Chapter Six

Severus wasn't surprised to find Hermione in her new favorite place. She'd told him that she rarely actually used the lab for fear of Ron and Harry finding out about it, but it seemed that she spent a lot of time there in her dreams.

Instead of potions ingredients, she was surrounded by sheaves of paper, and she was mumbling to herself, occasionally checking the papers.

"You do realize that the papers only contain what is already in your memory, making it a waste of effort to refer to them for verification?"

"Yes, Severus, I know I'm dreaming, but I am worried about tomorrow." She turned to him. "It's the day."

He let barely a beat go by before asking, "Your foray into the Ministry?"

She nodded.

"It's as good a time as any. You are ready." His years of experience kept him from choking on the lie. He'd hoped to have a few more weeks to help her, but they'd made up their minds, and discouraging her now wouldn't make the situation any better.

She reached for his arm. "Thanks. Any last-minute advice?"

"We can spar if you think you'll need it, but I sincerely hope you'll be able to think your way around the Ministry and not let it come to dueling."

"The plan is hardly foolproof, but with the improved Polyjuice, there aren't as many risks as there would be otherwise."

"I concur." He carefully removed his arm from her grasp. "So, tell me of your performance. It seems you took the initiative to bring another into your plans."

"Oh yes--Phineas Nigellus! I thought that he might help us communicate. We won't have to wait for our dreams to coincide. I mean, even with the adjustments you say you've made, I think the sharing spell must also help to coordinate our REM sleep, because it is unlikely that we can maintain the connection as long as we do each night otherwise. I think the long periods of deep sleep are helping physically, too."

Allowing his face to show approval of her ideas, he returned to the topic. "And is our secret safe?"

"Absolutely! I acted incredulous and horrified." She lowered her voice. "I even swore a little."

"And they didn't find this out of character?"

"Not at all. Ron thinks everything I say is a bit mental when I'm really pass-- I mean, when I get excited about something. I mean, they appreciate the leaps in logic, but they don't understand the thrill of the 'aha!' moment. He teased me about it but approved."

"Headmaster Black thinks I'm similarly irrational for asking him to keep an ear open for news of three teenagers not at the school, other than the fact that the three of you are unrepentant troublemakers."

"Severus!"

"Perhaps I'm teasing just a little, but I'm going to break him of the habit of disparaging your heritage. You are a brilliant witch in your own right, and I'll not listen to his aspersions of you."

"So, will he agree to help us--you--or will I just need to drop hints and hope he decides to pass them on?"

"He is under orders to pass on pertinent information. I'd rather not explain the particulars to him, compulsion to serve the current headmaster or not."

"I'll need all of the Slytherin techniques you've been teaching me." Her eyes sparkled at the insinuation.

"Indeed. Now, though I don't think you will need it, we should take this opportunity to review the healing spells. There are Death Eaters at the Ministry."

He read nervousness in Hermione's nod as she spelled away the papers and sent the tables to the side. He removed a rock from his pocket and transfigured it to a rough facsimile of her pet, Crookshanks. Through trial and error, they'd determined that her familiar provided the necessary emotional connection without the negative side effects of watching him cast a deadly curse on one of her friends.

Setting the creature on the ground, he waited until it started toward Hermione before aiming his wand. "Sectumsempra!"

Hermione cried out as the slice caused the cat to fall to the ground. She ran to his side, kneeling in the realistic blood provided by her own fearfully vivid imagination. Severus' heart clenched at the tearful waver in her voice as she moved her wand carefully over the wound and began the healing chant. As difficult as it was for him to cause her this nightmare, he knew it could save someone's life. He only wished he had a way of letting her find the spell in the real world so she'd have an excuse to teach it to her friends. It troubled him that the only one she couldn't save this way was herself.

In moments that passed in their strange dreamy way, the bleeding was stopped, the blood cleaned away, and the facsimile was nestled in her lap, looking a bit more Kneazlish than it had originally.

Wanting to provide positive reinforcement of the lesson, he joined her on the area rug that now covered the floor and drew her to his chest with one arm. Exhausted, she rested against him as he murmured reassurances of how pleased he was with her.

How differently he had pictured their relationship earlier that summer. It was supposed to be her providing information for him. He was supposed to be the one on the run in harm's way. He wasn't supposed to be safe within a fortress while a young woman put herself in danger.

"Be safe, Hermione," he whispered as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Return to me here tomorrow night."

***

She was bound to a chair in the center of the courtroom, dark, spectral cats roaming, chilling the air every time they came near. Umbridge paced like one of the cats: back and fourth, just out of reach. Someone was begging for mercy, but Hermione came to realize that it wasn't her, for no sound could come from her mouth. Searching frantically, she discovered the identity of her advocate. Ron, dressed in blue robes, holding a crying baby, was pleading for her.

"Of course she's a witch! Even the baby has already shown signs of magic. The baby has Weasley, Prewett, Black, Malfoy, Rosier, Potter, and Gryffindor blood! Shouldn't the son of so many pure lines have a mother?"

Her heart clenched. No one was going to take her away from her family! She tried to remember how she'd gotten there, what kind of spell they'd used to silence her. She couldn't fathom why she didn't remember unless she'd been stunned. Knowing it would be useless, she tried a nonverbal Relashio to no avail.

"Whose wand is this?" Umbridge asked, twirling Hermione's wand in her chubby fingers.

"It's mine! I bought it from Ollivander. Why don't you find him to tell you?" Aha! At least now she had her voice.

"You must not tell lies, Miss."

"It's Mrs. Weasley!" she demanded, not sure why that didn't seem quite right, but clinging to it nevertheless.

"A Muggle can't be named Weasley."

"She's not a Muggle!" Ron yelled. "She's a witch, and her name is Hermione Weasley. She's my Hermione, and I won't let you kill her!"

Hermione thrashed against the bonds as the circling cats came closer and closer. Ron cried her name over and over, but the sound was becoming muffled as the chill began to overcome her.

"Good-bye, Muggle. Your blood traitor can't save you now! You'll never have a pureblood name."

Suddenly, a brilliant stag burst into the room, banishing the cats.

"Harry!" she called, the warmth from the Patronus filling her with hope.

But the answering shout was unexpectedly deep. "No, not Weasley, not Potter. Snape!"

Umbridge and Ron both disappeared, and Snape Apparated her to their safe place, the potions laboratory where a sofa and a fireplace awaited them.

Snuggled on Severus' lap, she sobbed as the realization filled her that it was only a dream. She cried her relief, clinging to black robes as her mind struggled to regain her grasp of reality.

"You must have had quite the ordeal today." Severus' voice was low and soothing as his arms securely held her to him.

"I did. The Ministry is doing such horrible things. Why didn't you warn me?"

"It has all been in the Daily Prophet."

"Yes, but the sight of the statue, and they really are killing Muggle-borns!"

"I did not want to distract you from your task. The sooner you have accomplished what you've set out to do, the sooner the Ministry will be back in rational hands and it will all be over."

Hermione sat up to face him. "Why are people letting this happen?"

"They are afraid, Hermione. Fear brings out the worst in people."

"I was so afraid today. Yaxley grabbed me as we Apparated out, and I accidentally took him to Grimmauld Place."

"Yes. I have to admit that it took all of my dissembling skills to not show my fear that something had happened when I heard the news that Potter had been spotted at the Ministry.

"All three of us are safe."

"You also rescued some Muggle-borns?"

"We couldn't leave them! Do you know if they made it?"

"They did. The Dark Lord's displeasure at Yaxley was assuaged by his new ability to enter your former hiding place."

She thought about asking about Kreacher, but thought that Severus would have told her if anything had happened to the elf. Something else was tickling her brain anyway. "That isn't really your Patronus, is it?"

"No, Potter was about to rescue you, but I stepped in."

"So, I've still never seen your Patronus."

"There's no need. I'll never be able to communicate with it; if there was a real emergency, sending Phineas would be much more expedient anyway."

"I suppose so. Just add it to the list of secrets, I guess." Hermione rested her head against his chest again. Sighing, she sifted through the dream images and tried to sort out her feelings. "I don't think Ron's my type."

Snape shifted beneath her. "What brought that on?"

"Oh, I don't know how much of all that you heard, but I thought I was married to Ron. He was all impassioned pleas, and there was a crying baby. But today at the Ministry he kept on slowing us down, and he wouldn't eat the mushrooms."

"Mushrooms?"

"They were all I could find to eat, but he didn't like them, the ungrateful prat."

"So, where are you now?"

Hermione was suspicious of the change in topic, but answered, "In a tent. Harry wants to go to Godric's Hollow right away."

Severus decisively moved her off his lap and onto the sofa beside him to look into her eyes. "No."

"Why not?"

"The Dark Lord has had traps set at near the old Potter house for several weeks, but the physical presence of guards is bound to be increased now that he assumes--correctly--that you don't have a safe house anymore.

"Well, what should I tell Harry?"

"Whatever you do, delay him as long as possible. The longer you wait, the fewer Death Eaters will be assigned the task. They dislike waiting, and the Dark Lord hates to waste resources. Nevertheless, you must maintain 'constant vigilance' in that area."

"Speaking of Moody, Harry recovered his eye from Umbridge."

"Ah, the finer points that don't get relayed to me from the usual channels."

"Well, compared to rescuing Muggle-borns and stealing a Horcrux from Umbridge's neck, it was a small thing."

"And you're positive it is the correct locket?"

"Definitely, the thing exudes evil. I've no doubt that something dark lives within it." She shivered. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For treating me like an adult. But we still don't know what to do with the locket. We can't seem to open it."

"I will inform Albus of your progress. Any information he gives me I will pass on to you. You have done well today; you lived up to your training." He kept Hermione still with his hands on her shoulders as he reached down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. Pulling back to look into her eyes, he said, "I've never said this to you, but I am quite proud of you, Hermione."

Thanks to Lady in the Cloak for catching what I miss.