Prologue

"Why the hell do you still keepthisaround?" Ron picks up her copy of New Theory of Numerology by Lukas Karuzos, flips to the flyleaf, "Property of Draco Malfoy," and tosses it into the garbage bag.

"NO!" Hermione squeals, pulling out the book, dusting it off and placing it lovingly into her bottomless bag.

They're sitting on the floor of the girl's Hogwarts dorms, sorting through their belongings after graduation.

"You're never gonna read that."

"You'renever gonna read your old texts," Hermione repeats.

"What's in it for you? Bet Malfoy cursed that one."

She would admit that he was right, but Malfoy 'gave' this book to her. Well not really gave, he left it on her desk after she looked at it once, saying it was covered in 'Mudblood germs' or something of the sort. Still, the book was in very good condition and Malfoy annotated it well with some exemplary comments. Like the one about the goat and number 6...you'd have to have been there to laugh. He could be quite clever, when he wanted to.

"Why are you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

Ron bugged his eyes out, flapping his lashes. "Draco Malfoy gave me his book."

"You prat," Hermione cried, laughing.

She kept the book.

-x-x-x-

Present Day

Hermione pulled the hem of her cardigan down, deciding she should have changed her two-day old shirt before attending this Order meeting. "Err, why is everyone staring at me?" she whispered to Ron, who looked redder than curry paste.

All eyes of the Order blinked in unison. Fred and George exchanged a snigger and elbowed the other as Albus Dumbledore slowly entered and approached her.

"Perhaps, my dear, it is best to talk of this privately." He shoo-shood the Weasleys and Tonks and Lupins and Potter out of the room and shut the door. Waving his wand, he offered to conjure her up a cup of tea. Earl Grey, of course, with a spot of milk and a biscuit. Hermione was well into her beverage when he offered up his request.

"How do you feel about Severus?"

Hermione spat out the tea, looking at the pious, old man with twinkling eyes. "Pardon me-"

"Do you find him suitable?"

"For the purpose of-"

"Sexual activity."

Hermione lowered her cup. "Headmaster, are you quite well?"

"A bit of rheumatism in my fingers. Thank you for asking."

"It isProfessorSnape." She paused. "Mr Snape...we're speaking of? And with all due respect, I think you're looking for someone older than nineteen."

He considered. "Perhaps age is of greater importance in the Muggle world, but I assure you Severus-"

"-Mr Snape-"

"-would be willing. That is if I'm correct."

Correct in what, she would have asked, had Dumbledore not wheeled in a projector and inserted a blown up frame of Professor Snape from what appeared to be his first year teaching at Hogwarts. He was a young wizard with piercing black eyes and a steady gaze that made her legs criss-cross into a tight knot. He had dark chestnut, almost black hair that was swept back...a single wavy strand caressing his cheek. His lips curved into the semblance of an easy smile.

"As you know, our dear Professor has been employed at Hogwarts for well over a decade. What may surprise you is that he has also been employed under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

He flipped to the next slide showing a photo of an older Professor Snape, likely after spending over a decade in the dungeons teaching potions. His hair was now reaching well past his shoulders and as greasy as bacon on a Sunday skillet. His skin was sallow and pale and his lips curved into an easy scowl.

"Professor Snape has not been seen since your sixth year at Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed deeply, remembering the candlelit vigil in his honour the Slytherins (voluntarily) and the rest of the staff and students (forcibly) attended. "That unfortunate incident in the Forbidden Forest."

Coincidentally, it was also the same year Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle mysteriously transferred to the Durmstrang Academy of Dark Arts on scholarship.

"You were made to believe that," Dumbledore said. "I have reason to believe your Defense Professor, nee Potions Master, is alive and well and hiding away with the rest of Tom's followers."

Hermione shrugged. "And where do I come in?" She being neither one of Voldemort's followers nor one of Snape's friends.

Here, Dumbledore also had an answer, and unsavoury one at that. From a box behind the projector, he produced a pile of essays and handed them to her. Yes, they were her Dark Arts essays for Professor Snape's class and looked well-read at that. But upon lifting up a couple, she noticed they were stuck together by an egg-smelling, crusty white liquid.

"Did you find these essays in Professor Snape's office?" she asked stupidly.

"If you can call a bedside table an office."

Hermione dropped the essays faster than he could finish that sentence, grimacing.

"As you can see, Miss Granger, your essays produced quite the effect on the wizard. It is my belief that you could find common ground with him, provided you create an incentive."

The wheels in Hermione's head turned quickly. "If I may." She enchanted the space in front of her to act as a floating blackboard and wrote out the details with her finger. "You would like me to find Mr Snape, seduce him with a few of my essays and then get information for the Order on Voldemort's whereabouts?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Well done!"

Hermione thought quickly. "Do you know who is very good at tracking? House Elves. Dobby!"

"My sources say he is hiding in America."

She tried again. "Remus has an American passport."

"I have managed to procure a travel visa from the Ministry."

"And Moody's wand work is really brilliant."

"One of the American Ministry Aurors will accompany you."

"And youknowthat the Ministry doesn't set foot in the British colonies overseas anymore."

Dumbledore placed one warm hand on her shoulder. "Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall and I have trained you for many years. Did you think the Time Turner and all the extra courses were for nothing, did you?"

Hermione swallowed. She had been the only student at the school to have access to higher magic and increased course load. And she did ask McGonagall if she could be in charge of a major mission in the near future. "D-Do they have to be e-essays?"

"You will use your discretion." Dumbledore handed her a small breifcase. Inside was a Illvermony student card, a pressed uniform and Portkey tickets to New York. "I trust you will make good use of these. The Order is counting on you. You are our most brilliant graduate."

Those are the very words that make Hermione's little heart soar. She leaves the headquarters giddy to take on her new secret mission, forgetting full well she has to seduce the one man that is going to be the death of her.


A/N: dedicated to excessivelyperky for her awesome idea of the Death Eaters lounging about in Jamaica. TBD. Plot spoiler. Also on a side note, this is not a threesome story. More of a love triangle. Sadly FFN has no tag system, but in case you were looking forwards, this is not *that* kind of story.