Lucius Malfoy paced angrily back and forth in the fireplace room. He must have been mad to have imagined, even for a moment, that Hermione Granger liked him. And even more insane was the fact that it made him angry at all. What did he care whether a Mudblood, his slave at that, liked him or not? How did he come to care for her?

He stopped in front of his fireplace. The thought that he might actually care for her that much only occurred to him the moment he thought it. He quickly glanced over at his wife, who was looking out of the window with an impassive expression, waiting for Severus to arrive. She had once been his idea of perfection: beautiful, rich, educated, pure-blooded, submissive. He had placed her on a pedestal, which she had happily accepted, and for many long years she had remained there, no matter how uncomfortable the position had become - because she submitted to him, rightfully recognised him as her superior. With the Dark Lord's return, that had changed bit by bit, and today, nothing reminded him of the woman he had once loved. Still, she had been perfect then. A woman had to be submissive, pleasing to the eye, able to carry on a conversation without being the centre of attention, and always an adornment on a man's arm.

Hermione was none of these things. It was not possible that he should feel anything remotely to do with love for her. She was his possession, she made him feel like a man, and she helped him forget the darkness of the world around him with her honest nature. That was all it was. She was right. To her, he would only ever be the Death Eater, her thoughts would never be able to be just with him, but would always return to her friends and everyone else who was suffering. She was too pure and too good in the truest sense of the word to ever accept him. He had been a fool.

"Narcissa," he said softly as he walked towards his wife and then gently placed his hands on her upper arms to pull her close. "You are still as beautiful as ever."

He felt her stiffen under his touch and his unexpected words, but when he gave her a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, all tension fell away. "It's been a long time since you gave me a sincere compliment without directly following it with an insult."

"I can't explain to myself why I treated you so despicably," he agreed with her. "A real man would never treat his wife the way I did."

When Narcissa turned to him, he could see an indulgent smile on her lips. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear. Unusual circumstances have driven other people mad. The important thing is that you've finally woken up and are back with me."

Instead of an answer, Lucius pulled her into a kiss. The feeling of lips coming towards him, giving themselves to him willingly, even encouraging him, put him in high spirits. He kept his eyes closed for a long time, completely surrendering to this warm feeling, which had little in common with the passion of foreplay, but simply testified to intimacy and affection. When he finally took a step back to look into the eyes of the woman in front of him, he froze. Unconsciously, the image of Hermione had crept into his mind and he had actually forgotten for a moment that he wasn't holding her, but his wife.

The sound of Severus sinking into one of the armchairs freed Lucius from his horrified stupor and saved him from having to answer to his wife about his strange expression.

"As always, you're as quiet as a cat, Severus," he greeted his guest as he took a seat opposite him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Hermione also entered the room and was standing in a corner, ready to fulfil her master's wishes. Sometime in the last few minutes, Draco had also snuck into the room and taken a seat in one of the armchairs without him realising it.

"It's less down to my ability to move quietly and more to do with your wife and her distraction that you haven't heard me before, I'd say" Snape replied dryly. Lucius saw Narcissa give him a conspiratorial look before joining him on the sofa.

"Well, Severus, did you find what you were looking for in our garden?" she enquired as she distributed the tea with skilful hands and offered everyone biscuits and cakes. She really was a good hostess who carried out her duties conscientiously without the slightest hint of effort, Lucius realised once again. The perfect wife.

"Indeed," came Snape's reply. "However, I will probably have to come round again next week. One of your late bloomers is very late this year and I couldn't take any leaves from it today that are suitable for potions. Next week might be a different story, if the cold weather hasn't driven the plants in the greenhouse into hibernation by then."

"You're always welcome," Narcissa whispered, while Lucius just looked grim. It was the visits from Severus that always threw Hermione off balance. Not that it mattered any more, but he still had the feeling that the Potions Master was not so welcome. He was grateful that Narcissa was so comfortable in the role of hostess that the conversation never came to a standstill. So he didn't notice that he was unusually silent and introverted.

Hermione, on the other hand, did not miss the change in mood. Nor had she missed the moment of tenderness that Lucius and Narcissa shared before she entered. If the wizard couldn't be alone, it was probably better that he focussed his attention on his wife. She herself had other things to worry about anyway. And yet. Her feeling of loneliness intensified; even Draco's brief look of concern failed to cheer her up. Sure, she still had something of a friend in him, but it wasn't the same connection she had had with his father. It had been Lucius who had helped her come to terms with her experience with Snape and discover a completely unknown side of herself. It had been Lucius who had made her feel safe. Draco couldn't do that, he was too young and too scared and weak himself. And Snape couldn't either, because he would be leaving the house again very soon.

She did her chores at the table like am automatic doll and before she knew it, it was already dark and Snape was getting ready to leave.

"You do not have to accompany me to the door, Narcissa," Snape said as she stepped to the door to escort him from the grounds, "It is quite sufficient for your slave to do so, that is what you have her for."

There was a warm smile on Narcissa's lips as she replied, "I thank you for your visit, Severus. I really do. I don't know what happened, but I think Lucius has finally... come back to me. If you ever need my help with anything, just let me know. I'll be forever in your debt for all the things you've done for me and my family."

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine as she watched Snape expressionlessly allow the warm embrace. She knew he was playing a part and that he was good at it, but it was still hard for her to see him so intimate with someone who had tried to kill her just a few weeks ago - and probably still wanted to get rid of her despite everything. She quickly put her coat around her shoulders to accompany her former teacher to the gate.

"Well, Miss Granger," Snape began as soon as they were out of earshot, "It looks like our little manoeuvre earlier was doubly successful. Not only does Lucius still not doubt the violent nature of our relationship, but apparently this observation has driven him back into the arms of his wife. That can only serve you right, can't it?"

Hermione swallowed. Why did she have the feeling that there was more to Snape's words than was openly stated? As indifferently as possible, she replied, "Of course. Narcissa Malfoy is not someone whose wrath I like to incur."

He scrutinised her from the side, but said nothing more. Hermione had to force herself not to give in to the urge to talk about their plan again, because he had made it very clear that they would only talk about it when he felt it was appropriate. After a few more steps, which seemed like an endless amount of time, they arrived at the gate.

"As I'm sure you've heard, I'll be back here next week," Snape said after turning to her. "Until then, I'll think about how we can get you a wand. I assume you can remain silent, but I would like to emphasise once again: It is of the utmost importance that no one, absolutely no one, learns anything about this plan. No matter how trustworthy someone may seem to you, keep quiet. It may seem absurd to you, but there is every chance that someone will present themselves to you as an ally who is not. People tend to become careless in the presence of slaves after a while," he explained in a serious voice. "Accordingly, it has often happened in the history of mankind that slaves have been the target of those who wanted to find out the master's loyalty. Do not think that you too cannot be observed and deceived. In fact, as the slave of a man as controversial as Lucius Malfoy, there is a good chance that sooner or later you will be approached by someone with less than good intentions. It may even have already happened and you just didn't realise it."

Hermione felt the need to roll her eyes. None of what he said was new to her. Accordingly, she just raised an eyebrow and replied, "Like you, for example? You could very well be an ill-meaning spy presenting yourself to me as an ally to find out more about the Malfoy family."

"That's exactly what I meant," Snape replied, though his words no longer sounded serious, but almost proud.

Suddenly Hermione felt that strange elation again, that inexplicable good humour. Was she trying to make him proud? She looked down at her feet, confused. The days when she had craved the praise of her teachers, when all her self-confidence had depended on making her teachers and parents proud, were long gone. Where did this sudden urge to smile broadly come from, just because Snape was perhaps proud of her? Snape, who had done cruel things to her.

"I have no idea what's going on inside you," his voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "But I can read every emotion. I don't care why one moment you're grinning as though you've taken leave of your senses and the next you're looking as if you don't understand the world anymore. The fact is, I can see it on your face and that's not good."

Hermione's high spirits, which had already been dampened by her confusion, evaporated completely. One moment she had been given something like respect and pride by this man, only to present herself as an idiot the next. Of course, he was right. Even if she couldn't stop a Legilimens, she didn't have to make it so easy for her enemies. She had to learn to control her emotions better. She had always thought that she was already very good at it, but obviously not good enough.

"What do you think will happen when you stand in front of the lord and your face literally glows with joyful anticipation?" Snape asked in a biting tone. "Even the slightest wrong movement can betray you, can betray us. Learn to control yourself. Reason alone is not enough."

"Yes, damn it!" she burst out angrily. "You don't have to tell me all this, I'm not a little kid anymore. I know that!"

"Obviously you don't."

Eyes flashing, Hermione put her hands on her hips. She wanted Snape to realise that she wasn't stupid, that she knew what she had to do, that she knew where her weaknesses lay. She wasn't as ignorant as he thought she was. The fact that he told her these things at all hurt her. She was better than that. "I know all that. I may not be able to do it very well yet, but I am aware. I'm doing my best to learn self-control. You don't have to keep rubbing my nose in it."

"Unfortunately, doing your best is not enough," he returned unimpressed. "I've taken you into my confidence because I can't go through with the plan alone and because I think you're capable. Make sure you're ready."

With these words, he turned round, opened the gate, and disappeared. Frozen, Hermione looked through the open gate. She wished she could just run away, just take that step through the gate and disappear from the estate. But even if it hadn't been for the magical barrier that prevented it, she couldn't have done it. She had to stay in the house for their plan to work.

Shoulders sagging, she closed the gate and slowly made her way back to the house. She should have been pleased that Snape told her that he thought she was capable. It was the strongest compliment he had ever paid her. But he had made it so unmistakably clear that he expected her not to disappoint him, that she could just feel the endless weight of expectation. She didn't want to disappoint him. Not only because the future of the wizarding world depended on the success of the plan.