"The Order has become desperate, Hermione."

It had been hours and the words still rang through her ears. They were running out of options and while Kingsley had made this clear to her, Hermione had known for months. She had seen it in the way they frontline duelists returned with almost fatal injuries and the way they hadn't had new recruits in weeks. At the start of the War, people had joined the Order from out of the country in an attempt to help Great Britain defeat their Dark Lord. Now, though, it was difficult to find someone willing to risk their life for a group who had made no progress in bringing down even a single tier of Voldemort's regime.

"I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think you could handle it."

The Ministry had been publicly compromised for almost two years now. Voldemort had gotten his claws in there and the Order had been too late to notice. Then again, Hermione wondered if it would have made much of a difference. The Death Eaters were vicious and well trained. They could have taken the Ministry in an instant even with the Order watching. While Kingsley liked to pretend their faults were recent developments, Hermione knew the Order had been struggling for at least a year.

"We've received word from Severus that one of the Death Eaters has been wanting to join the Order for two years now. He's taken care to make sure it's a real offer and he's confident he can be trusted."

"What do you need me to do?"

Hermione hadn't thought much of it when Kingsley had asked her at first and even now, she knew she would do anything if it could help the Order. She almost scoffed.

The Order was hardly anything now and the world knew it. The papers regularly reported the number of new Death Eater recruits and their successes. It was clear Rita Skeeter had taken quite a liking to the young Death Eater, creating a special column to promote their interests and remind young witches there was a new "eligible and ever so charming wizard available". Some of their faces Hermione recognised more than others. Some she could have sworn she'd never seen, however, which was strange because she'd thought for sure every British wizard had gone to Hogwarts at some time. The thought that Voldemort was now drawing the attention of young wizards from out of the country and convincing them to fight his war had Hermione closing the paper with each unrecognisable face.

"Severus has arranged a meeting but refused to agree to it unless you were the only Order member to go. No one else and an Unbreakable Vow to guarantee it. If you said no, I have—"

"I'll go."

It seemed like the best idea at the time. Kingsley couldn't have said anything to convince her not to agree. He certainly tried, though. He told her how dangerous it was; even if Severus would be there, she could be spotted along the way. After all, she had grown pretty recognisable even before the War began years ago with the battle at Hogwarts. She'd refused to be talked out of it though and after promising Kingsley she was going whether she had his support or not, he'd told her the details of the meeting.

"This Thursday. Midnight at Grimmauld Place. You're to obliviate my knowledge of the time and place to ensure you're the only one who knows."

Obliviating Kingsley had been slightly more satisfying than she would admit. She'd watched his eyes glass over as she pulled the memory from his mind smoothly. There had been a second where she'd considered removing other memories and feelings. She remembered how adamant he was that no one in the Order fights dirty or curses the Death Eaters like they cursed the Order. The temptation to remove that determination and process of thought was so strong that Hermione found herself summoning it forward.

Ultimately, she'd refrained but only because it would be too suspicious of Kingsley to change his mind overnight.

They'd gone their separate ways after that. Kingsley still knew about the new contact Snape was hoping to set up and that Hermione was the one working the case, but he didn't know any of the meeting details anymore. If anything, Hermione was a little disappointed she hadn't been able to get more information than that, but Kingsley would have known if she'd gone poking through his mind since she'd never been that great with Legilimency.

Now, Hermione was in the dining hall and while everyone around her seemed to be talking amicably and laughing occasionally, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Kingsley's proposal. Could she tell Harry? Would it matter if Ginny or Ron knew? After all, this was War and if she died the night she met Snape, she'd want them to know what she'd been trying to do.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked, elbowing her out of her thoughts.

She glanced up at him, wondering if his interruption was a sign she should tell him about her meeting with Snape. Kingsley chose that moment to glance at her across the room and when he narrowed his eyes slightly at her, she knew she couldn't breathe a word.

"Yeah," she said, letting out a breath of air and stirring her bowl of soup. "Just lost in thought, I guess."

Beside her, Harry hummed and took a bite of a large potato. He grimaced and Hermione almost laughed. Two years ago, potato soup had been one of their favourite meals. Mrs. Weasley had always made delicious food, but potato soup had secretly been her favourite meal. It used to remind her of late nights at the Burrow over Christmas holidays or chilly fall evenings just before school began. Now, each bite seemed to bring another haunting memory from previous battles or remind her that they were still so far from victory.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking up at Harry quickly and shoving her thoughts aside. She hadn't seen Ginny since the Order meeting and while that wasn't typically unusual, she found she missed her roommate's company a little extra at the moment.

"Off with Ron somewhere, I think," Harry answered. He took another bite of his soup and looked down at her. "George got hit with a stray sectumsempra when walking through the village, so most of the Weasleys have been in and out of the infirmary."

"Who was using sectumsempra?" Hermione asked. While the nearby village was not a hot spot for Death Eaters, she still wanted to make sure they hadn't left some Death Eater wanna-be unaccounted for. Anyone could pose a problem if they reported George Weasley to the wrong person.

"Just some kid," Harry shrugged.

Hermione wanted to ask when sectumsempra had become a curse that kids practised on the streets, but she refrained. The last thing Harry needed to be reminded of was the war that was raging on even as they ate dinner.

In an attempt to change the subject, she asked Harry what he'd done that day after the Order meeting. He hadn't been sent out to fight, but that didn't necessarily mean he hadn't spent his time similarly. Thankfully, his answer was as boring as she hoped it would be and she didn't have it in her to tease him about finding himself interested in a book.

"I just wandered the gardens," Hermione answered when he turned the question on her. If he knew she was being purposefully vague, he didn't say anything. "There are several new blossoms and they really are beautiful right now."

Harry snorted and Hermione looked at him strangely. He shook his head but spoke anyway.

"It's just ironic," he muttered. He stared down at his now-empty bowl of soup and frowned. "The garden is full of new things, but elsewhere in England, people are dying. It's almost as if the flowers don't seem to care."

"I hardly think flowers have the consciousness necessary to care, Harry," Hermione teased, giving him a small smile. Harry shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Still," he said. With a grin and a slight glint in his eye, he turned to her and said, "Fifteen years ago, I wouldn't have thought books had a conscience, but here I am, talking to one now."

Hermione scowled and he laughed, their conversation melting into the background noise of the dining hall. As she watched Harry laugh and felt herself grinning a bit too, she decided that for the remainder of the evening, she wouldn't let thoughts of the War cloud her mind. In the morning, she could go back to strategizing and researching and worrying, but for tonight, she would not. Just for tonight.