The Best-laid Plans

Hermione's legs were trembling when she stepped out of the fireplace into Snape's parlor. She felt ill and tired in a way that had nothing to do with being awakened in the middle of the night. Echoes of female screams and Snape's laughter reverberated in her ears, and her mind conjured all kinds of gruesome images to replace those she hadn't witnessed.

She felt Snape's steadying hand on her elbow.

"I feel ill. I need to be alone," she mumbled.

She couldn't look at him. The thought that this was the man who would raise the child she carried was more than she could bear.

"Should I call a medic?"

Snape's softly spoken question was the last thing Hermione heard before the room spun violently around her and she sank into darkness.

She awoke to bright sunlight and whispered voices.

"I assure you she and the child are in perfect health," a woman was saying.

"She fainted." Hermione recognized Snape's voice.

"A reaction to emotional stress. I've given her a mild sedative and suggest plenty of rest."

Hermione tried to follow the conversation, but her eyelids were drifting shut and the voices were already fading away.

When Hermione awoke again, it was nighttime; a soft glow emanated from the lamp on the bedside table, and Snape sat on a chair near the foot of her bed.

Memories of the previous night assailed her, and Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"You're awake." Snape rose from the chair and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, still unable to look at him.

That she had once considered the man a potential ally now seemed preposterous. For the first time in the past seven years, Hermione allowed herself to admit that maybe death was the only haven left for those like her.

"Send me away," she whispered.

"Pardon me?"

Hermione didn't know if Snape hadn't heard her or if he didn't understand what she meant. She opened her eyes and looked at him through her tears.

"Send me away into exile," she said a bit more forcefully.

Snape sat on the bed next to her, and Hermione cringed away.

"I never had any intention of doing so, least of all now that you carry my child."

At that moment Hermione understood the sense of desperation that had driven Roselyn to break the law while fully aware of the consequences.

"She had four children already, all taken away from her – she just couldn't do it anymore." It wasn't a justification, just a statement of fact.

"She is safe now," Snape said quietly.

The words floated on Hermione's mind before they sank in. Roselyn was most likely hanging on the Wall of Traitors, or if lucky she was dead.

"You mean she's dead," Hermione said, her words sounding strangely hollow with the unnatural calmness of the sedative she had been given.

"No. I meant she is safe. There are people who will take care of her."

Snape bent his head as he retrieved something from the pocket of his robes, and Hermione noticed in the orange glow of the lamp how gaunt and tired he looked. Had he always looked that way or had he aged overnight, she wondered.

He produced a small, gold coin and offered it to her.

"I wanted to tell you last night, prepare you for what you were about to see, but there was no time."

Hermione pushed herself up on the bed and took the coin, examining it closely. At first glance it appeared to be a Galleon, but emblazoned on one side was the image of a phoenix and on the other the letter H – it was like no currency Hermione had ever seen. She looked at Snape questioningly.

"They are used as Portkeys," he explained.

Hermione bolted upright on the bed, but dizziness forced her to rest her head back against the headboard.

"A Portkey?" she asked, still examining the coin.

Snape nodded. "It's the only way to break someone out of the Ministry building, short of a full on invasion."

Hermione wanted to believe him, wanted to imagine that Roselyn was somewhere safe where she was being taken care of like he said, but she couldn't ignore what she had seen.

"But you... you and the others raped her."

Snape didn't try to deny Hermione's words and he averted his eye. "I was unaware of her arrest until I was summoned to the trial. I had to find a way to give her the Portkey without anyone noticing."

It took a moment for the implication of Snape's words to sink in. "You put it inside her!"

Snape sighed deeply and nodded. "Believe me when I say I wish there would have been another way."

The drowsiness of the sedative was being quickly dispelled by the jolt of adrenaline to Hermione's brain.

"Rufus Ainsworth! That's how he escaped from inside the Ministry building the first time – you gave him one of these!"

She remembered something else then, something that she was sure was relevant and somehow connected, but decided to broach the subject with caution. "Last night, after... after – I thought I recognized someone."

"Lupin," Snape stated calmly.

"It was him! But how?" Hermione leaned forward, eager for more information.

Snape's expression became terse. "Miss Granger, you're becoming excited. The mediwitch recommended rest; perhaps we should have this discussion at another time."

Snape made to rise from the bed and Hermione grasped his hand. "Please," she begged, "I need to know."

Snape wasn't looking at her face; instead, he was looking at her hand that rested on top of his.

"You must think me a heartless creature," Snape said suddenly.

"No, I don't. It took a lot of courage to do what you did," Hermione said with conviction – more courage than she was certain she had.

Something changed in Snape's expression at her words; an undefined glimmer fleeted over his eyes before his expression hardened and he said, "I don't want you to get any romantic notions about me, Miss Granger. I'm no hero."

Maybe not a hero, Hermione conceded, but perhaps the only hope she had.

"I promise to get plenty of rest if you tell me more about Professor Lupin and how he came to be with Greyback's pack," Hermione said as she leaned back against the pillows and forced a serene smile to her lips.

Snape seemed to consider her offer for a moment before he said, "Very well, but if you start to become excited again, you will take another dose of sedative and go back to sleep."

Hermione nodded. "Deal," she said, although she had a feeling she was going to have trouble holding up her end.

"As you might or might not have known, I was not the only spy for the Order of the Phoenix. After leaving Hogwarts, Lupin spent some time with Fenrir's pack."

Hermione nodded – she didn't have any concrete knowledge of the activities of the Order, but she had surmised as much.

"Although it was hard for him to regain his credibility with Fenrir after the raid at the Department of Mysteries, he managed to keep his ties to the pack."

"Did he become one of them? Did he betray the Order?" Hermione interrupted.

"No, he was still working for the Order when it happened."

Hermione knew to what 'it' referred – the night of the surprise attack that had put an end to everyone's hopes of ever defeating Voldemort.

"Then why didn't he warn us?"

She didn't ask what she really wanted to know – why didn't you warn us?

"There was no way for him to know. He didn't have access to the Dark Lord then and he doesn't now, but I implanted the idea of using decoys in Mundungus' mind after giving the Dark Lord the correct date of the move; the headmaster thought it would work."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, stunned.

Snape nodded stiffly. "I believed it to be an ill-conceived plan from the start, but telling the Dark Lord an outright lie could have compromised my position amongst his ranks," he concluded.

Sadly Snape had been right – the plan had not worked. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as if by doing so she could shut out the memory.

They had all met at Harry's house: Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Mr. Weasley, Fleur, Hagrid, Mad-Eye, Lupin, Mundungus, Kingsley, Tonks and herself. After drinking the foul-tasting Polyjuice Potion they had split up in pairs. She had been relieved to learn she would be traveling with Kingsley on a thestral – she knew how to ride a broom, but had never felt confident on one.

They had risen up into the night sky, higher and higher, far above the clouds, when suddenly they found themselves surrounded by no less than thirty Death Eaters, their black robes billowing in the darkness as if they were made of it.

They had tried to split up as was their plan but found themselves herded back together by blasts of green light coming from every direction. There were shouts and curses. She saw a bolt of green light zoom past her head and hit Bill, whose lifeless body slumped forward on his thestral. A red bolt quickly followed, hitting Fleur on the back. The girl's body, still looking like Harry's, slid off the beast and was swallowed by the night. Ahead, Hermione saw Hagrid's motorcycle careen out of control. She wriggled around and managed to shoot off a Stupefy before something hit her arm, and then she was falling just before she lost consciousness.

Hermione wasn't sure how much later it was when she awoke, wandless and cold, alone in a cell. She didn't know much about what had happened to the others except that five days later, on Harry Potter's birthday, the Ministry had officially fallen to Voldemort's forces, and Ron and Harry had been publicly executed the following day as part of Voldemort's victory celebration. For a long time she wondered why her life had been spared, until her fate had been revealed to her.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes shot open, and she nodded her head. "So what happened to Professor Lupin that night?" she asked.

"He managed to survive the attack and make his escape. Luckily there was only one Death Eater with us that night who got a clear look at Lupin's face – and let us just say that he didn't survive. When it became clear that we had lost the war, Lupin took refuge amongst Fenrir's pack."

"The potions in your lab, there was Wolfsbane."

"I've been supplying Lupin with Wolfsbane for years, before and after the Dark Lord's victory. I also provide him with special orders that he picks up once a month."

"Pick up! You mean from your lab?" Hermione asked excitedly.

Snape looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Yes. The fireplace in my laboratory is connected to a back-Floo-network, one that runs independently from the Ministry. It is safer for him to come to me than for us to meet anywhere else."

"So he lives amongst them but is still loyal to the anti-Voldemort movement."

"Correct. Last night he was there to confirm when the hand-witch had possession of the Portkey and to activate it. I was too close to the others to do it myself."

Hermione's mind was reeling with all the new information. Lupin was the person Fritzlee had heard talking to Snape in the lab!

"I want to talk to Professor Lupin," she said.

"Absolutely not; it's too risky. You almost cost that man his life last night."

"Then why are you telling me this now?" she asked.

"Because the future doesn't bode well, and I need your word on something."

Snape produced the latest copy of the Daily Prophet from the pocket of his robes and unfurled it on the bed in front of Hermione. The front-page headline read in bold, red letters: MINISTRY TO LAUNCH MASSIVE INVESTIGATION – SEVERAL HIGH RANKING OFFICIALS TARGETED!

She read the article. No names were stated, and there was no mention about the events of the previous night – only that there were strong suspicions of corruption inside the Ministry, and that an inquisitorial committee had been assembled to investigate – but Hermione got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Shouldn't you flee, go into hiding?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"It's not that simple, Miss Granger. It is more important now than ever that I remain close to the Dark Lord for as long as possible. Too many lives depend on the information I can gather and my ability to have access to prisoners."

Hermione frowned. She understood the value of Snape's position amongst the Death Eaters and its potential to save lives, but why especially now?

She found her answer in two more front-page articles in the same newspaper. One announced the immediate reinstatement of the use of The Wall of Traitors, which had been suspended four years prior; she had become aware of that development the previous night. The other announced an additional hand-witch's trial scheduled for that week.

"Another one?" Hermione exclaimed.

"As I said, the future doesn't bode well," Snape stated calmly.

Hand-witch's trials were rare – there had only been three conducted in the past five years including Roselyn's – two hand-witch's trials in one week was unheard of. Rebellious hand-witches were usually quietly disposed of through banishment; rarely was one accused of a crime that required a trial.

"What is it that you need my word on?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I shall vow to do anything I can to ensure your safety, but first you must promise me that no matter what happens, you will bear my child that you now carry and will do everything in your power to raise the child yourself should I be unable to do so."

Snape's request surprised Hermione, not the part about bearing his child – it was clear that had been his intent from the start – but his insistence that she be the one to raise the child in his absence.

There was no need for Snape to induce a promise from Hermione in that regard – what was done was done – she would bear the child and protect it with her own life if necessary, but she also needed an answer to the question that nagged at the back of her mind.

"You continue to work against, Voldemort yet you led me to believe otherwise and..." Hermione hesitated, remembering the reaction that her previous use of the word 'forced' had elicited from Snape, "in order for me to bear your child," she amended.

Snape nodded stiffly. "I did."

"You used me. Why?"

"I told you, Miss Granger: I'm no hero. I wanted an heir, and you were... available. Do I have your word?"

Hermione searched Snape's face for a hint of remorse; she saw none.

"I give you my word," she stated solemnly.

Hermione still had a million questions to ask but was interrupted by a loud pop as a subdued Fritzlee appeared carrying a tray.

"Miss be wanting her dinner now?" the elf asked with a deep bow addressing Hermione, but her large, wary eyes were trained on Snape.

Hermione eyed the food longingly – she was famished, but she was just as hungry for information. Snape decided for her.

"You will eat now," he said, rising from the edge of the bed and retrieving a vial from the pocket of his robes.

He poured a small amount of liquid from the bottle into Hermione's cup, which Fritzlee promptly filled with tea. "It's a mild sedative," he said before Hermione could ask.

"I don't need a sedative," Hermione protested.

"Are you so soon reneging on our deal, Miss Granger? I thought we had agreed that you would get plenty of rest if I answered your questions; need I point out that I have kept my end of the bargain and then some?"

"No, you have. But I still have more questions."

"Then we shall speak again tomorrow. Good night, Miss Granger."

Snape didn't move until Hermione had obligingly finished her cup of tea. He then bowed and departed, shooting the house-elf a warning glare that made Hermione wince.

The next morning Hermione was still in bed when Snape walked in carrying a tray filled with scrambled eggs, toast, jam and a cup of tea – not Fritzlee's usual extravagant fare.

"Where is Fritzlee?" Hermione asked.

"I've sent her away, back to Lucius," Snape answered with a finality that told Hermione she would not get a further explanation. "Eat quickly, there's something I must show you," Snape added.

Hermione took a couple of bites of toast and pushed the rest of the food around on her plate before she gave up.

"I feel too nauseated to eat in the mornings," she explained to Snape as she gulped down the cup of tea.

He waited patiently for her to complete her morning ablutions, get dressed and indicate that she was ready.

"Do you have your piece of parchment, the one you dropped in my laboratory?"

Hermione reached into her pocket and produced the small note; she unfolded it and showed it to Snape.

"I received it by owl shortly after the headmaster's death; I don't know what it means."

Snape ran his thumb over the letters as he stared at them thoughtfully. "What it means is not important, what matters is what it does," he said after a moment.

"I don't understand."

"Follow me, Miss Granger, and bring the parchment with you."

Hermione followed Snape to the kitchen; the room seemed strangely empty without Fritzlee. They proceeded to a small closet in the back, and Hermione was surprised when Snape opened the door to the seemingly empty closet and disappeared through the back wall. She followed and found herself in a room that wasn't really a room – she stood on a narrow bridge surrounded by darkness, and in front of her, almost fluorescent in the impenetrable shadows, was the distinct door to Snape's laboratory.

"Open it," Snape instructed.

Hermione stepped into the laboratory, but instead of standing on the main floor she was looking down at it. Somehow they had traveled from the main floor of the house to the two-story high ledge on Snape's second floor laboratory. Snape brushed past her and proceeded down the stone steps; Hermione followed closely behind.

"The passage through the kitchen is an emergency access to the laboratory – it's always there. Should the house be compromised in any way, you are to make your way to the kitchen and proceed through the passage – do not wait for me. This is the most heavily warded and safest room in the house."

"But I had no trouble getting inside the first time."

"That, Miss Granger, is because you had this." Snape held up Hermione's hand in which she still held the piece of parchment.

She was beginning to understand. "The note – the note is a key," she said. "But I don't understand how; I've had this piece of parchment for years."

Snape nodded. "I searched through you things the first night you were here; I found the note in the pocket of your robes and recognized the headmaster's handwriting. I suspected that it was important to you, and that you most likely carried it with you at all times. I also knew that it was only a matter of time before your avid curiosity got the best of you and you began to explore the house on your own."

"So you charmed the note into a key," Hermione concluded.

"This house is full of wards, Miss Granger, not all of them harmless. Other than to keep constant watch over you, which I freely confess I had neither the inclination nor the time to do, it was the only way to keep you from getting yourself killed – it would have been most inconvenient if I had returned home to find a corpse in my house."

"I can imagine," Hermione muttered with a frown.

If Snape heard, he ignored her. "This box," he said, pointing to a small wooden box on the mantle above the fireplace, "contains Floo powder. If for whatever reason I am unable to join you here, you're to toss a handful into the fireplace followed by the note in your hand and wait; someone will come to your aid."

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked.

"Most likely. Do not step into the fireplace; these back connections are unstable and difficult to navigate, and you wouldn't know where you were going. Do you understand everything I have said to you?"

Hermione understood only too well – he was giving her a way to save herself and leave him behind to face whatever came their way.

"I understand," she said, and before she realized what she was about to do she kissed him – awkwardly, a tentative brush of her lips against his.

He pulled her close in response, crushing her lips and laving them with his tongue until she allowed him entrance into her mouth.

His hands roamed familiarly over her back – there was something desperate about his touch, their circumstances, her need.

When he pulled back, they were both breathless.

"This isn't a requirement of our agreement," he pointed out.

It wasn't – it was something she wanted. For the first time in seven years, Hermione felt free to make a choice of her own; that her choice should be to give herself to a man she should resent was something she didn't question.

"I don't want to be alone anymore," Hermione whispered and kissed him again.

He buried his hands in her hair, holding her head still while he devoured her mouth. Hermione found herself backed against a worktable, the rough edge of the wood digging into her backside, his erection pressing insistently against her belly through the fabric of their robes. They were overdressed, and Hermione pulled determinately at his robes.

"Perhaps we should retire to a more comfortable place," he murmured against her neck.

Hermione couldn't agree more, but her bedroom was clear on the other side of the house.

He seemed to guess her thoughts. "This way."

They stepped out of the laboratory and down a narrow passage to their right. Hermione followed Snape into what she immediately identified as his bedroom. Dozens of books lined the walls, and a small desk was squeezed into a corner; a large, plush chair sat in front of a fireplace. The large, four-poster bed dominated the room, and that's where Hermione headed.

This time there was none of the awkwardness and hesitation of their two previous encounters. It was a wild and urgent union. They tumbled onto the bed together, hands and lips desperately searching for any expanse of exposed flesh. Their trembling fingers tugged and tore at the offending fabric of each other's robes until they were both naked and panting.

His mouth left hers to explore the column of her neck, nip at her clavicle, delve into the valley between her breasts and continue downward. Hermione had had sex dozens of times, but never had she felt a sensation like the jolt of pleasure that shot through her belly when his tongue parted her folds and found her core. She gasped, and her hips bucked involuntarily, but his hands were there to catch her and hold her against his mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut, Hermione allowed the pleasure to build until she succumbed to it. Lost in the throes of her orgasm, she was vaguely aware of Snape rising above her until he entered her swiftly. She spread her legs wider to accommodate his girth and dug her blunt nails into the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

"Open your eyes. Look at me," he panted raggedly, and Hermione obeyed.

His dark eyes looked down at her with an intensity that was both frightening and arousing. He took her hard and fast, and Hermione's hips rose from the bed to meet each wild thrust until his body suddenly tensed, and he emptied his seed inside her with a loud groan. After a moment he collapsed next to her on the bed, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

Neither one spoke. They remained like that for a long while, Hermione pondering the consequences of this shift in their relationship, Snape apparently lost in his own thoughts until his voice broke the silence.

"A while back you wanted to know how I could do things I didn't believe in. The answer is that I've done many despicable things while at the service of the Dark Lord, but not all of them have been unpleasant – having you here with me hasn't been."

His words, while sweet on the surface were tinged with self-loathing, and Hermione felt a rare moment of empathy with the wizard. During the course of the past seven years, she had been forced to do things that went against the grain of everything she believed in – some of those things had wrenched her heart, while others, like sharing her bed with Snape, had not been so hard.

She couldn't say that she understood the man, only that she had a better idea of how he felt.