To Malfoy Manor

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. Thanks also to Cat (quaffswinegaily) for the Britpick. I'll admit that I mucked around with it a bit after she was finished with it, so I apologise for any egregious Americanisms that might have sneaked back in ...

Chapter 5: Malfoy Manor

Severus sat at Albus's bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of the old man's breath. Albus somehow looked frail and fragile in a way Severus had never before seen him. He was very worried – if they didn't somehow find a cure soon ... He forced the thought away. Losing Albus was unthinkable.

He focused instead on the reassuring rhythm of Albus's breathing. As long as the man's chest continued to rise and fall, there was still time. He allowed his thoughts to drift to the team responsible for solving this puzzle. Part of him wished he could do it all himself – that way, he could be certain it would be done correctly. Of course, doing it right wouldn't help if the solution came too late, which is why he continued to work with the three people he had once fervently hoped never to see again.

Thinking of each of them in turn, he tried to assess their strengths and weaknesses objectively, without regard for his prior experiences of them. Potter had, for the most part, seemed surprisingly focused on the task at hand. After his initial attempt to rush off half-cocked, he had calmed considerably and paid close attention to what Hermione said to him. He had even, for the most part, been relatively polite and respectful in his treatment of Severus. And the boy had, after all, survived Voldemort, so he must be either very strong or very lucky, mustn't he? Perhaps even both. And there was no doubting his devotion to Dumbledore; even after all these years, he still practically idolized the man. All in all, not a bad person to have on the team.

Next there was Weasley. He seemed not to have matured as much as his friend. Severus wondered if that was somehow related to the fact that he still had his family as a safety net. His mother probably still babied him – he was, after all, the youngest son. He probably had no incentive to actually grow up, not when his mother was still perfectly content to see to his needs whenever he liked. Potter, by contrast, whatever his faults, had basically had only himself and his friends to rely on from very early on. Severus knew he shouldn't have been baiting Weasley earlier – where Potter went, Weasley was sure to follow, after all, and antagonizing any of them wouldn't do their mission any good. Still, he had watched the easy familiarity, the total comfort of the interaction amongst the three friends, and he had felt like an outsider. Even after all these years, he didn't like the feeling, so he had lashed out just a bit, in a feeble attempt to align himself with Hermione to the exclusion of Weasley.

Which begged the question, why did he care if he was an outsider with these three, whom he had never, ever liked? Was it because he was seeing Hermione differently, knowing that she was both powerful and controlled enough to have access to the Extra-Restricted Section? Or because the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange gleefully torturing her when she was barely reaching adulthood nauseated him? Or because she had managed to move past it enough that she was willing to revisit the scene of her worst experiences in order to help the headmaster – a man he suspected she was not nearly as devoted to as her friends were? And why did it suddenly bother him so much to know that Hermione and Weasley had once seemed destined for more than friendship? At the time, he had rather easily dismissed that piece of information, as well as Minerva's report of their subsequent decision to revert to platonic friendship, but now the thought of Hermione wasting even a moment of her time and energy on such an immature prat irritated him endlessly.

Or perhaps it was as simple as the fact that so few people trusted him implicitly, and he had discovered today that she might be one of them. She had allowed him to perform the duco spell without even asking what might happen if something should go wrong – didn't she know that having a wand pointed at one's brain could be a recipe for disaster if the one holding the wand didn't know what he was doing? He suspected she did – she was, after all, the brightest witch of her age, wasn't she? Which could only mean that she trusted him enough that there was no question in her mind that he would perform the spell without harming her. And she had clearly been relieved when he told her he would stay and protect her while she researched at Malfoy Manor.

These thoughts were getting him nowhere, Severus thought, still watching the rise and fall of Albus's breath. Even if she trusted him, that didn't mean she thought of him as a potential friend. But by the end of the meeting, she was treating you exactly the same way she treated Potter and Weasley, wasn't she? whispered a traitorous voice in his mind. Bossing you around, telling you to behave yourself – almost as if you were just another person she cares enough about to manage ...

Pushing the thought aside, Severus stood. He looked at his mentor for a moment. Eventually, he whispered, "Good night, Albus. Hopefully we'll have some answers for you by this time tomorrow." He swept off to his quarters to get some sleep.

"Relax," Severus instructed Hermione firmly the next morning as they awaited admittance to Malfoy Manor.

"I'm trying," Hermione replied as the door swung open. A timid-looking house-elf beckoned them forward.

"Master say Tilly should take Master Snape and Miss Granger to the library. Master and Missy come this way."

They followed the house-elf, and Hermione made a point of not looking toward the drawing room, though she was tempted, as she wondered sometimes whether it still looked the same. Or perhaps the Malfoys had redecorated after the war?

The library, had it been in any other family's house, would have been the embodiment of Hermione's dreams. She had always thought the Grimmauld Place library to be wonderfully comprehensive for a private library, but this was at least three times the size and full of bookshelves from floor to ceiling on three full walls, even surrounding the doorway they had just entered. Only the wall with the fireplace at its centre wasn't packed with books, which Hermione could only assume was due to the risk of damage from the proximity to the heat. As she glanced around, trying not to look too impressed, Lucius Malfoy strolled languidly into the room. "Severus!" he said, sounding happy. "And Miss Granger, too, of course. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. May I offer you some refreshment before you begin your research?" Without waiting for a response, he continued, "Tilly, some tea for our guests." Hermione's worry must have shown, because he reassured her, "Don't worry, the books are all protected with various charms, so even if you spill your tea, the books won't suffer any harm. Now, Miss Granger, Severus is quite familiar with my library, so he can ensure that you find what you need without triggering any unfortunate problems."

Severus was apparently growing restless, as he interjected irritably, "Yes, yes, Lucius, we appreciate the access to your extensive resources, but I think we'd just like to get started if it's all the same to you." Hermione fought back a smile. Apparently Severus's low tolerance for social interaction extended to his friends, too.

"Of course, of course," Lucius said smoothly. "Just call Tilly if you need anything. Perhaps you'll take a break at lunchtime and join us? Narcissa tells me we're having poached salmon today."

"We'll see how our research is progressing," Severus said. "I did mention we're under considerable time pressure, didn't I?"

Lucius waved a hand dismissively. "I hardly see how taking time for a proper meal will interfere. If you starve yourself, your efforts are less likely to be efficient. I shall send Tilly for you both at one." He turned and left, nodding to Hermione on his way out.

One o'clock rolled around faster than Severus had anticipated. Hermione largely worked silently, methodically testing books for curses and hexes before opening them and examining their contents. She made copious notes, which was no surprise, and her occasional question or comment didn't annoy him, which was. Most surprising, though, was the way Severus found himself constantly aware of her, even when she was fully engrossed in her reading or her notes.

It was rather disconcerting to find himself watching her from the corner of his eye as he worked his way through Debrett's Wizarding Lineage looking for people who resembled the ones they had yet to identify from the Pensieve memory. Fortunately, the Lineage was self-updating, automatically inscribing births, marriages, deaths, divorces, and the like as they occurred. Better still, anytime someone in the Lineage was photographed, a copy of the likeness was automatically copied into the tome as well.

Unfortunately, that made for a rather bulky book, so Severus wasn't getting through it as quickly as he might have preferred. If not for the fact that he had woken up that morning with clear recall that the wizard he had been trying to remember was Beecher MacNair, a cousin of Walden, he would have felt he had made no progress at all today. He couldn't help thinking he'd have worked faster if Hermione hadn't been so distracting, what with her occasional murmurings as she made notes, and the way she sometimes absentmindedly pushed her hair back from her face or chewed on the end of her quill. Disgusting habit, that, Severus had always thought, so why was he finding himself so utterly charmed by it now?

He was just forcing his attention back to the Lineage for what seemed the thousandth time that morning when Tilly popped in to announce lunch. He begrudgingly stood to follow the house-elf from the room, offering Hermione his arm, since Lucius insisted on old-world manners in his home. Hermione asked, "Could I have a moment to freshen up before lunch?"

"Oh, yes, Miss!" Tilly exclaimed, looking distressed as she continued, "This way, Miss! Bad Tilly! Tilly should have offered!" She looked around wildly; Severus resigned himself to witnessing some dramatic self-flagellation.

But Hermione said, "No, Tilly, you must not punish yourself for not asking. If you had, I might have been insulted that you thought I looked like I needed refreshing." Tilly looked sceptical, but she subsided.

Amused, Severus murmured for Hermione's ears only, "That was positively Slytherin of you, my dear." He felt himself flush when he realized that not only had he complimented her, but had actually used an endearment.

Fortunately, she simply smiled with what appeared to be faux modesty and whispered back, "Thank you, Severus. I like to think I've learned some subtlety since the days of SPEW."

As she slipped into the small loo the house-elf had led them to, he thought, Indeed, you have, my sweet. Then he realized he had mentally used another endearment. He was still scowling when she came out a few minutes later.