The Search

A/N: Smoochies to my betas, Wartcap, Fervesco and Vaughn, without whom my chapters would never see the light of your computer screen. Their talent with the English language, wonderful advice, and brilliant ideas are not taken lightly ... I'm grateful for every moment of their time they spend improving my chapters! ...Which is arduous work, believe me. You'd understand if you saw my pre-beta drafts. Yikes =)

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Yes, the disappointment hurts a little, but I'm coping quite well.

Chapter 4

The Search

But I know somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. -Martin Luther King Jr.

Harry stood over the large table, scrutinizing the map of Hermione's city as the enchanted parchment churned through all possible escape scenarios. An adaptation of the Marauder's Map by Minerva, the map itself was immense, covering the width of the table. It was fully dimensional, every hill, home, and valley rising and revolving as the map readjusted its coordinates. The Granger's home and the last known Disapparation point were marked by a faint red glow. Remus pointed to the forest jutting up from the edge of the map. "They may have used the woods for cover; otherwise, I see no need in Disapparating from that side of town. Request: Highlight forest clearings over five square feet within a five-mile radius of Disapparation point A," ordered Remus as the map began to transfigure, coming to a halt at the forest outlying the city. Fourteen blue squares hovered above the map at different points. "Those mark the clearings large enough to land a broom or Apparate without splinching into a tree," said Remus.

"Get their coordinates and I'll notify the search parties," said Harry, searching his pockets for the small radio.

As his fingers wrapped around the device, a chair clattered against the ground. Harry's eyes shot up, scanning the room before finding the source of the disruption: a chair lay upended on the other side of the room. "Shhh!" he snapped irritably, his mind not registering the soft swooshing in the room that followed his outburst. He'd just resumed tending to his radio when a strangled cry of mingled joy and relief rang throughout the room.

Everyone huddled around the table turned simultaneously as Mrs. Granger raced by them, their cloaks fluttering in her crosswind. Their eyes reeled across the room towards her destination, settling on a tousled Hermione, the last remnants of ash from her journey via Floo wafting through the air. Mrs. Granger hurriedly joined her husband, who already had Hermione engulfed in his arms.

"Oh, my sweet baby," he choked, stroking her hair. "Shhh, it's all right. I'm here. Daddy's got you." Her father clutched his arms around her so tightly that he began lifting her to the tip of her toes. And, unfortunately for Hermione, her mother reached their side a moment later and pressed herself forcefully into their embrace as well.

"Mum, Dad, I'm all right. Honestly," came the distinct sound of Hermione's voice from within the huddle. The tension in the room dissipated as soon as Hermione's even voice broke the silence, reassuring the Order that she was physically unharmed. By the time Hermione began to protest, her mother was kissing her forehead like a possessed guppy and showing no signs of relenting. "Mum! Dad!... I can't breathe!" she gasped, pressing her way frantically out of their arms and appearing before the room more red-faced and dishevelled than she had after escaping Devil's Snare in first year.

She took a deep, calming breath and faced the room.

***

Hermione lay sprawled face-up on her bed at Grimmauld Place, gazing at the stained ceiling, utterly exhausted and suffering a throbbing headache. The image of her mother ensconced and trembling within her father's arms as she stepped through the Floo kept appearing in the forefront of her thoughts. She squeezed her eyes closed, rubbing her temples rhythmically.

The pain pounded more insistently in her ears, growing more and more excruciating. Sighing in frustration, she leaned onto her side and plucked a small bottle from the nightstand. Lying back down, she raised it up to her eyes, studying the fluid as it wavered gently, sparkling in the dim light. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, she thought, grateful that the woman had the foresight to fetch a Calming Draught for her.

Hermione, resisting the impulse to soothe her forehead with the bottle's cool glass, placed her fingertips on the cork just as a brisk knock sounded on her door. She let out a low breath that caught in her throat, morphing into an irritated growl. She knew that knock and didn't attempt to disguise the irritation in her voice. "Go away, Harry."

"No, we haven't finished talking about this yet," came his muffled response.

"Yes, we have. I'm unharmed and I've already told you all I can. So, please, just leave me alone." Hermione knew it was useless to reason with him; that the hard note of determination in his voice meant he wasn't going to give up the interrogation until he was satisfied with her answers. Consequently, she wasn't surprised when her wards were forcibly removed and her door creaked open, despite her request to be left alone.

She sat up quickly on the bed, wincing as fresh pain sliced through her frontal lobe. She groaned softly and bent her head, cradling it gently in her palms. "Don't you have any respect for my privacy?" she asked dejectedly.

"Not today," he said and stepped into her room, closing the door quietly behind him. Harry replaced the Locking Charms and crossed the room to her bedside, perching himself sideways on the edge.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching up to tug lightly on one of her wrists. She resisted him, raising her palms back to her face each time he succeeded in pulling one away. "C'mon, Hermione. Whatever you're holding in will only be harder to talk about if you wait 'til later," he said. "The night Cedric died, I didn't want to speak about it to anyone. But Dumbledore insisted that I talk, and I felt better after I let it out."

At the mention of his name, Hermione shuddered slightly. Opening her eyes, she peered unseeingly through her fingers out the window opposite her. It was still night outside, and the velvet galaxy twinkled mockingly before her, like one of Dumbledore's magnificent, midnight-blue robes.

Unnoticed by Harry, her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she lowered her hands to her lap, keeping her mental shield in place. "There is nothing else to tell you," she said calmly, staring off into the distance. At this point, his proximity alone was making her anxious, and she could feel the scrutiny of his gaze on her cheek.

"I see," said Harry, his disbelief clear. "Then explain to me again how you were found."

Hermione snapped her eyes to Harry, temper flaring within them. "I told you already that I've been Obliviated! So obviously I wouldn't know how he found me!" she huffed, her voice rising.

He narrowed his eyes, his voice accusatory. "Then why would you say 'he found me'? How do you know it wasn't 'they found me'?"

"I don't... It was only a figure of speech, Harry," she sighed quietly, knowing it was in her best interests to diffuse the situation.

Harry exhaled and rose from the bed, looking down at her worriedly. "That's funny, because your body language tells me different. Ever since you arrived here, you've been acting strangely. Now what is it you're hiding?" he demanded softly.

"Nothing!" she cried, leaping from the bed and glaring back at him. "After what I've just been through, how would you expect me to act? I'm shaken, and tired, so I just want to be left alone. Honestly, Harry, have I ever given you reason to doubt me before?"

He looked away, his expression troubled. "No, you haven't..."

Hermione sighed, flopping back on the bed. "I'm fine, honestly. Everything's all right. I've just been through a lot tonight. And although I don't remember it, I'm exhausted. So, please, just leave me alone for a while, okay?"

Harry lowered his head, his expression cloaked behind the shadows of his tousled black hair. "I understand how helpless you must feel right now, and I'm sorry for that. But I only want to help you..." He trailed off, feeling he should hold her; comfort her, but some second sense stopped him.

Hermione lay back down on her side, presented her back to Harry, and whispered, "I know."

An uncomfortable silence slid over their customary camaraderie. Harry fumbled awkwardly with his hands, a sense of foreboding compelling him to stay with her, to offer assurance where she felt there was none.

When no words to ease the tension found him, Harry reluctantly rose from the bed and headed for the door. With one last desperate look at Hermione's turned back, he departed.

***

A few days later:

Hermione jumped in her seat suddenly, yelping as her fork clattered to her plate.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley reprimanded, as the accused raised his palms in supplication.

"I didn't touch nothing, Mum. I swear," George pleaded innocently, further convincing the woman of his guilt.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips angrily, but before she could retort, Hermione pushed violently away from the table and squeaked that she needed to visit the loo.

She could hear Molly demanding to know what he had slipped into her pumpkin juice while he distracted Hermione as the door of the kitchen thwacked shut behind her.

Pushing George's plight from her mind, she dashed towards the loo, pulling the small, shiny compact from her back pocket as she ran. Whipping inside the room, she flung the door shut and hastily opened the mirror. The image of Severus glinted on the surface, his pale reflection surrounded by a nimbus of ornate pure silver. She raised the mirror to her lips, whispering urgently, "Hang on!"

She turned back to the door agitatedly and cast a few simple Locking and Silencing Charms, then relaxed, perching herself on the bathtub's edge. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, setting the mirror on the counter.

"Have you acquired the necessary items?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "I've made duplicates so nothing is noticed missing."

Severus nodded his head in assent. "We must meet and discuss our plans. Tonight at midnight will suffice. If you have plans, I trust you'll break them," he said as he faded from the mirror.

"Wait!" she whispered agitatedly, but he had gone. Huffing exasperatedly, she snapped the compact closed as she rose from the tub and released the Charms. Anxiety pumped adrenaline into her system and hurried her step as she made her way to her room, intent on arriving prepared.

***

"Aw c'mon, Hermione. A night in Muggle London sounds brilliant," whined Ron, "it's only ten o'clock and we haven't gone out in ages. Besides, I deserve a break after the loads of work I've done all year. We're not animals, you know. We need to blow off steam!"

Hermione shot Ron a withering look as he gave his speech, recognizing his flailing arms as dramatic sign language to emphasize their dreary plight... fighting tirelessly against the forces of evil while leaving no time to frolic merrily about themselves.

"And what exactly is it that you've done this past year besides make yourself an attractive lump on the sofa, Ronald?" Hermione scoffed, turning her attention back to tidying up her desk.

Ron's ears went a bit pink as he crossed his arms over his chest and sputtered indignantly, "I've done plenty, I'll have you know!"

"Taking credit for everything Harry's done just because you were standing at his side when he does it doesn't count as accomplishing anything!" she snapped waspishly, straightening her back and planting her hands firmly on her hips. "I've told you, 'No, I'm not going out,' a hundred times. And that's final. So give it up already!"

"I do a lot for the Order, Hermione, if you'd ever care to notice. I'm in charge of Strategics, and it's not an accident that my ambush strategies have captured so many Death Eaters," said Ron, his face a livid shade of crimson.

Hermione growled in frustration, slamming a large folder onto the desktop. "I know!" she huffed, and paused, taking a few breaths to calm herself. "Listen, Ron, I didn't mean what I said... I've just been tense the past few days, is all. Honestly, I'm sorry I've been taking it out on you and Harry." She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples again.

With the color draining from his face, Ron walked over to Hermione, placing his hands cautiously on her arms, as though he feared she would strike out at him. "That's why I wanted you to go out, to try and help you relieve some stress," he said more confidently, certain a night out would benefit all of them.

Hermione looked up at him, recognizing the warmth and uncertainty in his eyes. Although she smiled affectionately up at him, his body jerked in fright when she raised her arms to hug him, thinking her intentions were much more sinister.

"Seems you'll never forget the day I clocked you," she said, smiling into his shirt, "but you deserved it, you prat."

Ron snorted in response and grinned cockily. "It was really your fault, you know. I'd call any girl a floozy that has the likes of Krum and McLaggen both pining after her, and who enjoys it to the degree that you do."

"Oh? You joined the club then, did you?" said Hermione, slapping at his back playfully as he jumped away from her and bounded for the door, making mock shrieks of terror. As Hermione closed the door behind Ron, she giggled lightheartedly, then sobered, noting how alien her own laughter sounded in the quiet room. Leaving the memory of laughter behind, she sat in tense silence, awaiting the moment she was due to depart.

When the clock chimed eleven thirty, she stood and bound the large file securely, shrunk it, and placed it in her pocket. Ascending the hallway stairs stealthily, she prayed that her departure would go unnoticed. Explaining why she was leaving, but refusing to go out with Ron, was not something she looked forward to doing.

Thankfully, she met no one on her way out, nor did the portrait of Mrs. Black give away her great escape. She closed the door ever so delicately and sped to the street. Hermione stopped at the center, where the street lamp's dim rays barely reached, and disappeared into the night.

***

Severus stood at the mountainside entrance awaiting Miss Granger's arrival. He resisted the mild urge to sneer when she appeared, predictably, on the stroke of midnight. Instead, he nodded respectfully and ushered her inside, promptly sealing the entrance.

Her stance was rigid and mechanical as she passed him, wafting the delicate scent of lavender towards his long nostrils. Pleased by the scent and her nervousness, a small smile touched his lips as he followed her into the cave's depths.

The cavern was lit the same as before, only now a massive table stood adjacent to the blaze. Hermione could make out numerous sheets of parchment as she approached and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the shapes.

"Gringotts?" she asked incredulously as she stooped at the tables edge. "Where did you get these blueprints?"

Severus paused at her side. "I found them in an ancient tome at Hogwarts. But the question is not where I received them, it's why I have them," he answered, pulling a chair out for Hermione.

She pulled the file from her pocket and restored it to its normal size as he took a seat next to her, looking at her fully for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. "You look awful," he said bluntly, but without a trace of malice in his voice.

"Gee, thanks," she said sarcastically, and opened the file cover with a bit more force than was necessary.

He cleared his throat, realizing his mistake. "What I meant to say was that it's perfectly natural to experience a certain... disquiet so soon after adjusting your thought processes. Turning Occlumency upon oneself demands an exhaustive amount of self-discipline. Equilibrium will come in time."

"Mm," was her noncommittal response, deciding she'd rather change the subject. "It may not be necessary for me to know, but I'd like to have some idea of where you got these blueprints. There is no record of them ever being written that I know of. They shouldn't even exist, and especially not in such a public location as Hogwarts."

"Ah, and just because you've never known them to exist means they've never existed, does it, Miss Know-it-all?" he asked.

Hermione turned to face him, holding his gaze. "If we are working on this together, we can have no secrets between us."

"And yet, for you to question everything I say is acceptable? I suggest you take what information I give you on the basis of trust and faith."

Without glancing at it, she lifted a page from the table. "It's funny you should say that, because the ink on this page is still fresh."

Severus turned his eyes to the print slowly, forming the explanation in his mind as he noted the telltale glint of moist ink on the parchment. "So it is. I've made a few adjustments." He sat for a few more moments, shifting uncomfortably when her glare narrowed and she made no move to speak.

Tapping his fingers on the wood impatiently, he spoke. "Very well, Miss Granger. There is a goblin family that the Dark Lord marked for death currently residing within this mountain that have requested total anonymity. Which, by the way, is the reason I evaded answering your inane questions truthfully," he said quietly, pausing for a moment to savor the barb and her resulting flush. "They have assisted me in mapping Gringotts' basic layout to the best of their knowledge, but there are miles of corridors under that building that haven't been explored in centuries. Much of what awaits us down there, we won't know until we've encountered it. I've made a list of things we should pack to carry with us just in case the unexpected should occur. If we are lucky, we will encounter nothing."

"Dragons..." she whispered apprehensively. "Er, shouldn't we take them with us? It would be safer, and we'd need their magic to open anything secured by goblins."

"No, we do not need them to accompany us," he said, shifting on his seat to lean across her. She tensed at his proximity as he pulled a sheet from the table and placed it before her. "I've had a theory for months that a Horcrux may lie deep within Gringotts. I also think Voldemort may have ensured its safety when he breached Gringotts security with the aid of Quirrell. I've gone over every possible method of entry and exit with the goblin family. A successful breach can be achieved without them present."

Hermione nodded hesitantly as she skimmed over the parchment, though not fully convinced that the goblins could have possibly informed Severus on centuries worth of magical security measures. "How are we to gain entry without detection? There is only one way into the bank, and we're sure to be noticed entering through those doors."

"The Dark Lord infiltrated the bank undetected as nothing more than vapor beneath Quirrell's turban. If he could direct that bumbling fool inside without detection, we can accomplish the same task."

Hermione sat back and exhaled a puff of air, fluttering the tiny hairs above her brow. "All right, when do we go in?"

He sat back and looked at her. "You'll need time to familiarize yourself with this information. And we may be down there for days. You'll need to arrange for a holiday."

She looked at him incredulously. "You can't be serious! What if... What if you're summoned?"

Severus leaned back in his chair. "It isn't unheard of for Death Eaters to go on holiday. We lead our own personal lives as well. All I need is an acceptable alibi, which I already have." He withdrew his wand, bundling his notes together and handing them to her. "You'll need at least one week to commit these to memory. If you need more time, inform me through the looking glass. And you'll need to shower before you return to me," he said, leaning forward and visibly inhaling her scent, "but use nothing perfumed."

Hermione scrunched her nose in consternation as she placed the parchments Severus had offered her into her pocket. "And why not?" she asked curiously.

"Because I've a gift for you," he said, pulling a small phial of murky fluid from his pocket and setting it on the table before her. He watched quietly as she lifted the fluid to her nose, sniffed the fluid experimentally then wrenched the phial away from her face, sputtering in disgust. He tsked mockingly. "Careful now. The sweet ambrosia you hold in your palm took months to accumulate."

"What in the blazes is this?" she gasped, corking the tube hurriedly. "It smells like wet dog."

Severus stood, a crooked smile pulling at his features. "It's goblin sweat."

A/N: There're no specifics regarding Severus and Hermione's Horcrux theories, or where they will be searched for, because I thought it'd be more fun to reveal them as we get there.