Sometime The Evil You Know Is Better Than The Evil You Don't Know

Summary: Hermione seeks an elusive cure for the lasting effects of a curse Bellatrix Lestrange managed to hit her with during the Battle of Hogwarts. Her life has been lost to endless bouts of pain and despair that have plagued her these last two years. But her luck may finally be changing. A reference to a Dark potion in an obscure book may hold the key to her cure. But where will she find a Potions master knowledgeable enough to brew it? Written for Warded_Portal for the SSHG Winter 2007 exchange.

Prompt: AU, EWE: Hurt/comfort. Years after the final battle, Hermione struggles daily with the after effects of Bellatrix Lestrange's special brand of Crucio. St. Mungo's advises treating the symptoms, but Hermione wants to live her life. She goes to the oldest center of Wizarding population, Alexandria, Egypt, chasing a rumour: a Potions master with a dual expertise in Legilimency. For some reason, he doesn't want to help her. Without knowing his true identity, Hermione must persuade him she is worth his time. Romance, happy ending please. (Bonuses include: archaeology, magical artifacts, history, dusty libraries, and moments of crazy stupid in love).

Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters and settings belong to JKR, et al. I promise to return them when I finish playing with them.

.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

Chapter Three – Sometime The Evil You Know Is Better Than The Evil You Don't Know

Hermione looked up at the address on the building, comparing it to the writing on the parchment in her hand.

The Prince's Moste Potente Potables

713 Diagon Alley

London, England

While the address on the building matched that on the paper, the name above the door did not. A large gold plaque, letters two feet high proclaimed:

Dempster, Wiggle, & Worth LLP

This was the address listed on the back of The Prince's products. The label further invited customers to contact the firm with any questions or concerns they may have. All owls were directed to this address.

Unconsciously, Hermione flexed her fingers. Almost a week had passed since her last treatment at St Mungo's. The episodes had started again; her hands trembled slightly, an aftereffect of the pain. Sighing, she pushed open the door and went in.

The middle-aged witch sitting behind the desk could only be described as grey. Her hair was a mix of various shades of charcoal, slate, and silver, liberally sprinkled with streaks of black. Her tailored robes were a deep shade of arsenic, contrasting nicely with the light dove grey of her blouse. Hermione couldn't see her shoes, but would have bet they matched her robes exactly.

"Can I help you?" Three quills danced over three separate pieces of parchment, obviously enchanted to respond to the device in front of the witch.

"Yes, I'd like to speak to Mr Dempster please."

The witch glanced up from her work. "Do you have an appointment Miss...?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger. Um, no, I don't. But if Mr Dempster is not available, perhaps I could speak with Mr Wiggle or Mr Worth."

The woman eyed her up and down. "Regarding?"

"Is one of them available? I've come on a business matter."

She tapped a blue square of parchment next to her before writing on it. Within a minute, an answering statement appeared on the parchment. Hermione thought it must have been enchanted for two-way communication.

"If you will follow me, Mr Dempster will see you now."

She was escorted to a small office off the main corridor. A short, balding man dressed in odd cranberry coloured robes rose to greet her. "Miss Granger? A pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Would you like something to drink? Tea, pumpkin juice?"

"No, I'm fine. I appreciate you seeing me, Mr Dempster. I hope you can help me. I'm trying to locate the chief Potions master for The Prince's Moste Potente Potables products."

The little man's face closed, his smile fading abruptly. "I'm sorry you wasted your time. I don't know anything about the company. I can't be of any assistance."

"Mr Dempster, you are aware that your address is listed as the business address for The Prince's Moste Potente Potables? The back of the label directs owls to this location. How is it that you don't know what your firm is doing?"

The wizard rubbed a pudgy hand over his shining pate. "Is there a problem with one of the products?"

"No, I was told he may be able to help me with a medical problem I have. Please, I just want to speak with him for a minute."

"Miss Granger, the master in question does not receive... visitors."

"Then perhaps you could owl him on my behalf."

"Miss Granger..."

"I would hate to have to take up residence in your foyer. I would imagine both The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet would be willing to send reporters when Harry Potter comes by to find out why I'm here."

Dempster barely missed biting his tongue as his jaw snapped shut. "Fine," he ground out. "But if the man rejects your request, I expect you to do the right thing and not contact my offices again."

"Of course," Hermione answered sweetly.

"Where can I reach you when he answers me?"

.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

"Bloody hell!" The owl at his laboratory window magically slipped through the glass. The creature circled the room once before gliding gracefully to land on the tabletop.

"Off! You think I want your feathers contaminating my work?" Severus pointed to a battered desk behind him. "There." He'd recognized the owl when it slipped through the window, his wards and enchantments set to allow communications from select parties.

Rummaging through the desk drawer for an owl treat, Severus removed the scroll from the owl's outstretched leg. "What does Dempster want now?" he muttered, his scowl deepening as he read the missive.

The Prince's Moste Potente Potables

London, England

Master Snape:

Miss Hermione Granger was in my office today inquiring after the Potions master behind The Prince's Moste Potente Potables products. She requests an audience with you, that is with Master Prince, in the hope that you can help her with a medical problem. She claims a merchant in Egypt believes you are in possession of a potion she needs.

What course of action do you wish me to pursue?

Sincerely,

Mr L. Dempster, Esquire

"Granger." He spat the name out, a headache forming behind his eyes. One third of the golden trio. It must have been Granger Omar had owled him about last week. The nerve of the little chit, enlisting his solicitor to help her. A particularly snide smile gracing his features, he sat down to send a scathing response to his solicitor as to what actions he desired the man to take.

.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

Hermione stamped her foot, her eyes watering as she read Dempster's letter. Master Prince would be unable to help her. Good luck and drop dead. For all it mattered, the man might well have written the sentiment before cursing her himself.

Harry found her a few hours later; sitting on the sofa, dried tears streaking her face, a second bottle of wine half empty in front of her. "Hermione?"

"It's no good, Harry. I could have had the cure and now it's gone. Gone forever." Her wine glass hung precariously from her fingertips, the wine sluicing around the glass as she waved it for emphasis.

"You had the cure?" He removed the glass from her hand, banishing it and the half empty wine bottle to the kitchen. He'd found her in her cups before, usually after one of her leads had played out.

"Omar made it seem like he had the answer. But would The Prince help me? Oh, no. Thank you for your enquiry, but we are unable to comply with your request at this time. Ha, bollocks to them, I say."

"The Prince? You want Snape's help."

"What? Snape? No, not Snape, why would I want Snape? I want the Potions master behind The Prince's Moste Potente Potables. He's supposed to have a rare potion that can end the curse. Omar said he did." Hermione nodded, and thus it must be true, or so it seemed in her inebriated state.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Harry sighed as he helped his friend off the couch.

"Harry Potter, you're a married man and married to my best friend, no less. Don't you get fresh with me." Hermione smiled. It was a long-standing joke between the two.

In the end, it was Harry's connections through the Auror department that located the physical address for the laboratories of Prince Industries; it seemed various permits were needed to set up a commercial potions lab in a Muggle area. Bureaucracy insured that the company had been required to register with the Ministry, in triplicate.

.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

"I still don't see why you insisted on coming with me. I could have done this myself."

"Hermione, you don't know who this master is." Looking around the run-down area, Harry shuddered briefly. "He obviously wants to be left alone. I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Don't be ridiculous. Where else would you put a commercial lab other than an industrial area?" Hermione knocked briskly on the door, praying they were in the right place.

What the hell was going on, an unscheduled owl yesterday and now someone knocking at his door? He stormed up the stairway and through the lounge towards the front door, his wand at the ready; he hoped the idiot at his door enjoyed being hexed.

Severus stopped short. The door glowed a warm yellow hue. It meant whoever was on the other side was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, his wards recognizing the magical signature of a fellow Order member. Cautiously, he opened the door.

"Granger? Potter! What are you two doing here?"

"Snape?" Harry stared in disbelief; he'd been right. The Prince was Snape after all.

"Snape?" Hermione screamed, her eyes glowing with a manic light, an odd smile gracing her lips. "You bastard! Did you think you could betray my Lord and live to tell about it? I was right. You lied to Cissy that night to save your greasy soul, you Slytherin bastard. Traitor! Shall I mete out a bit of justice? Cruc..."

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's wand flew into Harry's outstretched hand. "Hermione, what is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"Potter. At last, I can kill you, too." The witch turned, her hands flexed to claw his eyes out as she launched herself at her best friend.

"Incarcerous!" Severus' spell caught her in mid leap, ropes shooting out of the end of his wand, binding the young woman as she tried to attack Harry. A hasty casting of Petrificus Totalus guaranteed the witch's silence as well as her unwilling cooperation as the two wizards brought her into the house.

Severus directed her to the sofa, her eyes snapping madly as she glared at them. "How long has this been going on?"

Shakily, Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with her. Why would she attack either one of us?"

"How long, Potter?"

"Uhm, she's...she's been having problems with recurring pain since the Battle of Hogwarts. The Healers at St Mungo's think it's some type of echo from the Cruciatus Curse. That's why she came here today. Someone told her about a mythical Potions master that could heal her."

Snape shook his head. Two years. He'd thought she was probably suffering from residual pain after realizing the witch Omar had owled him about was Granger, his solicitor's letter citing the witch's identity, but he never expected her to be like this.

Harry watched Snape as he ran his wand over the still form of his friend. "She's never acted like that before. The Healers have tried different treatments. Nothing's ever worked. You know Hermione, she's read everything she could on the subject, but still nothing."

Severus snorted. Yes, he knew the know-it-all's penchant for research. It was her research that had brought Potter through his search to find and destroy the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

"Can you help her?"

Severus locked eyes with the angry witch. "Legilimens," he whispered. He slipped into the vortex that passed for Hermione's mind, silken strands of silvery blue threads floated past him in groups, the most current memories at the front of her mind. Vague images formed a slide show as Severus searched for a clue as to what had precipitated the attack. Her comment about Cissy had given him an idea; he only hoped he was wrong. It took a few minutes, but Severus found what he was looking for. He'd felt the presence the minute he'd entered the witch's mind, just not sure where it had sequestered itself among the memories. Unfortunately, he'd been right in his assumptions. Gently, he withdrew.

"Where was Miss Granger hit when Lestrange cursed her?" Surprisingly gentle fingers brushed the hair from Hermione's face as he looked for the curse site.

"Her left shoulder. Why?"

Severus unbuttoned the top three buttons of Hermione's jumper, peeling back the loose cloth as her ran a calloused finger over the curse scar on her shoulder. "Bellatrix was cursing both Miss Granger and Miss Weasley when Molly attacked her?"

"Yeah, well, she was a strong witch. But what does that have to do with why Hermione suddenly went berserk outside?"

Severus turned on the young man. "Think, Potter. Bellatrix was favored by the Dark Lord. She was privy to many of his inner most secrets. It was the reason he entrusted her with Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. He knew she was loyal to him, it was the reason I was instructed to send the Sword of Gryffindor to her Gringotts vault. I believe her soul must have shattered from the force of Molly's curse."

"Shattered?" Harry sat abruptly, his legs barely holding him as realization dawned. "Hermione is a... Horcrux?"

"So it would seem." Severus stood lost in thought. Potter had been the only human Horcrux Severus had ever known. He didn't believe Bellatrix had planned to create a Horcrux, but then neither had the Dark Lord intended for Harry Potter to be one either.

"Why go crazy now?"

"She must have been resisting her all this time, though I imagine the pain and constant contact have been wearing her down. Miss Granger's surprise when she saw me allowed Bellatrix to surge to the forefront." He could see the dark circles under Hermione's eyes. Her face was too thin; a general sense of weariness enveloped the young woman. He had hoped the scar would've held an answer or clue, but it did not appear to have any special characteristics.

"Contact?" Harry watched Hermione, only her eyes moved in her frozen state. The anger and madness that radiated from his friend would give him nightmares for years to come.

Severus nodded. "I could hear an echo of Lestrange's voice when I searched Miss Granger's mind. I would imagine she has been talking to her these last two years."

"How do we help her?"

"Help her?" Severus turned, frowning as he regarded the young wizard. "Do you have another Resurrection Stone on hand? No? I didn't think so. Do you recall what happens when you disarm a Horcrux? You are dealing with Dark magic, Potter."

"We can't leave her like this."

"No, I don't suppose we can." Severus closed his eyes. It seemed the Fates were determined to conspire against him. He'd just gained his life back only to have these two show up on his doorstep. There was nothing he could do. Nothing concrete that he was sure would work. He'd made up his mind to tell Potter they would need to consign the poor witch to a padded room in St Mungo's when he looked up into Lily's eyes. Blast the witch. Even if he'd managed to save her offspring, those eyes reminded him he hadn't saved her. Severus sighed; the young woman didn't deserve this fate. "There may be a potion. I don't know if it will work. It's never been tried on a human."

"Do you have it?"

"It's a rare potion, created with Dark magic. So, of course I have it in stock. I'll just nip back down to my lab and fetch it for you." Severus shook his head, glaring at the young man. "I'd have to brew it. I suppose I can put Miss Granger into a magically induced coma while I tend to the potion. The full moon is only two days off; I will need to have the base ready by then. It will take another seven days after that before the potion will be ready." He stared at the young man before him, his expression softening. "Do you know what Muggle chemotherapy is, Potter?"

Harry started from the sudden change in topic. "Chemotherapy? Yeah, it's treatment for cancer. Why?"

"Chemotherapy does not distinguish between good and bad cells. When given, it attacks all cells that match the cell structure that is to be eliminated."

"Right, that's why some people lose their hair."

"Exactly, well, a Horcrux is similar to a cancer in that it needs to be eliminated from the person or object that is containing it. However, a witch's or wizard's inherent magical structure contains the same magical signature that a Horcrux does. If the process of removing Lestrange from Miss Granger's mind doesn't kill her, it might leave her a Squib for life."

TBS