A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. I never expected it would take me more than two months to return to this project. It was a busy summer, but I also just didn't know the best way to move our beloved characters forward in their journey. This is more of a transition chapter than anything else, but I felt it was necessary to get to the next bit of action. Anyway, here is the next installment for your reading pleasure.

As soon as the spell was uttered, whiskey-colored eyes locked with eyes the color of midnight and Hermione let out a small gasp. Severus could feel her body sag under the assault on her mind, and her hands clutched his shirt in an effort to keep her body upright. Wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her still, he dove into her mind and began searching for her meeting with the centaur.

As every Legilimens knows, an untrained mind under forceful attack will automatically bring forth the very memories its owner most wishes to hide. After all, one can hardly say, "Don't think about what you had for lunch" without automatically thinking about that very thing. But Severus was surprised to discover she was actively attempting to steer him away from the memory he wanted to see. He didn't know she had studied Occlumency, unless … Of course. Potter. She must have studied up on it in order to help Potter. For a moment, he felt a grudging respect for the girl. It had taken him years of working with a master of the craft to be able to get that far, and she had done it entirely on her own.

Images swirled around him in the mists of her mind. Benign memories of classes at Hogwarts. Late nights on watch around a campfire. Christmas morning the year she got her first bicycle. Shopping for a gown for the Yule Ball with a woman he could only assume was her mother. There! An image from the battle!

He started following that thread, hoping it would lead him to the scene he needed to see, but he could feel her panic level rise. Other memories kept getting in the way, almost as though she were throwing obstacles in his path. Packing and repacking her beaded bag in the attic of the Burrow in preparation for their years on the run. Recovering from a dark curse in the Hospital Wing. Stealing ingredients from his stores. Brewing Polyjuice Potion in the girls' lavatory. Kissing Viktor Krum. Heated glances over a meager dinner in the forest. Tangled limbs and pleasure and—

Suddenly he found himself in a long hallway filled with doors that were slamming in quick succession as memories were hidden from sight. Ah, he thought. Finally got enough control to put up some proper defenses, did we?

He stopped his offensive to observe how she organized her mind. Chronological order. A rookie mistake, he thought with a childhood memories were the first to be locked up, then her years spent in Muggle primary school, being ostracized for her intelligence and social awkwardness. Her first shopping trip to Diagon Alley, six years of classes, adolescent drama and misadventures at Hogwarts, three very tough years on the run hunting Horcruxes, the battle at Hogwarts, and there, at the end of the long hall … a door with extra locks for her most private memories. With a flick of a tail, the centaur slipped through that door, which closed with a resounding echo. There was nothing left but complete stillness and a silence that was deafening in its absoluteness.

He moved along the hallway with purpose, now that he knew exactly where to go. There was no need to break through the other doors; those memories held no interest for him. He wanted to get in, get the Centaur memories, and get out.

Approaching the door, Severus used Legilimency to trace the mental defenses that Granger had erected to shield her memories. There was always a weakness – an Achilles' heel, of sorts – if one had the ability and the patience to find it. Thankfully, he had both in abundance. Time, however, was the element in short supply, as he knew the connection could not last forever.

He worked quickly yet methodically to study every square inch of the door and the wall surrounding it. It was of medieval design – thick wood studded with iron bands and nails. Several locks lined the edge of the door, and seemingly for good measure, a heavy chain and padlock hung from a thick hasp in the door to a ring in the adjoining wall. It seemed nearly impenetrable. He stood still for a moment, studying the puzzle before him, and then started his search again.

This time, instead of inspecting the obvious – the locks and iron reinforcements – he focused on the rest of the door – the wood and the jambs. In a matter of moments, he found the fatal flaw in her design. The door hung on a simple and incredibly weak pivot hinge.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She had spent so much mental energy constructing the imposing structure and deterring locks that she failed to see to the security of the rest of the door. Mentally conjuring a lever, he wedged it under the door near the jamb and popped the entire thing off the hinge with practically no effort at all. Archimedes would be proud, he thought wryly as he shoved the door open.

It was bedlam inside as Granger struggled to respond to the attack, but she was clearly no match for a master Legilimens. Ignoring all the other memories, he quickly found himself immersed in the one he wanted most. He felt his anger rise as he saw the Snatchers harass, then bind, the witch. I will deal with them later, he vowed.

And there it was – the centaur leaning over Granger and speaking intently to her. Straining to hear, he leaned forward. "The war between wizards will not end at dawn. However, 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. The stars have foretold it."

His brow furrowed as he dissected that bit. There is hope yet. But Potter is dead. So who is this hero? And who is the enemy?

It seemed Granger was thinking along the same lines, because the centaur continued, "We know the prophecy of which you speak. We follow the destinies of wizards, for often those destinies are intertwined with our own. … Daughter of man, blessed with great power, do not be afraid. There is much pain ahead, but there is one who can help. Open your mind, and your path will become clear."

The memory dissolved before he could think on it further, and he found himself quite unexpectedly in a dimly lit room, someplace entirely unfamiliar to him. Turning quickly to survey his surroundings, he was stunned to see Granger, Potter and Weasley obviously sharing a less-than-platonic moment on what appeared to be a hotel bed. Just as Potter leaned in from behind to kiss Granger's neck while Weasley began to unbutton her shirt, Severus felt a sharp pain on his cheek and he was tossed out of the memory and back into the present.

He saw a livid Hermione Granger rearing back to slap him a second time. With reflexes honed through decades living and working as a spy, he grabbed her wrist and smoothly pushed her backward until her body met the wall with a slight thud. They simply stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide and nostrils flared as they struggled to catch their breath from the intense emotions and sheer magical effort expended in the previous moments.

"I have been practicing Legilimency since before you were born. You cannot hope to defend against me, Granger," he finally ground out. "Next time, show me what I need to know so I do not have to go looking for it. Who knows what I'll see next?"

"Next time, you can go to hell!" she snarled. With that, she wrenched her arm from his grip, ducked under his other arm and stalked down the hall to her room, slamming the door behind her.

He stood for a moment in shock, then turned and slammed a fist into the wall. "Fuck!" he cursed, before hanging his head in frustration and defeat. His mind was reeling from the images he saw in her head. Another goddamned prophecy! And she thinks it involves me. Absurd!

But no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he realized it wasn't so absurd after all. Who else was there from the Light besides the two of them? And until yesterday, Granger had seen him as an enemy. Hell, he'd worked hard to ensure it! A bitter laugh nearly escaped his throat. Do not be a fool – she still sees you as an enemy. Needling her about her relationships just to get a reaction and then forcefully invading her mind will not help to change that perception.

A pang of regret over his actions lanced through his gut, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. But that pang was quickly replaced by a wave of fear, grief, isolation and hopelessness. It was nearly overwhelming, but he quickly took control of his emotions and shoved them to the background. There was much to consider, and he needed his wits about him. Knowing it would be a while before Granger calmed down enough to speak about the situation rationally, Severus decided to do what he always did when he needed to think – brew. He turned on his heel and retreated to the cottage's potions lab to create a salve to soothe his throbbing knuckles. The door slammed shut in his wake.

/

I slapped Professor Snape. I slapped a Death Eater. I slapped Snape AND I told him to go to hell! Merlin, what have I done?

Hermione paced back and forth in the small room, hands clutching her thick hair and panic marring her features. She winced as she heard him lose control with an expletive and what sounded like a fist connecting with a wall, followed by a slamming door. He's not just mad, he's furious. Oh, god, he's going to kill me! He'll kill me but it will be a slow, bloody, agonizing death, and he'll enjoy every single minute of it!

She stopped pacing and leaned against the door for a moment before sliding down to rest on the floor, knees up and head buried in her hands. Amidst her panic, as well as her shame over him seeing her most private memories of Ron and Harry, she felt a thin tendril of logic thread its way into her head. Be reasonable, Hermione! He may be mad, but he won't kill you. You're the only one left of the Order. The centaur gave you the prophecy, which means the prophecy depends on you. And if Snape meant it when he said he wants to end Voldemort, then he must help you fulfill the prophecy. You will have to find a way to work together. There's no other choice.

Not for the first time in the past 48 hours, Hermione rehashed everything that had happened since the moment they set foot in Hogsmeade. Her grief, though still raw, was starting to make way for the more urgent issues to hand – namely, the rather precarious position both she and Snape found themselves in at the moment. The world as they knew it had ended yesterday. All of their allies, and many of their loved ones, were dead. They had been forced together with no other options, one presumed dead by her enemies, the other treading dangerously as a spy amidst the ranks of the most evil wizard of all time. They could barely stand to be in the same room, yet they were supposed to work together to save the wizarding world. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, that's what, she thought ruefully. Then again, I am the brightest witch of my age, or so they say, and my magic is powerful. Even Purebloods can't deny it. And while he may be a bastard, he's also incredibly intelligent and nearly unmatched in terms of sheer magical strength. We would make a good team … if we don't kill each other first.

That thought led her to consider their next steps. Voldemort is mortal, and we must find a way to destroy him while he is at his weakest. But how? A potion? A spell? Physical force? Muggle warfare?

Before she knew it, an hour had passed as she mentally catalogued the pros and cons of each option. No obvious solution presented itself, but one thing was clear: She and Snape would have to work together, without malice, to create a plan. She needed him, and he needed her. The only way that would work was if they had some clear ground rules.

With a deep sigh, Hermione hauled herself off the ground, smoothed her hair and clothing, and set out to find Snape.

/

Severus sat on a stool watching the salve simmer slowly, its surface still except for the occasional thick bubble burbling its way through the viscous solution. The preparation itself didn't take long, and it was such a simple potion that he could do it in his sleep if pressed. But it kept his hands busy for a few minutes and freed his mind to think on other things – namely, an evil wizard, a bushy-haired know-it-all and a meddling centaur that had enslaved him to yet another prophecy. To be fair, he had already committed to bringing down the Dark Lord, but he had wanted to do it on his terms, not because a man with a horse's ass said the stars had foretold it.

Not only that, but he also didn't know how he would manage to work with Granger. Granted, he was the one who had plucked her from the battle and saved her life with the sole purpose of helping him on his quest, but now it seemed as if he had never really had a choice in that, either, and she was about to drive him mad.

And then there was the issue of how to destroy a very-much-mortal evil overlord without tipping his hand or paving the way for a successor. If only there were a how-to book entitled "Banishing Evil: How to Destroy a Dark Lord – and Save the World in the Process."

A magical indicator hovering next to the potion began to flash, indicating that it was time for three clockwise stirs and three anti-clockwise stirs to finish combining the ingredients. Picking up a glass rod, he performed the task quickly, and then doused the flame. Just as he was about to pour the completed salve into a small tin, he heard a knock at the door.

Bracing himself for a potential battle of the wills, he muttered, "Enter."

Granger peered around the edge of the door, distracted for a moment at the sight of the lab but clearly anxious about coming face-to-face again with Severus.

After a tense silence, Severus spoke. "Are you ready to stop acting like a petulant child?" he asked with one raised eyebrow.

"That depends," she replied as she walked into the room and crossed her arms defensively. "Are you ready to stop treating me like one?"

"Will you stop hiding critical information from me?"

"Will you stop insulting me and taking whatever you want without regard for my well being?"

He winced a bit at that, but then his eyes narrowed in irritation. "Will you stop answering my questions with questions?"

Her lips quirked up a bit in amusement. "Will you?"

Her face sobered at the sight of the scowl that appeared on his face, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, I admit that I should have given you full disclosure on everything, but I've spent the last three years thinking that you betrayed us all. I can't just turn that off. The last few days have been … difficult, and this here, with you, well … it's too much, too fast, you know? I can't process it that quickly. I wasn't ready to talk about it."

He was quiet while he finished packaging and labeling the salve. Then he scooped out some to apply to his hand while he spoke. "I can understand that, Miss Granger, just as I hope you understand that the information you withheld was and is of utmost importance to our situation. You should have told me sooner."

He saw her hesitate a moment before jerking her head in reluctant agreement. He continued, "I will endeavor to earn your trust; however, please understand that we do not have the luxury of time. You need find a way to get over your prejudice toward me so you can trust me wholly and completely, and soon, or we will fail."

She watched his long fingers massage the salve into the small cuts and bruises that littered his right hand. "I understand. But I do have a few conditions of my own, if you don't mind."

At that, he looked up at her with equal parts curiosity and apprehension in his eyes. "If you feel it is necessary …"

"I do."

A slight wave of his hand gave her permission to proceed.

"I am no longer your student, and you need to stop treating me like one. This must be an equal partnership, where we both use our skills and talents where and when appropriate, and we step back and listen to each other where and when appropriate. Also, if I am going to be sharing what I know with you, I ask that you do the same with me."

"You remember that I am magic-bou—"

"Yes, I know there are some things you can't tell me," she interjected. "But there are many more things you can tell me, and I expect you to do so."

He paused while he sorted that one through in his head, looking for loopholes, but after finding none, he nodded. "Very well, then. Equal partners and full disclosure. Anything else before we seal this agreement with our blood and the sacrifice of our enemy's firstborn?"

Her eyes widened in horror, causing Severus to smirk. "Oh, do stop gaping, Granger. It was a joke."

She gave an exasperated huff. "See, that's another thing. You don't joke. You don't tease. You've always just been …" She paused to find the right words.

He sighed and rolled his eyes before inserting, "A bastard. Yes, I know. You may have mentioned it a time or two."

"No! I mean, well … yes, but not only that. You've always been deadly serious, angry and paranoid. That, I can predict and know how and when to respond. I don't know what to do with a Snape who doesn't act that way."

"Look, Granger. You may have known me for several years, but the reality is that you do not know me at all, nor I you. I am a living, breathing human being, not a machine. Therefore, I feel emotions the same as you – anger and suspicion, obviously, but also sadness, happiness and fear. And while I know you are a bossy little swot who always runs headlong into trouble like a good little Gryffindor, I am quite sure there is more to you than that. We must therefore learn to know, accept and trust each other if we are to work together. It will not be easy, I assure you. But, based on recent events, including that memory I saw, it would seem we are doomed to suffer each other's presence no matter what we think about it."

She was silent for a moment, then she thrust out her hand. "Well, then. Let's start over. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hermione Granger."

He looked at her in shock. Her face was open, her expression friendly. When was the last time anyone had looked at him that way, without fear, mistrust or at least an ulterior motive? Never, or at least not since Lily … He waffled for a moment, but then, making his choice, he reached out his own hand and grasped hers firmly. "And I am Severus Snape. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

"Hermione."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Hermione. If we are to be equals, then I refused to be called Miss Granger like an ickle firstie."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he couldn't argue with that logic. "You have a valid point … Hermione. And since I am no longer your professor, you may call me the Most Honorable Lord Snape."

She gaped at him for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. "And that was another joke. Very well, Lord Snape – or should I say, Your Excellency?" she said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

"Severus will do."

She smiled up at him warmly, and at that moment he realized he still had hold of her hand. With a slight flush in his cheeks, he gave it a firm shake and quickly let go before turning back to the mess on the workbench.

/

Well, that went better than I expected, thought Hermione. She nearly sagged with relief when he turned away to clean up the cauldron he had just been using. With shaky hands, she once again smoothed down her hair, and then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an effort to calm her nerves.

She took a brief moment to look at the small but well stocked lab in which they were standing. A long granite-topped workbench took up the center of the room. It had three separate workstations equipped with burners, cauldron stands and other essentials. Shelves, cupboards and counters lined three of the walls, and a deep sink occupied one corner. A variety of cauldrons hung from hooks in the ceiling, and she could see a door that was partly open to reveal a closet full of carefully labeled ingredients sorted in the same system Snape … Severus … used at Hogwarts. Finished potions and salves were stacked neatly on an apothecary shelf located near the door.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of the room. It was somewhat familiar to Hogwarts, minus the dank smell of the ancient dungeon.

"As you can see, this lab is equipped with enough ingredients and potions to see us through just about any common malady, injury or other problem we may encounter during our time here," Severus said, interrupting her reverie. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He was drying his hands with a white towel, having finished cleaning up his workstation.

"There are a number of dangerous ingredients in here for some of the more questionable potions in my repertoire. I advise you to think and ask before touching anything you do not recognize. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir … uh, Severus."

He smirked slightly, then leaned back against a counter and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Go ahead. I can see you have questions. Ask them."

"It's just … earlier, while I was in my room, I was thinking about the task ahead of us. Vol— You Know Who is mortal, so all we have to do is find a way to kill him. I just thought that there must be some potion or spell that could do the job. Maybe even Avada Kedavra. And if not, we could always use Muggle weapons or sheer physical force. But the question is, where do we start? When? And how?"

He dropped his head and studied his dragonhide boots for a moment before answering. "If only it were that simple. He may be mortal, but he is also very cunning and exceedingly paranoid. It will not be easy to slip him a potion or catch him unawares. He is also very well protected by fiercely loyal followers. True, there may be some who regret their actions, but their fear of reprisal outweighs their desire to do anything to betray him. They are certainly outnumbered by those who believe with every fiber of their being that the notion of pureblood supremacy is righteous, noble and worth dying to defend. And then there are those of his followers who would eagerly step in to fill his shoes should he be defeated."

He paused, seeming to weigh his next words very carefully. Looking up and meeting her eyes, he said, "Whatever plan we come up with must be entirely foolproof. It must not only destroy the Dark Lord but also destroy any possibility of an uprising. There will be no second chance at this."

"But you yourself said we don't have the luxury of time! A plan that would not only consider but also neutralize every possible threat would take months to work out, months to execute! Who knows what horrors will take place while we sit and wait?"

"I am aware of that!" he replied, his voice rising in irritation. "However, I believe we need time to make sense of where things stand at the moment. The Dark Lord has only just defeated the Order. His next move is known only to himself. We should not act until I have returned to him and received not only my orders but also plans for the new regime. The consequences will be unfortunate, but we cannot risk moving too soon."

Her eyes went wide. "But … but people will die while you are off playing Death Eater!"

In a voice as cool as ice, he replied, "Welcome to the hell that is my life."

She slumped onto the nearest stool. It had not truly occurred to her that while Severus had spent decades spying for the Order, he must have seen things too terrible to name, all the while unable to act for fear of betraying his secrets. Yet without the information he fed to the Order, many, many more would have suffered. He had to allow bad things to happen in order to pave the way for the greater good.

"How do you stand it?" she whispered. She could feel him studying her intently, but she couldn't bear to look into his eyes.

After a moment, she heard him speak softly. "I hardly can, some days. But I do what I must, with the hope that someday, it will all have been worth it – that the sacrifices I and countless others have made will make a difference and lead to a brighter future for our world. I do what I must, and you will, as well."

Tears filled her eyes and her head dropped into her hands as she thought about the difficult road ahead. It was already too much; how could she bear more?

Severus pushed off the bench and came to stand in front of her. "Granger … Hermione, you can do this. We can do this. And it will come to an end. Not today, not even tomorrow, but the prophecy was clear that it will end. And frankly, I put a lot more faith in the truth of a centaur's prophecy than in one made by a crazy witch masquerading as a Seer. After all, look where that one got us."

She scrubbed at her eyes one last time, then looked up at him. "You're right. As much as I want it to be finished now, I know that acting rashly won't help anything. We'll wait, we'll plan, and we'll act when the time is right."

"Indeed. Now, if you are quite finished, we still have much to discuss before I am Summoned back to his side."

"When will that be?"

"That is unknown, but I would not count on having more than another day – two at most – before I am called. We need to prepare for that. Now, shall we?"

Hermione nodded her head and followed him as he turned and swept out of the room. He wasn't wearing robes, so the effect was somewhat diminished, but the Snape flair was still there, even in jeans and a plaid shirt. She couldn't help but shake her head. Some things will never change.

/

The rest of the day was spent with Severus showing Hermione the rest of the cottage and the grounds. In addition to the rooms she had already seen, the cottage had a large walk-in pantry filled with supplies and a three-season back porch complete with a fireplace and some cozy, if mismatched, furniture. There was a thriving ingredients garden that, like the rest of the cottage, had been in stasis until yesterday, so every plant was healthy and lush. A few benches lined the path that wound among the beds and trees that dotted the clearing. It was picturesque, and it would have been an ideal vacation spot if the situation were any less tragic.

Along the way, Severus explained the magical properties of the house and grounds. Yes, it is under a Fidelius Charm. Yes, it is larger inside than outside, but no, it cannot be expanded magically given that it is already at its magical limits. No, the house is not sentient in the same way Hogwarts is. No, it does not function like a Room of Requirement, and yes, supplies will run out. No, one cannot Apparate from within the house or grounds. No, the floo is not connected to the Floo Network. No, one cannot send or receive owls. Honestly, what is it about the term 'safe house' that you do not understand, Granger? Everything must be brought in or taken out through the perimeter wards and only by someone who has been added to the blood wards, and currently only I fit that description, which is something we must change. And no, that does not mean that it is absolutely secure. Nothing is completely failsafe.

Severus also explained the other wards and enchantments that protected the property, and he showed her where the boundaries lay. Finally, he took her to the front door, where he withdrew a small silver dagger.

"I need to add you to the wards. Anyone who tries to enter the home without having the correct blood signature or explicit permission by someone with an approved signature will be thwarted, if they have even managed to get past the perimeter wards intact, which is highly unlikely."

"'Thwarted?' What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus raised an eyebrow before replying, quite matter-of-factly, "It means they better hope someone comes behind them with a basket to pick up the pieces."

He could see the wheels turning in the girl's head while she worked out the imagery. A shudder ran through her body before she turned back toward the door, squared her shoulders and raised her chin in an effort to prepare herself for the inevitable.

"What do you need from me?" she asked.

"Your wand arm, if you please."

Hermione raised her right arm, and he grasped her hand with his left. Turning her hand palm up, he raised the dagger in his right hand and murmured, "Quod potest transire sanguine, quod tutatur cruor – patitur sanguinem in hoc circulo."*

On the last word, he swiftly drew the dagger across her palm directly through her lifeline. She gasped in pain and instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm. After a moment, in which they both watched the blood pool in her palm, he raised her arm and pressed her hand against the doorjamb. The blood smeared across the wood, then glowed briefly before sinking into the surface, leaving no trace behind.

Magic crackled around them as the spell took effect. A moment later, her hand was healed and all traces of blood removed with an efficient spell from Severus. And with that, they headed into the cottage to continue their discussion over dinner.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you'll take a moment to tell me what you think of this story so far. Reviews help feed the creative beast.

* "Blood that may pass, blood that protects – allow this blood into the circle." (Translation by Google Translate – an imperfect tool, I realize.)