Chapter Two: Explained

Disclaimer: The characters and settings belong to JKR.

Chapter Two: Explained

"I don't give a Thestral's fart if you were worried; you had no right to barge in here!" Hermione stood naked in the bath, water streaming off her body as she screamed at Snape.

"You've been in here over an hour, and you weren't answering when I knocked on either door. What did you expect? You could..."

"You were in my bedroom? Whatever happened to that privacy you mentioned earlier? I suppose it only applies to your room!"

"If privacy was such a fucking issue, why didn't you answer?"

"I didn't hear you!"

"You foolish girl! You didn't hear me because you were asleep in a deep tub full of water. You could have drowned!"

"And who would have cared!" Hermione stepped out of the tub and sat on the edge, suddenly limp. "Who would have cared?" She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and found no comfort or lies.

Snape said nothing. Selecting a towel from the pile stacked on the shelf behind the tub, he wrapped it around Hermione's damp shoulders. When she made no effort to hold onto the towel or dry herself, he quickly rubbed her down and steered her into her bedroom. Drawing back the sheets, Snape cast a silent Warming Charm on the bedding and sat her on the bed. By the time he had her tucked under the covers, she was sound asleep.

***

The rumbling of her stomach woke Hermione several hours later. Stretching under the crisp cotton sheets, she closed her eyes again and drifted back into a light doze in the warmth and softness of the most comfortable bed she had slept in for years.

Briefly.

The nagging thought penetrated her sleep-fuddled consciousness about the same time as a loud knock resounded on her door.

"The bastard saw me naked!" Sitting up, Hermione realised she was still without a stitch of clothing. Which meant...

"I'm coming in. Consider yourself warned," Snape said as he pushed open the door with one foot, his hands busy carrying a tray laden with a bowl of steaming soup, bread rolls, and fruit.

"I'm not dressed... You can't come in!" Hermione pulled up the sheet to cover herself just in time.

"Nothing I haven't already seen, Granger. Now, do you want food or not?" Snape smirked at her red-faced glare.

"No... Yes. You put me to bed?"

"Yes. You did not appear capable at the time."

Hermione felt the bone-dry sheets under her. "You dried me?"

He nodded. "With a towel. The usual way. Would you have preferred to sleep in a wet bed?"

"No, but..."

"Thank you would be appropriate."

"But you... you..."

"Saw you naked. What of it?" Snape did not attempt to hide his amusement.

Hermione sighed. Reaching for the tray, she picked up the butter knife and a bread roll. "I give in. Thank you. There, are you happy now?"

"Much better. You might manage to convince me of your sincerity after a few more tries. Still, the view is worth it."

"The view? What view? Oh, you bastard!" She dragged the sheet back up over her breasts, having forgotten it in her need for food. "Bugger off!"

She could have sworn she heard the unthinkable as Snape left.

***

"I'm sorry. I realise you were only trying to help." Hermione's honour allowed the words; her pride was still bruised and sulking.

Snape looked up from his book. "You're getting there. Was the food sufficient to enable your brain to function?"

Her lips were tight as she nodded.

"Very well. Sit." He indicated the only other armchair. "We have much to discuss."

She sat and glanced around the room to find no windows or timepieces. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"In the morning?" Her previous life had ceased to exist a mere twenty-four hours ago.

"In the evening. We arrived here at five."

Twelve hours. No one would have even noticed she was missing. Questions would not be asked until the next morning when she didn't report in for the Department meeting. Head down, she said, "I assume your people have made appropriate arrangements?"

"Our people have ensured a body will be found bearing your likeness. The rest of your effects in the flat will be collected by a suitably tearful relative. I imagine any personal items in your desk at the Ministry will be disposed of. Unless there is something you particularly want to be salvaged?"

She shook her head. "No. I kept nothing there of any importance." Only the tattered shreds of her self-esteem. "I suppose that proves your point." She looked up from her study of the carpet to meet his dispassionate gaze. "Was it the same for you?"

For a split-second his unsettling gaze faltered, then he nodded. "Indeed. After so many years as a spy, there was little for me to return to. The survivors on both sides bayed for my blood, and teaching incompetent brats was never my choice."

"But they exonerated you. You're regarded as a hero."

"Granger, what were your first words when you regained consciousness?"

Hermione blushed. "I was..."

"Brutally honest? Do not concern yourself. I'm aware of the opinion most people hold of me. Cruel, biased, unpleasant, greasy, unattractive. Don't worry; I've heard them all. The truth about my loyalties during the war will never be enough to sweeten the memories of those I taught or associated with."

"Does that not concern you?"

"No. I have no need for society's good will." Snape stood and turned towards the hearth seeming to find great interest in the crackle of the flames and hiss of burning sap.

"Needs and wants are different things, Snape," Hermione said to the tense muscles of his back. "Still, for what it's worth, I still think you're an unpleasant prat. Just not an evil one."

"Perhaps you do show some intelligence, after all." He walked over to the drinks cabinet. "Wine?"

Hermione nodded.

Handing her a glass, Snape returned to his chair and settled himself with legs crossed. "The Department of Mysteries is divided into four sections. The Research and Development section deals with areas such as time, thought, death, love, and other powerful forces. The Archives section collect, collate, and store prophecies."

"We saw all that when we fought Lucius Malfoy and his associates in fifth year."

"Yes. Apparently the Archives team was most displeased with your efforts. They did petition to have you assigned to their section, but it was felt your talents lay elsewhere. Merlin knows what they would have had you doing. They're still trying to replace the prophecy spheres you lot destroyed. However, there are two further sections you have not seen."

Hermione leaned forward in her chair as his voice lowered.

"The Unmentionables are an elite group of witches and wizards who have distinguished themselves by their complete lack of emotional response to others. They perform certain tasks which the Ministry and other officials would prefer not to be associated with."

"Like the Mission Impossible team? But I suppose you wouldn't know about that."

"Granger, I grew up in a Muggle neighbourhood. And, no, they're nothing like that. They are, in short, Wizarding assassins. From time to time, a threat appears to the wizarding community that needs an immediate, discreet solution."

Hermione's temper flared. "But why didn't they deal with Voldemort then? Why allow so much death and destruction, leaving a teenager to carry the burden? How could they justify not doing anything sooner?" She stood and paced across the room, unable to stay seated any longer.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Stop being so melodramatic, Granger! The section has only existed since Riddle's death. The wizarding world, in all its naiveté, had never considered such a team necessary. They have only had two targets since but remain prepared at all times to act if needed."

Wrath defused, Hermione returned to her chair. "But who decides someone constitutes such a threat?"

"A group of wizards older and wiser than you or I. The Heads of the Department of Mysteries from all the major wizarding nations meet regularly to discuss such threats. No decision is acted upon unless it is unanimous."

"Was the man we met earlier...?"

"No. Mellowes is merely the Head of Recruiting. Few Unspeakables have met our leader."

"So, what section do we work for, Snape?"

"None of those I have mentioned. There is a fourth section. We are responsible for investigation of any anomalies in magic or magical fields in our country. The Aurory deal with individuals and groups misusing magic, but we deal with magical problems of a more esoteric nature."

"Such as?"

"Remember last year when the Floo Network was malfunctioning?"

"Yes. I thought it was simply a congestion problem. The Prophet reported it had been sorted out by redirecting some of the traffic through lesser used systems."

"Correct. That was what was reported. However, the truth is somewhat less prosaic. The enchantment maintaining the Floo Network has been in place for many years since it was first developed by Francis Ligurd Oswald Ollivander. Yes, he was a distant relation of the wandmaker. Unfortunately, the spells used to form the Network originally were linked to the caster."

"Ollivander, presumably?"

"Exactly. He died last year, and within days the spells began to unravel. Luckily, one of our older colleagues had studied with Ollivander while he was fine-tuning the Network and remembered where he had stored his notes. The spells have now been modified to need only reinforcement every twenty years or so by anyone suitably trained in their use."

"I don't understand. Why was the public not informed of the truth?"

"Think, Granger. What would have been the reaction if the Prophet had announced the entire Floo Network was on the verge of collapse and may not have been recovered?"

Hermione nodded as she realised the implications. "Panic. Individuals can Apparate, but it's tiring and difficult to do with small children. Businesses would have been struggling; the Ministry itself depends heavily on Floo access."

"We needed to deal with the problem quickly and efficiently without interference from politicians or the press. The Investigative Section is sanctioned to act without hindrances such as budget or political expediency."

"So, who is accountable for any errors in judgement?" Hermione remembered the yards of parchment required for any mistake made by the Aurors. Usually, it had been her job to deal with it.

"That has never been an issue, or so I am told." Snape looked up to catch her yawning. "Tomorrow, you will meet the rest of our team."

"Anyone I know?"

"No idea. You will only ever know the true identity of your partner."

"You?"

"Me."

Hermione sighed. "Great. I'm only permitted to know one person, and it's you, Snape. I thought you said my life could only improve?"

Snape shrugged as he walked over to the door to his room. "Consider yourself lucky. You could have been stuck with someone like my partner."

"But I thought I was your..." Hermione glared at the door as it closed behind him.

"Bastard!"

***

Snape saw it furrowing her brow and tensing the fingers on her cup. Patient, he simply watched and ate his breakfast of toast and marmalade, downing two cups of tea before the question grew too big and escaped from her unwilling lips.

"But what about relationships?"

It hung there, pregnant. He waited.

"How do you know what someone really looks like? They could be old or young, beautiful or ugly, tall or short. If everyone is disguised from each other, how do you know?"

"Appearance determines one's worthiness?" he asked.

"No. Not that."

"What then?"

"I mean, how can you get to know someone? Really know them. If we can't share who we are, which is a sum of who we were, how can we understand? And what happens if we meet someone outside of the Department? Someone who thinks we are who we pretend to be. Are we destined to a life without true relationships?" Her fluttering hands tried to fill in the places words skipped over.

"Granger, you're overthinking it as usual. Do you judge a person by their looks or their deeds? By who they were or who they are now? I do not recall you participating in the superficial appearance-driven games of your peers as a student at Hogwarts, or were the bush of a hairstyle and perpetually ink-stained fingers merely a cover?"

Hermione was unsure whether a compliment lurked amongst his words but decided to accept it anyway. "No. I wasn't interested in make-up or hair or fashion. I had more important things to do. But how do I know whether the next friendly face I meet isn't..."

"Someone like me? An unpleasant prat, I believe you said last night."

She nodded.

"You don't. However, you will find the Glamours we use don't change the essence of who we are. I will be no Gilderoy Lockhart dandy, and you won't be tripping around as a gorgeous blonde. We only alter enough of our more obvious features to render us unrecognisable to those who may have known us. Of course, people see what they expect to see. We are dead, therefore no-one expects to see our faces.

"Everyone in the department appears as an age within ten years of their own, so you'll not find an aged pretender with a youthful face. We don't change our gender or our basic body shape. The magical energy involved would be too draining. The Glamour needs to be easily maintained even under duress." He saw the 'but' forming before her lips moved. "No. The spell we use is not reversed by Finite Incantatem. Watch."

Without wand or word, Snape's features altered into a face unrecognisable despite each feature having changed only fractionally. His eyes were lighter, less intense, and the dominant beak of a nose had softened and sat innocuously upon his face. His lips had become a little fuller, and his hair short and brown. It was the sort of face one would take and after a moment discard as without import. Neither handsome nor ugly, Snape had become forgettable, and with his new face, the loosening of his posture removed any hint of threat.

Hermione walked around him, studying the new Snape from all angles. "That's amazing! I can still see you, because I know it's you, but anyone else wouldn't have a clue."

"Don't get too excited, Granger. I'm still a bastard." The strange face smiled, but the voice was pure Snape.

"You sound the same."

"Only when I speak to you or Mellowes." The sudden change to the lilt of the Irish was flawless.

"That reminds me. We weren't Glamoured yesterday when we arrived. Anyone could have seen us."

"Could they?"

Hermione remembered then. "That strange movement you did with your hand after giving me your cloak. That was some sort of concealment charm."

"I'll show you before we leave the rooms. It maintains our visibility only to each other and Mellowes. He will teach you how to use your Glamour when we meet him in a few minutes, and thereafter you'll be expected to use it whenever you're likely to be seen by anyone but myself. Now, are you ready to go?"

"No. You still haven't answered my question. I accept that no-one in the Department will look substantially different to their own reality, and of course I agree that one's past should not be held against them. You're a prime example. I'm talking about your past deeds, not your personality. But, how do we get to know anyone else if we're constantly together?"

"This isn't a matchmaking service, girl. Did I not adequately explain the methods by which we are Chosen?" Patience exhausted, Snape made for the door, not bothering to show her the charm he used to conceal her identity.

"Snape! Wait!" She caught his sleeve before he opened the door. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds like I'm obsessed with finding a partner. I'm not. Merlin knows men have proven to be bloody shallow and fickle. I just need to know it's not beyond the bounds of possibility. Some day. Is that so much to ask?"

He turned and looked at her for long moments as if she had grown another head. With a shrug, he said, "Probably not. I can't say the idea had occurred to me before."

Without further comment, he led the way to Mellowes's office.

***

A/N: This was written for silverdoe in the 2011 SSHG Exchange on LiveJournal. Many thanks to karelia, who was my beta.