The Meeting

Disclaimer: All of the characters and their abilities, etc. belong to the glorious J.K. Rowling. I make no money, I take no credit.

A/N: Many thanks go out to NervousAboutAngels for all of her hard work on my behalf with this story and with my other fanfic, "The Potion Master's Assistant." For personal reasons she has had to withdraw her assistance, but I wish her all the best in her future endeavors.

My long-standing on-line friend and beta for both stories, JENGEORGE, is still hanging in there. Her input always adds insight and helps to improve my writing and keep me straight.

And I would be lost without the help of WriterMerrin here at TPP. My grammar mistakes are many. Their vigilance is constant!

Chapter 26

The Meeting

Monday morning found Hermione back at Hogwarts to continue developing her lesson plans for the coming term. Flitwick had been kind enough to leave her his well-used lesson plans, but she still felt the need to review them all and make changes to reflect her personal experience and expertise.

Hermione was also ferrying her personal hygiene items back and forth between her house and the castle, but she finally decided that if she planned to spend every weekend at home for the foreseeable future, she would need to purchase duplicate toiletries and some additional clothing as well.

The only other problematic detail about living in the heavily enchanted castle was the lack of electricity and everything else Muggle that required it, especially her new computer. And since her owl, Gomez, had taken up residence at Professor Snape's house, she had no choice but to hike up the endless steps to the owlery for a school owl if she needed to communicate with him, or anyone else for that matter.

After lunch, she sat at her desk and had begun composing a letter to Harry. The easiest way to ask if Snape could borrow his Invisibility Cloak would be to simply ask in the letter, but Snape had implied that his plan could involve unscrupulous activities, so she opted to request a lunch meeting with Harry instead. If the letter fell into the wrong hands, no one would think twice about the two old friends planning lunch together.

Once she finished her short missive to Harry, she retrieved another sheet of her personal stationary to write a quick note to Professor Snape. She figured that one trip to the owlery per day would give her more than enough exercise. She had been a parchment-pusher for too long, but she hoped that she would soon get back in shape just from navigating the castle's endless staircases.

She dipped her quill into the inkwell and had just touched the parchment when there came a delicate tapping at the glass behind her. She turned to the delightful sight of Gomez with an envelope tied to his leg. As a joyous smile spread across her face, she threw the window open wide and eagerly gathered the affectionate bird into her arms. He snuggled up to her, engulfing her shoulders within his broad wingspan in an obvious attempt at an embrace. Then he folded his wings and allowed her to hug him as well, his face rubbing tenderly against her cheek.

"I love you, too, Gomez," she admitted as she gently kissed the top of his head.

He hopped to her desk and stuck out his leg to remind her of his burden. "Oh, sorry. I almost forgot!" she admitted with a giggle. She didn't need to see the Slytherin green wax seal or the 100% papyrus to know who had sent it.

My Dearest Miss Granger,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you arrived at Hogwarts without incident.

I would like to extend my deep gratitude for your hospitality both yesterday and Sunday last. I apologize for not writing the proper letter of thanks last week. I hope you can forgive my faux pas.

I am also writing with the hope that this letter reaches you before you speak to Potter on my behalf. I only ask that you keep in mind the very delicate nature of my request and that such things are better taken care of in person where they can be kept confidential and private.

It is with this same idea in mind that I have an additional request of you which I would prefer to make in person. It has to do with your little problem of which we spoke. Would you have a few minutes later this week to meet with me? Say the same seedy place you took your friends during your fifth year at two p.m. tomorrow? The favor from Potter can wait until later as we discussed. Please bring any and all information you have gathered on said problem.

Once again, I thank you sincerely for the delightful meal and the entertaining company. Hugo is as engaging as ever, and I must admit that Rose is beginning to grow on me. I only hope that, in time, my unique personality will grow on her as well.

I anxiously look skyward for your response.

Forever yours,

S. S.

Hermione read the letter with a mixture of delight and irritation. Was he actually afraid that she would put his request to borrow the cloak in writing? Did he think her a naïve child?

But he'd enjoyed their dinner and signed it "Forever yours." She sighed deeply. If only it were true. And the "seedy" meeting-place he'd mentioned could only be a reference to the Hog's Head Inn where she and Harry met with other students for the first time to form Dumbledore's Army. Well, at least she would get to see him tomorrow! Her irritation at his earlier presumptions dissipated as she dated the blank sheet of parchment already in front of her and quickly penned her affirmative reply.

After tying both Harry's letter and the Professor's to Gomez's leg, she gave him a quick hug and a kiss. "Please come back to me!" she begged before scratching him behind his head and sending him on his way. "I'll have some treats waiting for you," she promised after his disappearing silhouette.

*****

The sun hung low in the late summer sky by the time Gomez reached Snape's house. He still had both letters tied to his leg, and Snape could plainly see Harry's name on the other envelope, so he gave the overworked bird his pick of the dinner he was about to consume along with some pumpkin juice and sent him on his way.

What a lovely appetizer, Snape thought as he lifted the now-familiar peach envelope to his anxious nose. After taking a deep breath and holding it in for a long moment, he was pleased to see that she could meet him tomorrow at two. The more he contemplated her quest to uncover the blackmailer, the more he was convinced that she (and possibly even Potter) could end up in Azkaban without his assistance. At the very least, they could fall from public grace if they were not very, very careful. They had been the only two people in the wizarding world to lift a finger on his behalf twenty years ago. He couldn't let them fall victim to the blackmailer's manipulative ways. His spy senses told him that their every move would be watched if they got close to uncovering the truth. He shuddered at the possibilities. But if they left the spying to him, and if they both had air tight alibis when he was working behind the scenes, perhaps the true blackmailer could be caught completely unaware.

*****

Noon on Tuesday arrived, but instead of joining the rest of the staff in the Great Hall, Hermione visited the elves in the kitchen and collected enough sandwiches, crisps, cookies and tarts to feed a small army. She then Conjured a picnic basket for the acquired food and a huge insulated jug for some pumpkin juice. She shrunk it all down to fit into her robe's pocket and headed for Hogsmeade. She needed a few items from the stationary store and figured it would appear more innocent if she stopped at the Hog's Head after an hour or so of shopping.

At two p.m. sharp, Hermione pushed open the door to the Hog's Head and stopped dead in her tracks. She had not set foot in the place for years and found that it was not the grimy, dark, miserable hole-in-the-wall that it used to be. She assumed that Aberforth must have retired, because she had no recollection of his death being announced in the Prophet, and he was nowhere to be seen. In his place behind the bar stood a lovely young woman with long blonde hair and a pleasant smile. Another girl, whose perfect almond eyes and dark hair and skin reminded Hermione of something from an Egyptian Hieroglyphic wall mural, was busy wiping down vacant tables. In short, the place was bright, cheery, and spotless!! Even the windows were clean. Hermione took two steps back to look at the sign outside just to reassure herself that she was in the right place. Once reassured, she entered and searched the room for a familiar face. Finding none, she sat at a booth across the room with a good view of the main entrance. The exotically dark girl quickly stashed her cleaning rag in exchange for a note pad and quill and made her way to Hermione's side almost instantly.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Welcome to the Hog's Head. Would you like a menu, or do you already know what you want?"

"A menu? Here?" Hermione subconsciously patted the shrunken picnic basket in her pocket.

"The food is quite good, actually, now that Clementine has access to the kitchen." The waitress tilted her head towards the barmaid. "Mr. Dumbledore didn't want her to cook at first, but as the place became cleaner and brighter, the clientele changed. We're more family oriented now, as you can see." She motioned outward with a sweep of her arm. Hermione couldn't help but notice the collection of decent-looking, clean-cut citizens, some with children, that peopled the tables.

"Mr. Dumbledore? Does he still own the place? Is he here now?" Hermione knew that Aberforth had only been a few years younger than his brother, Albus, which would mean he was now close to 170 years old. She couldn't imagine that he had much energy left to run a business.

"He's in back stocking shelves. Would you like to say hello?"

Hermione glanced around again. No one else had entered so far, and she still didn't recognize a soul, although an attractive young man with fair hair and hazel eyes couldn't seem to stop smiling at her from across the room. There was something familiar about that look, that smile. She just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I would love to see him, but I'm waiting for someone, so I'd better stay out here where I'm visible," she explained to the girl.

"No problem. I'll see if he'll come out. May I give him your name?"

Hermione grinned. "Just tell him I'm an old friend."

The girl flashed a puzzled look, but nodded and disappeared through a door behind the bar.

While she was gone, the young man who had been staring finally got up the nerve to make his way towards her. She figured he had probably recognized her from a history book or the many news articles about her that had appeared over the years in the Prophet and the Quibbler, but as she watched his approach, she recognized something more... an intimate familiarity. His walk, his posture, the way his eyes danced when he looked at her, his sneer as he glanced past her towards the door... Wait – his sneer? Hermione turned her head to see what might have made the young man's features distort and discovered Harry sneaking up behind her as he tried to surprise her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Drat! Foiled again," Harry exclaimed jokingly. He and Hermione exchanged hugs and kisses, then she turned to resettle at the booth only to discover the young stranger had already slid in on her side and had made room for her to sit next to him. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation as their eyes met and patted the space she had previously occupied.

How presumptuous! she thought. But her instincts told her to trust him, so she did as she was told. Harry slid in across from them. Then both men spoke simultaneously.

"Who's your new friend?"

"What's he doing here?"

Hermione's jaw dropped in shock as she glared at the young stranger. She was about to retort when she was abruptly interrupted.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!" exclaimed the gravelly ancient voice of Aberforth Dumbledore as he approached the table.

"Aberforth!" Harry stood and vigorously shook the old man's hand. Hermione stood to give him a peck on the cheek. The young stranger nodded in his direction but barely lifted his derriere off the seat before sitting again. Aberforth gestured, and Harry slid towards the wall to make room for him.

"Merlin, it's been years, you two," he said, smiling at Harry and Hermione in turn. "And decades since I've seen you, Severus!"

"Shhh! Not so loud," the stranger beside Hermione snarled through his teeth in a very familiar voice. His glare softened a bit with embarrassment at being discovered so easily. "What gave me away?"

Aberforth laughed. "You can Polyjuice away that giant eggplant on your face and those corn kernels that are supposed to pass for teeth, but no potion can get rid of your irritating glare or your arrogant swagger!"

"I do not swagger," he denied defensively. "That trait is reserved for Potters!"

Before Harry could retort, Aberforth continued. "And if that sneer you gave Harry hadn't given you away, your voice certainly would have."

"I happen to like your nose," Hermione came to Professor Snape's defense.

"Merlin, love is blind," exclaimed Aberforth. Harry tried unsuccessfully to stifle a snicker as Snape's eyes narrowed at him.

"It suites your face. And Aberforth, I'll have you know that the Professor's teeth are much improved since his years at Hogwarts." She turned back to Professor Snape, beaming. "They sparkle now."

The young face blushed deeply as Snape studied the napkin on the table before him. It was a relief to know that his years of suffering at the hands of a Muggle dentist had paid off after all.

"But Aberforth is right, I knew there was something familiar about you the moment I first saw you," admitted Hermione. "Something about the way you looked at me. And your voice definitely gave you away."

Snape scowled. "I must be out of practice."

"I would imagine that as long as you disguised your voice, only your very best friends would pick up on your mannerisms, Professor," Harry added helpfully. "I hadn't a clue who you were until you spoke."

"The old geezer here knew me from across the room!" Snape growled. "And he's about as close a friend as Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Old geezer, eh?" snarled Aberforth. "You'll only wish you look this good when you get to be my age!"

"In your dreams, you old fart!"

"Listen, you sorry arse, I suffered your ugly mug at least once a week for what, fourteen years? Fifteen? I'd have known it was you if you had stolen a hair off Rosemerta's pretty head!"

Snape shot him a look of disdain. "Speaking of barmaids... How much are you paying your barmaid and waitress? They certainly aren't here because of your charmingly persuasive personality!"

"At least they agreed to work here. If you ran the joint, I bet with your ingratiating, sarcastic, abrasive wit, even a hag wouldn't last through the first week!"

Harry and Hermione stared uncomfortably back and forth at the two men as the banter became more heated. But just as Harry felt that he might have to break up a brawl between them, Snape smirked. Then the two started laughing loudly. "You're probably right, old man... Although, believe it or not, Winky has stayed with me for over twenty years."

Aberforth leaned over the table towards Snape with an astonished look. "Has she really?" Snape nodded. "Well, I'll be damned." A moment of companionable silence passed as Harry and Hermione let out their collective breaths of relief. Then Aberforth leaned back and slapped the table. "She's a house-elf. She doesn't count!"

"She does, too!" insisted Hermione indignantly.

Snape reached out and lightly touched her wrist. "He's joking, Miss Granger. No cause for alarm."

Harry raised a knowing eyebrow as Snape's hand lingered, and Hermione rested the fingers of her other hand on his.

"Still defending house-elves, Hermione?" Aberforth prodded her playfully.

"I guess I can't help myself," she said with a sheepish shrug.

"Sorry to hear about you and Weasley... " He changed the subject as Snape extricated his hand from her grasp and discretely slid it off the table. Aberforth noticed that Hermione's face showed momentary distress until her hand also disappeared. When she met his piercing blue eyes again, her look was one of contentment. He could only deduce that she had found Snape's hand under the table and was managing to hold onto it. "... But then again, maybe I shouldn't be too upset about it if you aren't." He wagged his bushy grey eyebrows at them and flashed a derelict grin that made him look decades younger.

Hermione felt the heat on her face and could only imagine what shade of red she was turning when the waitress returned with a round of oak mead for everyone.

"On the house," insisted Aberforth with a nod. "It's not every day that we are graced with three war heroes, even if one is thinly veiled."

Snape snorted as they all raised their glasses.

"To a peaceful life," toasted Harry.

"Here, here!" joined in the others.

As the mead was consumed, the time passed with updates on the escapades of Harry and Hermione's children. Snape remained conspicuously silent during this part of the conversation even when Hermione mentioned his tutoring in the new potions making methods.

"So was it you who taught them the boil hex then?" Harry asked.

"How did you know?" asked Snape.

"Under-aged magic is monitored by the Aurors' Office," he explained. "I was on call last Sunday, and I saw the alert. But if it's a minor infraction, we don't investigate."

"Yes, I imagine if you were required to look into every incident of under-aged magic that took place in wizarding Britain, you would need a much larger staff," Snape commented. "It was hard enough to control at Hogwarts." He glared accusingly at Harry. "Some of you were trouble the moment you arrived."

Aberforth chuckled. "Too bad you can't teach anymore, old friend," he reflected with a melancholy air. He reached across the table to shake Snape's hand as he stood to leave. "I've got work to do, unlike some people!" He glared teasingly at Snape. Then he shook Harry's hand as he backed out of his space in the booth and turned to Hermione for a hug. The trio watched Aberforth's retreating frame with obvious affection.

Just then, the waitress reappeared with her quill and note pad at the ready.

"Give us a minute," Snape demanded quietly. With a quick nod, she instantly made her way to another table. When he knew she was out of ear-shot, he leaned into Miss Granger's side and whispered in her ear. "I'm going out back to Apparate to the Shrieking Shack. After you two consume another round, join me. But don't mention to Potter where you are going, and use the tunnel from the Whomping Willow to get there. Be certain you are not followed. My disguise is about to wear off, and I can't be seen." He stood and motioned for her to move so he could leave. As she did so, he squeezed her hand discretely then walked in the direction of the loo, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Isn't that weird?" Harry observed. "Now that Aberforth mentioned it, I can tell it's him. It's like Snape, but with a mask on."

"Hermione nodded as she waved the waitress over. "Two more meads, please."

"What about your other friend?"

"Oh, he had to leave. He had an appointment."

"But I thought he just went to the loo," Harry chimed in. "Isn't he coming back?"

Hermione gave him a motherly glare as if Harry were a misbehaving child. "No," she repeated gently but firmly, "he had an appointment."

"But I thought you said that he wanted to ask me something?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Then what the bloody hell did I come all the way out here for?"

Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to calm. "Please, keep your voice down. And besides, what am I, chopped liver? Let's just enjoy our mead and not worry about him."

"But..."

"Drop. It."

"Whatever." Harry pouted and rolled his eyes as his stomach churned. Snape would always be Snape no matter how much Polyjuice Potion he drank. But, Merlin's monocle, now it seemed his rudeness was beginning to rub off on Hermione!

The second round arrived and was consumed in an awkward silence. Then Hermione pulled out her purse and retrieved a few coins to leave on the table.

"Are we leaving already? I thought this was a lunch meeting. I'm starved!"

"Relax, would you?" She placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "I've got a picnic basket full of food in my robe's pocket. Let's go enjoy it, shall we?"

"Is the food from Hogwarts' kitchen?"

"Where else?"

Harry's annoyance instantly dissipated at the thought of consuming an elf-cooked meal from Hogwarts. His mouth was already watering. It had been too long.

They both stood enthusiastically, their sour moods forgotten, and headed out the door. She led him through the streets and down the long path back to the school.

"Wanna go sit by the lake?"

"No, actually, I have something else in mind."

"Where, then?"

"It's a surprise."

"What could be nicer than under a tree by the lake?"

"Nothing, I suppose. But this destination is not about pleasantness. It's about," she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "keeping secrets."

"Oh?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Well, I don't care where we eat, as long as we eat soon!"

Hermione laughed. "You're as bad as Ron."

"No, no. Ron would have insisted we eat before we left the Hog's Head."

"And he would have still eaten the picnic lunch when we got to our destination," Hermione added.

They both started laughing as she dropped the wards at the front gate. While glancing over her shoulder periodically, Hermione led Harry on a meandering path that finally ended at the Whomping Willow. Everyone had thought the tree to be a lost cause after the destruction it suffered during the final battle, but over the years, it had managed to make a comeback. It wasn't quite as large or magnificent as it had been in its glory days, but it could still wreak havoc on anyone or anything that got too close. And best of all, the knotted root that held the secret to stilling its rage was located in the same place.

Hermione turned 180 degrees around as she cast a silent Notice-Me-Not charm. Then she used her wand to levitate a large rock over to the knotted root and let the rock fall with a thud. After a disbelieving glare from Harry, they shimmied through the roots and down into the secret tunnel that led back to the Shrieking Shack.

"Are we going where I think we're going?"

Hermione remained silent.

"For lunch?! That's disgusting! I think I've lost my appetite!"

"Lumos!" was her only reply as she lit their way with her wand. They walked the rest of the way in angry silence, with the exception of some grumbling from Harry when the passage shrunk to the point he had to stoop.

"I'm too old for this."

"You'll live."

"Maybe, but I'd like to live with my back in good working order."

By then they had arrived at the end of the tunnel. A disintegrating crate had already been pushed aside in anticipation of their arrival. Hermione climbed out first, and she was pleased to find Professor Snape restored to his familiar self, even though he was still wearing blue jeans and a tan jumper.

"It's about time," he remarked with disdain as Potter also emerged. "What took you so long?"

"You told me to be sure we weren't followed, so I took the scenic route around the school grounds for a while before we made it to the Whomping Willow."

"Are you certain no one saw you?"

"No one could have followed us through the front gate, because I reengaged the protective charms as soon as we were inside. And although I doubt they are as extensive as Dumbledore kept them during the war, they are still formidable. Besides, I cast a Notice-Me-Not charm before we slid under the tree."

"Oh, is that what you were doing?"

Hermione nodded at Harry and then turned to Professor Snape. "So, why all the cloak and dagger?"

"I'm sure you recall the fiasco that ensued the last time I appeared in public?"

Hermione huffed. "If only Stan Shunpike hadn't opened his big mouth. Aberforth won't talk, though, will he?"

Snape smirked. "He knows I'll hex him into next month if he does. And, in spite of the way we both behaved, he is one of the few people I can truly call a friend."

"He reminds me so much of his brother," commented Harry. "Especially now that he's older and his beard and hair are much longer, like Professor Dumbledore used to wear his."

Snape turned abruptly to Miss Granger, his mood suddenly much darker. "So, I'll ask again. What is he doing here? I told you the cloak could wait for this weekend!"

Hermione stepped back in dismay as the waves of his anger washed over her. "I asked him to come," she replied defensively. "This investigation concerns both of us. Both our reputations are on the line if things go wrong. He has a right to know what the game plan is." She felt her pulse rate jump as her uncertainty grew under his stormy gaze. "Besides, I asked him to meet me for lunch one day this week on your behalf, and he suggested today, so I thought I would kill two birds with one stone. Since this all concerns him as well, I thought it was logical to have him here."

"Well, you were wrong!" Snape snapped.

"Look, Professor, I know I'm not your favorite person, but..."

Snape spun on his heel to face Harry. "This is not about a lack of fondness, Mr. Potter." His look softened considerably as he reminded himself that Potter was innocent of any misjudgments in this case, for once. "It's not your company I object to. It's the circumstances. Until this investigation is over, we must not, under any circumstances, be seen together. No one must know that I am working behind the scenes on your behalf." His two cohorts nodded in understanding. "From now on, I will meet with you both separately. Miss Granger, with you back at Hogwarts, this would probably be the safest and most convenient place for us to meet if we cannot wait for our usual Sunday dinner ritual."

"Oh, so it's a ritual now?" asked Hermione with a touch of sarcasm, still resentful of his anger.

"Why here?" asked Harry. "I thought this would be the last place you would ever want to come back to."

Snape raised a wise eyebrow as one side of his mouth curled. "Precisely."

As comprehension dawned, Harry nodded. "Brilliant." He began to glance around the room and noticed that, although the dust was as thick as ever, there was no trace of the huge puddle of Snape's blood that had once discolored the floor boards. He looked back at his former professor who happened to be steeling a longing gaze at Hermione as she reached into her robe's pocket to retrieve their lunch and conjured a table cloth to cover one of the dusty crates. Harry smiled. He had seen that look on a much younger Snape's face in the Pensieve so very long ago. Harry now knew beyond doubt that Hermione held his heart. He would kill for her. He would die for her. He would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban for her, just as Harry would for Ginny. Hermione was indeed a very lucky witch.

Snape's heart filled with both pleasure and anxiety as he watched Miss Granger enlarge the basket and arrange the food for three people. "Umm... I hate to admit this, but I already ate."

Hermione turned towards him, disappointment evident. "Dessert, perhaps? Pumpkin juice, at least?"

"An elf-cooked Hogwarts meal, Professor." Harry also attempted to entice him. "It doesn't get much better than that."

"A Winky-cooked meal is just as good," Snape insisted with a grin.

"If not better," replied Harry and Hermione in unison.

"I'll be sure to pass on your compliments to her. She will be pleased beyond measure." He watched intently as Miss Granger continued to remove the culinary treasures hidden in the picnic basket. When she unearthed the treacle tarts, his willpower faltered. "Come to think of it, lunch at home was hours ago. Perhaps a mid afternoon snack is called for after all."

Hermione was so delighted that he had changed his mind that her irritation with his earlier attitude dissolved. She had been afraid that he would get the meeting over with and depart, but his relaxed demeanor gave her confidence that this would turn out to be a very pleasant afternoon after all. She conjured them each a comfortable chair, and they gathered around the make-shift crate-turned-table.

"So, Hermione tells me that you have a favor to ask," Harry attempted to jump-start the conversation that had lagged as they all tucked into their food.

Snape glanced at Potter and then at Miss Granger. "So you didn't tell him... Good girl." He smirked as he watched her ire rise.

"I'll have you know that I would not have put the request in writing even before your instructions. I made it through a war, if you recall. I helped hide Harry from Voldemort for almost a year. I wasn't born yesterday, you know!"

Snape's amusement grew in direct proportion to her irritation. "The war took place a long time ago, Miss Granger. You have not been a practicing Auror all these years as Mr. Potter has." He gave Potter a cursory nod. "I couldn't take the chance that your instincts for secrecy had grown weak over time."

"We could all use a bit of honing on our covert under-cover skills, Professor," Harry came to Hermione's defense.

"Yes, Polyjuice isn't enough to hide some identities, especially one as distinct as yours," Hermione needled him.

Snape pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as he realized he was being ganged up on. "Fair enough," he admitted as he reached for a raisin-spice cookie. "None of us can afford complacency or all of us will fall. But in spite of my slip earlier, I still must insist that I am more of an expert at stealth, secrecy and gathering intel than either of you." He cast an appraising glare at Potter. "There will be times when I must keep you in the dark as to my activities, and I'll wager that nothing I learn will be admissible in court, but I will be able to help you discover who the real culprit is so you will know if you are on the right track. And I should be able to direct your search for credible evidence as well."

"Why can't you tell us of your plans?" asked Harry.

"So you can answer truthfully if asked. I will make you privy to any helpful information I uncover, but it will then be up to you to prove it to the Wizengamot."

"What if you get caught?" asked Harry cautiously.

Snape raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "I won't. You forget to whom you are speaking."

"You're rusty, as you proved this afternoon in the Hog's Head," Harry reminded him.

Snape's brow furrowed with impatience. "What are you so worried about?" he asked viciously, "That I'll drag you down with me if I am discovered?"

"No!" barked Harry, obviously offended. "I'm worried what might happen to you. I understand your need for secrecy; it's to protect us as well as you. But if I don't know what you're planning to do, I have no way of helping if something goes wrong." He dropped his eyes to the floor and took a deep breath. His next statement was almost inaudible. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you... or if you ended up back in Azkaban for trying to help us – again."

"Nor could I," Hermione readily admitted. When she dared a glance at Professor Snape, he seemed all too interested in his cookie. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. But when he finally looked up, he searched for Harry's face instead of hers.

"As your mongrel Godfather was so fond of saying, 'What's life without a little risk?' My life had become almost unbearably boring," he admitted as he turned his gaze to Miss Granger, "and lonely, until you wrote to me back in February. If you must know, I miss the intrigue, the challenge. I've actually been looking forward to this. And don't worry..." He glanced back in Potter's direction and gave him a crooked smile. "... I promise not to kill anyone – except in self defense."

"Of course." Harry grinned back enthusiastically. "We really could use your help. We're at a loss as to how to proceed."

"I have several ideas for you, but the most important thing you both need to do is to throw off the blackmailer. Let him think you've lost the trail. Investigate other people. Miss Granger, didn't you tell me that you must log out every book from the Records Office?"

"Yes."

"It's time you started logging out books that have nothing to do with Umbridge or her activities. If she is indeed the guilty party, it is very important that she has no idea she's being investigated."

"Oh, dear. If she looks at the log as it stands now, she might get suspicious."

"Exactly." Snape turned his attention back to Potter. "What is your next move?"

"Based on Hermione's research, I was going to visit every hometown of every immigrant who claims to be a pure-blood since just before the second fall of Voldemort, retracing Umbridge's steps."

Snape adamantly shook his head. "Bad idea."

"But we need to identify anyone else who might currently be paying off the blackmailer," he protested.

Snape sighed in impatient exasperation. "You're too famous. You'll attract too much attention if you go around asking questions, even in a foreign country."

"And you're not?" asked Hermione incredulously.

Snape turned to her and flashed his trademark smirk. "I have plenty of Polyjuice and hair from my next door neighbors."

"Is that who you were posing as earlier?"

"Yes, the eldest son. He's off to University now, but before he left, I asked if he could collect hair from his family for me to use as a weed stop in my greenhouse. I'll probably pose as the father most of the time when I go to ask questions. He looks like an authority figure, and his hair is solid white, so I won't have to worry about picking the wrong person's hair from the zip-lock bag."

"Zip-lock bag?" asked Harry with a laugh.

"It's a Muggle thing," explained Hermione. "You wouldn't understand."

"Excuse me?" Harry glared indignantly at her. "How many years did I suffer through the Dursleys? I know what a zip-lock bag is. I just can't imagine Professor Snape using one."

Hermione snickered. "Sorry, Harry. I had forgotten about the Dursleys."

"Merlin. Wish I could do that!" Harry rolled his eyes skyward as if asking permission to banish his horrid blood relatives from his memory.

"Can we get back to the issue at hand, please?" urged Snape impatiently.

"Right. So, I go about my usual Auror duties and you track down potential victims. Hermione checks out random books on Fridays and tries to throw Umbridge off track."

"Or whoever it is we're after," interjected Snape. "One must be careful not to form an opinion. When that mistake is made, the evidence gathered tends to mold itself to the theory and the true culprit could ultimately go unnoticed."

"You've seen the evidence. Who else could it be?" asked Harry stubbornly.

"Perhaps she's being set up," Hermione suggested, remembering her earlier conversation with Professor Snape the previous Sunday.

"I still say she's involved somehow," insisted Harry.

"And you're probably right," Snape reassured him. "Knowing her, she is working to help someone, but she will maneuver her position to appear the victim if she were ever to be discovered. If she had attended Hogwarts, I have no doubt that she would have been sorted into Slytherin."

Hermione looked confused. "What do you mean, 'if she had attended Hogwarts?' If not there, then where did she go to school?"

"I have no idea. I just know there is no record of her ever attending school at Hogwarts. Perhaps she was home-schooled."

"Or," Harry said suspiciously, "Perhaps she is an immigrant as well." He shot Hermione a sly glance.

"Right, another research project that will focus on Umbridge. I still don't like the idea of wasting my time every Friday just to throw her off."

"You don't have to waste your time," Snape explained. "Just check out a variety of books, some that help you, some that don't. If she looks at the logs, she won't be able to tell that your research involves her."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Then she silently chided herself for thinking that he would ever want her to waste her precious research time.

"Professor, you never told me what it was you wanted me for."

"I apologize, Mr. Potter. I don't need you, exactly. I need your Invisibility Cloak. Just for a few days. Could you pass it to Miss Granger at the Ministry on Friday so she can give it to me on Sunday?"

"May I ask what you need it for?"

"Something you'd be better off not knowing about. And when I actually do the deed, you will both need air-tight alibis."

"But how will we know exactly when you're going to do it?" asked Hermione.

"You can't expect for us to surround ourselves with people for days on end." Harry scowled, exasperated.

"Patience, Mr. Potter. I'm getting to that. We will need a discrete and undetectable form of communication. Miss Granger, I do believe that during your fifth year, you came up with such a system for Dumbledore's Army, did you not?"

Before Hermione could answer, Harry blurted out, "The coins!"

"Of course!" she added.

"Only this time, may I suggest something we will be less likely to accidentally spend?" asked Harry. "Mine almost ended up in Madame Puddiefoot's till several times."

"We could use Muggle credit cards. I get these fake cards in the mail constantly," Hermione suggested.

"As do I," admitted Snape. "Good idea. They fit easily into a pocket."

"They would survive the laundry," she added. "But they're only good for a very short message.

"Not a problem. There are only two messages I would ever need to send. The first is 'alibi,' which would mean that for, say, the next two hours, you would both need to be seen in front of several other people, and I would advise, in this case, the more the merrier."

"Perhaps the message should read, 'friends.' It sounds less suspicious than the word 'alibi,'" Hermione suggested.

"Good idea," Snape agreed. "The other message would be to arrange a meeting. To simplify matters, we could always meet here at two p.m. and the only thing that would have to appear on the card is the date."

"But two p.m. won't work for me once school starts. I'll have classes to teach."

"And I could be on a stake out or in a staff meeting or something. I can't always guarantee that I can make it here by two p.m. either."

Snape's lips formed a thin line as he appraised his two cohorts as if they were back in his classroom. "Oh, please! When the Dark Lord Summoned me, I dropped what I was doing and Apparated. A couple of pathetic whiners, you lot!"

"You wouldn't curse us if we were late, would you, Professor?" asked Harry playfully.

"Don't try my patience, boy!" retorted Snape.

"What patience?" quipped Hermione.

Harry snickered while Snape ignored her comment. "We could use a series of numbers to convey a time as well as a date. If either does not suit you, you can set a different one that does and send it back to me. That is, of course, if Miss Granger can make the charm work both ways." He raised his eyebrows at her in challenge.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I wouldn't be much of a Charms Professor if I couldn't, now would I?"

Snape smirked. "If we get into a bind, I suppose we could send our Patronuses."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry confided. "Your doe Patronus was publicized during your trial. Someone might remember and recognize it."

"Very astute observation, Potter, but that will no longer be a problem"

"Has it changed?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Snape nodded. "I cast it this morning for the first time since I used it to lead you to the Sword of Gryffindor in the Forest of Dean." Harry and Hermione both leaned forward in anticipation. "And I no doubt have you to thank for the change, Miss Granger."

"Is it an otter now?" Harry couldn't resist blurting out his hope.

"No, but it could still cause a great deal of commotion if I can't control it better."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry and Hermione in unison.

"It's a Phoenix."

The two former students gasped in awe. "Dumbledore's Patronus," whispered Harry.

"But why do you attribute its new form to me?" Hermione asked, obviously bewildered.

"I'll explain later." He gave her a look of finality which let her know not to press further. She should have known better than to ask such a private question in front of Potter.

"What do you mean by the control issue?" Harry reiterated his question.

"A Phoenix cycles from chick to dull feathered immature, to glorious adult, to decrepitly aged, and after a good burn, back to chick. If I can manage to create a chick or an immature version of the Phoenix instead of the glorious adult that everyone once was familiar with, no one would realize what it was, and there would be no speculation as to Albus Dumbledore's possible resurrection."

"Yeah, a chick would be perfect," Hermione thought out loud.

"I don't recall anyone with a baby bird Patronus," Harry added jokingly. "First a doe and then a baby bird. The fierce and evil Severus Snape! No one would ever suspect." He and Hermione openly laughed at the thought.

"A very large baby bird!" Snape snapped curtly. But even he couldn't help but see the humor in its absurdity. "And I'm not sure yet if I can pull it off. Hopefully, it will never be necessary. But no matter what form it takes when it arrives, it will not deliver its message until you are alone and have cast the necessary charms to assure complete privacy."

"Of course, sir." Harry laughed as he tried to recapture his composure. He felt like he was back at school and had just gotten away with doing something naughty.

Snape looked intently at the mirthful Potter and Miss Granger in turn, lingering a bit longer on the latter as it pained him to release her from his gaze. Her laughter was like a tonic to him. Her eyes like the sun lighting his world. It pained him even more to make his next statement because he knew the afternoon's pleasantries would soon be over. "I believe that covers everything, yes?"

They both nodded. Hermione's entire demeanor sagged as she realized that their meeting was about to end and she wouldn't get to see her precious professor again until Sunday. And owls were so much slower than email.

"Oh, one more thing, Mr. Potter, how soon will you require your cloak back?"

"As soon as possible, if you don't mind. It comes in handy at work sometimes."

"Yes, I imagine it does. In that case I will hand deliver it to your home. I would like to avoid setting foot in the Ministry if at all possible."

Harry smirked. "Gee, I can't imagine why."

Snape began to turn in a circle and wave his wand systematically as he dropped the privacy and anti-Apparition wards. He could see Miss Granger's face fall with each flick of his wand. He had to admit, if only to himself, that the idea of going home without her did nothing to lift his spirits.

Harry sensed their need for a moment alone. "Well, this has been fun, but I've got work to do. My lunch hour was up hours ago." He quickly shook Snape's hand and gave Hermione's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll expect to hear from you," he said with a nod to Hermione, "when my credit card is ready." She nodded. "Later then." He stepped away and vanished with a loud crack.

"I really enjoyed today," Hermione admitted quietly as she closed the gap between them, "in spite of the fact that you got so mad at me for inviting Harry." She reached for the soft combed cotton of his jumper.

"You understand my reasons, don't you?" he asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Of course. But you could have just explained it to me. You didn't have to get so mad."

He gently pushed her back so he could gaze into her eyes. His stare was stern but kind. He needed her to see the sincerity in his next statement. "I have a short fuse, Miss Granger. You, of all people, should know that. And although the remorse I feel over the incident is genuine, I can say with certainty that no amount of remorse will prevent me from snapping at you again in the future. That aspect of my personality will never change."

She nodded sadly as she tried to snake her arms around his waist. "I know how you are, and I don't care. I only know that I miss you terribly when we're not together."

He finally relented and pulled her close. "I miss you, too," he whispered as he laid his cheek on top of her head. They allowed themselves a few moments of silent companionship. Then Snape kissed her forehead and extricated himself from her grasp. "Sunday will be here before you know it. Then school will start and you will be too busy to miss me. In the mean time, let's focus on the task at hand."

"Agreed," she pronounced with a determined nod. "But do you have time to explain about your Patronus before we go?"

Snape sighed heavily. "I suppose." He felt apprehensive about being left alone with her. He still didn't trust himself to keep his emotional or physical distance.

"What could a magnificent Phoenix possibly have to do with little old me?"

He delicately caressed her cheek as his eyes bore into hers. "Can't you see?" He smiled as he shook his head. "It's not out of deference to Albus Dumbledore – the manipulative old coot! You pulled my body from the jaws of death in this very room, and you resurrected my soul with your letter back in February. I was withering away, Miss Granger. You and your children gave me a reason to remain among the living. These last few months I have felt like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. I was not at all surprised by the change."

Hermione's eyes grew wider with each of his words. Her heart soared as she could see the sincerity in his endless black eyes, hear it in his velvet voice. Tears began to well up in her eyes at the thought that she could have such a positive impact on this legendary man's tragic life.

At the sight of water in Miss Granger's eyes, Snape felt a surge of emotion that made his body react in a very embarrassing way. He dropped his hand from her face and took a step back. "Now," he began to hastily move the conversation in a safer direction, "I believe we both have some work to do. Should I send you a few bogus credit cards to charm?"

Hermione would have needed a surgically sharpened silver Potions knife to cut the thick sexual tension that stretched between them. One quick glance downward let her know what he was trying to do and why. But when the notion of shagging him right there on the dusty floor crossed her mind, she couldn't help but turn beet red and look away as she felt the heat surge from her face to her loins.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" She gasped slightly as their eyes met.

"Credit cards... should I send you a few?"

"Oh, yes." She nodded absentmindedly, looking back to an empty spot on the floor with longing.

Although a woman's sexual desires don't manifest as obviously as a man's do, Snape could still read the signs. Her pulse, her respiration, her perspiration, her sudden lack of concentration... Caressing her cheek had obviously been a bad idea. It was not a gesture a friend such as Potter would have made. He had to get better control of himself around her or they would be each other's undoing. "Why don't you head back and I'll erase any evidence that we were ever here?"

Her face filled with disappointment, but she knew it was for the best. Besides, she wanted their first time to be someplace nicer than the dusty hard floor of the Shrieking Shack. And, by Merlin, she promised herself there would be a first time for them... some day. But she took a step in his direction because one more hug would certainly be a nice way to say goodbye.

"Into the tunnel – now!" He threw her a mock scowl which quickly morphed into a smile. If he let her have her way, they might never leave.

"I'm going, I'm going." She climbed down through the hole and turned back just long enough to throw him a kiss.

Never one for sentimentality, he simply rolled his eyes then added, "GO!" with such authority, she instantly disappeared from his view. He stood in still silence for a few moments as he stared mournfully at the space she had just occupied. Then he took a deep breath and began to erase all traces of their presence, even their footprints in the dust. One last turn to double-check, then in an instant of silent spinning, he was gone.