Chapter 52

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Also, no money made either...just for fun. Oh and keep in mind, most of the actual events in DH happen as they happened in the book unless I have indicated they happened differently or at a slightly different time.

Ron has been Splinched, and unlike canon, I have him a bit more incapacitated from the trauma of almost having his arm torn off for artistic license and to set up events that will be different from what's in the book. You'll notice other bits I've done utilizing my artistic license, but in the end, most of the actual events in DH happen as they happened in the book. I'm just adding to the drawn out camping stretches.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia and FrankQ for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

---

Hermione walked along the field keeping close to the trees. The area looked so different from the last time she'd been here for the Quidditch World Cup, and the field where all the magical tents had stood was lush, green and empty...and very quiet. She considered going to a grocer, but with Ron hurt and the mess up at the Ministry, she didn't want to go far and take the chance to go anywhere that she might be recognized. Not that she knew the location of any wizard run grocers; the ones she knew were all Muggle ones.

She looked up at the sky. She'd been roaming for a while, and it was starting to get dark, so she had to come up with something. She'd found some Foxglove, angelica, liverworts and even identified some of the mosses, but none of those were edible. She spotted a field rose, Rosa arvensis, but the blooms were spent and the berries were not ripe yet, not that they could eat those. And she found some bluebells, which she picked to put in a vase, which she'd made from a rock, for the table. But the best she could do food-wise was some wild mushrooms she found under the trees. Not exactly an exciting dinner, but it was something.

Truth was she'd needed to get out and she needed to think. She felt like an idiot; it was her fault that they couldn't go back to Grimmauld Place. Well, not entirely my fault...Yaxley grabbed my sleeve, she reminded herself. Yaxley's grip on her arm had slackened enough for her to pull her arm free and Apparate her friends away to this campground in the Yorkshire moors. Had he simply let go, or had he lost his grip on their landing thinking they'd arrived? Had he seen the door or not? Or had he been knocked off the top landing and fallen onto the pavement... The uncertainty bothered her; the more she thought about it, the less convinced she was that the house might have been breached as she'd initially thought.

She had no idea if Yaxley had seen the door to Grimmauld Place or not. It isn't a very wide step, and there were four of them, so it is possible he'd fallen off the front step on our arrival and hadn't seen the door. However, if he had seen it, then he could Apparate to the top step anytime he wanted and get inside the house. She wanted to scream but didn't dare. That was the one loop-hole of the Fidelius Charm; if you took someone inside the protections, they can go back if they remember the place well enough. Especially since the original Secret-Keeper was dead. She remembered reading about it at school fifth year, and although some of the books she'd read differed slightly, one thing was clear: now that the original Secret-Keeper was dead, those who knew the secret were all responsible to keep the secret.

And Harry didn't want to call for Kreacher in case the elf could be traced. Harry had made a sound argument that Kreacher had betrayed them in the past, and she agreed with his reasoning. Not that Hermione thought that anyone in Voldemort's circles gave a second thought to house-elves.

She started back for the tent, and her foot kicked something metal in the tall grass. Curious, she picked it up. What was left of the label was illegible, but it was some type of Muggle canned good. She looked around, wondering if she should even consider keeping it. It could have been left here from a campsite or even from when the Quidditch World Cup had been held here. She quickly suppressed the memories of the panic the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark had caused on her last day here. But this is a campground, right?

Looking at the ground, she spotted several more that had been left in the tall grass, two that had been dented. Most Muggle canned goods had a long shelf life so the three which were not dented might be safe to eat.

Harry was quite concerned when she returned to the tree that marked where they'd put the tent. "You've been gone ages! I was about to go looking for you," he said, rushing over to her.

"I'm fine, and no one was around at all. I hardly needed the cloak," she said, setting the things she'd gathered on the table.

Harry picked up one of the cans. "What's this?"

"I won't know until I open it," she replied. "How is Ron doing?"

"He's asleep," Harry said, putting the can down. "He mumbles a lot. He kept repeating 'don't say You-Know-Who's name' and 'call him You-Know-Who.'" Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged. "I almost did, and he got really agitated. Kept saying it's cursed, don't say it, it's how he finds people, over and over. The more I thought about it, the more it makes sense."

Hermione considered it for a moment, and it did make a lot of sense. "If Ron is right, it might explain how they found us on Tottenham Court Road, and why they showed up at Grimmauld Place," she said. She'd thought at the time it had been coincidence.

"They showed up at Grimmauld Place because Snape told them to," Harry snapped.

"If that were true, Harry, then You-Know-Who would have sent Headmaster Snape to investigate, not some Death Eaters who can't see the house!" It was an old argument, and she stemmed off his usual reply by asking, "I wonder if you can place a trace on a name?"

Harry only shrugged.

Hermione had Harry open one of the cans while she cleaned the mushrooms. "It's chicken noodle soup. It smells okay," he announced, enlarging the can so she could add the mushrooms and extra water.

She had no luck making a handle for the can from a twig, and she had to serve the soup with her potions ladle into leaves she'd transfigured into bowls. When Ron was awake again, she fed him his share, feeling a little better for his eating something when he fell asleep afterward. He was still feverish, pale, shaking and in a lot of pain. The Dittany had healed the wound, but the Pain Potion she had only seemed to take the edge off enough so he could sleep. She didn't know what else she could do for him.

Hermione spent the evening taking stock of what they had in the tent. She needed food and supplies for camping. After checking all the cupboards, she realized they apparently needed some cooking utensils and cookware. She could try going to Marks & Spencer, they would have what she wanted, and the likelihood of being seen by a wizard was very slim. But should she take the risk? The one she knew well enough to know a safe place to Apparate to was the one in the Broadway Shopping Centre in Bexleyheath. They were in Yorkshire, and Bexleyheath was a long way away.

Mind made up, she told Harry of her plan the next morning, and he checked over her list, asking if she'd buy some socks and pants for Ron and him. "I can pay you back...would pay you back if I could get to my Gringotts account," he said, looking at the Sickles and Galleons he'd pulled out of his pocket. He picked up his DA Galleon. "Dunno why I keep this."

"It's a good thing, though, in case we get separated or something," she said, but he looked at her skeptically. "If the messages are short or in codes, something only you or I know, they could be useful."

He shrugged. "I suppose." He put his DA Galleon back in his pocket.

He offered her some of his wizarding money, but she waved it off. "It's all right, I have some money," she replied, but he pressed the coins into her hand anyway. "I'll be gone for a while, will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine," he replied. "It's not like Ron and I are going anywhere."

She Apparated to the far side of the Broadway Shopping Centre in case her Disapparition was noticed and blended in with the shoppers until she reached her destination. She found an inexpensive, plain white dining set that she could put Unbreakable Charms on, some mugs that were marked down, a cheap sixteen-piece cutlery set, and some glasses that would do, dish towels and two oven mitts. She passed on the cookware sets; they were pricey, but she did find some grey towels and facecloths on sale. She paid a clerk for her purchases and found a secluded spot to shrink them down to fit into her beaded bag, then headed to the men's wear to buy Harry's and Ron's socks and pants.

She grabbed what she needed. As she looked around at the clothes, it struck her how ridiculous it had been to unpack while at Grimmauld Place. Hermione considered buying Harry and Ron some clothes. Even though Hermione had some of her clothes in her bag, mostly her winter wardrobe, she'd left quite a lot at Grimmauld Place. Each time Kreacher did her laundry, he'd put her things in the wardrobe instead of her beaded bag, and he'd put Harry's and Ron's clothes in their room. She could ask Harry, then make a list of what he needed and come back later.

She went to the ladies department to buy some basic things for herself, including some undergarments and a pair of boots, then left the store, shoving her things into her bag.

She considered where to go next. She decided to try Debenhams Department Store in Bromley. They had reasonable things. She left the store and Apparated to the corner of the building, startling a woman. Hermione hurried inside, thankful that so far she'd been lucky. She did find a stainless steel five-piece cookware set on sale, a mixing bowl set, casserole cooker and a set of two rectangular dishes, wondering if maybe she was being optimistic in buying them. Better have it than need it, she convinced herself and selected some cooking utensils that she thought she'd need, including a manual can opener and spud peeler. Once outside between some cars, she shrunk her purchases and considered which pharmacy she should go for the rest.

---

Darias hated being assigned to the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Stolen and Counterfeit Magical Objects. His office also worked in conjunction with the Improper Use of Magic Office to regulate and monitor any magic done in any unregistered, non-magical residence or Muggle locations. But the primary objective of his office was to detect and confiscate Muggle-born's wands.

The problem was that the grid they had to work with encompassed the whole of Great Brittan. On one wall there was a huge magical map upon which every known magical residence, wizard-owned property or business had been designated and registered. If any magic was detected in an unregistered or undesignated location, a red flag would pop up on the map. A tap of the wand would make the map zero in on the location. The flag then identified the date, time and spell or spells used. Hundreds of flags could pop up at any given time, or only on occasion, sporadically, so someone had to watch the map at all times, day and night.

Each incident report was then forwarded to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. But there was one amusing flaw. By the time the Magical Law Enforcement Squad was notified of the incidents and a hit wizard dispensed to the location, naturally the culprit was nowhere to be found.

Then each incident report had to be filed with head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, Dolores Umbridge, and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Clive Yaxley with a description of the outcome of the incident signed by both the one who reported it and the Hit Squad personnel who followed up on the report. Bureaucracy in all its idiocy.

Darias been assigned here as Supervising Head, a supposed promotion, but he felt like he was constantly being watched. He had four people working for him per shift, and he had no idea where they stood in the scheme of things. He looked at the four working the day shift. Valeria Franklin was a diligent worker; her incident reports were very concise and well written as were Nicole Johnson's, although Nichole was slow and always turned in her reports late. Cressida Penrose was conscientious about watching the map, but her reports were casually written, and even though it had all the pertinent information, he felt she omitted things, although he had no way to prove it. Frederick Shipnuck on the other hand wrote as little as possible with no details at all.

Clyde Abernathy, the Supervising Head of Improper Use of Magic Office, walked into the office as a flag that appeared on the map. Bexleyheath. Severus said to tell him about anything appearing there or in the vicinity of the London Borough of Wandsworth. Darias flicked the tiny flag with his wand. The area identified was in the Broadway Shopping Centre. Disapparition and a Shrinking Charm. Not anything to get too excited about. Could be a witch out shopping...

"Anything interesting?" Abernathy asked, standing behind Darias.

"Not likely. A housewitch doing some shopping," he replied, straightening up as the flag disappeared. "We've had hits there before."

"Bexleyheath is a watched zone," Clyde said, leaning in closer. "Which spell was used?"

"Shrinking Charm, most likely so as to put her things in her handbag," Darias stated.

"Well, watch the map. If anything else happens in the general area of Bexleyheath, Yaxley wants to know about it personally," Abernathy said and walked over to Valeria Franklin's desk.

Darias pretended to be keeping an eye on the map as Abernathy leaned one hip on her desk and picked up her paperweight. Valerie set down her quill and smiled up at him. Abernathy stopped by her desk a lot lately; either he fancied her, or they were dating, and Darias didn't trust Abernathy very much. He decided he'd have to be careful around Miss Franklin. He filled out an incident form, folded it and sent it flying to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, by way of Duane in the Aurory. A little mishap never hurt anyone, he thought. Then he went to his office to send a message to Headmaster Snape on his pendant.

An hour later, Darias saw Nicole write something down on her clipboard. "What have we?" he asked. Bromley, he noted looking at the flag. That is only about six kilometers from Bexleyheath.

"Ah...er, nothing, really," she replied, holding the clipboard to her chest with both hands.

He nodded slowly as he exhaled, watching her intently, a trick he learned from Severus. It worked.

"It's a-a Disapparition and a Shrinking Charm...in Bromley...in the Glades Shopping Centre there. Most likely a witch doing some shopping," she stammered. "Nothing really. It's a shopping center, so... it's probably nothing."

"I'm sure you're right, but fill out the incident form anyway," he started to say, but her eyes darted to the door, and she looked a little nervous, pursing her lips. "And send it to Auror Duane Hartshorne," he finished. "He's following up on an incident that occurred there earlier today."

She looked at him, questioning, her eyes widening momentarily with disbelief before she got control of herself. However, in that brief moment of eye contact, Darias was able to slip into her mind undetected with a nonverbal, Legilimens, and saw Auror Tonks in the girl's thoughts. She had intended on sending it to the Metamorphmagus. Why?

"But all incident reports are to be sent to the MLE squad," she said in a hushed voice.

"Do as I say, then meet me in my office," Darias said authoritatively, but still keeping his voice low, in case Abernathy overheard them. "And I want to see your week's reports, and bring me the file on Bromley."

"Yes, sir," she replied, scooting to her desk.

He watched her as she dug around, collecting her things, sorting out which reports to bring. He walked to his office, continuing to watch her from the corner of his eye. She stood, placed a folder on her clipboard and turned, walking confidently to his office. Funny thing, she still hadn't sent the incident form.

---

Hermione searched her bag. She'd packed the potions equipment and ingredients into her bag after cleaning up after her last batch of Pain Potion and the Polyjuice Potion, so she had that. She had Wickedly Wicked Warding Spells by Adalbert Waffling and the Potion books she'd borrowed from the Black library, including Moste Potente Potions. But what she was looking for was not in her bag. She realized she'd left the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard on her bedside table in Grimmauld Place.

Why did I leave the book Dumbledore bequeathed me on my bedside table! Hermione had no idea why he'd given her that book, but there had to be something in there, some clue she was meant to have. She had to get that book back. Did she dare go? If I'm careful enough, I might get in undetected. If the house is still being watched, I could simply leave right away, she reasoned. She'd have the element of surprise. She also wanted the books she'd stacked in her room in Grimmauld Place as well as some of the rare books from the Black library that could possibly be so useful in their hunt. Especially the Dark Arts and Transfiguration tomes, she reminded herself. I think I may still have one or two of the Felix Felicis infused Malt Balls!

Thankfully, she had four balls, and after eating one of the sweets, she suddenly knew that she should go get her things. After having a cup of tea and a sandwich. At the little shop around the corner. Felix assured her it would be there. Hermione Disapparated on the spot, arriving next to a quaint tea shop.

She made a mental list of what she'd need to get as she sipped on her tea. She would just grab the books from her bedside table and all the books on the coffee table she'd sorted out by subject matter and any other belongings she'd left behind.

Before finishing her third cup of excellent tea, she left the tea shop, knowing with all certainty that the coast would be clear. She strengthened her Disillusionment Charm and Apparated.

She was in luck. The street was empty.

"You cannot be here," Kreacher croaked as soon as she entered the house. "Bad mens come. They toss things around and threaten Kreacher."

"Kreacher, gosh, you startled me," she gasped, surprised he could see her, but the elf was looking right at her. "I know! I'm sorry. But I need our clothes, and Harry's rucksack... the books I stacked in the library, I need to borrow them, and well..." She turned to look at him and hadn't realized that the elf left. All the better, she thought as she ran upstairs to pack. She shoved her things into her beaded bag, and the books she wanted. There were voices coming from the window, a man and a woman, not that she could understand what they were saying, so she hurried.

"I puts steak and kidney pies in Master Harry's bag," the elf said, startling her again when she'd exited the bathroom.

"Thank you, but his clothes and things?"

"Kreacher puts all of Master Harry's things in master's bag," he said and handed her Harry's rucksack and a dirty lime green well-worn purse. "Kreacher puts mean boy's things in handbag." He froze, ears spread wide. "They is coming." He grabbed her wrist and Apparated, landing her in a vegetable garden of sorts. "Go through there," he pointed to a small door. "Do nots comes back. Kreacher will protect my mistress' house. Do not calls for Kreacher, Kreacher is being watched."

"Who comes?" she asked. "Severus Snape or Yaxley?"

"Nots the scowling blood traitor in black; a mean wizard with long blond hair...he brings the mean mens in black robes and masks," Kreacher stated and vanished.

So Yaxley did see the door. Damn. Hermione slipped through the little door and Apparated to the tree that marked the location of the tent, feeling the heady sense of euphoria begin to fade. When Harry appeared at the edge of the magical border protecting the campsite, Hermione handed him his rucksack and the green purse and told him what Kreacher said.

"Hermione, that was a huge risk! You can't go back there! What if you'd been caught?"

"I was lucky," she said, going inside to check on Ron to see if he needed any more pain potion.

---

Harry wanted to move the tent. He felt nervous staying in same location, which under normal circumstances, Hermione would've agreed with him. But Ron was still ill, and Hermione felt he shouldn't be moved until he was doing better.

Only Ron wasn't getting better. In fact, he was getting worse. As far as Hermione could tell, he had the symptoms of an infection, and she didn't know what to do for him. "I'm going to look through my books," she announced and strode over to her room in the tent.

She pulled her things from her purse, randomly piling them on her bed, and began to sort out the books, putting her Herbology and Severus' Potion books on the table by her bed. "Why didn't I take any medicinal texts?" she grumbled. She picked up one of the first aid books she'd taken from her mother's shelf and read up on shock and infections, convinced that Ron was suffering from one or the other. Naturally, Ron had most of the symptoms for both, as far as she could tell. "Great! He has an infection, and he's suffering from shock." She closed the book and started to cry. "I need a Healer!" she sobbed.

"Hermione, why do you need a Healer? Who's hurt?" a worried woman's voice asked.

Hermione jumped, turning around cautiously and drew her wand. "Who's there?" she asked.

"Hermione, dear, it's me, Altheda."

Hermione lifted the medium-sized frame out from under her jumper and stared at the familiar face of the woman in the beautiful, dark-green Victorian dress she'd been seeing glimpses of. "You...you're... I thought...Harry told me this was Phineas Black's portrait?"

"More like ours. Emily Beaumont did my portrait in 1883 but she never completely finished the piece...she didn't like my dress robes," Altheda started to explain.

Hermione couldn't understand why. "They're lovely," she interjected, not meaning to interrupt.

"Thank you," Altheda said, blushing. "But she set me aside, and in 1918 she reused my canvas while I was visiting my other frame at the house in Peeblesshire. So, in essence, I can enter this painting, although I only do so when Phineas is in Hogwarts. He hates sharing his frame." Her painted face became quite serious. "Now, what do you need a Healer for? What's wrong?"

"It's my friend, Ron...he Splinched, and I tried to heal him with Dittany, but I think he went into shock, and now he seems to have an infection, and I don't know what to do for him. I don't have any antibiotics, and I'm afraid to take him to a hospital," Hermione explained, glad to have a friendly ear. "He's a wizard...he doesn't have any identification..."

She expected sympathy, not to have Altheda slip out of the frame. She slumped on her cot and picked up her Herbology book, wondering if any of the herbs would help Ron.

"Hermione?"

She lowered her book and gave Altheda a sad smile. "What are your friend's symptoms?"

"He has a weak pulse and I know he has a fever, but I don't have a thermometer, and he sweats profusely, and his skin is moist and clammy and he's pale. I can't check if he has low blood pressure...I don't have a BP cuff and stethoscope. He falls in and out of consciousness, and has rapid, shallow breathing. But the scar, it's red and hot to the touch, and swollen, but it's not open, it's closed, so it's not oozing at all..."

Altheda left. Hermione thought it was possible that Altheda would speak to Madam Pomfrey, and if that was so, just the idea of the matron's help gave her a sense of relief.

After what seemed like ages, Altheda was back. "It sounds like he has Splinched Fever; it's not uncommon, and if treated right away, not lethal. If you call Dobby, then he can bring you what you need."

Hermione thought about it as she glanced at Harry reading a book in the main part of the tent. She had questions she really wanted to ask the Healer, especially if this happened again. "Do you think that Madam Pomfrey would meet me somewhere?"

"Madam Pomfrey? Why would you need to...?" Altheda started to ask and then her expression changed from confusion to astonishment. "You mean you don't...? I didn't speak to the matron, dear."

"Professor Snape?" Hermione asked, equally astonished. "It was him, he sent... of course! It was him! I knew it!" But her realization only started a whirlwind of questions. Why ...? But he is. "All his personal training, all the tips he'd given me while we me brewed together, the times he allowed to come to his office and ask questions... and he's still helping me."

Altheda stayed immobile in the frame.

She sat upright. "Altheda, will you send him a message for me?"

"I could," she said slowly.

"Will you tell him, thank you for the ingredients and the things he taught me?" Hermione asked.

"Is that all, dear? I thought you had a question you wanted to ask the matron," Altheda said.

Hermione nodded. "I do. I need some..." Asking for books would be presumptuous, wouldn't it? "Information on healing Splinching. On anything Healing related. I didn't know I'd need it, but I do. Are...does he by chance have a basic healing book, things like healing spells for broken bones, sprains, lacerations, things that may come up? If I get hurt, or either of my friends, I want to be able to help them."

Altheda nodded and left the frame.

---

Severus listened to the lady repeat the things Hermione had said to her. Altheda had been bringing him reports all week. He hadn't been surprised to learn that Hermione was confused by his actions, but that she seemed to want to believe the best in him had. But hearing that Weasley had Splinched had sickened him.

He rose to his feet. First thing she needs is an antibiotic potion, Blood Replenishing Potion and Rejuvenating Elixir. Weasley will need the Muscle Pain Liniment too, especially if he injured a leg or an arm...especially his wand arm.... Not that he wanted Hermione administering the liniment to that dunderhead. The mere thought made his blood heat. He'd remembered all too well how wonderful it had felt when she'd used it on him all those years ago.

"I'll send the elf with what she needs," he stated firmly. He knew that Potter still had his Potions book. Which means that Hermione has access to it, and therefore she will have all my notes on the potions...all my improvements. For the first time he was glad that Potter had refused to give him back his Potions Book. That was if the boy had given it to her to use or she remembered to ask for it.

"And she would like some books on basic diagnostic and healing spells," Altheda stated.

"Yes, I anticipated as much," he said. He had already written out several pages in a magical composition book for her with a Quotation Quill and removed three very comprehensive Healing books from the library when he'd learned she'd gone into hiding with Potter and Weasley. Madam Pince had been angry, pursing her lips in annoyance, but she'd held her tongue.

I hope she uses my copy of the book and not her own. "Altheda, find some way of casually asking her if Potter still has my Potions book. Suggest that she use my improvements, my experiments..."

Severus strode from his office to pack the necessary items for Hermione, but he heard Altheda saying, "All right, but really, you should talk to the girl."

"No, it would endanger her," he said under his breath, but secretly, he wanted to, but didn't dare.

---

"Dobby," Hermione said softly for the third time. Altheda made it quite clear to make sure that her friends didn't see the elf, but so far he hadn't shown up when she'd called. Hermione was so anxious to have the needed supplies, she'd risk going to Hogwarts to get them. She tightened her cloak about her and toyed with a leaf. At least Harry didn't suspect anything when she'd volunteered to take watch again after dinner.

Suddenly there was a loud snap as Dobby suddenly appeared under the trees, holding a box. "Oh, hello, miss. Dobby comes to brings you things you need."

"It's Hermione, Dobby, you may use my given name," she said, moving forward eagerly.

He looked gobsmacked, as if she'd allowed him a great honor. "Dobby is proud to calls you Her-my-knee," he said, repeating her name carefully, and then held the box up to her.

She was about to correct him, but then she got a cursory look in the box. Like before, there was a lot in it, and Severus' generosity amazed her.

"Is Harry's Wheezy doing any better?" he added as she took stock of what was in the box.

She looked at the elf. "How did you...?" she started to ask, but he gave a nervous laugh and shrugged. "You listen for us, don't you?"

"Not all the times, Hermynee," he said, still dropping the 'o' in her name.

She supposed it was better than Krum's pronunciation or Ron's use of 'Mione, which she hated.

"Dobby has much work to do for the school, Hermynee. But if you needs Dobby, Dobby will comes."

Hermione suddenly realized what Altheda meant by her warning. "I'll remember that, but you must be careful as well," she warned the kindly elf. "I don't want you getting caught helping us."

"Dobby will be careful, Hermynee," he said and snapped his fingers, Disapparating away with a pop.

---

Severus found it hard to concentrate. Altheda didn't know when or where the Splinching had occurred, or how badly the boy had Splinched, so he had no idea how long Weasley had the Splinching fever. But least Hermione wasn't asking about reattaching a limb...that was hopeful. Reattaching a limb or appendage was tricky and had to be done immediately or there could be serious complications. Immediately stem off the blood flow, position the missing part in correct anatomical alignment, knit arteries, veins, nerves, bones if any, muscles, knit the skin, he recited.

He'd already anticipated her request for information on healing injuries, but the skill he and the other Heads had in dealing with the possible injuries students could inflict on themselves and others had taken intensive learning and training to become competent. Healing a Splinching was an art in of its self; two wands were best, perfectly timed, coordination a must! McGonagall and Dumbledore had worked very hard to prepare him for the first Apparition lesson his first year as a teacher. Thankfully, Flitwick and McGonagall were working with Septima, and Madam Hooch was learning as well, just in case, because the Carrows would be utterly useless.

He glanced at the frame on his shelf. She'll be back soon.

He should have sent her the salves when he'd sent her the potion ingredients.

He should have taught her diagnostic and healing charms instead of wandless magic.

He should have spent more time preparing her.

But he hadn't realized his mistake in preparing her until Altheda told him what Hermione had said.

He turned back to his desk, to keep himself occupied with his work until Altheda returned. He read the missive from the governing clerk of the school governors announcing that he was to attend a meeting scheduled for tomorrow to report on his meetings with his Head of Houses and staff. He wanted to tell them that both Alecto and Amycus were utterly inept at teaching, especially Amycus, who although he knew many Dark Arts spells had little knowledge on how to remove them. But that would be reported back to the Dark Lord and Severus was determined to keep things running smoothly so that the Dark Lord had no need to come to the school.

Thankfully, this first part of term, Amycus was following the approved syllabus Severus had set forth when he took over the teaching post, and he only hoped the dunderhead stuck to the curriculum. So at least the fifth years should pass their O.W.L.s, but the sixth- and seventh-years were to start learning Dark Art spells, as per the Dark Lord, much like the students at Durmstrang did. Severus read over the course syllabus with a scowl. Durmstrang divided the Dark Arts into two courses: Detection and Defense of Hexes and Jinxes, and Detection and Defense of Curses and Enchantments. He didn't have the staff to implement the change this year, and didn't want to bring another Death Eater into the castle to supplement the staff requirement to do so, regardless if he felt that it was a good idea. He'd personally mentioned it to Dumbledore on several occasions, but the old fart had never agreed as to its importance.

"Ahem. Severus?"

Severus turned to face Altheda's portrait. "How bad is it?"

"I can't see him, I can only go by what she said," Altheda replied.

"Severus, I'm sure that Miss Granger can work this out for herself. You cannot interfere with Harry and his quest," Dumbledore said from the wall above the desk.

Severus didn't look up, merely angled his head and grit his teeth. "I'm well aware of that, old man," he spat.

Fortescue piqued up. "She isn't like the others...and not likely to trust just anyone, Albus."

"She is a Muggle-born, and one of the most wanted witches in England," Dippet stated as if Severus was unaware of the fact.

Everard shook his head. "If there is even a hint that she..."

"That's enough," Severus snapped. "No, Altheda, I can't contact her directly. You may carry messages, if she wants," he said, knowing it would be impossible to stop her, "but you must be cautious when doing so."

"Really, this consorting with the girl when you have so much to attend to," Phineas started to admonish him, but Severus' scowl made him stop talking.

"I'll not hear another word about Miss Granger...from any of you...except you, Phineas. You and Altheda promised to assist me in this," Severus said, then turned back to Altheda. "Keep me apprised to anything you overhear."

"I will, Headmaster," she replied and slipped from her frame.

---

Harry was feeling more and more restless now that, thanks to the mysterious potions, Ron was improving. In fact Ron was doing so much better, he was once again complaining; complaining about having to fold his own clothes, complaining about the food, complaining about the smell of the damp tent when it rained. He spent hours reading over Hermione's journal she'd compiled of Harry's sessions (for she could hardly call them lessons) with Dumbledore and everything Harry could remember from Voldemort, even some of his visions. They talked endlessly about the Horcruxes, and where the Horcruxes could be. But really, they didn't have much to go on.

As the food supply dwindled to watery chicken and mushroom noodle soup again, Ron insisted that he felt ready to move. "But anywhere within reach of a bacon sandwich," he requested. "Nothing to do with your cooking, Hermione," he added when she crossed her arms and glared at him, "but a bloke can only eat soo many mushrooms."

Since choosing locations seemed to be Hermione's department, they packed camp, erased all indications of their presence on the campsite, and she took them the outskirts of a small market town she'd been to with her parents. After pitching their tent in a small copse of trees, Hermione had cast the necessary enchantments while Harry had gone to town. Problem was, the town had been swarming with Dementors, and due to the locket's influence, Harry hadn't been able to protect himself with a Patronus. He returned with empty pockets and fully frustrated with himself because his stag failed to manifest. They packed up and Hermione Apparated them to the far corner on the edge of a farm she'd seen once.

After Hermione had acquired bread and eggs for their supper, they all felt better. However, Hermione was worried about discovery, and they moved again the next afternoon to a wooded stretch of land upriver. Once the tent was up and the magical protections applied, she tried conjuring her Patronus. Her otter swam happily about her making her feel better. "I think that's why I couldn't conjure my otter at the Ministry, Harry," she said, trying again, this time only holding the locket in her left hand. "Expecto Patronum." Her otter appeared and then faded. "At least this doesn't seem to block me."

"But Umbridge was able to cast one," Harry argued, taking the locket back.

"Yeah, but her happy memory is probably all the Muggle-borns and half-breeds she's put in Azkaban," Ron stated.

"Or something equally horrible," Hermione pointed out.

"All her authority at the Ministry...she was one power-hungry witch," Ron pointed out as Harry, now wearing the locket, easily produced his stag again.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm certain that she supports Vol..."

"Oi!" Ron shouted as Harry's stag stood stately in the main room of the tent.

"Oh right, sorry, You-Know-Who's philosophy," Hermione stated. She looked at the locket, hating the thing. "Ron, Harry, I wouldn't wear the locket against your skin. Keep something between it and you if at all possible."

"Okay," Ron said, but Harry didn't look convinced.

---

So far the Sneakoscope Hermione had given Harry for his birthday stood on the coffee table, thankfully motionless, balanced on its tip, but they still relocated every few days. But there were times when she'd be on watch and she'd feel something, sense something, but whenever she turned her head there was nothing there. Still, the feeling nagged at her. Occasionally, she'd thought she heard someone, some softly spoken murmur, barely above a whisper, but then she'd shake her head thinking it was probably her mind playing tricks on her with the sounds of the breeze through the foliage.

Hermione took them to a grove of trees on the Herefordshire Golf Club, where they stayed for a few nights. Next they spent two nights in St John's Lodge in Regent's Park, and then the next three nights after that in a quiet section of Richmond Park. Since Hermione's father enjoyed golf, she'd occasionally pick wooded areas alongside golf courses, or occasionally small groves or copses of trees on the grounds of hotels or manor houses that Hermione had visited with her parents. Each time they moved, they erased all traces of their campsite before Apparating.

However, as had happened after staying in one place too long, the food dwindled after a few days. So to limit exposure and possible capture while going to buy food, Hermione and Harry would try to ration out the food as much as possible. But that only made Ron irritable. In fact, Hermione observed that Harry fared better than Ron did when food was scarce, and she supposed that it was because of the mistreatment Harry endured while living with the Dursleys. According to the letter's she'd receive from Harry over their summer holidays, they frequently withheld his food or starved him. But Ron was horribly unreasonable and irascible when he was hungry, probably because he'd never had to miss a meal in his whole bloody life. Still, that was no excuse for Ron to refuse the food he did get, shoving it away in disgust, simply because Hermione or Harry didn't cook things like his mum could. Not that Ron ever contributed to the cooking...or the cleaning up.

They used the Polyjuice Potion and tried visiting Muggle libraries in search of the orphanage in London where Tom Riddle grew up, only to discover that none of them seemed to match the orphanage Harry remembered in Dumbledore's memory. They even tried going to a few of remaining sites, but they hadn't matched Harry's memory either. The one that Hermione thought was the most likely to have been the one Tom Riddle grew up in had been replaced by office tower.

They each agreed readily that there was no point in going to look at Borgin and Burkes or in Little Hangleton. So they were once again at a standstill, much to Ron's dismay.

They left the copse of trees on the edge of the River Great Ouse near Bedford and set up camp in a secluded spot in Southwater County Park. She took watch that evening as Ron and Harry played chess, enjoying the quiet solitude of the beautiful wildlife area. She knew this area well. "We could go see the New Forest ponies or the Long Man of Wilmington, the charming Oxford Cotswold villages, the gardens and grounds of Herstmonceux Castle in Hailsham or Pashley Manor Gardens, and the South Down's stretch of land as well as the vineyards of Kent," she mused to herself, knowing no one could hear her. Since both Ron and Harry seemed to be unhelpful in selecting new campsites, even though it was Harry who generally decided when they had to move, Hermione had started a collection of maps, especially ones with topographical features.

But she had to be careful when choosing the outskirts of a village or town she'd been to because on more than one occasion they'd encountered the tell-tale signs of Dementors in the morning mists and rain, adding to their troubles. This also made venturing into town for food and necessities difficult, so Hermione only went in town when she couldn't find any edible fungi or plants in the areas where they camped, something she was becoming quite resourceful at, or Ron's attitude became too much to bear.

Thankfully their protection spells seemed to keep the Dementors away from their campsites. But bickering between them ensued. Hermione noticed that Harry and Ron were letting suspicions arise against each other when they had the locket, and those suspicions were not being addressed once the locket came off. It didn't help that they had no word from anyone on what was going on, and the continuing isolation and lack of news was having an effect on their friendships.

So Hermione relished the times she had watch...like she was doing now. She could sit and think without the influence of the locket's mumblings, its continuous insidious suggestions and innuendoes echoing in her head. It was annoying really, those whispers, that quiet, soft, ever present sense of someone hinting disparaging, distressing and deprecating things. But the soft echoes of the high-pitched, cold laugh sent chills down her spine. Thankfully it stopped when she removed the locket, but it sometimes took her hours to dispel the thoughts that lingered in her mind.

The only place we, well, Harry and I agree on as a likely location for a Horcrux is Hogwarts, Hermione thought as she sat leaning against a large elm tree contemplating the possible locations for the cup Horcrux. But we'll have to save that one for last, well, next to last, since we have to kill You-Know-Who's snake. She still thought Gringotts was an option, but had no idea if You-Know-Who ever had an account there. Tom Riddle certainly would have considered it a suitable place to put something as valuable as a part of his soul. But you have to have a reasonable amount of gold or a steady income to have a Gringotts vault, and what the goblins considered a reasonable amount turned out to be quite a sizable fund as Hermione's parents had found out. Hermione's vault still held several thousand Galleons, and only because she had to leave it there in order to maintain her vault. "So... if he didn't have one, surely a follower might. He'd trusted Lucius Malfoy with a Horcrux, so why not one of the other sycophant Death Eaters?"

"Ke-wit hoo."

Hermione looked up and spotted a stocky, medium-sized owl perched in the elm tree above her. She was young, but fully grown. The owl's plumage had greyish-brown upperparts with pale brown-streaked under parts, and her facial ruff was densely flecked and edged dark brown, giving her a sweet, heart-shaped face. "You're a Tawny Owl," she said softly.

The owl made an abrupt and subdued, "Ha."

The intensity of the owl's dark brown eyes as she watched her reminded her of Severus' gaze, and for a brief moment, Hermione's heart ached for the man now missing from her life. "You remind me of someone," she said softly to the owl.

The owl made a long drawn out, "Hooo."

"A friend, someone who was...is there for me," Hermione corrected herself, "I suppose, but who I can't talk to because he is so far away." She couldn't believe she was talking to an owl. It was October, so she supposed the owl had left its parents' territory and was searching for a place of her own, and possibly a mate.

The owl made a prolonged and resonantly wavered, "Huhuhuhooo," which made Hermione smile.

A Tawny's asymmetrically placed ears give the Tawny owl excellent directional hearing, she mentally quoted Owls! Everything You Need To Know About Owls by Grantham Dickenson, which she'd read for her Care of Magical Creatures lessons. "You know, we keep owls like you as postal carriers," she said, twirling a leaf. "I bet one as smart as yourself would be an excellent carrier."

The owl made a softly wailing, "Hooo," followed by a "Ke-wit hoo hoo," then flew down to a lower branch, regarding Hermione steadily.

"I haven't any owl treats. We're in hiding from some bad wizards," she said, letting the breeze carry away her leaf. "But it would have been great if Hedwig, Harry's owl, were still alive. I miss writing to my friends."

The owl flew down to the lowest branches and made a resonantly wavered "Ke-wit hoo."

"I take it that you'd like the job?" Hermione asked, and the owl made an abrupt, "Ha" in response.

"All right then." She took her purse out of her pocket and pulled out parchment, ink and a quill. She addressed the letter to Headmaster Snape, which felt odd, then wrote, Thank you, and paused and considered how discreet she needed to be.

Twice I've had reason to thank you. Even though I have wondered, contemplated on things, I find that I still owe you a large debt. Not only for everything you taught me, but in other ways as well.

Naturally, Ron is doing well, and he should thank you, too, although he doesn't realize how much you've done for him.

After that, her letter flowed more naturally. She read over her letter, realizing she sounded like a former student thanking her Professor than a friend. However, she couldn't bring herself to sign it. In the end she wrote out her initials like they'd appear on a Muggle monogrammed towel or dressing robe.

Yours sincerely

your former student

HGJ

The next letter, one to Ginny, was easier. At the very bottom she added the words, "The thing about growing up with Fred and George is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've _ _ _," quoting Ginny but leaving off the last few words. She then used those last three words as the trigger for the Revealing Charm she cast on the parchment.

She used a piece of hair ribbon to tie up each letter, and the Tawny owl flew down accepting the letters. "Take them to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's in Scotland. If we're not here when you get back, look for us on the perimeter of Pashley Manor Gardens."

The owl hooted once, and Hermione watched her fly away, wondering if she'd see her little friend again.

---

Shortly after the bell tolled the hour, indicating that the students should make their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Severus looked up surprised as a Tawny owl swooped in through his window and landed on his desk. She held out one of the scrolls tied in a red hair ribbon. He untied the missive, and the owl hopped away. "Not expecting treats or a response?" he asked drolly.

The owl turned and made a subdued, "Ke-wit hoo."

"You don't know what owl treats are?" he asked surprised. Owls rarely if ever passed on receiving their treats for their deliveries.

The owl moved closer, her head turning as she surveyed the office. Severus chuffed a laugh and offered her a few treats. She picked one up cautiously, ate it and then quickly ate the other two. "You must be a new post owl," he said.

She made a longed and resonantly wavered, "Hahuhuhuhooo."

"You're welcome," he replied.

She made an abrupt "Hoo" and flew out of his office to make her second delivery.

Polite owl, he mused as he unrolled the missive. His eyes widened as he began reading it. What the...? For crying out loud! he thought and then quickly turned it over before the inquisitive painted image above his desk could recognize Hermione's penmanship. For the love of... Is she kidding? What the fuck is she thinking writing to me here! However despite his disbelief, he felt utterly relieved to hear from her as well as wanting to admonish her for taking such a risk. Owls can be traced! Unless the protective spells are applied on her, she can be followed! Hermione should know that; she is not a stupid witch.

"Good news, Severus?" Dumbledore asked from his place above his desk.

"Yes, actually," he replied. She's alive. She's safe for now. He carried the letter to the window to read it without prying eyes peering over his shoulder. He smiled at the formal tone, like a student thanking her professor for his tutelage...until he read about the Dementors in the town. 'Hard to go shopping for food or supplies.' She's had trouble finding food... fungi and foliage are not sufficient fare. Mr. Weasley is not handling the hardship. He should try being here under the torment of the Carrows, Severus sneered. 'He is unreasonable and irascible when hungry.' Wanker. That boy needs to grow up. This is war, and he was so eager to be out there in it. Well, Mr. Weasley should've known...warriors don't get the comforts of warm beds and hearty meals. Suck it up, boy!

He folded the letter. She's had trouble finding food. He considered sending her some, but thought better of it. She is resourceful; she had been the top student in her year in every subject for six years running. The only exception being her second year when she'd spent half the year petrified in the hospital wing, and even then she'd caught up on all her coursework and exams and still got in the top ten scores for the year. She'll be all right.

He placed the letter in his Potions Journal in the top drawer of his desk and headed down to breakfast. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff students filed in in an orderly manner and quietly took their seats. The Ravenclaw students entered next, and lastly, as happened with every meal, the Gryffindor's ambled in and sat down. Severus stood, made his few morning announcements and some pointed admonishments about the continuing graffiti on the school walls, then sat down. Only once the food appeared on the tables did the noise level go up. Severus ate a light but well-rounded breakfast, more to show his comfort in his new role than because he was hungry.

As the post owls arrived, he recognized the same young Tawny fly in and land before Miss Weasley. The girl looked utterly surprised as she untied the missive and gave the owl a piece of bacon. The owl stayed poised waiting for a reply, but whatever Miss Weasley said to the bird, it then flew off with the other owls. Hopefully it would blend in with the other owls when it flies away from the castle.

He finished eating as he slyly watched Miss Weasley to see if she'd hurry out, but the girl didn't behave any differently than on any other morning. After the students departed for their lessons, Severus returned to his office.

The owl was waiting patiently on the back of the chair facing his desk. "Don't tell me you're expecting a reply?" he asked incredulously.

The owl made an abrupt and subdued, "Ha."

He tried to shoo her off, but the stubborn owl only flew up to sit on a curtain rod to wait.

By noon, and getting tired of her persistent chatter, he began to pen a curt and abrupt letter to Hermione admonishing her for her carelessness. He was interrupted by a knock on his door. He slid the parchment under his morning trustee report and barked out, "Enter."

Naturally it was Alecto Carrow. Again. With another complaint. "This time they have gone too far!" she sneered. "My desk...the drawers are all stuck closed and not by any magical means, I checked! There is no magical signature to it, and I can't get it undone. I did find this." She handed him a green striped white tube.

He read the label. Instant Krazy Glue All Purpose. It was a Muggle glue that his father used to use. He considered what action to take. He wasn't inclined to help her; she'd tried several times in the past to discredit him with the Dark Lord and would likely do so again. She was a witch. She should deal with this herself; she had a bloody wand and the entire Hogwarts library at her disposal. "And what do you want me to do about it?" he asked, staring her down. "If you hadn't admonished Professor Flitwick over the ridiculous Headless Hats last night, then he might have been inclined to help you. As it is, tell Filch to exchange the desks."

"I like that desk," she shouted.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then I suggest you find a way to unstick your drawers or find another desk. I'm busy," he said evenly. "If you ruin the desk in the process of finding a spell to unglue your drawers, it will have to be brought to the attention of the Bursars Office for reimbursement for a new desk. Now if that is all, you're dismissed. As you can see, I have a pile of work to get done by dinner."

He waited until she stormed out of his office. Smirking, he picked up the trustee report, read it thoroughly and then filed it in his cabinet. He picked up the next item that required his attention and glanced down at his unfinished reply to Hermione. Once again you've found a way to get my attention. He recalled the times she'd come to his office merely to talk. Oh, she'd had excuses, but they had been just that, excuses. If truth were told, he missed her. But he knew she would have been grabbed the moment she stepped off the train, hauled away and tortured, then killed. All for the sake of her heritage, intelligence, magical skills and cleverness, he thought with a sigh. And her choice in friends.

He picked up his quill and continued writing. He asked her if she were all right. He warned her to be cautious about using their magic in Muggle areas and told her about the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Stolen and Counterfeit Magical Objects that had been assigned to work in conjunction with the Improper Use of Magic Office to regulate and monitor any magic done in any unregistered, non-magical residence or Muggle locations. He cautioned her about preventing Potter from saying the Dark Lord's name due to the trace. He told her that the Ministry was using Dementors to seek out Muggle-borns. He told her to be cautious, constantly vigilant and to trust no one.

He signed it simply:

Your friend

S

He rolled her ribbon up in the parchment and sealed it with his own black wax with green sheen and used a star anise seed pod as his seal. "Okay little one, take this to her and be careful," he said as the owl landed on his desk. "Don't be caught. Fly for the trees, then turn for the direction you intend to go. No one here should see which way you fly."

She made a long and resonantly wavered, "Hahuhuhuhooo" and flew out of his window, circling up and toward the west. Silly bird, couldn't she understand a simple directive?

~ T. B. .C. ~