Chapter 2

A/N: Enjoy and please review! This won't belong to me until I can get JK Rowling liquored up and make her give me power of attorney.

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Severus Snape is no sex god. Hermione admitted this willingly to herself at least twenty-five times a day, but it wasn't enough to quell the images of him lying supine on his desk while Narcissa (or as Hermione had taken to calling her, 'The Malfoy Slut') straddled his narrow hips. She'd never counted on that; Snape was sallow-skinned, hook-nosed, and greasy-haired, with uneven teeth and a personality like a Hungarian Horntail. No, no, Hermione had seen sex god material, and it had looked nothing like Severus. But yet, she argued with herself, he has a presence. When Severus Snape walks into a room, everyone knows about it. Snape doesn't invite arguments or criticism, doesn't waste time getting in touch with his feelings or going out of his way for anyone. That's just Snape.

However, Hermione had seen a different side of him. He hadn't romanced her with violins and enchanted rosebushes, nor had he really been all that nice to her, but he hadn't been horrible, either. In the fall of last year, she'd gone to Snape for, of all things, extra Potions lessons. When Harry, under the auspices of the Half-Blood Prince's old book, had become Slughorn's star pupil in a subject he had previously abhorred, it had rankled. It was more than just wanting to win Felix Felicis or earn points for Gryffindor, however. Hermione had realized that there was more to the subject than just following instructions from a book, an activity that happened to be her specialty. For the first time, she had realized that perhaps her mind wasn't quite the analytical machine she'd thought it. How does one know, she'd wondered in irritation, to add a clockwise stir or a spring of peppermint? And her wounded pride had led her straight to Severus Snape.

"Hermione! Hermione? Ron's mum is here; she's made us breakfast." Harry's voice pierced into her thoughts. "Ron ate all the sausages, but there's still some eggs and toast."

Without thinking, she stumbled from bed and threw on an old terrycloth robe. Her bushy hair was sticking out in all directions, and her eyes were still crusted from sleep, but she wasn't bothered. At least, not until she got into the kitchen.

Ron and Harry were there, and assorted Weasleys. Lupin was there, nose in the Daily Prophet, as well as Tonks, who sat beside him. Moody was sniffing cautiously at his eggs and washing them down with whatever was in his flask, and Polyxena was browsing through Wizards magazine. And, naturally, there was Snape down at the end of the table, dark eyes on her as she walked in, unruly hair and all.

"There you are, dear." Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at Hermione. "Come in and have your breakfast. You can sit beside Ron." Ever since the three friends had left Hogwarts and joined the Order, Molly had been playing a very transparent game of matchmaker with her son and an unfortunate, bushy-haired victim. "Here, take this." Fishing a hair elastic from the pocket of her apron, Mrs. Weasley mercifully tied back Hermione's mane.

Unwillingly, she slid into the place between Ron and Polyxena, which was, much to her chagrin, directly opposite Snape's. "Morning, Severus," she said pertly, chin at a challenging angle.

"Morning," returned the ex-Death Eater curtly. "Pass the pumpkin juice."

Hermione's grumbling reply was lost to the raucous morning chatter filling the kitchen:

"Oh, look! Gwenog Jones is pregnant by that bloke from Sex and Hogsmeade!" exclaimed Polyxena.

"No, I'm being serious now, Polyxena. What did you think I was? You said, 'I can't believe you're with Nymphadora, I thought you were... well, never mind.' What does that mean?" Remus whined in a very un-Lupin-like way.

"... thought I was going to catch Dolohov, but I knocked over the flower-vase... "

"... no match on a Comet Two-Sixty, though the Cleansweep Seven might do the trick."

"She thought you were gay, mate."

"... never know where a Dark wizard could be lurking. Last month, I was sure I'd found a basilisk in the garden. Turned out to be a garter snake, but still, always on your guard, Potter."

"Gay?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to eat. She'd long given up trying to get a word in around that lot, and now with Severus lurking about, she wasn't even sure that she wanted to. Ever since the Narcissa Incident, he'd been just as kindly and sympathetic to her as he'd always been. Part of it, she had admitted, was her fault. Perhaps it had been a bit rash of her to break so many of his things and, well, hexing him with those yellow Attack Birds may not have been the best idea, though they had worked well on Ron.

"This business with the house-elf," Snape said suddenly, his voice cutting across the din, "has anyone got a plan to deal with it? If a member of the Black family owns this house, the consequences to the Order could be dire."

"What are you suggesting?" Remus peered over the top of his paper.

"An investigation, you half-wit. We'll need to determine how and why this house passed from Potter's hands, who owns it, and what their motives are." Glaring steadily at him, Snape added, "Unless, of course, you have a better idea?"

"No, no," said Lupin mildly. "By all means, go ahead, Severus."

"Either Sirius or Regulus Black fathered an illegitimate child," he began, then surprised everyone by saying, "I'm inclined to think it was Regulus."

"Regulus?" repeated Hermione. "Don't tell me you're passing up the chance to besmirch Sirius' name?"

Looking slyly at Moody, Polyxena mouthed, "Besmirch?"

Mad-Eye hid a grin. "Seems more likely that it was Regulus," he growled. "Seeing as how Sirius and Lupin shared a flat, I think an illegitimate child would have been hard for him to hide. Regulus, on the other hand, a known Death Eater... "

"Who knows what he got up to," finished Polyxena. "Besides, wouldn't Sirius have left this house to his son?"

Tonks raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You know," she remarked calmly, "it's quite possible that the child of someone erased from the family tapestry doesn't figure into the Black family history at all. Sirius had been on it at one point; he could live here and give orders to Kreacher. My mum was blasted off, so in the tapestry's view, I don't even exist. Kreacher won't listen to me any more than he listens to Remus."

"Regulus, then," agreed Hermione with blushing cheeks. I really must start fighting the urge to argue points with Snape in public. "He died nearly seventeen years ago, so Polyxena's 'coming of age' theory works out nicely."

"How did Regulus die?" queried Polyxena. "Was he killed by Aurors? Did you have anything to do with it?" she added, sneaking a glance at her husband.

Alastor shook his head. "Black turned traitor to the Death Eaters after he had taken the Mark."

"The Dark Lord killed him personally," Snape cut in. "I remember it well because the Death Eaters are usually the ones to do any dirty work. It made me wonder whether Black had committed a more serious transgression than cowardice."

"Cowardice? You call leaving the Death Eaters cowardice?" Moody's magical eye fixed itself dangerously on Snape.

"Alastor," sighed Polyxena, "we've bigger problems on our hands at the moment. It's in our best interest to find the boy as soon as we can, before he comes knocking at the door. Secret or no, this house could have any sort of Dark enchantment on it to help him find it. The Ambulans Stereotypicus was just a taster."

"I know!" Hermione said aloud and hurried out of the kitchen and into the library, where she seized the book Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. "Here," she said brusquely after returning to the table and audience of rather befuddled wizards. Wetting a finger...a gesture that was not lost on Snape...she flipped toward the end of the book and said, "Regulus Arcturus Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, born in 1961... unmarried... no known children... damn. Well, it was worth a shot."

"Regulus Arcturus Black," muttered Harry. "R.A.B. R.A.B.! Hermione, it could be him."

"Merlin!" Hermione traced the scripted name with her index finger. "R.A.B. It fits: he knew Voldemort, he deserted Voldemort, Voldemort killed him personally... Bloody hell. Give me the locket."

Hesitantly, Harry withdrew it from the pocket of his bathrobe. "It's a cheap one; someone replaced the real Horcrux with it. Sirius told me that Regulus only lasted a few days after he turned traitor to Voldemort."

Snape cleared his throat delicately. "Is there something you haven't seen fit to mention to the rest of the Order? What are you on about, R.A.B.?"

"Here." Hermione thrust the gold necklace into his cauldron-scarred hand and waited until he had read the note. "Harry and Professor Dumbledore went to fetch this on the night Dumbledore died. Clearly, this note has posed a bit of difficulty since."

"Well, this is Regulus' handwriting," sneered Snape. "Having received his owls many times, I ought to know. The only question is... "

"Was he actually able to destroy the Horcrux before he was murdered?" finished Hermione, earning herself a look of grudging admiration from Snape. "And what the hell did he do with it if not? Would Voldemort have taken it back?"

"No, of course not," scoffed Polyxena. "A piece of his soul? He probably sold it for scrap."

"The Dark Lord," interrupted Snape, "could only have taken it back if he'd known where to find it. Regulus had a few days, after all. I'm certain his top priority would have been to hide the Horcrux."

Harry's eyes were downcast. "He couldn't have hidden it any better than Voldemort. It took Dumbledore ages to find it. Voldemort had it in this cave full of Inferi and a lake with a creepy boat."

Sweeping a lock of dark, shiny hair from her face, Polyxena said thoughtfully, "There's a Horcrux on the loose, and Vold... man is channeling Gerard Butler. Never anything straightforward with you people, is there? Maybe I'll go off and join Harz's lot."

"Harz's lot?" queried Severus.

"Never mind," Moody growled severely. "Well, we need to find the locket, that much is obvious. Any identifying features you can think of, Potter?"

"Slytherin's mark," replied Harry quickly. "It was Salazar Slytherin's locket."

Squeezing Mad-Eye's shoulder, Polyxena chuckled, "It's right up your alley, then, isn't it, Alastor?"

"Quiet, you." Moody scowled into his flask. "Slytherin's locket, was it? Typical You-Know-Who. Could Regulus have brought it back here?"

"Here?" echoed Harry stupidly. "We would have noticed it while we were cleaning. Unless Sirius threw it out... "

Snape glowered. "Just the sort of thoughtless behavior one should come to expect from Black."

Hermione was inclined to agree.

"And so, Potter," he continued in a sneer, "your dear godfather has given you quite a job of searching the rubbish heaps for a seventh of the Dark Lord's soul."

"Not necessarily." Struck by a sudden thought, Hermione had to argue with her former Potions master. "We found a large, heavy locket when we were going through the things in the drawing room. None of us could open it, remember? Perhaps Regulus put it with the things in there, but couldn't figure out how to destroy it until it was too late."

"Yeah, could be," growled Moody. "Very well could be. Go on and fetch it, then."

Hermione flushed. The rest of the Order would still insist on treating her, Ron, and Harry as children. "Er, right. I'll just be right back."

As soon as she was out of sight, Snape stood and muttered, "Perhaps I should look as well." With that, he swooped out of the kitchen and hurried down the hall to the drawing room, where Hermione had already upended several desk drawers.

"Accio Horcrux! Accio Locket! Accio Slytherin's Locket!" she tried over and over, wand raised in the air.

Snape waved his wand at a locked, black cabinet. "Need a bit of assistance, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "So we're back to that again, are we? 'Miss Granger' and 'Professor Snape,' very mature of you."

"Mature," Snape repeated with delicate emphasis, tasting the word on his lips. "Mature, indeed. I was merely hoping to put a bit of distance between us, as you so clearly cannot handle the thought of a mere snog six months in the past."

Bristling with indignation, she hissed through her teeth, "It wasn't a 'mere snog,' and you know it, Severus." It had been a hot, hazy, passionate interlude, the culmination of months of careful byplay and Slytherin-subtle chemistry. Or so she had thought, at least. "But then I come upon you shagging Narcissa Malfoy, of all people... "

"I didn't shag Narcissa Malfoy!" Snape cut in tersely. At Hermione's outraged squawk, he added, "She shagged me."

"I'm no expert," spat Hermione, seething, "but even I know that it takes more than one person to have shag."

Snape's greasy head nodded involuntarily. He'd never in the lifetime of a basilisk admit to feeling guilty as hell for letting Malfoy's wife have her wicked way with him not once, but two times. Just as well Granger never knew about the second fuck. "I had no idea that a kiss entraps one in an exclusive relationship," he remarked instead, continuing to rifle through the cabinets and drawers for the locket.

"Entraps!" gasped Hermione, apparently too overcome with outrage to speak properly. "I beg your pardon, Severus, but I was never looking to entrap you into anything! It was you who kissed me, after all."

Insufferable girl. "Be that as it may, Hermione, I was rather under the impression that you were emotionally mature enough for such a liaison. I was, as it seems, incorrect."

"Stop looking for the damned locket," she snapped. "It's not here anymore." Whirling around, she stomped toward the door and back into the kitchen. "The Horcrux locket is gone missing," she informed everyone tightly. "Someone's stolen it."