Chapter 1

I.

...

She received another one, with the advent of the breakfast mail. Every fourth day, regular as clockwork, Hermione received another one. Sometimes they were thick packets, dozens and dozens of sheets thick. Other times they were a bit on the thin side, though rarely less than four sheets. Only the first one had been a single sheet. This one looked like it was but a single sheet, too, which concerned her a little. Tucking the latest letter into an inner pocket on her school robe, the Head Girl eyed her two best friends, but they weren't interested. Their sixth year, they'd wondered who the bloke was that kept writing to her like a ruddy Muggle clockwork, but these missives from her mysterious pen-pal were something she just didn't want to share anymore. That the letters had continued through the summer and now into her second week back at school was simply old news to them.

After breakfast, in the twenty minutes or so of time before her first class of the day...Advanced Transfigurations...Hermione retreated to a niche outside McGonagall's class, sat on the stone bench, and opened her letter. There was indeed only the one sheet, but the neat, copperplate handwriting reassured her. It wasn't a termination of their correspondence, so much as a request for a refresher.

'Dear Mione,

P.S. Try not to let your extra-curricular reading interfere with your homework.'

Hermione had to laugh softly at that. He knew how much she read, how voraciously and quickly she could absorb information, and how well she could retain it; he knew very well how quickly she could churn out her homework assignments, too. Most nights she could be found curled up with the most obscure treatises from the school library, including ones checked out from the Restricted Section, scanning and absorbing anything and everything. It was only when she had been hospitalized at the end of last term...a bad habit leftover from her fifth year, tangling with yet more Death Eaters...that she hadn't been able to read much, due to the various healing draughts making her too sleepy to focus for long.

She would only need to skim over his letters to recall even the smallest of details, though she would probably read many of them word-for-word anyway. He had such a dry, witty sense of humor, it was always fun to read and re-read his more amusing correspondences. Tucking this one-page note into her pocket, she gathered her book bag and readied herself for class, wondering what his serious, special request might turn out to be.

...

'Miss Hermione Granger;

I beg you to take pity on me, Miss Granger. I'm about ready to start up a conversation with a flobberworm out of sheer desperation. Certainly few of my colleagues and underlings would come even halfway close to such a lofty level of intellect as that. ~Rus'

...

'Hermione;

Rus'

...

'Mione;

Rus'

...

Hermione wasn't sure if a letter from her unseen friend would arrive on her birthday or not. It was three days after the previous letter, not four, and she'd only sent off a response just yesterday. A small pile of birthday greetings and letters from friends and relatives arrived with the morning post, but it wasn't until she had gone almost to the bottom of the stack that she found the familiar copperplate scribble of her name, Miss Granger, on the packet.

Impatiently, she tucked it into her robes, finished reading the others as she ate her breakfast, and hurried out of the Great Hall. It was a Thursday, and that meant Double Advanced Potions. There were no convenient niches within which one could sit and read quietly outside of the Potions Master's realm, so she slipped into the classroom, sat down at her desk, and fished the letter out of her pocket. Just as she broke the seal, the door opened.

Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione saw it was Professor Snape. He strode into the room, door swinging shut behind him, and frowned at her. No doubt taking offense at her presence so early in his classroom.

"Thinking you can ask even more questions if you come in here all the earlier, Miss Granger?" he mocked sardonically, moving up to his desk to begin organizing his work for the day.

For Snape, it was an almost polite enquiry. "No, Professor; I just have some correspondence to read."

He paused for a moment, then marched towards his desk. "Well, read it quietly."

There was a pointed edge to his tone...but not as much of one as she might've expected. Bemused, Hermione did as requested. Unfolding the parchment, she read Rus' latest missive. It was only three sheets long.

'Mione,

P.S. Please do take pity on those around me and respond as quickly as possible. I will be unbearable until I hear from you, though I will endeavour to hide my discomfort until I know whether you wish to remain merely friends, or explore something more.'

Breathless, Hermione shifted back through the sheets and stared at those four words, written at the very bottom of the first page. May I court you? They echoed and ricocheted in her head, dazing her mind. May I court you may I court you may I court you may I court you may I court you...

"Class is about to begin, Miss Granger. You may wish to put away your correspondence and pay attention, if you are to be your usual know-it-all self in class, today."

The dry voice startled her out of her reverie of wonder. Blinking, Hermione realized with a blush that the Potions Master was standing behind her right shoulder. Perfectly placed to have read the page. Blushing hard, she cleared her throat and asked hesitantly. "Er...did you...?"

"...Read it?" he asked, arching a brow at her. "You should be reading class-related texts in this room, Miss Granger, and not waste your opportunity to learn. Deal with it appropriately, or I will take points from your House."

He moved away, heading back to his desk. She folded the letter and started to tuck it back into her school robes. An impatient noise escaped the professor as he turned to face her.

"I said, deal with it appropriately, Miss Granger. Whoever your correspondent is, if he asked that particular question, a lady would know well enough to reply as soon as possible, and put him out of the misery of his uncertainty. Or did your parents not raise you properly?"

The look he raked over her was just contemptuous enough to sting her out of her amazement. Double amazement, since he was not only advocating that she reply, as in write a reply here in his classroom, but that he was being nice about the idea of someone wanting to court her, the little Miss Know-It-All who had plagued his classroom with questions for years. She stared at him for a moment more, then fumbled through her bookbag, drawing out parchment, quill and ink.

"Who is this gentleman, anyway? I presume it's neither of your two immature colleagues; their style isn't subtle enough to court a woman by correspondence," the Potions Master added with a mocking tone, disconcerting her even further by his willingness to discuss the matter. "Do you even know who he is?"

"His name is Rus," Hermione managed without too much of a stutter, her heart skipping a beat at the thought that Rus had been lying to her all along about his identity. She'd considered the possibility before, but not for over half a year. "He says he works with the Order of the Phoenix, sir...do you know him?"

His mouth tightened a little. "I do."

Hermione looked up at him, at that. "Is there something wrong with him?"

"Something wrong?" he repeated, arching his brow again.

"You...looked like you don't approve."

"I can neither approve nor disapprove, Miss Granger. You are legally an adult, and are free to do as you please in your personal life. So long as it does not interfere with your classwork, I have little enough to say about the matter. I simply know that his position as one of the spies for the Order is particularly precarious...and that as a spy, he is a man of deceptions. How much do you know about him?"

"I know a fair amount, since we've been corresponding regularly for roughly a year and a half by now," Hermione admitted, glad that he knew who Rus was, even if it was Severus Snape who knew who Rus was. "And I usually send my letters by owl, and just tell the school owls to go find him...in the summer, they just show up a couple days after his letters arrive, and hang around my house until I have a letter to send. Apparently he worked out something with Professor Dumbledore, regarding that." Again, she blushed. "We...haven't actually ever met. We've just been pen-pals with each other, until now. I...wasn't expecting this, exactly. Not that it's a total surprise; we've grown rather...erm, well, I won't bore you with the details of our friendship."

"There is an Order meeting, tonight," he stated, catching her off-guard with the change of subject, and the uncomfortable tone to his voice, and the look to match it that ghosted over his face. "I could deliver the letter, and report back to you on his reactions as he reads it, so you would know if his interest is genuine or not."

"He's a member of the Order," Hermione pointed out. "Doesn't that make him trustworthy?"

"Are you really that naive, Miss Granger?" he asked her, arching a brow. "Do you really trust everyone who is in the Order?"

"Yes," she replied honestly, without thought.

His brow lifted even higher. "Everyone, Miss Granger?"

A flush stole over her face as she realized he meant himself as well...and that he knew very well how most of the Order members felt about him...that they'd use him, but most of them didn't completely trust him, being both a Slytherin and having been a Death Eater by choice, long ago. It was possible, she knew, that a spy could get into the Order, as they had a spy or two in the Dark Lord's camp...but he was enquiring about himself in specific. Firming her shoulders, she lifted her chin, stared levelly into those dark, bottomless eyes, and gave him the absolute truth.

"There might be a spy or a turncoat lurking in the Order, Professor; it is possible...but that turncoat is not you, sir. I trust you."

His sallow cheeks flushed, and his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Well...aside from the high recommendation of Professor Dumbledore's trust and faith in you...only a madman would subject himself to the risks of being a double agent, for neither side would treat you kindly, if they knew you were a spy for the other side. Dumbledore may seem like a very nice old man, but he's also a very powerful wizard. I don't think you're foolish enough to cross him...and I think you honestly regret now whatever drew you to join the Death Eaters long ago."

He studied her in silence for a long moment, then asked crisply, "Do you think to idealize me, Miss Granger? That I'm really some poor soul seeking redemption for all my regrets?"

"No, sir. I think you're a very complicated man, who undoubtedly has many reasons for whatever you choose to do. There's nothing wrong in having several motivations for doing something; it's simply efficient, and I've never known you to be a wasteful man."

The Potions Master studied her again. And surprised her. "...Five points to Gryffindor for your perceptiveness, Miss Granger. Now, finish your letter before the others come to class."

"...You won't read it, will you?" Hermione dared to ask him.

"In order to judge his reaction, Miss Granger, I would need to know what your response to his enquiry is," he retorted dryly. "However, a simple verbal yes or no will suffice. You may leave the gushing poetry...or the livid insults...to the eyes of your 'pen-pal'."

She looked down at the blank page in front of her, and contemplated her pen-pal's offer. The silence between them was a bit tense, and thick. It was a little awkward, making up her mind in front of him. She admired Professor Snape for being a master of his subject, though she could do without his irascible temper and sarcastic insults. She trusted him, yes, but he was not one of her friends. Discussing her private life around him was...difficult. It helped that he turned away, moving to the chalkboard and flicking his wand over the surface, scribing the day's notes upon its surface.

Finally, she picked up her pen and began answering Rus' letter. "...My answer is 'yes'. He may court me."

The flicking of his wand slowed for a moment, but his voice was its usual crisp self. "He is older than you, Miss Granger. I am surprised you would choose to date someone who isn't a lot closer to your own age."

"The boys my age, Professor, are immature, inexperienced, and intimidated by my status as a 'know-it-all'...and they mindlessly prefer to date creatures with more beauty than brains. The only reason most of them seek me out is because, to them, I'm a walking, talking Encyclopedia Magica. 'Hermione, what's the answer for this?' 'Hermione, what's the answer for that?' " she mocked herself, pausing in the middle of her relatively short reply as Professor Snape continued writing on the chalkboard. "The rest of the time, it's 'Hermione, shut up! We don't need to know that!' No one has yet to realize the best way to get a know-it-all to shut up is to kiss her...though I suppose I wouldn't want a kiss from some fumbling, immature boy who wouldn't know his...uh..."

She fumbled to a stop, blushing furiously. When the Potions Master glanced over his shoulder at her, she quickly ducked her head, trying to hide her embarrassment at having spoken so freely and sarcastically in front of him. To her surprise, he answered her equally frankly.

"Most boys wouldn't know what to do with a young woman, Miss Granger. You are astute to realize this while you are still surrounded by them, and can avoid the pitfalls of associating with them."

He drew in a breath to say more, but the classroom door opened and a trio of Advanced Potions students came in the door. That effectively ended one of the nicest conversations she'd ever had with the man. Hermione felt oddly disappointed. For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Professor Snape had treated her almost kindly. Scratching out the rest of her reply, she checked the note to make sure it said what she wanted to say.

'Dear Rus,

Hermione'

Folding the letter, she used her wand to seal it with a daub of wax, and tucked the letter into her Potions book, setting up her desk so that she would be ready for the day's lesson. There it sat, tucked into the front of the tome, as she chopped and grated, squeezed and measured, stirred and boiled, until the draught of the day was finally bottled. All through class, she wondered how she could get the letter to her professor, and with it a request, without anyone being the wiser.

Finally, she resorted to knocking over the bottle of dried, crushed pixie petals when she was putting all of her ingredients away. Shooing Ron and Harry on ahead of her, she scooped the petal crumbs back into the bottle with a spell, taking her time to clean up every last scrap, until the room had emptied. Corking the bottle, she took it and her letter to the storage cupboards, then took just the letter up to the Potions Master's desk.

"Here's my correspondence, sir," she told him. As he reached for the letter, she held onto it for a moment. "I would...I have one request. I've asked him a question, about what he looks like. I'd like you to answer that question after I've read his answer. I trust you to be honest in your evaluation of his looks, and to comment on how far he might stray from the truth, once I've received a reply."

Dark eyes regarded her for a moment, then he snorted, taking the letter as she released it and tucking it into an inner pocket of his robes. "I am not a female, Miss Granger. I will not be able to give you any perspective on what a young woman might find attractive in a man."

"No, but you're really good at describing the characteristics of a potions ingredient," she pointed out. Then stared at him in breathless shock as he twitched, his face twisting into an unfamiliar expression for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

Hearty laughter.

Severus Snape laughing was an astonishing sight. Aside from the revelation that the man had an actual, non-sardonic sense of humor...though she couldn't figure out what was so funny about her comment...all the scowl lines on his face had somehow transformed themselves into laugh lines. It was a good look for him. Even with those overly yellow, somewhat crooked teeth exposed as he laughed, it was a good look for him. Certainly his eyes sparkled like black lightning, fine little lines appearing at the corners of his eyes.

A heartbeat after he met her gaze, his breath caught in his throat, his laughter stilling mid-gusto. A second after that, his whole expression collapsed, like a folding-chair being put away, returning to its normal, closed, tightly shut expression. If her heart hadn't still been racing, Hermione wouldn't have had any proof at all that he'd smiled, let alone actually laughed. Disappointment rushed through her, slumping her shoulders. To her surprise, a disgusted sigh escaped his lips.

"...Do not look at me like that, Miss Granger. You of all witches should be smart enough to know why that must never happen again. Nor will you mention it to anyone else, 'lest I be forced to give you the nastiest detention my mind can devise."

He meant his seemingly out-of-character bust of laughter, and his position as a spy, with every one of his seemingly cold-hearted moves calculated and planned to the nth degree. Hermione bowed her head. "I understand, sir. I'm sorry I made you...you know."

"Hopefully, there will come a time when such precautions are not necessary, but that time is not now. In the meanwhile, I can hear the chatter of my next batch of dunderheads approaching. You will be late for class, if you do not run. Do not expect me to give you a note excusing your tardiness, Miss Granger...or for being caught running in the halls."

"No sir. I do understand, sir," she added truthfully, before retreating back to her desk. The door opened as she shouldered her bookbag, the first knot of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third-years entering the classroom. They made way for her as she exited as quickly as she could without actually running, carefully not looking back at the man behind her.