Realizations

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. Anything you recognize belongs to her. I am not making any money from this.

* A big thanks to my beta Larilee for all her help!

Chapter 6: Realizations

They appeared on a stretch of deserted beach, still in the crouched position they had held while hiding behind the garbage cans at the rear of Snape's house. Snape was grasping Hermione's forearms tightly. She let out a long breath as her knees fell forward into the soft sand. Snape did not release her immediately. Looking up at him, she saw he was regarding her intently. "What?" she said irritably.

"Why?" he returned, still staring.

"What do you mean?" she countered. "Why, what?"

"Why did you block Wormtail's curse?" he finally clarified.

She looked angry. "How can you ask that? That curse is an abomination!" she ranted. "I wouldn't let my worst enemy be hit with such a vile piece of magic as that!" She took a deep breath and continued a little more calmly, "Besides, I just reacted. It's not as if I had time to consider the long-term ramifications."

"Lucky for me, I suppose," Snape said with a wry twist of his lips.

"Anyway, even if I'd had the time to think about it, I still would have done the same thing," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You saved my life twice since I was captured. I suppose you can consider that I've repaid you, at least partially," she finished with an air of satisfaction.

"That Gryffindor sense of justice," he mocked softly.

She snorted in distain. "That's a bunch of garbage," she said flatly. "Being from Gryffindor House has nothing to do with it. Some things," she stated definitively, "are just plain wrong -- just evil. Like the Unforgivables, the Dementors, or that curse. Sometimes," she said, looking him straight in the eye, "things are black and white."

They sat facing one another, knees touching in the sand, his hands still on her arms. He gazed at her steadily for a few moments, then said softly, "Thank you."

She nodded. "What now?" she asked.

Snape withdrew from her, leaning back with his arms behind him in the sand. "Let me think for a bit. I need to plan." But he didn't, not right away. His thoughts were still stuck on the girl's remarkable actions. If she had let that curse hit me, she would be free now -- back with her friends. And I would be dead. It's what I would have done in her place, he realized. A twinge of dismay followed his realization, but he pushed it down, thinking, Now is not the time for self-examination. He knew, of course, that the Entrail Expelling Curse was an excruciatingly painful way to die. That is probably the reason Granger put it in the same category as the Unforgivables. But what was the true reason she did it? he pondered. She gave three -- all possibly valid. Yes, sometimes a person reacts first and thinks later. Her aversion to the curse could explain her spontaneous reaction. The justification of 'owing me' was just that -- a justification after the fact, not a reason for her actions. Still, he mused, that didn't make it less true. Like it or not, they had a bond, an obligation to one another now. But, he thought almost hopefully, what if she had another motivation for protecting me? Is it possible that she has already begun to trust me, that she values me as her tutor? He shook his head, knowing that his internal debate was irresolvable at the moment.

Enough, he told himself. What to do now? He devoted his thoughts to the problem at hand, finally deciding to take her back to the Dark Lord's headquarters. He needed to report Wormtail's betrayal and find another location to work on the Impenetrable Potion. It would be dangerous for her, but they would have to stay at the Riddle House in his basement lab, at least temporarily. He vowed to be especially vigilant for her safety. If, by some stroke of good fortune, she really was beginning to trust him, he couldn't let any of those pure-blooded fanatics get at her.

Hermione sat for a while in silence, alternately watching Snape and thinking. Her life had become incomprehensible lately. Who would have thought I would care what happened to a murderer? Because, she thought, no matter how nicely he may behave towards me, he is still incontrovertibly guilty of killing Dumbledore. I have to keep things in perspective, keep my wits about me. After a while, she lay back on the sand, the unseen tether pulling lightly at her wrist as she moved her arms to stretch. Abruptly, she realized that her other wrist was bound as well. The pharmacy bag was still firmly wrapped around her wrist where she had placed it during their walk upriver earlier that morning. A sudden laugh broke from her at the ridiculousness of the situation: she had carried this stuff intact through all of that running, hexing and Apparating!

Her laugh startled Snape; he looked at her questioningly. "I've still got it!" she chuckled, holding up her wrist with the bag dangling. "Wormtail nearly killed us both, but my stuff survived!"

His eyes widened in mild surprise. Yes, Wormtail had aimed a rather nasty curse at her as well, he remembered. Still, he didn't see what she found so humorous. Must be a delayed hysterical reaction, he thought deprecatingly. He took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Granger, we need to return to the Dark Lord's headquarters," he said. "We will likely have to stay there for a short time, perhaps a day or two." He was speaking in a very serious voice, almost earnestly, and Hermione sat up to pay attention. "While we are there you must do exactly as I say; failure to do so could cost you your life. We have," he continued, "over the past few weeks, developed a comfortable mode of interaction with one another. However, that behavior will not be viewed positively by either the Dark Lord or his followers. Both of us will suffer in that case." He took her chin in his hand, looking directly into her eyes. "You will need to be submissive in their presence, and in mine. Most especially, you must be seen to obey me without hesitation."

"Why don't you just put me under the Imperius Curse?" she said resentfully. "If you need a puppet, isn't that the best way to get one?"

"No!" he said forcefully. "The Dark Lord expects--" he stopped abruptly, having almost said too much.

"What?" she verbally pounced into the pause. "Does he think because I'm a Muggle-born that I'm some kind of congenital idiot? A mindless sheep or something?"

Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had nearly let the truth slip. "Granger, listen to me!" he ordered in a fierce, low voice. "If you speak to any Death Eater in this manner, they will kill you instantly; I will not be able to protect you! You need to remember that all of them are capable of unspeakable brutality, especially towards a Mudblood like yourself. You should fear them! Or have you already forgotten the day you were captured?"

She shivered slightly as his gaze bored into her. He released her chin, satisfied that he had made his point. "W-what should I expect when we go there?" she asked.

"You will be mocked and insulted, but you must not respond. Keep your eyes down and speak to no one but myself. If others are present, speak only in answer to my direct questions. If I have to bring you before the Dark Lord, stay on your knees and do not look into his eyes." He sighed. "As soon as I can contrive it, I will find a more permanent location -- one that is safer for both of us," he finished.

The significance of his wording was not lost on Hermione. She wondered fleetingly what he meant by that last thing he'd said, but her mind jumped over that and focused on his phrase 'a more permanent location'. "Permanent?" she echoed, her voice cracking.

Snape saw the stricken look on her face; it looked out of place on one so young. He felt a moment's pity, but hardened himself against it, pushing it away. "Granger," he said warningly, "you must learn to control your emotions. If you do not, they will be used against you."

She took a ragged breath, visibly working to control herself. "Sorry," she said stiffly. "I'm usually quite logical." She recognized that she'd been on an emotional roller coaster since they had fought Wormtail. It must be hormones still jerking me around, she thought. She desperately wanted to delve into what he'd meant by 'permanent', but surmised that this wasn't a good time for either of them to have that conversation. She decided to bring it up later when things were less volatile.

The girl is under a great deal of stress, Snape reflected, much more than she is accustomed to. He watched her surreptitiously for a minute as she regained her composure. When he was satisfied that she had mastered her emotions, he rose. "It's time we left. Give me your wand for the time being," he said, extending his hand. She placed it in his palm and watched as he pocketed it. "Now your hand," he continued, extending his own once again. He turned her palm downward and pointing his wand at her wrist intoned, "Finite Incantatem." He grasped both her arms and Apparated.

--------------------------------

Back at the Burrow, Ron and Harry listened as Moody gave a full account of their unsuccessful rescue attempt to Molly, Ginny and George, occasionally adding a detail of their own to the story. Arthur and Bill were, of course, still at work. Earlier that morning, Moody had insisted that a small number of people -- six at the most -- would have a better chance of surprising Snape. This had meant that only one of the twins could go along. George was still glaring angrily at Moody (and at Remus as well, for backing up Moody's decision) over being left behind.

"If Ron and I had stayed at the house, instead of chasing that greasy bugger, we would have been able to catch him when he came back!" Harry lamented.

"Don't blame yourself, kid," Moody growled. "He's one slippery son-of-a-bitch. Even if we had cornered him in the house, there's still a good chance he would have been able to escape us."

"Yes," agreed Remus, "he has always been cunning, shrewd: the perfect Slytherin."

"I can't think of a better insult than that!" Ron said. Then, in an anguished voice he burst out, "Why didn't she fight him! She could have tripped him or punched him in the face or something! She didn't even try to get away!"

"You're speaking like a fool, boy!" Moody barked. "She was being dragged along! Couldn't you see that? He probably had her bound to him magically. There are charms for that, you know. And do you honestly think that a slip of a girl like her would stand a chance in a fight with Snape? Use your head!" he finished crossly.

Ron seemed to crumple into the nearest chair. With his hands over his face, he took several gasping breaths, all-too-obviously trying to keep from crying. Harry came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not anyone's fault, mate," he told Ron. "Well, other than Wormtail and Snape. We did the best we could. It was horrid luck that they weren't in the house when we got there. I could tell that Wormtail was surprised by that."

"I agree," Remus said. "I got the distinct impression from Wormtail's memories that Hermione hadn't been allowed out at all." A thoughtful silence descended in the room.

After a minute, Molly said, "The question is: what do we do now?"

"We go back to using our 'eyes and ears' network and hope for another break," Moody answered.

-----------------------------

For the second time in her life, Hermione walked through the unkempt garden behind the Riddle House. Snape followed closely, covering her with his wand. He did not really think she would attempt to escape at this point, but appearances had to be maintained; there were always a few Death Eaters present at their headquarters. They entered at the back, and Snape herded the girl toward the cellar. As they passed through the first-floor sitting room and hurried into the hall, a head turned sharply, and a pair of scowling eyes followed their progress intently. Snape deposited the girl in his lab, a crowded little room with only one chair and a folding cot to sit on. "Stay here," he directed her. "I will return after I report to the Dark Lord."

A few minutes later, he was kneeling on the threadbare carpet in the upstairs salon. He kept his eyes down, waiting for the Dark Lord's permission to speak. Sometimes he felt wearied by this game of submission; always playing the pawn to his master's king. Today was one of those days. His gaze wandered to the fireplace in front of him where the Dark Lord stood brooding, his back to the remainder of the room.

The skeletally-thin figure suddenly whirled about to face Snape. "You have unpleasant news, Severus. I saw it on your face when you entered. Tell me," he commanded.

"My Lord, Wormtail has betrayed us," Snape said. "He led members of the Order of the Phoenix to my house in an attempt to ambush me and retrieve Granger. In the skirmish that followed, he tried to kill both myself and the girl."

"And did you execute him for his betrayal?" queried the high, cold voice.

"No, my Lord," Snape replied, "the rat escaped. I was forced to flee from the Order to avoid capture. I did retain the prisoner." He wondered bitterly if he would be 'punished' for this perceived failure. Anyone else would have been ensnared, but I escaped with the girl! But the Dark Lord seldom saw things so simplistically. He maintained discipline in his ranks with an iron hand and a ready wand. The silence stretched.

"His disloyalty will be repaid with death," Voldemort finally said. "He is to be hunted down and eliminated."

"Of course, master," Snape responded, thankful that he had escaped punishment himself.

"Get up! Tell me, what progress have you to report on your disparate projects?" the Dark Lord asked.

"I have made a discovery in the Morganian Scrolls," he said. "I believe the text conceals a coded message that will provide more details on the construction of the potion. I am confident that I will break the code within the month, as I have already deciphered the essentials."

"Good. I want that potion the day I face Potter. You will not disappoint me." It was not a question.

"No, my Lord. I will not disappoint you," Snape agreed.

"And what of the girl?" Voldemort inquired.

"She has accepted me as her tutor, but she is still suspicious of my motives," Snape said. "It will be a lengthy process, but worth the effort if I succeed. I believe that I may have begun to gain a foothold in her confidence. A strange thing occurred today, my Lord: the girl deflected a curse that was meant to kill me."

"Show me," the Dark Lord commanded.

Snape brought forth his memory of the duel with Wormtail while maintaining a tight shield over the earlier events of the day. He looked up into the inhuman eyes of his master and felt the invading presence inside his mind. As the memory replayed, Snape tried to look at it objectively, in effect, to remove himself from the emotions he'd experienced during the actual event. Doing so, he came to the conclusion that the girl's actions were probably not a sign of increasing trust in him -- just her 'noble' intentions.

I disagree, Severus, the Dark Lord imposed into his thoughts. He withdrew from Snape's mind and continued aloud. "She is not in your power yet, but I believe that this event is an encouraging sign. You will continue as you have begun." He began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. "I have decided to modify your plan with regard to the girl," he said. Snape stiffened, feeling a moment of apprehension, but Voldemort continued, saying, "I believe we should begin baiting my young opponent now. I want to progressively erode his confidence in Granger's loyalty. We will send him memories that show her gradually changing her allegiance." He stopped pacing and turned to Snape. "You will open your mind to me now, Severus. I will choose the first incident to be sent to Potter."

Snape looked up into the cold eyes of his master and gritted his teeth as the Dark Lord began rifling through his memories.

*****

Hermione explored the tiny room, peeking at the contents of several books lying on the work table and assessing the small stock of ingredients stored in the cupboards. She had only been alone about ten minutes when she heard the creak of the door. She turned in surprise, thinking it was too soon for Snape to be back. What she saw turned her surprise to shock. There, slouching in the doorway, wearing the black robes of a Death Eater, was Viktor Krum. Hermione was stunned speechless.

He walked forward, eyeing her gravely, and stopped. "Herm-own-ninny?" he said hesitantly, "vot are you doing here?"

"I-- I've-- I'm-- captive," she stammered, unable to get a coherent sentence past her lips. Suddenly, the dam burst and words tumbled from her. "Oh Viktor!" she cried despairingly, "How could you? How can you be one of them? My God! I can't believe this! I thought you were a decent person." She burst into tears and spun around, her back to Krum, her hands clenched into fists rigidly at her sides.

"Herm-own-ninny," he began in an even voice, "you must try to understand. Not everyone has the freedom to choose their own path. Some of us are bound by the strictures of family, society and tradition. Some of us are constrained by fear; ve fear for the safety of our families," he said earnestly.

She turned slowly to face him again, a look of confusion on her tear-streaked face. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"The pure-blood families, they haff always banded together, given support to von another. This is our tradition," he explained. "It has led to alliances, to expectations. Vhen these expectations are not met, whole families can be made to suffer. You vould not like me to be the cause of my parents death? My little sister? Should I let her be slaughtered vhen I flee? Do you see the difficulties?"

"But--" she struggled to articulate her feelings. "How can you-- how can you be part of their atrocities, their hatred?"

"Ve do our best to be a moderating influence. If ve must, ve stand aside, then take our punishment for 'cowardice,'" he said bitterly. He took a deep breath, calming himself. "Herm-own-ninny," he continued, his brows drawing together in the familiar scowl, "how did you come to be here?"

"I was in London three weeks ago with friends. We went to a house to..." she hesitated, trying to recall why they had gone to London. Nothing came to her. "Well," she continued, "anyway, there were several Death Eaters watching us, I guess. They ambushed us and I--­ I got on the wrong end of one of their wands. They escaped and took me as a hostage."

He stepped directly in front of her, an expression of pain and longing on his features. "I will try to help you," he said in a near-whisper. "But I must be cautious. Tomorrow I will come to see you again. Perhaps--"

"Who the bloody hell are you?" a voice interrupted from behind Victor.

Victor turned, and seeing Snape in the doorway, he strode forward. "Snape," he acknowledged, giving him a brusque nod of the head. "I saw you arrive earlier and thought it vould be enjoyable to renew my 'friendship' with this Mudblood. She is an old friend of mine, after all." He gave a suggestive grin that was meant to mislead Snape about his intentions. Unfortunately for Victor, this was exactly the wrong tack, as it seemed to infuriate his fellow Death Eater.

Snape's lip curled as he surveyed the young man. In a soft, menacing tone, he said, "You will not be 'renewing your friendship' with her, Krum. She is under my authority and protection. If you so much as touch her, I assure you, you will regret it."

Krum backed off, literally and figuratively. His expression changed to one of polite disinterest, and his tone became placating. "I haff no vish to anger you, Snape," he said. He looked at Hermione. "It vas good to see you again, Herm-own-ninny." He nodded again to Snape and hastily exited the small room.

As the sound of his footsteps receded up the stairs, Snape advanced on Hermione, glaring. He didn't stop until he was a step away. "I told you not to speak with anyone other than myself!" he seethed.

"I had no choice, sir," she said quickly before he could continue to berate her. "He just walked in here and I couldn't leave. I was taken by surprise -- shock actually. I had no idea that Victor shared your 'ideological leanings,'" she finished diplomatically.

He was still angry, but he realized she was right. What else could she have done? he thought. At least she didn't leave the room. He had no wish to extricate her from the clutches of his fellows upstairs. In an abrupt switch of mood, he decided it would do them both good to do something calming and routine. To him, that meant brewing. "Come over here," he instructed, motioning her toward the work table. "We will prepare some basic potions. Some Dreamless Sleep Potion, a batch of Confusing Concoction and a Shrinking Potion should be enough for tonight."

As they began preparing ingredients, he felt his tension gradually ease. Slicing, chopping, and grinding were his best antidotes to anger. Why, he wondered idly as he worked, does my self-control seem so essential in situations where Granger is involved? At Hogwarts he'd never made much effort to limit his anger toward students, her included. He supposed that it was just a matter of familiarity; that and his long-term objective with the girl of course. But he couldn't deny that he felt protective of her, a sense of responsibility for what happened to her. Could it be that I feel guilty about initially probing her mind and removing those memories? Bah! That is ridiculous! he told himself. If I hadn't done those things, she would be dead. The Dark Lord would have drained her dry and disposed of her. End of story. He took a deep breath, trying to regain the calming rhythm of his work, and redirect his thought into a more productive channel.

He let his thoughts drift to Krum. What would the younger man do? He had no doubt that he hadn't heard the last of him. As he recalled, Krum had been rather obsessed with Granger at one time. He glanced surreptitiously at the girl. She seemed totally absorbed in her task, and he took the opportunity to study her. What was it about her that Krum admired? She was not beautiful -- but certainly not ugly either. He supposed he would have to say she was pretty. She was intelligent, not brilliant, but she undoubtedly worked hard. She had determination, tenacity and stubbornness; those could be considered bad or good qualities, depending on the circumstances. But aside from those obvious things, she had an indefinable trait, something about the way she interacted with him. It wasn't sweetness -- she could be downright bossy. It wasn't maturity -- she had little of the emotional control and none of the perspective which maturity brought to most people. Was it innocence? Was it trust in authority? He couldn't be sure, but he was certain that Krum could have told him what it was.

She looked up to see him observing her. "Sir?" she questioned.

He simply shook his head and resumed grinding the periwinkle seeds.

--------------------

Harry threw the leather-bound book he had been studying to the floor in frustration. He had spent a great deal of time perusing Black's journal these past two days and had precious little to show for his efforts. Maybe, he thought, I should focus on Borgin for now. If I handle him carefully, he could be a tremendous help in locating objects belonging to Hogwarts' founders. He sat down and began considering ways to gain the elderly man's confidence.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called. The door opened and Ginny sashayed in, a large smile plastered across her face. "What's up?" he asked.

"I finally did it!" she cried exultingly. "I scammed Fred and George big time! They think they're so slick, but they didn't even see it coming," she said with a laugh.

"What did you do?" Harry inquired, grinning in anticipation.

"Well," she confided with a sly smile, "you know those Decoy Detonators they invented? I modified a couple of them so that they emitted a puff of purple mist instead of creating a diversion like they're supposed to." She began to giggle. "When they tried to figure out what was wrong with them, my second adaptation was triggered."

"And?" he prompted.

"They're both covered in pink, heart-shaped tattoos!" she said, now laughing so hard that it was difficult to understand her. "I altered the enchantment so it can't be affected by a counter-spell -- they have to wait for it to wear off!" She fell to the bed and dissolved in laughter.

Harry lost it as well, dropping to the bed in a spasm of hilarity. "How long?" he gasped, when he could speak again.

"Probably tomorrow," Ginny said, still chuckling. "But I told them it would last a few days!"

Harry gave another snort of amusement and wiped his eyes. "Miss Weasley," he said in an excellent imitation of Professor McGonagall, "you are incorrigible!" She laughed in delight at his impression and, on impulse, leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek. In little more than a moment, he sobered, looking at Ginny wistfully. "I can't," he whispered.

"I know," she returned frankly, "and I understand." Ginny looked down to dispel any awkwardness. Her eyes fell on the book he had thrown down earlier. "Have you been getting anywhere with that?" she asked, indicating the journal.

"Nope," was his short reply.

"Mind if I spend some time with it?"

"Go ahead," he said. "Just keep it in here and remember to put it in my trunk when you're done."

"Okay," Ginny agreed.

"I'm going down to have a gawk at the twins," he told her with a faint smile. "See you later."

When he'd gone, Ginny settled on the bed and opened the book. She flipped through it looking for the bookmark Harry usually put in when he was done. Nothing. I guess he forgot to mark it, she thought. They had been working on the later parts of the journal, on the assumption that Black had found out about the Horcruxes shortly before his death. She turned to the front, thinking, What the hell, why not give it a look? She scanned the entries, methodically making annotations and occasionally giving her interpretations in the notebook Harry kept on his bedside table.

After a time, her thoughts began to drift from her task. She remembered that other diary, Tom's diary. He had been so charming at first, then he had changed. He had become manipulative and demanding, forcing her to comply with his wishes. At the end he'd been downright cruel, insulting her and her friends, physically wresting control of her body. He'd compelled her to open the Chamber of Secrets and wait there for Harry. She shuddered at the memories, trying to force her thoughts away. She closed her eyes and unbidden, a memory seemed to float to the top of her thoughts.

Tom was speaking to her, his voice arrogant and amused, "My victory over that brainless oaf, Hagrid, will always be remembered, thanks to Dippet. I've made certain that Hogwarts will always hold a portion of my triumph!"

Ginny eyes snapped open. "Bloody Hellhounds!" she exclaimed aloud. Tom was bragging, she thought. Harry said Voldemort was proud of and bragged about particularly nasty things he'd done to people. Like the kids he took to that cave. And getting Hagrid expelled. Quickly, she hunted through the journal to find the passages where CB and EB had been mentioned. There! she thought with elation. This confirms it! On the page before her, she read: February 2. Went to KA alone. Saw CB and EB. CB had new info: #2 at Hogwarts?

Ginny dropped the notebook and jumped up, stuffing the journal inside Harry's trunk. She had to find him. Ron too. She had to tell them: the unknown Horcrux was at Hogwarts; it was Riddle's Special Award!

--------------------

They had been at the Riddle House for three days, and Snape was heartily tired of it. Tired of the cramped little potions lab, tired of the subtle (and not so subtle) slurs that some of the pure-bloods aimed at him, and tired of the constant watchfulness needed to keep his charge safe and out of the other Death Eaters' reach. By Slytherin's wand, he vowed, I am going to dismember Wormtail for making it impossible to remain at my house! Yes, it was rundown. Yes, it was in the middle of a 'Muggle dunghill,' as Bellatrix so charmingly called the town. Yes, he had to eat his own cooking when he was there. But it was his, and it was blessedly-free of people, except for those he allowed to come in.

Out of all the constant residents of the Riddle house, Dolohov was the worst. That evening, Snape was called to speak with the Dark Lord. Upon his return, he found Dolohov and Pritchard attempting to break the wards he'd placed on the cellar door. "Desist at once!" he hissed, pulling his wand in a heartbeat. The two men spun in surprise to face him. "The Dark Lord wants the girl unharmed. I strongly suggest that you leave her alone, or you will be very sorry indeed," he threatened. "I will not warn you again; I will hex first and talk later," he finished softly in his most intimidating voice.

Pritchard retreated almost immediately, mumbling some excuse about a job he needed to go take care of. But Dolohov was another story. "Are you sure it's the Dark Lord that wants the girl safe, Snape?" he sneered, standing his ground. "You know what I think?"

"I don't believe you think at all," Snape retorted coldly.

"I think," Dolohov nearly snarled, "you've finally found yourself a fuck that you don't have to pay for and you don't want to share. Nothing to worry about, I wouldn't sully myself with such filth. The only thing that bitch is good for is a spot of torture."

"The Dark Lord considers otherwise," Snape said. "Perhaps you would like to give him your opinion on the matter? We can go to see him right now."

Dolohov's jaw clenched as he restrained his anger. "Always playing the faithful servant, aren't you, Snape? Your bootlicking makes me sick!" he growled as he stomped off.

Snape watched him go, then proceeded downstairs. Granger was lying on a cot, reading a Potions text. Not wanting to face her questions, he stalked to the other cot (which was really a chair he had transfigured) and lay down. He closed his eyes and replayed the meeting he had just returned from.

----------

He was kneeling in the upper parlor at headquarters, as was Krum. The Dark Lord paced towards the fire, standing with his back to the two men. "Both of you, get up!" the Dark Lord said. "Viktor, I understand that you have a proposal regarding Potter's friend, Granger."

"Yes, my Lord," Krum acknowledged. But he looked down diffidently and did not continue.

For a moment, Snape thought the younger man was afraid of their master, but he noticed Krum shooting a quick scowl at Voldemort, believing himself to be unobserved. A second passed; Krum looked down, recomposing himself.

The high, cold voice demanded, "Explain your proposal to me."

"My Lord," Krum began, "I haff heard from some of the others that the Mudblood, Granger, is more than just a hostage. That she vill be used as a veapon against Potter? If this is true, then I believe I can be of help in dealing with her. I haff known her for more than three years."

The Dark Lord turned to face them, his red eyes burning in anger. "You spoke to none about your project, correct Severus?"

"No one, my Lord. Wormtail must have compromised its secrecy," Snape replied silkily.

The skeletal figure before them nearly hissed in anger, "The imbecile! To risk a whisper being heard by the wrong ears! If those fools in the Order of the Phoenix hear of it, the trap will be sprung before the bait is in it." His slit-like nostrils flared as he took several long breaths. "At the next summoning I will insure that every member of the circle understands the need for complete silence on certain topics," he said with grim satisfaction. He advanced on Krum; the young man seemed to flinch, but didn't retreat. "You did not actively seek this knowledge, did you?" he asked.

"No, my Lord. I overheard a conversation downstairs two days ago," Krum answered.

"What is it that you think to add to Severus' efforts with the girl?"

"Master, forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I also am familiar with Potter. I know how important his friends are to him. The way to truly hurt him vould be to turn his friend against him. I believe that Snape's job is to turn her loyalty to our cause." He glanced shrewdly at Snape. "I think that Granger vill respond to me much more quickly than to him," he said nodding to Snape.

"I have known Granger since she was quite young," Snape countered, "twice as long, in fact, as you have been acquainted with her." He knew quite well that Krum's knowledge of the girl was of a different sort than his, but he wanted to make the man admit his personal interest in her.

"Ve haff kept in touch since we met at Hogwarts. I believe that she thinks of me as a friend at the very least. She vill trust me more easily. My Lord," he offered, turning toward Voldemort, "I am villing to assist Snape in turning the girl's loyalties. If he has other more pressing duties to you, I vould be villing to take all the responsibility. I vould take her to Bulgaria; the Order of the Phoenix vill never find her there," he finished confidently.

Inexplicably, Snape felt an immediate resistance to the younger man's suggestion. He gave him a penetrating stare. His reluctance didn't make sense -- Krum did know the girl better than him. He would probably be able to provide excellent advice or even take over the entire responsibility for Granger. In that case, he could be rid of the annoyance of tutoring her, answering her continuous questions and protecting her. Krum was at least as likely as himself (if not more so) to gain the girl's loyalty. He frowned in thought. Why, then, did he dislike the idea?

"You do not favor Viktor's plan, Severus?" The Dark Lord asked.

"I am uncertain, master. I admit, it is a good plan, but there are problems associated with removing her from the country," he asserted, thinking quickly to produce an acceptable objection. "I cannot endorse it wholeheartedly. Perhaps it would be best if you were to decide."

Voldemort looked searchingly at each of the two men, clearly reading more than their facial expressions. "I will consider the options for a short time," he finally said. "Tomorrow, the full circle will be summoned, I will give my decision at that time." He flicked his long fingers dismissively at them. "Go now!" he commanded.

----------

Snape opened his eyes a slit and watched the girl silently, furtively. By this time tomorrow they would either be secreted away in a new location or she would be on her way to Bulgaria, with Krum. He decided it would be better not to tell her about Krum's offer. Best not get her hopes up, either way. He was pleased that he had managed to pass the decision to his master. This way, he effectively escaped responsibility for the final outcome -- not to mention any immediate adverse reactions by Krum or Granger.

Apparently, the girl had some portion of that sixth sense that tells a person when they are being observed, for she lowered her book and looked straight at him. "Any news?" she asked wistfully.

He nodded, then sat up to explain more fully. "Tomorrow, I believe that we will leave this place for safer, more permanent quarters. I'm not certain where, but the Dark Lord has promised a guide will be available to take us there." She nodded solemnly, biting her lower lip. What was wrong with the girl now? he wondered, noting that she looked as if she were about to cry.

"Well, this pretty much clinches it," she said in a shaky voice, "I'm not a 'hostage' at all, am I? You don't find a permanent hideout to keep a hostage. In fact, I'd wager that no ransom demands were ever made," she declared, looking at him challengingly. Snape was taken off guard, and the momentary look on his face was all the confirmation she needed. "If I never was intended to be ransomed," she continued, "then I would assume that I'm being held because of my connection to Harry." She searched Snape's face, but he had regained his usual inscrutable mask, neither confirming nor denying her suppositions. It didn't matter; she was certain that she was correct. She looked down, thinking about her long-time friendship with The Boy Who Lived, now 'The Chosen One.' Suddenly, the truth hit her: Voldemort was going to use her as bait!

She looked up at Snape, anger and fear written plainly on her face. "You son-of-a-bitch," she whispered vehemently, "I'm a lure for Harry!" His eyes widened ever so slightly, Hermione noticed the affirmation, but didn't stop. "And I suppose," she said flatly, as she held eye contact with him, "that when I've served my purpose I'll be disposed of, just like Bertha Jorkins and Professor Quirrell."

Snape couldn't look away from the accusation in her eyes. He felt a clenching sensation in his stomach; this time he knew what it was: guilt. He wanted to deny it all, but knew that was useless. She wouldn't believe him anyway.

When he didn't answer, she turned her head away muttering, almost to herself, "I told you I would figure out your game, eventually."

******************************************************************************

Author's Notes:

1. I borrowed the phrase "eyes and ears network" from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. I just wanted to acknowledge that it's his idea, not mine.

2. Is Krum a Death Eater? He is certainly a prime candidate for recruitment to Voldemort's cause, having been predisposed to the Dark Arts at Durmstrang and by his association with Karkaroff. His choosing Hermione as a date for the Yule ball, however, strongly suggests that he doesn't share the pure-blood prejudice against Muggleborns. In the absence of canon evidence either way, I decided that he would probably be constrained to support the Dark Lord by his circumstances.

3. The unknown Horcrux = Riddle's Special Award. Just my theory.