Hermione glanced at the ingredients laid out.
“Is there a new curse?”
“Indeed. Dolohov has outdone himself this time. Effortless to cast and highly effective. Countering it is simple but the damage is immediate. They'll start using it in the field soon.”
“What type?”
“Contagious acid boils.”
Hermione pressed her lips together, and drew a sharp breath. She'd have a lot of research to do in preparation. Acid spells had rarely appeared during battles in the past, but the effects of them were often devastating and difficult to heal.
Severus added four drops of moondew, and then turned to stare at her.
“You have twenty minutes,” he said, sweeping ahead of her into the sitting room. She dawdled a moment longer to study the slowly simmering potion before turning to follow him.
“I hear you're sacrificing yourself for the cause,” he drawled from an armchair before she'd seated herself.
“Moody said you thought it was a legitimate offer,” she said evenly.
“True,” he said.
He didn't offer tea.
“Why?” she asked. There was no point in being coy. She wanted straight answers. After so many years of war, she had found Severus answered short direct questions better than any other.
“Draco Malfoy does not serve anyone,” he answered.
Hermione waited.
“Of course, technically he serves the Dark Lord,” he said, making a dismissive gesture with his hand, “But that is out of necessity, not loyalty. His motivation is personal in nature. Whatever that motive is, he has decided that the Order can enable him to achieve it better than the Dark Lord can.”
Severus paused and then added “He will not be loyal to the Order but he'll be as excellent a spy as he is a Death Eater.”
“Is it worth it if we can't trust him?” Hermione asked.
“At this point I don't think the Order has any other option. Do you?”
Hermione shook her head and gripped the arms of the chair.
“And — I think he miscalculated somewhat when he made his offer,” Severus added.
“How?”
“Asking for you. I think it was a mistake on his part,” Severus said staring at her speculatively.
Hermione blinked. “Why?”
“As I mentioned to Moody, I observed Draco had a sort of fascination with you in school. Do not misunderstand; I am not claiming it to have been anything meaningful, much less serious. However, you were someone he noticed. You may be able to use that fact to your advantage. I don't believe he realises it.”
“He demanded to own me. I think he realises it,” Hermione pointed out.
“If he merely wanted a body to own or fuck, he could get practically any one he wanted with little effort. You're hardly Helen of Troy, and even it you were, he hasn't laid eyes on you in almost six years. And you certainly weren't then. I doubt he even knows what you currently look like. On the list of grudges he likely carries now, I doubt your academic rivalry still qualifies,” Snape retorted. “You are not the motive for his switch of allegiance.”
Severus' words plunged Hermione into a state of simultaneous relief and despair. She did not want the attention of Draco Malfoy — but she needed it. She felt suddenly tempted to cry over the sheer impossibility of the mission she had.
“Therefore,” continued Snape, “his decision to add you into his demands is an opening. If you choose to take it. You — could make him loyal.”
“By what? Seducing him?” Hermione asked skeptically.
“By holding his interest,” Snape said, rolling his eyes as though she were dense. “You are an intelligent enough witch. Be interesting to him. Find your way into his mind so that he starts to want what he cannot simply demand from you. You're most assuredly not going to hold him with your feminine wiles.”
Snape snorted as he said it.
“Men like Draco Malfoy are ambitious, which makes them quickly bored by anything that is easy for them to obtain. Sex is possibly one of the easiest things for him to get; even sex with you now — given the terms he set. You will have to be more than that, and you will have to make him see it.”
Hermione gave a curt nod with assurance she did not feel as Snape added, “He'll have a considerable advantage of power over you. However, the fact that you hold his attention means you may still have a hand worth playing. After nearly six years, when he had a chance to demand anything, you were what occurred to him to ask for. You will have to utilise that knowledge carefully if you wish to equalise things or make him loyal.”
“Malfoy isn't stupid. He'll expect it.”
“He will.”
“But you think I can manage it?”
“Are you trying to fish for compliments, Miss Granger?” Severus said coolly. “At this point in the war, I think almost anything is worth attempting. That you have any chance of succeeding is highly unlikely. You have agreed to sell yourself in exchange for information to an incredibly dangerous wizard who has obtained most of his power by means of his own considerable intelligence. A wizard whose current motives are a mystery; even to those who have known him a lifetime. He is exceptionally isolated and mercurial, even by Death Eater standards. He did not get where he is by being easily beaten or having predictable weaknesses.”
There was a long pause. It appeared Snape had no further insight to offer.
Hermione stood, feeling freshly demoralised.
She was selling herself in a gamble with a multiple points of failure. It would likely be futile.
She was going to do it anyway.
She hesitated, a question rising to her lips that she was almost afraid to ask.
“Is he—,” she stammered. “How — cruel do you know of him being?”
Snape stared at her with his inscrutable black eyes.
“I haven't known him well since your fifth year. However, bully though he was, I had never considered him to be a sadist.”
Hermione nodded jerkily, feeling light-headed as she turned to go.
“I wish you luck, Miss Granger. You are a better friend than Harry Potter will ever deserve.”
Severus' voice had a trace of regret in it. Hermione paused and brought her hand up to her throat, tracing her thumb along her collarbone for a moment before twisting the chain of her necklace between her fingers.
“I'm not just doing this for Harry,” she said. Severus snorted and she looked at him defensively. “There is a whole world out there that doesn't even know they're relying on us. Besides, if we lose, what possible chance do you think I'll have?”
He gave a short nod of agreement. She left Spinner's End without another word.
When Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place, she went into the bathroom and stared at her reflection.
She was thin and tired-looking. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight. Her features were sharper than they had been in school; a bit daintier. Her protruding cheekbones made her look more elegant. Her eyes — well, she had always thought they were her best feature — large and dark, but with enough fire in them that they didn't make her look too naive. Her hair remained her cross to bear. Still bushy, but it was long enough nowadays that the weight held it down somewhat. She kept it braided and pinned back to keep it out of her face when brewing and healing.
She pulled her clothes off and stepped into the shower. The hot water beating down on her skin felt like safety. She didn't want to leave it, but after scrubbing herself from head to toe she made herself shut off the water and step out.
She cast a quick shaving charm on her legs and under her arms, and toweled off.
Wiping off the steam from the mirror, she appraised the body in the reflection critically.
She'd have to hope Malfoy's subconscious interest was primarily in her mind because she was certainly not Helen of Troy. Stress had eaten away her curves. She was bony and thin-limbed. Not particularly flawed anywhere, but generally lacking in softness in the places men typically liked to hold.