Black and White

Snape put his Ars Alchemica magazine aside and turned off his bedside lamp. Two in the bloody morning, and sleep still eluded him.

Now that he was sure his pupil had her quick-witted mind on the relevant track, he could think of the other, more unsettling questions. Like how on earth he'd tell Dumbledore he had seduced the girl - if he told him at all. Or how he'd explain she'd gone missing and that communication was out for a little while because of it. And especially how he'd explain why they left the area the Aurors had prepared for their training and ended up in a completely unexpected site.

How he was having rather inappropriate thoughts about the girl he had seduced.

How he was one step from throwing caution to the wind, and reaching his hands out again.

How he was amazed that, now that Hermione had had some time to think, she was still attracted to him and apparently wanted to act on that attraction.

Like the proverbial moth and the flame.

Like what a royally fucked up mess his life had always been, and the woman who promised to complicate matters worse.

Snape was stepping out of his shower when he realised a monkey was trying to lift his window frame and enter his flat. Sure enough, when the Potions Master let the poor creature in, he was given a letter from Dumbledore. The letter was a couple days old, since a school owl had to take the message to the International Missive Central so it could be dispatched by floo to the IMC of the destined country, and then picked up by a carrier monkey.

At least the headmaster had had the decency not to send a howler, Snape thought. The restrained anger was barely perceptible, but Snape was no fool and could sense it. Besides, he knew his friend well.

Snape dropped the letter on his desk, knowing the monkey was told to wait for the answer. "Have some rest, if you like," Snape commented casually over his shoulders, "I cannot answer it right now."

A soft musical sound interrupted him. He had a visitor, and his heartbeat accelerated in its own volition. "Get a grip on yourself," he muttered crossly, hastily pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a grey shirt.

The casual expression that greeted him was as expected. Hermione swept past him when Snape stepped aside, leaving the trail of jasmine and lilies in the air.

"I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you," she said as a greeting, sitting in one of the crème coloured chairs.

"I imagined as much," Snape replied sarcastically, still annoyed over her influence on him. He was not sure he could afford weakness in that stage of his life. He never could before.

"Lily had to have an inkling about that ritual. She just couldn't have gotten the idea by divine intervention. So tell me, Severus, how did she know enough about the Dark Arts to come up with a ritual? Even though she was good at improvisation, she must have known something..."

Snape stared at her blankly.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"How did you.. How could you..."

"I never said I did it, Hermione. You're jumping to conclusions."

Hermione blushed faintly and nodded, now resembling more the schoolgirl he once knew. "I assumed things... My apologies."

And because the apology was sincere, he found himself willing to let go of the matter.

"There's no need to apologise, I did recruit wizards to the Dark lord. At first because it would give me power within the circle, and later because it would be too suspicious not to. But it does not matter now.

"You should keep in mind," he continued, holding her still with the power of his midnight stare and sitting graciously on the sofa, "that Voldemort's war is a war of information as well as raw power and dueling skills. Espionage and strategy have taken down most of the Government's force. That is the objective of this training, so that you'll be able to counteract Voldemort's advantage against the Ministry of Magic. You'll be the mind behind your friends' movements, and you'll be directly responsible for their lives."

Hermione, to her credit, did not rush to comment on that information, keeping still while the Potion master studied her.

"Not," he said at last, "that it will be something new for you."

Snape silently wondered if Hermione could grasp the depth of that insidious compliment.

Maybe.

"Albus is an Unspeakable, and so are you."

He was prepared for her realising the fact, although it was a bit too soon. However, Hermione Granger had always been an over-achiever. Snape merely nodded, suddenly too tired to keep a pretence that would be immediately noticed. He could not burn his bridges again. Her confidence in him was strained at best, and a denial would ruin any remaining chance of working well together.

"Like a player, moving the pawns on the chessboard," the woman continued. "Maybe Ron could be an Unspeakable, if he was not so bound to Harry. He's very good at strategy, when he puts his mind to it."

"Ronald Weasley is entirely too temperamental to be an Unspeakable. We cannot have bursts of temper. Besides, he's the proverbial Hero's Companion. He can bring his partner to the end of the road, and let him do what's necessary - it's a rare trait, Hermione, rarer than you might think."

He had wanted to say 'sidekick,' but refrained. And he didn't know why.

"And the pawns cannot realise they're being manipulated, can they? Of course not. So the Aurors take all the credit, and we continue working in the shadows. Pulling the strings, unseen. You're not only Unspeakable, you're unknown."

"Invisible," he rectified. "It's better that way."

"It must be so very... lonely," she muttered, bitter.

"For some people, yes. For others, it's not much of a difference anyway. We are a close knit bunch."

Somehow, 'For people like you and me, what's the difference?' seemed inappropriate. And unnecessarily rude.

"How then? Who?" Hermione broke the silence, uncomfortably. And Snape made a great show of standing up and pouring two glasses of fruit juice. In his opinion, tropical juices were much better than pumpkin. Not to mention the stuff was rather boring, if you had it every day for over ten years. He could suggest a change in the menu to Dumbledore, if that did not imply a non-existent care for the pesters the headmaster used to call 'his students.'

What was Hermione talking about again? Snape was a remarkably light-footed spy, but the female ability to resume long-finished conversations as if they had never been interrupted sometimes baffled him.

Ah, yes. Lily.

He handed her one glass and sat down again, taking a sip of - he was yet to find a dictionary with the translation of the name- goiaba juice. But the fruit's name was irrelevant now.

"There were Death Eaters from all parts of Europe. And not all of them were Slytherins, or else they'd be very few, wouldn't they? How many students are chosen to Slytherin per year? And how many of those would accept the call?"

His voice had an icy tone that unnerved him. He was not supposed to let his feelings show in that depth, and Hermione was smart enough to build on the education he was providing. The girl was not a full-fledged Unspeakable, but she was cunning. He shouldn't let her know it was a sore spot.

"Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. But if he had been the one to steer her in the right direction, his nature as a dark wizard - and perhaps even the facts of his true allegiance - would have prevented the Potters from ever allowing Pettigrew to be their Secret Keeper. The Potters were many things, but they were certainly not dim.

"Lily insinuated that she might be seduced... by the right price and offer. A very smart witch, I can say that to you. Potter was an Unspeakable, too, but he posed as an Auror, which made him a target. Add to that lots of money and the connections to make it count. There were rumours of a traitor amongst the resistance - and there were several of them. I myself arranged the disappearance of some of them when Voldemort was gone. They were too risky for all of us - including me.

"Anyway, Lily was bent on finding out who the traitor might be, and she was on my heels for quite some time. I believe, in the end, Potter put his foot down and convinced her to leave the riskiest part of her work because at that time she was pregnant."

"You think she gathered the information during those days? From the dark side?"

" The Potters' murder created a great deal of anger, almost a thirst for vengeance and a desire to go on the offensive... though the fact that Voldemort was thought killed at the same time also had a lot to do with people becoming more daring in opposing dark wizards after that night. Plenty of Death Eaters dead or caught because of them, and they were also very big in the great scheme of things. Yes, I think Lily gathered a lot of dangerous secrets on the wrong side of the fence. It's very unlikely the 'good guys' would have knowledge of such things - dark rituals, demonology, necromancy, and a general interest in things that go bump in the night. They assume ignorance is the best weapon against the lure of the dark side. Complete idiots."

" But if Voldemort and his minions had access to that kind of information - dark magic that was that powerful - then why didn't they use it? I find it surprising that Voldemort, of all people, would have held back."

"Wizards are not the most creative people, Hermione. They follow the beaten tracks. Most new spells are created by muggleborn wizards - and if you repeat that to any other living soul, you're dead."

Hermione laughed. It was not a polite sound of amusement either, rather a full-blown laughter that made Snape's mouth itch upwards.

Salazar's beard! He had slept with a student, then he was confiding in said pupil and now he was openly smiling at a private joke.

God help him.

"Right then," Hermione said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Your secret is safe with me. And now that it's clear we left the 'Clue' stage, when do we begin the dark Arts training?"

"Clue? What on earth is--"

"Muggle game, you're given a few clues and then have to find out who the murderer is."

Snape dropped his cup on the small glassy table beside him, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'crazy muggles.' Hermione apparently thought it was better not to comment.

Smart girl.

"I will need to gather a few things. And a change of location is in order, too. The amount of magic we're about to use would make us a clear target. We need somewhere more inconspicuous."

Hermione sighed heavily. "I was beginning to like this place."

Snape did not say anything to that.

"What place do you have in mind?"

"I think Canada, or Australia. A place isolated enough for us to go by unnoticed but with some wizarding tradition, where the language will not be such a damned giveaway."

"Why did we end up here anyway?"

"Dumbledore, I think... I bet he thought this would be a cosmic joke."

Of course he'd need some papers and documents, but forgery was hardly an issue for him.

Hermione nodded, pensive, her eyes lost and unfocused. Without the pressure of planning and speculating, Snape let himself simply enjoy the company. She was wearing jeans and a black tank top. Casual, simple. Hermione was not the type that went out of her way to make an impression.

Snape released his breath in a long, silent hiss. Unamorous thoughts. Quick.

"I thought about it," she announced, and Snape was equal parts euphoric that she had enough control to leave private business for last, and terrified of what she might do and say. He was a lone wolf, and the woman before him had the tools to get past his barriers if he was not careful.

"And I decided," she continued in a low voice, "Since the bridges are already burned, that you have a lot to make up to me."

Hermione quickly stood up and crossed the space between them, sitting herself on his lap with only the slightest hint of uncertainty. Where the hell has gone the shy, insecure woman he had been tutoring?

It was impossible to deny the effect she had on him now.

The Gryffindor released a little whimper and moved forward, embracing him tightly, pressing her body against his.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking for?" he asked, some long-buried sense of chivalry forcing the question from his lips. He needed to be sure (if there was anything to be sure about).

The expression on her face was priceless. "I don't think any of us have, Severus, but you owe me this. We owe each other this."

What remained of his attention agreed that was as good an answer as any. If he probed further - which he didn't - Snape would realise he wanted that as badly as she did.

"Then may God help us," he prayed, before his hands released their grip on the armrest and pulled her head down for a searing kiss.

It was all about need, and hunger, the way their tongues dueled and they fought for dominance. She resumed her wonderful movement above him, back and forth, and it was all he could do not to tear her clothes off and have his way with her on the floor.

The floor looked damn friendly right then.

"Severus?" she managed to say, breathless and glassy-eyed, and Snape decided he loved the sound of his name when she spoke that way.

Merlin's beard, she was calling him by his given name. And he liked it. He liked it a lot.

So much for careful.

"What?"

"I want all of it. Don't you dare hold back."

Yes. The floor.

He pulled her tight tank top off, keeping it partially on her so he could keep her arms above her head. Her wonderful breasts within sight and reach, he was one goddamned lucky man. With only a slight bending, he kissed his way from her collarbone to one of those coffee coloured pieces of heaven.

"And I intend," she was gasping now, as he sucked and nibbled more furiously, "To use my hands this time."

He released her arms with one devilish smile, and reclined so she could unbutton his shirt, lazy fingers caressing the skin underneath. Their kisses were still hot, but there was a humorous quality in their caresses, chuckles whenever a button decided to stay in their way. They kissed and touched, the desire tempered by something else, an exploration.

"Bed," Hermione whispered, and he carried her to his bedroom, wondering if some guilty feeling was urging him to be so compliant. It mattered little; he could please her this time.

Soon, he wasn't thinking about anything else.

That day, Snape worked very hard to make it up to Hermione.

And he would only remember about Dumbledore's letter the next morning.