Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All of this belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Melisse. Also, this story is not complete, sorry for the wrong label on it!

Hermione waited outside of Professor Snape's personal rooms. He had been released from the hospital wing the day before and had refused to meet with her in any setting where he appeared to be weak. She had shown up for her service, as prescribed by Professor McGonagall, and when she saw him in his white hospital gown, looking so frail, her heart unexpectedly fell. The worry must have shown up as pity on her face, because he snapped that he would call for her when he was ready for her and to be gone until then. She was unsteady on her feet on the way out and didn't bother to examine why the sight of Professor Snape laid low affected her so much.

So here she was, after class, knocking on his door. Hermione had never been to Snape's personal rooms before, of course. They were located a short distance from the Slytherin common room, just down a corridor, but accessible from the outer hallway, in a mirror arrangement of Gryffindor's situation. Snape had both privacy from his students and an ability to keep an eye on their antics. She chose to knock on the door that did not require her to pass through the Slytherin common room, but was considered his private entrance. She waited until she heard him bid her enter and nervously stepped into his abode.

Hermione didn't know what she had expected, but it was surprisingly warm and inviting. She couldn't help the grin that spread over her features when she realized she thought it may have been decorated in all green and silver snakes, but neither were obvious or in plain sight. Instead, a wealth of antiques and thoughtfully collected pieces vied for her attention, and she couldn't help but be impressed by the subtle ambiance of wealth and sophistication that his rooms exuded. She recognized some Muggle paintings, and leaned in for a closer look at one when she heard Snape clear his throat. Her face turned pink. What had gotten into her? She was gawking at his things like she was in a museum! She turned towards the sound and saw him sitting in a chair with a look of amusement on his features.

"Miss Granger." He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the fact that he was not going to get up. "I see you've found where I reside. You seem ... enchanted."

Hermione blushed harder. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare at your things. I just haven't seen a non-magical painting in a long time. It reminds me of home."

"Yes, I have a taste in art that is considered by other wizards as being...how shall I put it? Eclectic. Muggle art is not highly valued in our world, but I find I have acquired a certain ... taste for it." Snape's gaze never left hers.

Hermione didn't know if it was the change in setting, but Snape seemed like an entirely different person. His hard edges were gone, replaced with an intensity that was almost magnetic. He may not have been as harsh as she was used to, but she sensed a danger about him, just the same. She straightened her spine, which felt as if it was slowly melting towards Snape as he talked.

"Come over here, Miss Granger, and sit; you are still lurking about in doorways," Snape said smoothly. There was a chair set a discreet distance from his. It was a nice upholstered one, the kind that you found in good libraries that Hermione liked so much. She walked gingerly across the room and took her seat, aware of Snape's hooded gaze upon her.

"Can I get you anything, sir? I'm supposed to be here to aid you," Hermione began, speaking to her lap, unwilling to look him in the eye.

"Yes, I think you can, Miss Granger. I know just the thing you can get for me. But before I tell you, I need your oath that you will not reveal what you are about to discover to anyone." Snape's eyes were as black as she had ever seen them.

"Why would I want to?" Hermione swallowed nervously.

"You seem to have a nasty habit of running to your ... friends with things that are best left unsaid. I told you before that I have need of discretion from you, and I require it still. Are you willing to give me your trust?" Snape looked her over quietly, waiting for her to decide.

Hermione remembered Dumbledore's words and suddenly she yearned to put her trust in someone. She was tired of standing alone, and if she wanted to listen to her feelings about Snape, she wasn't going to get support from Harry or Ron. She was going to have to do this on her own, to whatever ends that took her.

She looked at Snape, his eyes gleaming, and saw nothing to indicate that he was anything other than her enemy. Her gut pulled her towards him, though, and she was in now, or she was out. She had to make her choice and live with it from this point forward. She decided. "What do you need from me?"

Snape smiled. "You will give me your word not to reveal what you are about to learn?"

Hermione nodded.

"You are willing to swear it." It was not a question.

Hermione looked at Snape. "I am."

He was suddenly intent on her and all business. "You will repeat after me. I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear an oath to Severus Snape to be silent about what I am going to be told. The secret now binds me to him in service upon pain of my..." here he hesitated a moment, but continued after the brief pause, "...honor, never to be revealed until circumstance renders it null or Binder deems it allowable. Let it be sworn."

Hermione said the words steadily, with nary a tremble in her voice, her eyes never leaving his. As the last syllable died away from her lips, she felt a tightening of magic around her hands and wrists, almost as if she were wearing shackles, and an almost imperceptible tightening around her throat. It was an unpleasant feeling. It wasn't an Unbreakable Vow, but there had been strong enough magic invoked to cause her considerable discomfort should she renege on the deal. Hermione got the point.

"Good." Snape nodded briskly. "I'm glad that that is finished, because I have need of you. Before the ... accident ... you were retrieving a certain ingredient for me. I assume you still remember what you were supposed to be getting?"

Hermione's brow crinkled. "Yes, but what could that possibly have to do with anything?"

Snape sat there in silence and let her piece it together for herself.

"You couldn't still want me to get you the thestral heart?" she gasped. "You have some nerve! Why would you think that I would do that?"

Snape smiled a little unpleasantly. "You have made me a vow, is your memory so short? There is no one you can tell. I also assume that the reason you are here at all is that, being who you are, you have weighed all of your options very carefully and decided in favor of me and against your great friends Misters Potters and Weasley. Because of this, I also deduce that there must have been a confrontation, perhaps with Dumbledore? That means that he has been apprised of the situation, has stood in favor of me, and you have no leg to stand on, Miss Granger. That leaves you in the unenviable position of being totally ..." here Snape looked Hermione over thoughtfully, "alone, and at my mercy. You might have worked this out for yourself and avoided further binding yourself voluntarily to me by such means as say, an oath. This leads me to think that you ... prefer it this way. You want to be under my control, or you would not be here."

Hermione was growing more mesmerized as Snape spoke. Everything he was saying did follow a certain logic, but she didn't realize how it sounded until...well, he said it out loud. Then it just sounded pathetic. She jumped up, humiliated. He made her sound like a child. "I do not! And I certainly will not do your bidding just because I made a vow to you to keep your secrets!"

"Sit down, Miss Granger!" Snape barked out, and Hermione, startled, sat. "I had you make the vow because I intend on telling you exactly what I need the heart for. If you think you can keep your temper for more than a few minutes, perhaps I can elucidate for you, but time is of the essence in this matter. Shall I explain?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. She did want answers.

Snape let his head fall a short distance back against the headrest of his chair, and Hermione was distressed to note that this show of force on his part was probably taking a lot out of him, more than he cared to admit. He had suffered a grievous injury and was surely a long way from full recovery. He let his eyes close for just a second, but then he seemed to regain some strength, and while he kept his head resting on the chair, his eyes never left her face. He began to talk in a low, clipped tone. "As you have probably figured out, Miss Granger, I need the thestral heart for a potion I am working on. It is the last key ingredient, but time is running out. It needs to be delivered to its destination soon, and the potion is nearing completion in the next twenty-four hours. I don't know how long it will take me to collect the next batch of ingredients, or when our circumstances will align to allow the perfect chance such as we have been afforded just now. It is absolutely crucial that we get this, and now. If all of our plans fall apart, then it means a war. I don't know if I can protect him, if I am strong enough." This last part was said to himself. Snape's eyes had closed again.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She had to speak up. Dumbledore had said to know herself, and it may have been foolhardy now, of all times, but she finally did. "Sir? I just can't do it." Her voice was thin, but the conviction was there underneath. "I can't help you get an ingredient that will aid the ... that will help Voldemort. You might as well just do what you have to do to me now. I can't do it for you. I am on Dumbledore's side, on Harry's side." Her voice broke.

Snape's eyes snapped open. "So am I!" he snapped irritably. "What do you think I have been talking about?"

Hermione was bewildered. "I thought you meant ..."

A dark, bitter expression crossed his features. "It is no more than I have ever been accused of. I am trying to tell you that I am working on a potion to protect our side, if you would but use the sense you are renowned for. You are wasting our time. Perhaps I should have enlisted the aid of another, less prejudiced ..."

"No, no," Hermione broke in hastily. "Forgive me. I misunderstood. I am here because I want to be of service in any way. What do you need of me, after I get the heart for you?" Inwardly she quaked at the thought of such a thing, but she tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

Snape focused on the girl in front of him. So many hopes rested on her. It was a slim hope for the future to rest on such slender shoulders, but they had no other choice. They needed her. "I need you to get me a house elf. We have to sneak into Azkaban."