so you could survive long enough to destroy Hocruxes? I care inasmuch as I want this over with, and for whatever reason, you seem to be one of the few people with enough intelligence to make any headway at all, directly or indirectly, against the Dark Lord."

"You … you did all that? You're the one who left those supplies? We would have died of starvation, illness or injury several times over without them! And the sword … I just … I didn't …" She tapered off, overcome with the knowledge that he had been looking out for them all along.

"You didn't know. Which is exactly as I intended it. And yes, I did it simply because it had to be done. It is the same reason I saved your hide today. When I heard you were still alive, I stayed and saved you because it had to be done." He paused for a moment, looking like he had swallowed something foul, before continuing. "I need your help, Granger, much as it pains me to admit it."

The words of the Centaur echoed through Hermione's mind. 'There is one who will conquer Evil with the help of another. Dark and Light will heal our world. The enemy and the hero will join their power.' Could it be this is what he meant? That she and Snape were to partner together to defeat Voldemort?

Before she could speak, they heard a gentle cough coming from the portrait and turned to see Dumbledore looking between the two with a thoughtful gaze. "I wonder if I might ask a few questions of my own."

"Of course," said Snape before regaining his seat at the table.

"Your cover, Severus. It is intact still, correct?"

Snape nodded.

"Very good. See that it remains so, at least for now. And what does Riddle know of Miss Granger's fate?"

"He believes her to be dead. In fact, he has seen proof."

"Proof?" said Hermione with a gasp. "How?"

"I have you to thank for that, Miss Granger. Perhaps you recall a little incident involving Polyjuice Potion and a cat hair some years ago?"

She blushed and nodded, remembering the shame of stealing from his potion stores and the embarrassment of turning into the wizarding equivalent of Catwoman for several weeks.

"It was I who brewed the antidote for your rather curious condition," he continued. "It took some time to work it out, as you recall. While researching possible antidotes, it occurred to me that if a potion could turn a human into an animal, or animal-like state, for an extended period of time, perhaps the reverse could also be true. From there, it was a relatively simple task to create a long-lasting Polyjuice variant to give the desired effects. I have successfully used it a few times to produce a corpse where none existed, including today. A temporal Portkey, a few of your hairs, an unsuspecting rabbit and some rather complicated magic, and suddenly I found myself in possession of one spectacularly bloody and quite dead Hermione Granger. Your body was burned along with the others before our very eyes. The Dark Lord and the others are none the wiser."

"Unbelievable. You're like some kind of magical MacGyver. Wait, a temporal Portkey? What is that?"

"Simply a Portkey that creates a minor shift in the space-time continuum, much like a Time-Turner. It allows me to leave any location and point in time for up to five minutes and return to precisely the same location and point in time with barely a ripple in the air. Albus and I designed it as another failsafe, just in case things ever went pear-shaped."

Her eyes went wide with understanding. "The button on your trousers."

"Indeed."

Hermione once again sat back in her chair, completely overwhelmed by everything she had learned. She didn't know what to say and so was thankful when Snape turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"What has happened at the castle since I left, Albus?"

"We don't really know. You are aware that Death Eaters are now occupying Hogwarts, of course. It seems that Riddle has become paranoid of the portraits and has sent his followers to destroy as many as they can get their hands on … or wands, as the case may be. As such, we are no longer able to monitor the halls. Dilys only just made it back to her frame in the headmaster's office. She appears to be missing the back of her robes, but it's hard to say for sure because she won't allow anyone to have a look. We lost Headmaster Dippet, unfortunately; he was caught out whilst consoling the Fat Lady. So far, however, the rest of us are safe in the office. It seems the castle won't let Riddle or his minions inside."

Snape smirked. "That is good. I paid a price for that bit of treason, but I am glad the castle defends us still. It is tragic, though, about the portraits. How can we know what the Dark Lord and his associates are up to if you cannot leave the office?" He pondered for a moment, then asked, "What about your other portrait? The one at the Ministry?"

"The Ministry has already been infiltrated. My portrait there has been destroyed, as have any others hung there. The portraits at St. Mungo's have suffered the same fate. Everyone else who has a copy says they're located in private lodgings, many of which have been destroyed or are no longer occupied. In fact, you're holding the only other copy of Phineas's portrait, which as you know used to hang in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. So for now this is all we have. I'm afraid I can't be of much assistance to you on this end, Severus."

"It cannot be helped," he replied, though his brow was deeply furrowed with concern. "No matter. I will be back to the castle soon enough, after I have 'rested' and 'celebrated,' as is my reward for 'services rendered at the right hand of the Dark Lord.'"

"How long do you have?"

"A couple of days. Maybe three. I will not know until he calls me."

"Well then, I'll leave you to rest. Let's plan to meet again soon. Well done, my boy. And you as well, Miss Granger." With a final nod of his head and a slight twinkle to his eye that may or may not have been a tear, Albus Dumbledore walked out of the frame, leaving it empty once more.

/

Severus let out a brief sigh (of relief or dread, he wasn't quite sure) before turning once again to the young woman currently sitting at his kitchen table. She looked back at him with an expression that seemed to reflect his own feelings – haggard, anxious and somewhat fearful of what lay ahead.

They eyed each other warily. Severus could tell she was itching to speak but it was clear she didn't quite know what to say. Albus had left the frame with the idea that everything had been settled, but had it? Severus wasn't so sure. There was still the not-so-small matter of whether Granger would be able to trust him enough to stay and help. And then, of course, there was the issue of what, exactly, she would help him do. Every possible answer to that question led to a thousand more questions, none of which he had any ability or energy to answer at present.

The moment wound tighter and tighter with tension, threatening to snap at any second, and Severus waited, knowing that everything – his fate, her fate, the fate of the entire wizarding world – hung in the balance. Does she even know what responsibility rests on her shoulders at this moment?

Finally, she spoke, but it wasn't at all what he expected to hear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away from him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. For doubting you. For working against you. For not seeing what you were doing for us. I apologize."

Had he not had more experience hiding his emotions, his surprise would surely have registered on his face. But the only signs of his shock were that his eyes widened ever so slightly and a muscle jumped in his jaw as he swallowed hard.

"It is nothing, Miss Granger," he finally replied in a low voice. "You only did what would be expected of you given the circumstances."

She looked up at him, her eyes once again filled with tears and something more … genuine remorse and perhaps even a small amount of sympathy. "Perhaps," she said. "Nevertheless, I was wrong. I am truly sorry."

He cleared his throat, unnerved by this unexpected turn of events. "As I said, it is nothing to trouble yourself over, not now."

"Fair enough," she replied, wiping her eyes once again with his handkerchief. "Well, since we are to be colleagues, of a sort, I guess we better get started, hadn't we?"

Mentally, he nearly sagged with relief, although outwardly all that happened was that he sat back a bit more in his chair. "I suppose we should," he replied. "But first, there are a few things we need to sort out, and I, for one, would very much like a cup of tea. You?"

"Please."

"Very well. I will make a pot while you move to the lounge. It will be more comfortable there."

She nodded and quickly moved to the other room while he busied himself with the tea, adding a few special ingredients along the way. It took just a few minutes to brew, but they were precious minutes in which he collected his thoughts about how to proceed. Clearly they wouldn't settle everything tonight, but there were a few topics that needed to be discussed before bed.

He loaded up the tray and walked into the lounge, only to see Hermione peeking under her robes at her injured left shoulder. Putting the tea table to good use, he set down the tray and looked at her. "I forgot that you had been hexed. Do you need help treating it?"

"Oh, it's nothing a little Burn Paste won't manage. I have some in my bag. I'll just fetch it lat—"

"No. Anything you have is likely to be out of date. Besides, you have more than a burn to deal with," he said, indicating the cut above her brow. With a swish of his wand, the potions cabinet at the far end of the room opened. "Everything in this house is as fresh as the day we stocked it, thanks to a series of stasis charms," he explained, before snatching two jars out of the air.

"Here is the Burn Paste, and this is a salve for your forehead. I apologize for not attending to your wounds earlier. We should have treated them hours ago. The risk of infection increases over time, as you know. However, both preparations are very effective if properly applied."

She nodded, taking the jars before saying a surprised, "Thank you." Opening the smaller jar, she scooped out some salve and tried to spread it on the cut on her forehead, but without a mirror she only got half of the wound. Severus watched for a moment, then reached over, dipped his finger in the tub and stretched his hand toward her to help.

She automatically flinched away from his hand, and they both froze for a moment, she in fear and he in caution. Realizing her error, she murmured an embarrassed apology and slowly leaned toward his hand once more. When he was sure she was okay, he reached forward and gently smoothed the cream across the cut, watching in fascination as her porcelain skin knit itself back together flawlessly. The magic of a properly brewed potion never ceases to amaze me, he thought.

The moment passed, and he pulled his hand away and sat on the sofa beside her. "May I see it?" he asked, gesturing to her wounded shoulder. Once again, she nodded, and began unbuttoning the top of her robe. She turned away from him and lowered the robe enough to expose the burn, wincing as the fabric brushed past the raw skin.

"That's rather nasty," he said. "Looks like Nott's work. He favors burning hexes such as this."

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him before looking back toward her shoulder. He tugged the fabric a bit lower to see the entire wound. There was no way she could have treated it herself, given the way it streaked toward the middle of her upper back. With practiced ease, he began applying the paste to the wound, pointedly ignoring her hisses and whimpers of pain.

"I'm sure you are aware healing a wound of this severity will require several applications of paste. However, there is a fully stocked potions cabinet as well as a small potions laboratory with enough fresh ingredients to make a variety of basic first aid and long-term healing potions. The larder is similarly stocked with basic food supplies."

He massaged the last of the paste into the wound. Already it looked far better than it had, and Granger was noticeably more comfortable. She smiled at him in thanks before covering herself back up with the robe. Running a quick diagnostic charm, he saw that aside from malnutrition and exhaustion, she was in decent health, with no other current injuries.

"For now, the only challenge we will face here is that this cottage was intended as a temporary safe house for one, not a long-term hideaway for two," he continued. "That means our supplies will run out sooner rather than later, but we should be fine for a couple of weeks. By then, I hope, we will have a plan."

"A plan," she murmured, before turning to face him again. "Professor, do you have any idea what to do? Where we should start?"

He sighed. "If I had a plan, Miss Granger, we would not be sitting here." He set about pouring the tea, noticing with satisfaction that she took hers with just a splash of cream, the same as he did. She took her cup gratefully and began to sip the hot liquid.

"Now then, as I told Albus, I have a couple of days in which to rest before I must return to the Dark Lord. I suggest we make the most of that time by taking stock of our resources and coming up with some possible courses of action. But first, it is well after midnight on what has probably been one of the most trying days of our lives. We should sleep now and regroup in the morning."

"Sleep? How can you sleep? We have so much to do! There must be something we can start tonight!"

"Unless you want to bring down the wizarding world with a foolish error caused by sleep deprivation, I suggest we stop for now. It is pointless to continue while we are exhausted."

"You can sleep. I'll plan."

"I don't think so, Granger."

"But I'm not tired! I'll sleep tomor—"

Just then, her jaw cracked with a huge yawn.

"Not tired? I see. At any rate, it is too late to protest. You have already had your dose of a sleeping draught, along with a dose of Dreamless Sleep, for good measure."

"What?" she shrieked, setting her teacup down with a clatter. "You drugged me again? You really have to stop doing that!"

"Forgive me. I simply did not believe you would go quietly. I was right, as I so often am."

"Well, I never—"

Another yawn interrupted her, and he smirked at her before standing and offering his hand. Reluctantly, she took it and he hauled her up off the couch, waiting for her to steady herself on wobbly feet.

"Please take the bedroom at the end of the hall. You'll find everything you need there."

She looked at him once again, this time with curiosity and a touch of awe. "Professor, I … well, thank you. For everything. I'll see you in the morning."

"Of course, Miss Granger. Sleep well."

He watched her walk toward the bedroom, staggering slightly in her fatigue. With one last look over her shoulder, she entered the room and closed the door.

Alone with his thoughts at last, Severus turned toward the fire and his untouched cup of tea. Settling back onto the sofa, he picked up his cup and drained it in a few swallows. He then transfigured a cushion into a pillow, lay down and covered himself with the blanket, which smelled slightly of herbs. Rosemary for constancy and loyalty. Mint for warm feelings, his fatigued brain automatically cataloged, just as he let loose an enormous yawn. Rosemary and mint for Granger.

And with that final thought, he stared at the flames until his eyes drooped and he fell into a potion-induced slumber, blessedly free of dreams.