V

Standard Disclaimer goes here.

V.

Hermione woke up feeling as though she'd been used as a squeaky toy by a sphinx. Groaning, but carefully not moving, she let herself adjust to consciousness, wondering why she was so very sore. Her whole body was unhappy, her legs were both achy and stung as if Crooks had scratched her repeatedly, her back felt bruised and stiff, and her head... her head felt like a bomb waiting to go off it was throbbing so much.

She kept her eyes shut, wondering how her teachers would react if she decided to simply take the day off. She would go down to the infirmary for a proper excuse, but she didn't feel like she could walk that far. She thought that eventually Harry or Ginny would look in on her, wondering why she wasn't around, and they would be able to explain to her teachers that today would be a loss for her.

She quickly thought of the classes she would be missing, trying to remember if there were any important assignments due or tests being given. The only thing she remembered she needed to do was to find a way to stop that ridiculous bill from becoming law. For some reason she felt as if she were running out of time. She didn't know why she felt that way, but she had a niggling suspicion that Lucius Malfoy had something to do with it. She frowned slightly and grimaced from pain as her head throbbed harder for the movement.

Lucius Malfoy... She remembered him watching her intently during that detention, but that was no reason to assume that the end was near.

Then everything came rushing back. The entire week, from the meeting in the Headmaster's office to the wedding on Sunday to her fleeing Snape's quarters to Lucius Malfoy nearly... And then her fall down that impossibly deep hole. She'd tried so hard to stop herself, but she had only ended up with scraped hands and knees.

She opened her eyes and was not surprised to find herself shrouded in darkness.

Sighing as heavily as her bruised ribs would allow, she set her teeth and sat up, groaning as every muscle in her body, as well as quite a few bones, objected. After what seemed an eternity, she found herself sitting upright, trying to catch her breath. She also was trying to quell her nausea as her head started spinning and pounding even more fiercely. The word concussion flitted through her mind briefly, and she decided it might be a good idea to rest for a little while.

After only a few moments, her sight had adjusted, and she found herself in a very dimly lit cavern. Wondering how she could see anything at all, she slowly looked around and found an opening in the cavern walls that was less dark than the surrounding area. Hoping that it might be a sign of inhabitation, she was just about to call out for help when the idea struck her that the bowels of the castle would be a fantastic hiding place for a colony of unregistered vampires. She decided silence might be the better option until she had gathered more information.

She slumped in on herself, trying to ease some of the more serious pains. When she found herself drowsing, she decided it would be best to get moving. She had no idea where she was, but she figured she would never, ever be found where she currently sat. She didn't have much hope for being found at all, but she assumed that by moving she'd at least keep her mind off of her unfortunate fate.

Sure enough, as she slowly levered herself upright all thoughts but one fled. The pounding in her head turned into a jazzy drum solo. She quickly lowered herself back to the ground, hoping to staunch the urge to throw up. She'd never been that fond of jazz.

After a few minutes, the drum solo receded into the background noise it had been before. Relieved, though far from happy, Hermione tried to think of what she could do.

She was seriously tempted to just give up. All she would have to do was lie down and go to sleep. Most likely she would lapse into a coma and slowly starve to death. It would be a relatively easy way to die.

And it wasn't like she had a wonderful life to look forward to. Although she was a medal-bearing war hero, she was married to a man who didn't give a damn about her, her peers thought she was a floozy, and she was a failure at adulthood. She couldn't even stop crying long enough to attempt at being mature!

She tried not to sniffle.

It's so very tempting to just give in, she thought. If I died, then Severus would no longer be in such an untenable situation, I wouldn't have to worry about Malfoy, and everyone would be perfectly happy. Well, except for Harry. And Ginny. And McGonagall might miss me, too.

Her mind drifted back to Harry again, and she realized with a sharp pang (that had nothing to do with her body) that she needed to survive for him. She hadn't been the only one to lose a best friend when Ron died. If she died too, he would have lost his other best friend. Unable to do that to him, Hermione set her jaw, resolved to make it out of there.

Instead of trying to stand again, she decided that crawling might be the way to go. Slowly, she put one hand in front of the other, gritting her teeth each time her raw hand connected with the ground, no matter how gently. Her hands almost distracted her from the pain in her foot as she dragged it along, finding it took less energy to bear the constant pain than to lift her foot and deal with the sharp shock when her it reconnected with the ground. The difference was negligible, but every bit helped.

After only a few feet, she stopped to rest, lowering herself until her head was resting on her forearms. Still uncomfortably queasy, she rested until she started drowsing again, then starting crawling again. Continuing that pattern more times than she could count, she finally reached the small opening in the cavern wall. Completely exhausted, she knew she needed to rest, so instead of staying on her knees, she managed to get herself into a sitting position and gingerly leaned against the wall.

As she sat there, her mind drifted to Severus. As she found out more about him, their situation became more and more puzzling. He ran hot and cold so quickly that she didn't know what to expect from him. He had seemed genuinely concerned when he'd rescued her from Remus and genuinely contrite the next day when he saw the bruises. And then, on their wedding night, when she'd started crying, he hadn't scoffed or yelled but had held and soothed her. And then the sex... It had seemed so tender. He had seemed tender.

But then, only a few hours later, he'd been calling her a fuck-wit and trying to push her away. She could easily have blamed that on him being so sick, but why hadn't he warmed up later? Before the whole Great Hall fiasco, that is.

And how could he accuse her of being immature when he tried to use his power as a teacher to control her? She knew he was mortified and insulted by the gossip going around, but that didn't give him permission to act like such a dick. Or he could have at least saved such behavior till they were in private.

She wasn't sure why, but the memory of Ron sulking at the Yule Ball suddenly popped into her head. Ron had been such a prat that night, but that was only because he'd had feelings for her he wasn't willing to admit to. The thought of comparing Ron and Severus seemed ridiculous, even if their behavior was a bit similar. Severus had sent the message loud and clear that she was nothing more than an obligation with a few side perks.

Her heart heavy with that thought, Hermione decided it was time to move again, and the resulting pain washed away the objections her logical side was trying to raise.

She somehow maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees again and started the slow process of exploring the opening. She was a bit surprised, but very happy, to find that it seemed to be a tunnel. She was disappointed, however, to find the light wasn't from torches, but from glowworms that inhabited the tunnel's ceiling.

More bothered by the unearthly light than reassured, Hermione continued her slow process of crawling then resting, though the resting was happening more and more frequently. She felt more winded after only a few feet than she had before, and it worried her. It also worried her that the path never seemed to straighten out, so she could never see what was beyond the next curve. It felt like she was going in circles - so much so that she expected to see the entrance to the big cavern again.

After what felt like hours, Hermione thought the tunnel was getting smaller. She still had plenty of room to crawl, but she suspected she wouldn't be able to stand. The tunnel still refused to straighten out, though.

It wasn't too long before she knew the tunnel was getting smaller. She was certain that if she'd had the energy to sit up in a kneeling position, she would have hit her head. A little further on she was pretty sure she could feel bit of web or something brushing across the top of her head every now and again, almost as if it was catching her hair and tugging. She tried keeping her head further down.

It was only when the tunnel had narrowed even more, so that she wasn't able to raise her head up all the way, that she noticed the light had changed. It was no longer the blue-green ethereal light of the glowworms, but a warm yellow that was reminiscent of the torchlight throughout the castle.

Hoping she wasn't becoming delirious, she forged ahead, one slow inch after another, resting frequently. Her body was numb; she was vaguely aware that she might be going into shock, but she kept moving, hoping that whatever was casting the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't going to run her over. She had made her decision and wasn't going to give up now. She was so close. All she had to do was keep moving.

She didn't know when she lost consciousness, but when she woke up, she felt worse than ever. She didn't have the strength to raise herself onto her hands and knees, so she just laid there, helpless and breathless. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to stare at the rock any longer. She tried to think of something motivating, something that might get her moving, but the sound of pots and pans was distracting her. Then she processed what her ears were telling her.

She was hearing pots. Clanging pots. Lots and lots of clanging pots.

Opening her eyes again, she exerted all the effort she could muster into inching forward, trying to see beyond one more bend, and at last she was rewarded. The tunnel straightened out and ended with a blindingly bright view into a room. Not another cave, but a room!

Relieved beyond measure, Hermione tried calling out, but found her voice was nothing more than a whisper thanks to her parched state. Trying again, she managed a very quiet croak, but it hurt more than she could tolerate to stress her lungs and throat like that. Giving up the idea of getting help by shouting, she realized her only other option was to crawl.

Still not strong enough to lift herself up, she scooted across the rough surface, thinking of how she was shredding the remains of her clothing. Slightly bemused by her random thoughts, she finally made it to the tunnel's opening and peered out.

She had been correct in her assessment; it was a room. It was, in fact, the kitchen. She watched as house-elves rushed here and there below her, charming vegetables into pots of water, making sure the ovens' fires were burning at the right temperature, squeezing cooked pumpkins into pitchers as if they were oranges and adding the spices that made the juice tolerable. She wasn't sure whether it was the motion or her concussion that was making her so dizzy.

With one last supreme effort, she edged forward enough to get her head out of the hole, where hopefully one or another elf would see her, should they look up. Unfortunately, she didn't have the strength to hold her head upright, so her head flopped over the edge, and waves of her knotted, frizzy, brown hair cascaded down the wall like furry tentacles, blocking any view she might have had.

It wasn't long before she heard a high pitch scream and felt something prickly and bendy slapping her hair and head.

"Out, out! No furry creatures allowed in here!" She heard an elfish voice squeak in between another round of slaps. It really wasn't helping her headache any, truth be told.

Knowing she had the attention of at least one elf, Hermione made the concerted effort to raise her head, only to get slapped harder.

"Ger' off," she croaked, barely audible, but loud enough that all movement, all hustle and bustle in the kitchen, stopped, and Hermione could feel the eyes of a hundred house-elves staring straight at her.

Then the whapping continued with renewed vigor.

"I's not care whether you speak or not. NO fuzzy creatures in kitchen now!" the elf squeaked again anxiously.

"I's not... I'm not a fuzzy creature!" Hermione tried to exclaim, though it came out rather weak and whiny. "I'm a student. Need help."

Once again, all movement stilled, and the only noise Hermione could hear was the burble of pots simmering on the stoves. She decided to risk looking up again and found herself looking at a very scared looking elf holding a large bristle broom of the non-flying variety. The kind of broom she wasn't afraid of, usually.

She let her head rest against the stone wall again as she tried gathering the strength to move an arm out so that she might shift her hair to the side for a better look. Before she even tried to dislodge her arm from underneath her chest, though, another high pitch squeal rent the kitchen atmosphere.

"Is that Miss Hermione? Is it really Miss Hermione, Harry Potter's friend?" She recognized that voice. Suddenly all need for worry and tension was released; she was saved.

"Hi, Dobby," she croaked, thinking that there was no better feeling in the world at that moment than being lowered from the tunnel by numerous elfin hands. She soon found herself lying on the floor looking up at two dozen large, curious eyes against a backdrop of huge ears, all quivering nervously.

She tried to smile, but she was too tired to manage anything more than a grimace. Her attention was drawn to Dobby when he started wringing his hands.

"Dobby is glad Miss is here and all right. Miss' been missing for so long everyone was afraid Miss ran away or was kidnapped by evil Mast- Malfoy. Everyone has been most upset. Mr. Harry Potter looked for you on his map, but even he couldn't find you! I's then told to look for you everywhere in the castle, but I's failed them." Here Dobby paused and seemed to wilt, giving Hermione a chance to interrupt.

"Dobby, cou' ge' s'me water, pl'se?" Hermione's throat was so dry it was painful to talk.

Dobby perked up, looking somewhat alarmed, relieved and hopeful all at the same time. "Of course, Miss! Dobby will get you water. Dobby will be right back!" And with that he disappeared, Disapparating his way out of the growing crowd of curious elves.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione heard another familiar voice say, "Is Miss all right?"

By sheer force of will, Hermione looked over, and, to her surprise and delight, found a very clean, well-adjusted Winky surveying her. She tried to smile at the elf, but again was only able to manage a small grimace.

"Winky!" she whispered. "Look good."

Hermione wasn't sure what emotion it was that quickly passed over Winky's features, but soon she found the small being kneeling beside her.

"Is Miss all right? Miss doesn't look all right. Miss looks like Miss needs help."

Hermione relaxed and nodded slightly, feeling a sense of relief now that she was in the small, capable hands of the Hogwarts' house-elves. She looked up at Winky who was observing her closely. Winky was just about to say something else when Dobby returned.

"Here, Miss," he said while magically propping Hermione up so she could drink from the glass he was holding. She sipped at first, slowly moisturizing her throat until she was able to drink more greedily to satisfy her overwhelming thirst.

After drinking the entire glass, Hermione felt marginally better. She felt like she might survive in any case. Unfortunately, she felt enough better that she tried raising herself up further and promptly found herself winded from what felt like a rib digging into her lung.

Normally Hermione liked putting on a brave front. She had not been doing a wonderful job of that the past week, but she had been trying. As she fell back onto Dobby's magical boost, Hermione didn't even think about covering up her discomfort, she was in so much pain.

While she was conscious that relaxing would be her only comfort, she couldn't stop herself from writhing involuntarily in a vain attempt to avoid the muscle spasms. She scrunched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, trying to force her body to stop moving, trying to force her breath into a calming rhythm, trying to keep from sobbing because she knew that would only make things worse. Eventually, she was able to relax minutely, and slowly the pain started to recede.

Still panting shallowly, she opened her eyes to find all the house-elves looking at her nervously; Dobby wasn't the only one wringing his hands. Dobby was looking at her with his huge green eyes opened so wide that she was surprised they weren't popping out. She wanted to tell him to fetch someone or to take her to Pomfrey, but she wasn't about to risk talking.

Surprisingly, Winky voiced her silent request. "Dobby, go fetch Harry Potter!" Dobby straightened, nodded, and Disapparated in an instant. Hermione closed her eyes once more, though this time with relief, until Winky started speaking again, this time with a strange tone to her voice.

"Miss needs our help?" Winky asked, looking down at Hermione innocently.

Hermione nodded minutely, trying to smile once more.

"Miss needs our help, even though Miss insists house-elves be given clothes?" Hermione felt the collective gasp as much as she heard it. All the elves took three steps back from her, and they were losing their friendly demeanor at an alarming rate.

Hermione decided that, in the interests of surviving long enough to continue the fight for house-elf rights in the future, she needed to be demure on this point; she shook her head slightly.

Winky scowled down at her. It appeared she wasn't finished.

"Miss needs to make up her mind. If Miss isn't needing help, why did Miss nod when I asks her if Miss needs help?"

Hermione felt her headache getting worse again. She opened her mouth to explain, but Winky forestalled her.

"No, Winky thinks this is a clever trap. Winky knows all about you. You is a clever witch. You thinks a lot. You probably thinks up a plan where you seems in need of help, but really you's luring us innocent house-elves into taking clothes!" The other elves all took another nervous step back. They were looking at Hermione with horror mingled with revulsion and were starting to mutter amongst themselves.

"No," Hermione croaked desperately. "I'm not faking. I need help. Please!"

Her entreaty seemed to work, as the revulsion faded on a few elves' faces, though the nervousness seemed to have staying power. One elf, the elf that had been swatting her with the broom, took a tentative step toward her, but was halted by Winky.

"Itsy, Miss does not need our help."

Itsy looked dubious. "But we's sworn to serve and protect all of Hogwarts. If Miss asks for help, we needs to give her help!"

"Maybe you isn't aware of who Miss is. Miss is the one who hid clothes in Gryffindor three years ago. Miss thought it better for us to leave Hogwarts, to have no masters to serve! Miss thinks we is overworked!" That last accusation brought another round of gasps from the gathered elves, and the muttering became louder.

Hermione could see everyone's expressions darken as their eyes darted over to her prone form, and she realized then just what a precarious situation she'd landed in. Itsy was the only one who looked at Hermione without rancor, though she was obviously nervous.

The mutterings were quickly becoming ominous, and Hermione looked to Itsy for help.

"We cannot harm her!" Itsy yelled over the growing noise. Everyone stopped talking for a moment, looking first to Itsy, then at Hermione, and then back to Winky, who didn't seem to be phased in the slightest.

"She's not our master to serve. We's can do anything we wishes," Winky proclaimed.

"But Master Dumbledore said we's not to hurt the students!" an elf in the background said.

"Miss is married to Mister Snape! Miss isn't a student anymore! No, Miss is special. We's going to help her like she wants us to. Miss wants us to declare our independence!" Winky cried passionately.

The crowd had mixed reactions. Some, those looking at Hermione with the most loathing, seemed intrigued; others looked more concerned, and some even looked scared.

"We's not wanting independence!" one of the scared elves said.

Winky looked at the dissenter and smiled warmly. "We's not declaring independence of Master or Hogwarts; we's declaring independence of Miss! Miss wants us to have the rights of wizards. Miss wants us to be happy! Miss wants us to refuse service if we's wanting to!

"I's asking, who here wants to serve Miss? Who here is wanting to risk clothes to help Miss?" A grumble was rising in the crowd, and Hermione could feel the crowd's energy turning against her.

"Miss wants us to take time off! Miss wants us not to serve! Miss wants us to be paid!" Winky paused dramatically while looking around at the horrified elves. "Not only is Miss a threat to each of our jobs, Miss is a threat to elfish values!"

The short crowd started muttering dangerously, and soon a quiet chant had started. It only took a few seconds before it was loud enough for Hermione to hear clearly.

"Hey, hey, ho, ho, there ain't no way we's going to go! Hey, hey, ho, ho, this evil threat has got to go!"

Led by Winky, all the elves except Itsy were turning on Hermione and slowly approaching. In the back of Hermione's mind, she wondered at the change Winky had gone through, not only in demeanor, but social status, but she was quickly distracted by the rebellious elves that were closing in on her, power radiating off their small bodies as they started surrounding her.

Not only was Hermione dead tired, but she was also now afraid of saying anything for fear of inciting the elves' wrath even more. Instead, she looked up at Itsy imploringly. Itsy was rocking from foot to foot, looking anxiously from Hermione to the rallying crowd. She was nibbling on her lower lip much like Hermione was prone to doing when she was nervous or indecisive.

Finally, Itsy made up her mind; she stopped rocking and looked down at Hermione with sorrowful eyes. "I's like to help, Miss, I really would, but Winky is my roommate. I's afraid to..." Itsy tapered off, looking at the chanting crowd nervously. "I is sorry." And with that, Itsy abandoned Hermione's side, slipping away through the narrowing spaces as the other elves closed ranks.

Hermione had thought she had worn out her adrenal glands, but the fear and panic washing over her was proof to the contrary. She tried to move, aware there was nowhere to move to, but even the adrenaline wasn't enough to help her exhausted body out. All she could do was lie there and wait as the angry elves descended. Not wanting to watch the blows that were about to fall, she closed her eyes.

Suddenly, a loud pop rent the air. Hermione cracked one eye open, and to her immense relief, saw Dobby standing over her looking rather confused. His sudden appearance startled the crowd into a temporary silence.

"What's happening?" Dobby asked worriedly, looking around at the gathering elves.

"Get out of the way, Dobby. We's dealing with Miss properly," Winky said with menace.

Understanding flooded Dobby's face, and he took a quick assessment of the crowd encircling him and Hermione. Worry turned to fear and before Hermione knew it, she was floating upright, supported by Dobby's magic.

"You cannot harm Miss! We is not allowed to harm anyone!" Dobby cried, trying to guide Hermione toward the exit, even though the way was blocked. "You is going to get in bad trouble!"

"Miss is a threat! Miss has got to go!"

And then the chant started up again, the squeaky voices carrying far more threat than any Death Eater Hermione had ever met.

"Hey, hey, ho, ho, this scary witch has got to go! Hey, hey..."

There was scarcely two feet of space on any side of the endangered pair. Hermione looked down at Dobby, who took one last desperate look around, grabbed Hermione by the wrist, squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and Disapparated them away.

Avery's Notes: Huge thanks go out to Southern_Witch_69 for her amazing patience. This chapter has been a bear for her! Anything wrong you see is my mistake.

Before you repeat Canon!Hermione's favorite phrase at me, remember that house-elves can do something like Apparation inside Hogwarts. (CoS & HBP both have evidence of it.) I'm just going to assume that in an emergency they can take a human along with them. Their existence is to serve, right?

Although I used the New Zealand Glowworm as inspiration, the glowworms that lit Hermione's way are pretty much unrelated except for the almost fake looking light they emit. For a picture of what New Zealand Glowworms [arachnocampa luminosa] look like en masse, check out this picture: http://www.waitomocaves.co.nz/glowworm-caves-boat-ride/362/Bioluminescence.aspx

Southern's Notes: I have a dang chant in my head. "Hey, hey, ho, ho, what's up next? I want to know." Poor Hermione! If it's not one thing, it's another. I hope she finds peace soon. Hehe!