Disclaimer: see chapter one.

I have a wonderful beta, her name is Somigliana.

---

Hermione was restrained on an old couch when she woke up. The first thing she saw were the bookcases running along the walls of a barely lit room. The second thing she saw was Severus Snape looking at her, his fingers crossed under his chin, his burning eyes seeking answers to unspoken questions. She felt a warm weight on her lap and knew that it was her cat when it began to purr.

“Why is your cat here? How did it find me?”

She cast a suspicious look at Crookshanks, who looked as unrepentant as the Weasley twins after committing mischief.

-----

“I don’t know either,” she said cautiously. She wasn’t going to tell about the magical tattoo.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he’d easily see through her.

Neither expected Crookshanks to jump on Snape’s knees. He propped his front paws on the Death Eater’s chest so that his head was at Severus’ eye level, and wriggled his left ear until his magical tattoo was visible.

“A magical tattoo? Not unlike the Dark Mark, it seems. Why, Miss Granger, I didn’t know that you were so eager to meet me again so soon.” The silky tone of his voice made her shiver.

-----

“I’m not that eager, though I don’t understand my cat’s behaviour!” she protested weakly. In truth, she didn’t know what to think. Her cat had always been reliable in his assessment of people. Should she trust her ex-professor, even though he’d murdered Dumbledore in cold blood?

She was sure that she’d landed in the Twilight Zone when Snape petted her familiar absent-mindedly. If she weren’t still restrained, she’d think that she was having a cosy evening with a good friend. Her “host” didn’t seem to mind, though. He spoke again. “It is just as well that you came to me.”

-----

Hermione, who felt very confused, chose to remain silent. It seemed Snape was not finished speaking, anyway. “I have information for the Order, but I do not have a way to convey it safely, and without provoking distrust. I think that you would be the perfect intermediary between them and me.”

‘There’s a heat wave in Heaven,’ thought Hermione. ‘Snape, the traitor Severus Snape, intends on leaking information to the Order of the Phoenix!’

“What do you want in return? Which side are you on?” she blurted out.

“I just want to carry out the mission that Dumbledore assigned me.”

-----

The impression of being in the Twilight Zone intensified inside Hermione. Or maybe there was a hidden camera somewhere, and all of this would be revealed to only be a Weasley’s prank. She pinched herself to ascertain that she was awake, a gesture that was caught by her ex-professor. He looked like he was very amused by her feeling uncomfortable.

“How do I know you’re not leading me on a wild goose chase, or trying to extract information from me for your ‘Lord’?” Her contempt as she uttered this last word was unmistakable. A hint of impatience crossed Snape’s face.

-----

“I have freed you from your restraints - you didn’t even take notice of that when you pinched yourself, and your wand is in your cloak pocket. I think that is proof enough that I do not want to hurt you!”

Indeed, she could feel the length of wood poking her in her side.

“You will gain my trust when you release me with reliable information to provide the Order with, and with a way of finding you.”

He snorted at that. “You already have a way of finding me,” he said.

“What? Oh, of course,” she said, remembering Crookshanks.

-----

“Now, can we get down to business? My acquaintances do have a tendency to show up unannounced at any hour of the day or night.”

She nodded.

“The Dark Lord has hidden magical objects in the past. I can disclose the location of some of them to you.”

It was a dumbfounded Hermione who listened to Severus tell her about the Horcruxes’ locations, even though he didn’t seem to know what kind of objects they were. Everything that he was telling her would be thoroughly checked, but it made sense. He was giving her the very means to defeat Voldemort.

-----

Crookshanks was of the opinion that things were turning out for the better. His mistress was having a quiet conversation with her soon-to-be mate—she’d soon realise on her own that he was perfect for her, there was a fire in the hearth whose heat was bathing him, and he was being petted by his soon-to-be master. What more could a cat want in life?

Oh, yes, one more thing. Now that his mistress was distracted enough to quickly forget about the redheaded git, it was time to distract the boy from his mistress, and Crookshanks already had a plan.