Chapter 5

The little canine scampered along the verge of the narrow lane that wound through the hamlet of Western Piercy. A farmer, driving a smoke-belching Land Rover, wondered if it was one of old man Povey's Jack Russells that had escaped again and then shook his head. It had better not get into the cattle field; the old bull was in there. Soft as butter with people he knew, was Curly, but a right bugger with dogs; he could trample a little squirt like that into the ground as soon as look at it. Funny, it almost looked as if the thing had two tails. He glanced in the mirror but the dog had gone: it must have run into the hedge.

He wrenched the steering wheel round just in time, almost tipping the ancient vehicle into the ditch in his attempt to avoid the cat marching down the lane with its hair on end. Bloody hell! What was it with the animals around here today? What with the missus claiming she'd seen a white peacock flying across the orchard, and now dogs and cats acting like they owned the road. It wasn't as if he'd had more than a pint with his lunch, either! Oh well, the pigs weren't going to feed themselves, were they? Better get a move on if he was going to get the combine fixed this afternoon.

The brindle animal bared its teeth and shook itself before trotting busily on its way, the black shadow prowling close behind.

---

Hermione stretched out on the satin-shrouded bed, her hair bouncing around her head in a riot of curls.

"I did warn you what would happen if you used a drying charm," she remarked.

"You look perfect," her host purred, "the very picture of luxurious abandon."

She eyed him thoughtfully.

"I do not believe that your customary blarney is at all efficacious in the case of Hermione Granger," Snape said.

"Blarney?" Malfoy reared back, the picture of offended pride.

"The dilemma with sleeping with the enemy is they don't believe the flattery," Hermione said, then immediately winced at her lack of tact. "Sorry."

Malfoy magnanimously waved a hand. "Gryffindors are so refreshingly honest in their reactions, aren't they, Severus?"

"Yes," Snape said dryly. "The majority of them have always honestly hated us."

Malfoy pursed his lips and clicked his tongue.

"Perhaps we haven't always made it easy for them to love us. We might not wear our hearts on our sleeves, but we are prepared to give people the benefit of the doubt."

"You can't fault me in that," Hermione said strongly and reached out, seizing Snape by the hand. "I always wanted to believe in you, you know."

"You had an unhealthy tendency to afford your teachers a respect that they may not have deserved."

"In the case of Lockhart, yes, I admit it."

He muttered something in which she detected the word 'werewolf', but with a restraint that she considered to be admirably un-Gryffindor, she ignored it. Besides, he was climbing onto the bed, his dark eyes fixed upon her face. Hermione said "Accio wand," and he raised an eyebrow. "Contraceptive charm," she explained, and quickly cast the standard protective spells upon herself before placing the wand under the pillow.

"Good girl," he whispered as he lowered his head, huffing hot breath against her neck. "Another hundred points to Gryffindor, at the very least."

"You sly charmer – oh!" His tongue traced the convolutions of her ear, while his hand smoothed over her hip, stroked her stomach, moving gradually to where she most wanted it to be. At last, his fingers slipped between her thighs, caressing the moist folds of skin.

She was vaguely aware of Malfoy seated nearby with his cock in one hand, leaning back and raising his champagne glass to his mouth. His grey eyes were languid, lazy and content. Then she forgot about him, forgot everything except Snape's hands and his mouth moving to cover her own mouth and his erect cock nudging at her body, seeking her permission to enter. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her, and he sank home with a thrust of his hips and a groan of pleasure.

She could explain the act of coupling in scholarly language, but how could she describe the subtle nuances that made the difference between shagging and making love? Inextricably bound up in the sex was her relief at finding Snape alive, her appreciation of his obvious desire for her, her respect for him as both man and teacher, and her conviction that she was safe in his hands. Hermione did not love him, but she knew that she could very easily fall in love. She liked his intelligence and his wit, as sharp and accurate as a scalpel. She liked the way that he wanted to give her pleasure, and then lost everything except his true and honest desire for her body, and yet once he had come in her, he slipped out of her body and slid down her, still breathing hard from his exertions, and applied his tongue where no lover had ever licked her before. She squeaked in surprise, and then whimpered as the nerves in her already sensitized clitoris seemed to sparkle and flare with the most wonderful sensations. She babbled nonsense, calling upon all manner of deities, Muggle and Wizarding, riding a sweet, high wave of pleasure until she collapsed in a satiated heap.

"Bravo," Malfoy said, his voice sounding muted and distant, "a splendid performance."

Hermione did not bother to open her eyes.

"So responsive," Snape whispered. The bed dipped slightly as he stretched out beside her; she could feel the heat radiating from him and his elevated breathing. She was wondering dreamily whether Malfoy had already wanked himself to completion or whether she ought to offer to help him with the task when there was a loud pop and a distinctly elvish voice declared, "Waspish is sorry, Waspish will iron his ears for interrupting Master's hanky-panky, but Madam Delilah Derwent is here with her Knickers."

---

Hermione and Snape trailed down the stairs in Malfoy's wake, though in Hermione's case, trying unsuccessfully to tie her hair up into something resembling a bun.

"Don't worry," Snape whispered, "well-shagged is this season's new look," which did not help.

"Malfoy! Told you Knickers would be up for it by day eight; she always is, the little floozy!"

"Good afternoon, Madam," Malfoy said, unperturbed by the sight of at least ten Crups milling around in his hall. A very large witch in tweed robes held a brown and white Crup under one arm.

"Brought Fanny along for you to look at while I was at it, damn good little pup, ThreeWitches Fantasia, best solid red I've bred for an age. Fanny, where the buggerin' hell are you? There, what d'you think of that, Malfoy?"

A small chestnut Crup emerged from the pack and stood staring up at the witch, wagging its forked tail.

"Classic ThreeWitches head," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "Turn around, you. Yes, very tidy, good angulation, exceptional topline, nice tight feet. Who are you going to put her to?"

"Dick, of course, who else? If the old bugger can still cut the mustard by the time she's ready for a litter. Got to make her up first."

She appeared to notice Hermione and Snape and gazed curiously at them.

"This is the best pack of Crups you'll see in a lifetime," Malfoy said in a wistful voice. He pointed to the Crups with his wand. "That's Dual Champion ThreeWitches Clever Dick, Champion ThreeWitches Willy Win, to whom I gave a best in show last year, Champion Wiltshire's Humbug of ThreeWitches, Champion OwlTime Tennessee Whiskey of ThreeWitches – "

"The American import," Hermione said and earned a nod of approval from Madam Derwent.

"Champion ThreeWitches Pernickety," he pointed to the Crup wriggling in the witch's grasp, "who is here to be mated to Wiltshire's Magic Wand, Junior Warrant winner ThreeWitches Thong, Champion ThreeWitches Wicked Intentions and Field Trial Champion ThreeWitches Bloomers."

"Hah!" Madam Derwent crowed. "Got you! Left Bloomer at home, been out huntin' all day and the old girl was knackered; this's her sister, Cami-knickers. Very similar, though – Cami has the black patch on her left eye, Bloomer on the right." She turned to Hermione. "Damn good man with Crups, Malfoy, damn good. Never believed half of what they said about him, always said you can tell a wizard's character by the familiars he keeps." She glanced beyond Hermione at Snape and frowned. "You remind me of someone, young man. Can't think who it is. Never mind, it'll come to me, always does. Right, let's get this mating done."

Malfoy clapped his hands. "Portly!"

The elf appeared and bowed.

"This Crup is to be mated to Magic Wand. Accompany Madam Derwent to the kennels."

"You lot," Madam Derwent bellowed, "sit!"

Hermione found herself locking her knees; otherwise she would have plopped down on the floor together with the Crups.

"Behave yourselves, wait here, don't chew, don't piddle and shut up. I won't be long. Dick, Whiskey and Willy don't hump anything. Come on, Knickers, let's get you sorted. Lead on, elf."

The room seemed rather larger once she had swept out.

"Di Derwent has been the top breeder for the last fifty years," Malfoy said.

"Gosh," replied Hermione, who was wary of making derogatory remarks about their owner in the presence of the pack of Crups.

"This has been a most ... exceptional afternoon," Snape remarked.

"I had better go and assist, if you will excuse me?" Malfoy gave a little bow and followed the witch. The Crups moved towards the carpet in the middle of the hall, turning in circles and lying down, yawning and settling, some with their heads resting on the flanks of their friends.

Waspish appeared, glancing warily at the somnolent Crups.

"If Master and Miss wish, tea will be served in the parlour."

Only when there were three closed doors between herself and the pack did Hermione allow herself to giggle. Snape smiled at her, more relaxed than she had ever seen him.

"Sorry," she waved a hand. "Knickers? Does she have an underwear fetish?"

"I wouldn't care to speculate." He gave a delicate shudder. "Lucius has made some very strange friends."

They fell silent as they contemplated the truth of that, and Waspish arrived with a tea service, plates of sandwiches and cake.

---

Malfoy appeared after an hour, Madam Derwent surging along behind like a ship in full sail.

"No, no, I won't stop, thanks all the same, got to get back, ladies' night at the club, glad rags on and all that rot. For charity, you know, Crup and Kneazle rescue. I'll let you know about Knickers. Oh, forgot to mention, that blue Crup of yours, huntin' about outside the gates, still had its lead on, had your elf put it in the kennel next to your old girl. Unusual markin's, rather smart, wouldn't mind knowin' the breedin' behind that. Must dash, see you at the next committee meetin'."

"Madam, which Crup are you referring to?"

Malfoy's question was drowned by the yapping of excited Crups as they dashed to welcome their mistress, and then Madam Derwent was gone.

Hermione had a niggling feeling that she was missing something; she was trying to remember what it was as Malfoy called Portly and told him to investigate the strange Crup. Portly returned to the parlour leading the creature by a smart leather collar and leash.

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed, "that's the blue brindle! I meant to tell you, Sherlock noticed it hanging around in Western Piercy the other day."

The Crup dashed around in a circle and barked, pulling the leash out of the elf's hand.

"I've never seen a coat pattern like that before," Malfoy said. "Come here. Are you lost?"

It dodged as he reached out to it, then bowed with its rump stuck up in the air before skittering backwards, wagging. The Crup whirled around the room, as if delighted to have someone to interact with.

"An entire male," Malfoy mused. "Not a bad conformation, a little on the thin and rangy side, but not unhealthy; doesn't appear that young, but still playful. Must be a lost pet."

The Crup ran to Hermione, staring up at her out of bright eyes, like little, black buttons. She grasped the leash, and with surprising strength for such a compact animal, it yanked her forward so that she lost her balance for a moment. Snape caught her elbow. The Crup leaped, and before Hermione could let go, it barreled into Malfoy's leg. For a moment, Hermione held the leather loop, with the leash pulled tight against Snape's thigh and the Crup clamped its teeth firmly into the hem of Malfoy's robe. Then the wrenching pull of a Portkey caught them all and dragged them far away from the warm parlour of Malfoy Manor.

---

Hermione felt as if she was a rag doll, tossed around by a toddler in a tantrum before being thrown to the ground. She lay still, bruised and breathless, and the voice that had haunted her worst nightmares for the last decade made goose pimples rise along her arms and the back of her neck.

"Yes! Oh, fine boys, clever boys, yes! Oh, we shall have such fun! Look, look at them trembling! I clap my hands for you, I applaud you! Our Master would have been so glad! Oh, let me see, let me see them! Yes, the traitor, the coward and Potter's little bitch."

Hermione groped in her robe for her wand, but a hoarse voice yelled "Expelliarmus!" and the sliver of wood slipped between her fingers and was gone. As she looked around, she saw the brindle Crup leap in the air, swelling and contorting as it changed from canine into man – a sneering man with dark hair streaked with grey.

She heard the dull, sickening sound of a foot striking flesh, and someone grunted in pain. Bellatrix Lestrange's voice, shrill with excitement, continued to rant from somewhere high above.

"Steady, Roddy, don't damage them yet. We need them awake first and then two can watch while we work slowly and carefully on the third. Make it slow, make every little cut and bruise count, my darling boys. We shall have our revenge on behalf of our Dark Lord. No, Rab, kick somewhere that doesn't matter, the knees might do; we wouldn't want anyone to bleed to death. That would be too quick. We have to make them last."

A foot hitched under Hermione's shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She was on a carpet so encrusted with dirt that it felt like lying on a gritty beach. Enough light penetrated the ragged curtains to show two figures, hunched over the prone forms of Malfoy and Snape, and a third face staring out of a frame on the wall. Bellatrix's portrait leered down over the bent backs of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Hermione knew that basically, they were all fucked.

---

A blond witch walked through the door and declared, "I need to speak to the Minister at once." Her velvet robes with their fur collar must have cost a fortune from a Parisian couturier.

"That isn't possible," Percy Weasley said. She looked at him as if he was an item of furniture that had inexplicably taken to speech.

"You will find that it is."

Percy drew his wand, but he jumped and looked down at a sharp and unexpected pain in his leg. A black cat was prodding him with a single, extended claw. As he swung his wand down towards it with an exclamation of annoyance, the witch glided across the room and laid her hand upon the handle of the door to the Minister's office. Percy pushed the cat aside and smirked in anticipation, but the wards did not react to her presence. She ought to have been thrown backwards, yet the door creaked open and Percy heard the Minister's deep and reassuring voice.

"My dear? I assume that there is a major emergency?"

"It appears so," said the witch. "Timon informs me that our three friends are in trouble."

There was a moment of silence, and then Kingsley sighed.

"Weasley, send for Potter and your brother, would you? Sooner rather than later. Cissa, you might wish to Floo Andomeda and Draco."

"On my way, I shall call in at Grimmauld Place. We could do with a few more elves around here." Narcissa Malfoy drew her furs more closely around her neck.

"Free elves, my dear?"

"Yes, Kingsley, free elves. One never knows what elves will get up to if left to their own devices."

The Minister's lips curved into a slow smile that made Percy's instinct for danger go into gibbering overdrive.

"The odd familiar may not come amiss either." Kingsley glanced away from the witch and barked, "Weasley! Jump to it!"

Percy jumped.

---

"Crucio!" Rodolphus giggled and jumped up and down on the spot, pointing his wand down at his former brother-in-law. "Look at him wriggle! You don't like that, do you, Lucius? You don't like it when someone else has all the power!"

One of Malfoy's eyes was swollen shut, and his mouth and chin were crusted with blood from where he had bitten through his lip. Nevertheless, he took in a great breath, and when his convulsions eased for a moment, he shouted, "Waspish! Portly!" at the top of his voice.

"No, no," Bellatrix crooned, "silly Lucy! My boys put up nice, thick wards that can even keep out your house elves! You taught me to do that, don't you remember? We discovered how to do it after your elf helped Potter and his friends escape from the Manor. That time we spent recasting the wards on the Manor, oh happy days, when we were all one joyful family and all loved one another like families should." She pouted. "Such a shame we didn't catch little baby Draco in our net, isn't it? Such a sweet, soft, sensitive boy, my little nephew."

"He's worth ten of you, you idiotic dead cow!"

"Crucio!" Rodolphus screamed and Lucius howled. Hermione whimpered and struggled against the magical bonds that tightened painfully around her wrists and ankles. Snape sat against the wall, his eyes as flat and dark as the windows of an empty house.

"Let him have a rest," Rabastan growled. "He'll go mad and we don't want that. We want them sane!"

"Yes, sane," Bellatrix repeated softly, "so that they can know, and feel, and hear, and understand. That's right. Oh, if only my Lord was still here, how he would enjoy making them pay! What about the girlie? What shall we do with her, my boys? Who wants her first?"

Three pairs of eyes – two narrowed in anticipation and one rendered in dingy paint – turned towards Hermione. Snape spoke for the first time.

"What do you want from us?"

"To hear you scream," Rabastan said hoarsely.

"Yes, but apart from that." Snape's tone was dismissive, as if torture was of no matter to him at all. "Is this to get at Potter, or the Ministry, or the Malfoys? What do you want to happen after we're dead or insane?"

Rodolphus shifted uncomfortably and wiped his palms down the side of his robes, but Bellatrix suddenly yelled from her portrait.

"Don't listen to him! He's a traitor; he was always a betrayer, the filthy scum!"

"No-one will give a damn what happens to me or Lucius, but you made a terrible mistake in taking Hermione," Snape continued, unperturbed. "Don't you know how powerful Potter is?"

"You don't frighten us, Snape."

"No, Rodolphus, I doubt if I do, but you should be very, very afraid of Potter. He isn't renowned for his... self-restraint. He's going to be angry, and angry Gryffindors aren't bothered about rules like the humane treatment of prisoners, for example."

"Oh shut up, you poncy bastard!"

Snape curled up as the brothers set about him with fists and boots, only ceasing when Bellatrix called them off.

"Always so full of yourself, Mister fucking clever teacher, always using big clever words and looking down your bloody nose at us," Rabastan panted, rubbing his bruised knuckles. "Well, try looking down it now!"

Hermione had heard Snape's nose crunch under Rabastan's fist. He was breathing through his mouth as blood poured down his face.

"Leave them now, and go eat and sleep," Bellatrix said. "I'll watch over them and call you if I need you. Let them stew, let their imaginations work, let them anticipate. We can make this last for weeks if we're careful."

"Oh yeah." Rodolphus rubbed his crotch as he stared at Hermione. "You know, Bella, you're a lot more fun now that you're dead."

---

Harry halted in the doorway of the Minister's office, so abruptly that Ron bumped into his back.

"Potter, Weasley, come in and sit down," Kingsley said, in an unusually crisp voice. Ron and Harry did not express their surprise, but it must have been visible on their faces.

Narcissa, Draco and Astoria Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks and a black cat sat with the Minister around the small conference table at the far end of the office. The cat perched on a chair, staring at Astoria, who had her hands wrapped around a crystal ball. In the middle of the room, a cluster of familiar-looking, oddly dressed elves stood with apprehensive expressions.

"What's happened?" Ron asked.

Harry got to the heart of the matter. "Where's Hermione?"

"That is what we're here to investigate," Kingsley said as they took the two seats next to Andromeda. She nodded a greeting. "Cissa, would you please call the elf?"

Narcissa stared into midair, a slight frown creasing her pale forehead.

"Waspish!" she said sharply and a Malfoy elf popped into view. He was folding and unfolding the edge of his starched pillowcase in agitation.

"Waspish," Kingsley commanded, "tell the Aurors what you told us earlier, about your Master and his friends."

"Master was doing the hanky-panky..."

"Yes," Narcissa interrupted, "we established that, go to the part about the Crup."

"Hanky-panky with Hermione?" Ron demanded, his face going pink, but Harry elbowed him and he subsided.

"Master was in the parlour having tea with Master Professor Snape..." Ron and Harry both sat up a little straighter and exchanged a glance, "and Miss Hermione. Madam Derwent brought her Knickers..."

"What?" Ron exclaimed.

"Madam Derwent brought her Knickers to play hanky-panky with Master Lucius's Magic Wand."

"Crups," Narcissa explained laconically. "Di Derwent finds it amusing to call her Crups by the most appallingly risqué names. Wiltshire's Magic Wand is Lucius' top stud dog. Continue."

"Madam Derwent took her Crupses home. Madam Derwent left the new Crup in the kennels. Master called Portly to fetch the new Crup. Then Master, Master Professor and Miss all went."

"Went?" Harry asked. He got up and approached the elf, dropping down into a crouch. "Waspish, how did they go?"

Waspish's fingers sped up as he pleated the hem of his pillowcase.

"I is waiting in case they wants more tea," he explained, his voice rising in agitation. "I isn't spying on Master, I is waiting for Master Lucius's commands!"

"I'm sure you were, because you're a good elf. Did they Apparate?"

The elf shook his head, making his ears flap. "They is taking a Portkey."

"Ah." Harry stood up again. The cat mewed urgently and Narcissa reached to stroke its head.

"Timon has been keeping an eye upon Lucius and his associates for me," she said. "Timon was... concerned, and that was sufficient to send me to Kingsley."

One of the elves in the huddle made a sudden, abrupt movement and then stilled again. Harry's green eyes narrowed.

"Winky?"

"Miss Marple," Ron corrected him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "Miss Marple, of course."

"You is apologizing to elves?" she squeaked in surprise.

"Of course I am."

The little elf pattered forward, gazing up at him.

"We is detecting elves," she said. "We is detecting Crups for Miss Hermione. We is watching a funny Crup like she says."

"Mrs. Malfoy, can you call the elf Portly?" Harry asked. She raised her eyebrows but spoke the elf's name. He arrived almost immediately.

"Mistress Narcissa? Is you calling Portly?"

She waved at Harry. "Answer this Auror's questions."

"Did you bring a strange Crup from the kennels, just before your Master disappeared?" The elf nodded. "What did it look like?"

Portly indicated the size of an average Crup with his hands.

Miss Marple clicked her tongue. "What is Crup's colour?"

"You is a wicked free elf!" Portly gasped, folding his arms. "I is not speaking to evil elfs!"

"Please answer the question," Harry said, and Portly pouted, glanced at Narcissa, gulped and said quickly, "Crup is grey and stripey. I never sees funny coloured Crup before."

"I is seeing grey and stripey Crup!" The elf in the deerstalker squealed, bouncing on the spot. "I is watching stripey Crup in Western Piercy!"

The cat yowled and made a scratching gesture in the air.

"A Crup and a Portkey... perhaps the Crup was a Portkey," Harry mused.

"Or an Animagus," Ron said darkly.

"Why hasn't Lucius called for an elf, if he's in trouble? That's what I did." Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and paced to the window.

"Perhaps he can't," Astoria said. Her voice was light and sweet, slightly girlish. "I can't seem to see him in the glass anymore; he may be behind very powerful magical shields or unconscious."

"Or dead," Draco whispered and she grasped his hand.

"Severus could call an elf," Narcissa remarked. "The Hogwarts elves will still obey him, if he thinks to call for them. He is still nominally the Headmaster. I do not believe that he has ever resigned the position."

"We would goes to Miss Hermione, only because we likes her," Miss Marple said, earning dark looks from the two Malfoy elves, "but we isn't finding her."

"Out of the country?" Ron asked thoughtfully.

"More likely behind elf-proof wards," Draco said. His mother shifted uneasily while everyone else stared at him.

"I didn't know there was such a thing," Harry said.

"We developed them after you escaped from the Manor."

"Who else knows?"

"Some of the Death Eaters. Aunt Bella certainly did and she'd have told Uncle Roddy."

"There are three options," Harry said, pacing again. "They're already dead, they're unconscious, or they're behind elf-proof wards. They could be anywhere."

"Wrong, babe," proclaimed an elf, holding up a red lollipop. Everyone stared at him, the Malfoys with expressions of outrage.

"Why's that, Kojak?" asked Ron.

"If they's unconscious, we's finding them." He waved his lollipop at the Malfoy elves. "They's bound elves, if their master is dead, they know." He stuck out his little chest. "We is the detecting elves, first class. The Masters and Miss Hermione is behind wards and we is finding the places where elves can't go!"

"That means searching the entire country!" Ron exclaimed.

"We is asking the Hogwarts elves to help finds the Headmaster."

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "he's got a point. I'll Floo Minerva and get official permission to borrow the school elves, shall I?"

Kingsley nodded.

"Narcissa, the Manor elves will still obey you, so can you tell them all to join in?"

Narcissa rose gracefully to her feet.

"This is all most likely a storm in a teacup," she sighed. "Lucius may have taken his paramours for a day at the races at the Hippodrome de Longchamp."

"No!" Ron said loudly, and when she stared at him, he flushed but stood his ground. "Hermione wouldn't."

"Really, Mr. Weasley? Are you certain about that?"

"Oh, yeah. She'd never have gone away without leaving instructions for her elves."

"We is not her elves!" Miss Marple squeaked indignantly, "we is free elves! But we likes Miss Hermione and we is worried. We is searching now!"

With a series of pops like the crackling of pine logs on a fire, the detective elves disappeared straight through the Ministry's wards.

Harry looked from the Minister to Narcissa, nodded to himself and touched Ron's shoulder, and led the way out of the office.

---

They huddled together, Hermione's shoulder pressed against Malfoy's, while they supported Snape on their laps. They all had their hands magically tied behind their backs and their ankles bound together. Snape's breathing was laboured and painful, and Hermione suspected that he had broken ribs.

"Are you any good at wandless magic?" Malfoy asked in her ear, his voice pitched low so as not to wake the snoring portrait of Bellatrix.

She shook her head. "Severus is better at it than I am."

"Magic obviously works inside their wards, so there isn't a magic-dampening field, and we are three against two."

"Might it be better to try to get a message out?"

Snape rumbled something and Hermione shifted so that her shoulder eased beneath his, assisting him to sit up.

"I'll try a Patronus," he whispered. His nose was badly swollen and his face blotched with dry blood. Although he managed to produce a faint, diffuse silver mist, it dissipated within seconds, leaving him trembling from exertion.

"Enough," Malfoy murmured, "don't exhaust yourself. You've already borne the brunt of it; you must stop making them angry."

Snape's smile was a terrible grimace behind the blood.

"It worked, didn't it? They barely touched Hermione."

"You don't have to be noble on my behalf," she said. Even in the gloom, his dark eyes fixed unnervingly on her face.

"I failed to save her," he whispered, and the words cut into her heart like icy knives, "but I'm damned if I'll fail to save you, no matter what it takes."

"Hush," Malfoy warned, as Bellatrix stirred in her portrait and muttered, "Mudbloods and traitors, Crucio the lot of them, boys."

Hermione nuzzled against the side of Snape's blood-caked hair and kissed his temple.

"We'll get through this, Severus; we'll get out, all of us."

"Gryffindor optimism," Malfoy said.

Bellatrix opened her painted eyes and called sweetly, "Boys? Are you up and ready for fun? Our new pets are rested and waiting for you!"

"All right, all right, we're coming, woman, hold your thestrals."

"Bring a bucket of water; we don't want them to die of thirst, now, do we? They're no fun when they stop squealing."

"Yeah, Circe's tits, we're on it. Got some old bread here somewhere, too."

Rabastan shoved open the door and shambled in, levitating a dented metal bucket. His brother followed and tossed a handful of stale crusts into Hermione's lap.

"Good lads," Bellatrix crooned, "now take me with you while you have breakfast and I'll tell you what to do next. Itty bitty pets are going to have such a nice surprise! Ickle Lucy is such a good boy when he's under Imperio, isn't he?"

Rodolphus's shoulders shook as he chuckled.

"Oh yeah, good one, Bella! We could take pictures of him inside her."

"See, you do have clever ideas, too! Send them to Potter, show him his goodie-goodie ickle fwend is really a nasty little Gryffindor slut!"

"Let's make 'em both do her at the same time," Rabastan said as they levitated the portrait carefully down from the wall and carried it out.

"Tasty," his brother commented and then the door slammed shut.

Hermione tried very hard to still her trembling but Snape must have felt it. He rested his chin lightly on top of her head.

"Shh, they're only trying to frighten us. I'll get them angry enough to forget about her stupid plans; we just need to hold out until someone finds us."

"My turn, I think," Malfoy said, with a faux-bored yawn. "Might as well. If they knock me senseless, the time will pass more quickly."

"You don't have to try to be brave to impress me, either of you."

"We're not," Malfoy said. "We're both far more inured to the Cruciatus curse than you are."

"I'm still working on wandless magic," Snape muttered.

They were silent for a few minutes, and then Hermione asked, "Can you hear anything?"

Malfoy cocked his head. "Not a thing. Why, did you hear something?"

"No. No vehicles, no birds, no voices, nothing. I wonder where we are."

"We could be anywhere," Snape said peevishly, "because we're behind massive wards. Try casting a simple spell, you'll feel them. We're inside layers of anti-Muggle, anti-house-elf, anti-wizard, anti-Apparation and anti-everything else spells. The Lestranges have been building their defenses for a long time. I'm trying to feel my way around them but it isn't easy without a wand."

Malfoy muttered, "Lumos," and a faint glow of light issued from his hands, still fixed behind his back, then faded out.

"The echoes feel vaguely familiar; they based them on the wards Bella knew about, at the Manor."

"Naturally."

"It would take our full attention, our wands and a few days to break them."

"Rabastan is a Crup," Hermione said to herself, "and I told Sherlock to watch out for the brindle Crup... "

"No house-elf could penetrate these wards, my dear."

"Thank you, Lucius, for making us feel so much better." Snape shifted and caught his breath as if in pain, before settling back against Hermione again.

"We need to hold on," Hermione said strongly, "because I just know that Harry and Ron are searching for us."

"Which makes me so happy," Malfoy sighed.