Author's Note: This is my take on the "Hermione is Voldemort's daughter," and "Hermione is secretly a spy for the dark" tropes. A guilty pleasure of mine. I've tried to keep it as reasonable as possible and hope you will give it a chance, even if only for big blonde vikings.

The Order meeting took place in one of the safe houses, and Dorcas Meadowes was curled up on a sofa, with her legs tucked underneath her as Albus spoke. He looked particularly perplexed. It was not, after all, every day that the Divination teacher was found in Hogsmeade with her throat slit and a Dark Mark hovering over her corpse. It hadn't been torturous like some Death Eaters, or a single blast of efficient magic, like the Killing Curse. In fact, no magic had been used at all, save for the Mark above the body.

Apparently it had driven fear into the hearts of the other professors at the school, and made the Order think that the Death Eaters might start using muggle methods to become more untraceable in their crimes. That discussion had at least been interesting, but now Albus was debating hiring a new Divination professor or letting the subject lapse. Dorcas really didn't care about Hogwarts hiring policies, she had gone to Beauxbatons, but she pretended to be attentive anyway.

She giggled at a lewd comment from Sirius Black, despite the seriousness of the situation, and then, when it was her turn, she directed their eyes to the chessboard she had laid out. It wasn't a standard game, there were too many pieces, but she wasn't playing the usual game, after all. This was war. Using small words so that everyone would understand, she spoke about everything she had heard in the pits of the Prophet, what she had heard skulking about Knockturn Alley, and how it could be used to fight the Death Eaters.

No one noticed Peter Pettigrew's nervousness.

When Severus Snape answered the summons, he was surprised to find himself in a room with only a few of the oldest and most trusted of the inner circle. Even Lucius Malfoy wasn't present, though Abraxas was. "My Lord," he said, bowing deeply.

"Rise, Severus." Voldemort insisted, giving him one of those charismatic smiles. "Take off your mask and cloak, and have a seat."

Trying to be reassured, Severus did as he was bid, taking an empty seat in the sitting room of the Dark Lord's lavish home. "You called, My Lord?"

"Dumbledore is having some...staffing issues, and his Order may be grooming students within the school." Voldemort said, fingers running along the carvings on his chair. "I need someone inside the school. I need you inside the school." He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the young Potions' Master. "I want you to take the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, teach the young how arbitrary these ideas of light and dark can be."

Severus swallowed. The Dark Lord was often painted as cruel and sadistic, and having seen him at his worst, Severus could not help but agree. There were those other times, however, times like these, when he turned all of his charisma on someone, and you felt special, you felt as though you could truly change the world, you could matter. Still, Severus had anything but pleasant memories of Hogwarts. "I'm too young, he'll never consider it." Severus argued. "There are still students who remember how the Marauders tormented me. I'd have no respect."

"Nonsense!" A feminine voice declared beside him, and Severus turned to smile at Portia Dagworth-Granger. Her amber eyes were glittering as she spoke. "You survived through an apprenticeship with the most demanding battleaxe of a Potions Mistress on the continent, and were one of the youngest published in an academic journal about dark potions in a century. You may be young, but they cannot deny your qualifications."

"I'm sure your mother would love to hear you speak of her in such a flattering way, Portia." Severus drawled in amusement. They had met while they had both been apprenticing to Portia's mother, the indomitable Imogen Dagworth-Granger. He had no desire to make friends, merely to finish his apprenticeship, but Portia had other ideas, and there were some tasks in an apprenticeship that bonded apprentices together. She was probably the only true friend he had acquired since Lily. If he didn't still love Lily, he might have had feelings for her. As it was, they were merely best friends. When she had finished her apprenticeship and declared she didn't want to see her mother for at least five years, she had tagged along behind him back to Britain despite his complaints and sarcastic rebuffs. It was when she was accompanying him to some formal Death Eater party that he had introduced her to the Dark Lord, and the rest was history.

Portia waved a hand dismissively, but she was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling. "The old harridan knows what she is, she loves her image. Far be it for me to tarnish it."

"Qualifications aside, I doubt I can get the respect of students who remember Potter dangling me upside-down and commenting on my undergarments." Severus sain, nearly spitting on the name of his enemy.

"If you cannot rule them with respect, let them fear you." Cynric Nott advised.

"You are the only one I can ask to do this, Severus." Voldemort said. "Dumbledore is desperate, and with recent...issues…well, he will undoubtedly have even fewer applicants than normal."

"Ah yes, the Divination professor. That was a surprise. I'd never seen anything quite that style from our comrades." Severus said, curious as anyone about who had done that particular deed or why. While Dumbledore and some of his professors were considered a threat, the old divination professor had never been on that list. The surprise came from exactly where he wasn't looking.

"She spoke out of turn." Portia said coldly, and when Severus glanced over at her, her curls were crackling with magic. "She had to be silenced. She could not finish her prophecy. It could not be allowed to register with the Ministry."

Well, that was a surprise. Unlike most of the Death Eaters recruited in recent years, Portia didn't have a taste for meaningless violence. She wasn't even a blood purist. Her concerns were more about lost knowledge and traditions, adults who had no idea why they were taught with quills, the old rites being replaced with vacations or ignored completely, Runes being an elective instead of a required course, ignorance of magical theory, and magic being solely divided into light and dark, with no concept of it as a primeval force. Power helped too, but her motives were closer to the old Knights of Walpurgis than the modern Death Eaters. Bellatrix had complained long and hard about the Dark Lord favouring someone she saw as too weak to be a killer. What Severus understood in that moment was that she wasn't afraid to kill, she simply needed a situation where it was necessary. "Potions knife?".

"Boline." Portia said, her cool expression breaking with a smile. "I doubt anyone will even be able to identify the wound marks. I thought it a fitting way to send her to kiss death's scythe."

"Undoubtedly." Severus said dryly.

"The work was savage and yet elegant all at once." The Dark Lord said, offering the witch one of those smiles that others would fall over the bodies of their fellows to receive. "I believe that it will make Dumbledore more willing to hire you, Severus."

Severus couldn't help the sour expression on his face. "Certainly there is someone more suited to the task? Portia is an excellent teacher."

"It will only be for a year, Severus." Portia reassured him. "I have...another mission, one that Cynric and Einar will be helping me with."

Severus could tell the Dark Lord was losing his patience in. He preferred to keep Voldemort in the guise of genteel, noble, beneficent leader as much as possible. The other option was...terrifying. "If these are your orders, My Lord, of course I will obey." He said, as humbly as possible.

"If this assignment displeases you so much, you may aid me with another, that will perhaps be more to your taste." Voldemort said, darkness tingeing his voice.

Severus knew he had pressed his luck too much about the unpalatable teaching position. "Whatever you desire, My Lord."

Voldemort smiled a vicious smile. "It's time for Meadowes to die. They think we don't know she exists. It's time to show them we know more than they think we do."

Severus nodded. "Do you want me to arrange such a brew or…?"

"No." Voldemort interrupted, cutting him off. "It will be my wand. You will simply ensure the body gets identified by the Order afterwards."

"Yes, my Lord."

Severus watched from an alley as the four Death Eaters dragged the body to the door of the two Marauders. It was a good choice, these four, as they loudly grumbled about the job, clumsily setting off wards as they disapparated.

The door opened only a moment later, and there was a gasp. "Moony!" Sirius yelled. "Floo Dumbledore! It's Dorcas!" Severus watched as he leaned down, checking for a pulse, for any sign of life, and then gathered the body into his arms. He made a noise and then reached for the note on the body, before letting out a noise of grief mingled with rage. The werewolf appeared in the doorway, placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "What's it say?"

"He did it." Sirius raged. "It says: "I do not appreciate meddling in my plans." He was shaking. "He killed her."

"We'll get him, Sirius." The werewolf reassured him. "He'll pay."

Severus scoffed quietly, before disappearing further into the alley, and masking the area with a silencing charm, before apparating away. Dorcas Meadowes was dead.

Lord Voldemort looked around the drawing room at Nott Manor, eyeing the four assembled Death Eaters. "You understand how important this mission is?" He spoke quietly, but he held the room in silence. "This is one of the most important missions I can give you. It will cement my future, our future, the future of the wizarding world."

"Yes. My Lord." all four intoned.

"It is finished, Cynric?" He asked, looking to one of his oldest friends.

"Finished and tested. It is safe, as demanded." Cynric Nott agreed, holding out the time turner.

Voldemort took it from him, and placed it around Portia's neck. "Einar, you and your son will be the guard. No matter what comes. Is that understood?"

Einar Rowle nodded his great blonde head, towering above everyone else in the room, standing beside his cousin. "All the strength of the Rowles will be behind it, My Lord."

"Abraxas, your wife will play her part?"

"Asenath is glad to serve, My Lord." Abraxas agreed. "All care will be taken."

"Good." Lord Voldemort replied. "Go to your places."

The three men disapparated, leaving the Dark Lord alone with Portia. "If you change your mind, send word with Cynric, and I will have Severus brew."

Portia rolled her eyes at the most powerful Dark Lord in a century. "I'll need something to do with my time, since I won't have to keep making Polyjuice with Dorcas out of the picture. I just wish I could have gotten you something more useful." Her spy work as Dorcas had gleaned less than she would have liked.

"This mission is more important." Voldemort said firmly. "This is the greatest gift you can provide me, Portia."

Portia's face exploded into a smile at that. She didn't dare tell him how sweet she found it, ducking her head to hide her happiness.

"Stay safe." Lord Voldemort directed. "Cynric has the largest library of any of my Death Eaters, and his wife is about your age and pleasant enough, but should you need anything…"

"You know when I'll need you." Portia said simply. "You've already done it."

"Then it is time for you to go." He said, before leaning down and slanting his lips over hers.

Portia kissed him back for a long moment, and then stepped back and began to turn to time-turner. "Be safe." She bid him, and disappeared.