Resettling

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 goes to my beta, Larilee, for all her advice and her help in tweaking this one!

Chapter 7: Resettling

When they woke the next morning, Hermione's manner was stiff and silent. Snape could tell that she was still angry after her insights of the night before, but was attempting to cover it with a mask of indifference. He approved. She needed to learn emotional control, especially among the Dark Lord's followers. 'Never let them see you hurting.' That was his mantra – one of them anyway. But on the other hand, her attitude was a distinct setback for him. It would take a great deal of effort to regain the ground he had lost.

After eating breakfast in virtual silence, he knew he had to do something. Perhaps I should try to explain things to her, insofar as I can, he deliberated. I do not, in fact, want her to be killed. That is only a last resort. In any event, she must not go before the Dark Lord filled with anger – he will read her too easily. Then both she and I will suffer. "Granger, I ..." He hesitated, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "We need to talk," he finally managed.

"So talk," she stated without expression.

"I suppose you already realize that your deductions last night were, for the most part, accurate," he said. "It's true that you were never a hostage. The Dark Lord will eventually provoke Potter into make another attempt to rescue you. Potter will have to face the Dark Lord on his own terms." He shot a calculating look at her, trying to measure her reaction. She maintained a cool facade. "It is not, however," he continued, "a foregone conclusion that you will be killed after Potter has been taken care of. I do not favor such an outcome; in fact, it would displease me."

"Why should you care what happens to me?" she asked.

"I dislike waste, Granger. You have intelligence and some talent that I would not like to see thrown away." He looked away as if steeling himself, then said, "And I feel responsible, to some extent."

"That's a laugh," she scoffed derisively. "You've spent the past six years denigrating me and my friends. You never cared about our welfare when we were at Hogwarts, and I don't believe you do now."

He went rigid, anger plainly written on his face. "That is patently false! I protected Potter, and you too, on more than one occasion. It seems that you have conveniently forgotten those incidents."

Hermione stood and walked a few steps away from him, thinking. She knew that he had believed he was protecting Harry, Ron and herself when he had found them with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin in the Shrieking Shack. And two years later he had sent the Order to help them at the Ministry. She supposed that he was essentially correct. She turned back to face him. "You're right. That was an unfair thing to say to you," she admitted. "But you can't deny all those years of cruelty or what you did the day you fled Hogwarts. In light of that, you, of all people, ought to understand my skepticism." He had stood up as she spoke, and now she had to look up into his face. Remembering the reaction he'd had at his house, she felt apprehensive about bringing up Dumbledore's murder again.

But her fears proved groundless. He simply looked down his nose at her for a moment, his face half-covered by his long, lank hair. "I deny nothing," he snapped, "I did what I had to do." After a pause he continued caustically, "Perhaps we will be able to discuss this in the future. This is not the most opportune time to revisit past events." He seated himself, motioning for her to do the same. "Granger, the Dark Lord expects me to bring you before him today. I believe that the entire circle will be there," he warned. Snape noted that the girl looked frightened at the idea of a houseful of Death Eaters. And well she might, he thought darkly. "Do you remember the things I told you before we came here?"

"Yes," she affirmed, nodding.

"Good. Just stay close to me and follow my directions. I will ensure that no harm comes to you," he assured her.

*****

It was mid-afternoon when Snape felt his Dark Mark flare, the searing heat burning into his arm. He rose and, looking at Hermione, said simply, "It's time." She swallowed audibly and set her jaw as she joined him at the door. His eyes narrowed as he observed her: she was afraid but attempting to smother her fear. She seemed determined not to cower before so many enemies. "Keep your head down," he whispered as they ascended the stairs, "it's better if you do not look anyone in the eye." He kept a vice-like grip on her upper arm, propelling her along at his side.

They had passed through several small rooms and were entering the foyer of the main floor before they encountered any of the others. "Severus!" a male voice called. Looking up, he spied Rabastan Lestrange waiting near the stairs to the second floor, smiling. He was always glad to see Rabastan, who was one of the few classmates of his to survive the Dark Lord's first war. Nearby were Bellatrix and her husband, Rodolphus. They greeted him more sedately, but without any trace of unfriendliness. Bellatrix had made a complete turnaround in her opinion of Snape since the night he'd made the Unbreakable Vow to her sister, Narcissa. As he crossed the foyer toward the stairs, the front entrance opened, admitting a large group of babbling people. Snape's gaze raked over the unruly mob, assessing their identities. He saw that they were mostly younger recruits who had joined the ranks in the past two years. Many of them nodded to Snape and the Lestranges deferentially. For the most part, the younger Death Eaters treated Snape with elaborate respect which he knew was due to fear. After all, he had taught most of them – they were well aware of his temper and talents.

He reached the stairs, Hermione in tow, and stood talking quietly to Rabastan while the others passed up the stairway. A sudden glint of steel flashed past, narrowly missing the girl's neck as she jumped backwards. Snape's eyes flicked to the blade as it imbedded in the handrail. He spun on his heel, whipping his wand out in front of him in a flash. "Cruris Rumpo!" he shouted. A tall, heavy form fell to the floor screaming in agony, the bottom half of his calves at a ninety degree angle to the rest. Blood soaked through the man's trousers and pooled on the floor around his shattered legs.

As Snape turned away, a teenaged boy pulled his wand, screaming, "You dirty son-of... Aiiiiii!"

The boy's wand clattered to the floor; he was holding his blistered wrist as Viktor Krum advanced menacingly toward him.

"You vould attack a senior member of the circle? You fool!" Krum indicated the man on the floor. "He deserved vhat he got. Leave him and get upstairs!"

The boy's eyes narrowed as he took in Krum's surly visage. He looked from the man on the floor to the group gathered at the foot of the steps, seemingly undecided.

"Move, Mr. Caldwell!" Snape hissed. The boy scooped up his wand and fled up the stairs, adjusting his mask. Snape watched as Krum paced toward them. "Good timing," he approved, giving the young man a sharp nod of his head. "Come on, it's time we went up," he said, looking around at the Lestranges. He tugged on Hermione's arm to get her moving. Krum closed in on her other side, taking her left arm protectively.

"That was Owen Caldwell?" she asked Snape in a whisper.

"Yes," he breathed with a minute dip of his head. "His father nearly killed you. How did you dodge the knife?"

"Instinct, I guess," she returned softly. "I felt something coming."

His eyes widened in surprise but he didn't question her assertion. Incredible! he thought, she detected the threat. Snape had heard of this kind of magical perception, but had never before seen it at work. He wondered if she had utilized it previously or if this was its first emergence. Her power was still developing; there was no telling what skills she would eventually manifest. They reached the hall outside the upper parlor. "Be silent," he directed her. "Look down."

Trembling perceptibly between the two men, she entered the room full of masked, cloaked figures. With a light squeeze on her arm, Viktor peeled away from them, heading to the other side of the room. Snape walked to his position in the circle and, placing a hand on her shoulder, forced her to the floor. She knelt, sitting on her feet and keeping her eyes resolutely on the floor. A few minutes later, the last Death Eaters arrived, filling all but one of the remaining gaps in the large circle. Hermione moved her head slightly from side to side estimating the number of people present. About fifty, she calculated mentally.

Long, measured footsteps rapped against the floorboards, then stopped. Hermione heard a high, cold voice ask, "This place is empty, where is Caldwell?" For a moment there was silence.

Then a hesitant voice spoke. "H-he's down in the entryway, master. He cannot walk."

An arrogant feminine voice interjected, "My Lord, he attacked the prisoner. He was simply disciplined for disobeying your orders." Hermione recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. She was not likely to forget her after the trap they had walked into at the Ministry.

"And did you mete out his punishment, Bella?" Voldemort inquired.

"No, My Lord," she answered. "It was Severus' privilege."

"Very appropriate," the cold voice hissed. "No one is to touch him for a full six hours. He will serve as an example of the consequences of disobedience for our newest recruits." Vindictive laughter broke out around the circle.

God, they are nasty bastards! Hermione thought in disbelief. Nasty bitches too, she amended. From what she had seen in the foyer, there had been a fair number of women along with the men.

"Macnair! Williams!" Voldemort snapped.

"Yes, master?" they murmured together.

"Step forward," he commanded. They did so and before Hermione could speculate on what was happening, she heard him cast the Cruciatus Curse on them. The men fell to the floor writhing and shrieking for several minutes. Finally, Voldemort lifted the curse. The relative silence that followed was broken only by the gasping breath of the two men. "You two allowed your tongues to flap when you should have been silent," Voldemort admonished in his pitiless tones. "Let all here remember, when I declare that information is restricted, I intend that it should remain so. And you two," he said abruptly, speaking to the recovering men, "will not seek reprisals. Your own guilt betrayed you – I saw it in your minds! Lord Voldemort always knows! Now, return to your places." The men staggered clumsily to their feet and retreated.

Hermione again heard the sound of Voldemort's boots striking the wooden floor. He paced around the entire circle, coming to a stop across the room from Snape. "Viktor, come forward," he ordered. Hermione heard Viktor take a single step into the center and wait. "You have offered to assist with the prisoner," he said. "Tell me, why did you make this proposal?"

"To serve you, My Lord. Because I am already familiar vith the prisoner, I believe I can greatly further your purposes in this endeavor," Viktor explained.

"Your initiative is to be commended," Voldemort approved, his shrill voice ringing throughout the quiet room. "But," he continued, "I sense that you have another purpose other than service to our cause!" He advanced toward Viktor. Hermione raised her head slightly and peeked surreptitiously from beneath her lashes. Voldemort appeared to be glaring at Viktor, his red gaze boring into the young man's mind. Finally, he broke eye contact. "I believe that the responsibility for the prisoner must remain with my trusted servant, Severus. While you would undoubtedly be of great help with this task, the Mudblood evokes an emotional response in you." As he turned toward Snape, Hermione hastily looked down at her knees. "Severus will not allow such considerations to cloud his judgment. Remember my friends, there can be no conflict of loyalties in my service," he finished.

Voldemort began a slow circuit of the ring of Death Eaters, stopping to hear reports from group leaders, scouts and spies. The meeting dragged on, and Hermione felt her feet begin to prickle from blood deprivation as they fell asleep beneath her. At last, Voldemort arrived at the point where he had started. It seemed that the reports were over, and Hermione fervently hoped the gathering was drawing to a close. She risked another furtive glance upwards.

The emaciated figure of the Dark Lord now stood in front of a pair Death Eaters, surveying them impersonally. What progress have you to report on your special project, Malfoy?" he asked.

Hermione took in a sudden breath in shock. Malfoy? she repeated internally. Unable to resist, she scanned the two masked figures. Both were blond, slender and had an arrogant bearing. Draco and his mother, she surmised, seeing the waist-length hair on the figure to the right. Draco began speaking, but not loud enough for Hermione to understand the conversation. She heard only occasional words and phrases like 'multiple stuns', 'on New Years Eve' and 'Yes, master!' The last was repeated often, and it amused Hermione to think of the haughty Draco Malfoy being forced to grovel.

After a few minutes, Voldemort interrupted his long-winded account. "Enough!" he exclaimed stridently. "I trust, Malfoy, that you will be able to complete this assignment since it does not involve killing a champion of Mudbloods and Muggles!" Derisive laughter filled the room; Hermione saw Draco's neck flush with humiliation and embarrassment. But Voldemort was not quite done. "If your arrangements do not succeed this time, there will be no more chances! The thought of your family reunited should provide sufficient motivation for you. Your fellows here in the circle will hold you accountable for those chained in Azkaban if you do not correct your father's mistakes," he threatened. An ugly murmur of approval traveled around the circle, making Draco blanch.

He nodded woodenly. "I understand, My Lord," he said. "I will succeed."

Hermione realized that his new task must be to plan the liberation of the Death Eaters currently held in Azkaban Prison. She shivered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy and the others free once more.

"Do not leave, Malfoy," the Dark Lord directed. "There is another matter we must attend to after the meeting." Draco bobbed his head and stepped back into his place beside his mother. Hermione heard Voldemort's footsteps approaching; she felt a spurt of fear and squeezed her downcast eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them, his boots were in her visual range. "Severus, remain until the others have left," he said quietly. "I have made arrangements for you."

"Yes, master," Snape replied calmly. Voldemort walked to the center of the gathering and, to Hermione's relief, finally dismissed his followers, ending the meeting. "Stay where you are," Snape muttered to her. She sighed as she shifted uncomfortably on her numb legs. The Death Eaters dispersed into small groups, talking quietly for the most part and occasionally exchanging personal greetings and news. Most avoided Draco Malfoy, and Hermione presumed it was because he was currently out of favor with their master. As she watched, a pair of hulking men accosted him, growling threats. He ignored them haughtily until they departed. The room was nearly clear when a tall woman with black hair confronted Draco.

Her mocking voice carried clearly to Hermione. "Like father, like son, isn't that right, Malfoy? You're both useless, I say! If it wasn't for your incompetent father, I would still have my husband by my side," she huffed. "I think someone should look into your family bloodlines. There must be some dirt in there somewhere – no pureblood worth the name could be as inept as you and your sire!" She swept off, leaving Draco both angry and humiliated.

Unexpectedly, Hermione remembered the incident last year when Harry had found Draco crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry had said he felt sorry for Draco. As Hermione watched her former classmate struggle to control his emotions, she thought, He's almost as much a prisoner as I am. Now that I see him, I do pity him.

At last, only Voldemort, Draco and Snape were left in the room with Hermione; Voldemort motioned for Draco to join them. "Severus and his charge need a safe house," Voldemort stated without preface, "you will provide space in your current hideout for them. Take them directly from here, today. You will give Severus whatever he requires to continue his current research. Is that clear?"

"Yes, My Lord," Draco agreed.

"Good. All of you, leave me now!" Voldemort demanded. He walked away from them, making an odd hissing sound as his gigantic snake, Nagini, slithered into the room.

*****

Downstairs, Severus and Draco were greeted by several men, contemporaries of Lucius Malfoy apparently, as they were immersed in recounting one of Lucius' schoolboy escapades. Draco looked as relieved to be away from the gathering and his master as he was to encounter some friendly faces. After a few minutes of polite exchanges, Draco glanced expectantly at Snape.

"We will gather our things from the basement and meet you in the library," he told Draco. Still guiding her by the arm, Snape escorted her to his lab. There wasn't much to 'gather' as they had arrived with little more than the clothes they were wearing. A minute later a soft knock sounded on the partially closed door. Snape flicked his wand at the door, and it swung open, revealing Viktor slouched on the other side. "What do you want Krum?" he asked aggressively. "The Dark Lord has decided who will be responsible for the girl – surely you are too intelligent to debate with me at this point."

"I am not here to argue," Krum assured him gravely. "I simply vish to say farewell to Herm-own-ninny – if you vill permit it?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly and waited.

"All right," Snape conceded. "I will return in a minute." He strode quickly across the small space and exited, forcing Krum to take a step backwards out of his way.

Krum came forward, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing gently. "I do not know vhen I vill see you again. I vill hope and pray for your safety," he said.

"I didn't know you prayed, Viktor," Hermione returned lightly. She quickly sobered though, saying, "Oh, Viktor, thank you for trying to help me. I wasn't aware you had asked to take care of me! I wish..." she trailed off, knowing it was useless to rehash her regrets.

He embraced her lightly and then looked into her eyes and whispered, "I vill get a message to your friends somehow. I vill tell them you are vell. I promise."

A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she threw her arms around Viktor in a desperate hug. He murmured something soothing as he patted her on the back.

"It's time to go, Granger," Snape interrupted.

He was standing unexpectedly close to them, and Hermione wondered how he had got there without her noticing. He reached out and took hold of her arm, and she disengaged herself from Viktor's embrace whispering, "Goodbye, Viktor."

Krum watched solemnly as Snape led her from the room, up the steps and out of his life.

*****

Snape seemed angry as they left the little basement lab of the Riddle House, although Hermione couldn't imagine why. He was clearly eager to leave the place. They met Draco in the library, and he allowed Snape to get Apparition directions directly from his mind using Legilimency.

They appeared outside the front door of a beautiful little cottage. It was situated in a wooded portion of a large, park-like tract of land. Looking around, Hermione was glad they had arrived in daylight. How pretty, she smiled to herself. In fact, if she'd had different companions, she would have called it an idyllic spot. She also noticed that it was quite cool, though September was still a few days away. We must be even further north than Hogwarts, she supposed.

Her appreciation of the surroundings was rudely interrupted, however, when Draco shoved her roughly toward the door, barking, "Don't stand there gawking like an idiot. Get inside, Mudblood!"

Snape quickly stepped forward, catching her arm as she stumbled and preventing her from colliding with the front of the house. "Draco," he warned, "do not do that again!"

Draco huffed in annoyance, but decided not to argue. Instead, he opened the front door and entered, walking directly into a comfortable-looking sitting room that extended over most of the front portion of the cottage. "There are two bedrooms upstairs," he said, addressing Snape in a sulky voice, "one for each of us." He eyed Hermione with distain. "What about her?" he asked. "Should I put her in with the house-elves?"

"No," Snape replied, scowling. "Have the elves set up a folding bed for her in my room."

At this, Draco's eyes narrowed and flicked between Snape and Hermione. "Yes, sir," he drawled, the leer on his face plainly showing the drift of his thoughts.

Snape's lip curled. He advanced on Draco until he was glaring down his hooked nose at the young man. "Imagine what you will, Draco – I have no control over what goes on inside your twisted little mind," he sneered softly. "But remember this: Granger is my responsibility. I will make all decisions pertaining to her, and I will protect her from harm as the Dark Lord has commanded. You need have nothing to do with her. Is that clear?"

Draco dipped his head in sullen acknowledgement of the unspoken threat and turned to exit the room. In that moment, Hermione thought that he looked a great deal like his mother, as the look on his face suggested that something particularly vile-smelling had been shoved under his nose.

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

Ron, Harry and Ginny had begun classes again. Some of them, such as Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration were given by Order members, while others, they attended at the Ministry. Harry and Ron had decided to maintain the same curriculum they'd had the prior year in the hopes of some day qualifying for Auror training. Accordingly, they also took Potions and Herbology. Their Defense instructor was none other than (the real) Moody, whose experience in dealing with Dark Wizards was unrivaled by anyone currently at the Ministry. It was fortunate as well, that Minerva McGonagall was an Order member and could be convinced to teach Transfiguration to Harry and the Weasleys, for she adamantly refused to teach classes at the Ministry as long as Dolores Umbridge was still there. To Harry's surprise, it turned out that Molly Weasley was exceptional at Charms, and a more patient and competent teacher than he had anticipated.

"Well, what did you expect?" Ginny laughed when he confided his surprise to her, "Mum home-schooled all of us until we went off to Hogwarts! She had to be patient in order to put up with our lot!"

Luckily, their schedules still left considerable time for other pursuits. Ron and Harry had gone back to Borgin and Burkes (with Bill, of course) on one occasion. Harry was now the proud owner of an antique signet ring that, according to Borgin, gave its wearer the ability to detect lies. In his persona as a cynical collector of magical artifacts, Harry had, of course, tested it. He had indeed been able to detect when both Borgin and Bill had told him deliberate untruths. It was less clear whether the ring would be able to detect a lie that the speaker actually believed to be true. In any case, Harry felt that he was establishing a solid business relationship with the old shopkeeper. Soon, he would express an interest in locating any objects, magical or otherwise, that were associated with the four founders of Hogwarts. That was the critical first step to locating Helga Hufflepuff's cup, missing since the murder of Hepzibah Smith some fifty years earlier.

Harry, Ron and Ginny had also spent a substantial amount of time deliberating what to do about Riddle's Special Award. Harry trusted Ginny's memory and her conclusion was validated by Black's journal entry. But they had not yet worked out a feasible plan to get to Hogwarts and get access to the award. Thornier still was the issue of how to destroy such a powerful magical object. The most accomplished wizard of modern times, Dumbledore, had lost a hand while destroying one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. How then, was Harry to manage? And Dumbledore had never told Harry how to destroy a Horcrux. The three young people had gone around and around the topic without coming any closer to a solution.

The truth was, they needed information. Hermione would probably have been able to dig up some clues as to the methods of dealing with such things, but she wasn't there. Harry felt at a loss. Damn Snape for keeping her a prisoner! he fumed. Her friends need her. I need her! He remembered the last time he had seen her: being pulled along behind that murderous bastard like chattel. That had been more than a week ago. His mind fogged with rage and hatred. Someday, I will kill Snape and avenge the deaths of Dumbledore, Sirius and especially, my parents!

At times like this, he still found it incomprehensible that a great wizard like Dumbledore could have made such an error in judgment as to trust Snape. But did he? a small voice asked in his head. Harry felt immediate resistance to the idea that his own interpretation might be flawed. He must be right! He had seen Snape cast the killing curse with his own eyes! But, the insistent voice continued, Dumbledore claimed that Snape's fast thinking and expertise had saved his life when he lost his hand. Harry's rage cooled as he became thoughtful. If Snape had the skills to counter the Dark Magic that was released when Dumbledore destroyed the ring Horcrux, then he probably also knows how to destroy them himself. A fat lot of good that does me! he thought sourly.

Abruptly, realization dawned and he sat up straight. If both Snape and Dumbledore knew the spells, perhaps others do too! he reasoned. Snape was very good at Defense Against the Dark Arts – but he was not the only talented professor they'd had in that subject. Remus Lupin was just as proficient in his chosen area of expertise. Harry was both excited and uncertain. Do I dare reveal the secret of the Horcruxes to another person? Does Remus' knowledge cover such a vehemently prohibited subject? Harry thought hard. In the years since the impoverished werewolf had been his professor, Harry had noticed that he was excellent at counter-curses of all types. What's more, he was trustworthy, his character beyond reproach. It felt right. After all, my dad and Sirius were his friends all through school; they trusted him. It seemed only fitting to Harry that he should as well.

*****

It was four days before Harry got the opportunity to approach Remus. He showed up at the Burrow in the company of Moody, who had come for their second Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the week. "Alright you kids," Moody growled in his usual gruff manner, "let's get started." He made straight for the Weasley's parlor, where their lessons were held.

Harry hung back a few moments, then when the others had gone, he turned to Remus. "Can you stay awhile, Remus?" he requested. "I'd like to talk to you in private after my class."

"Sure thing, Harry," Remus agreed.

An hour and a half later, Harry was leading his former professor upstairs to his room so they could talk in private. After closing the door and warding it against eavesdroppers (a precaution that caused Remus to raise his eyebrows in surprise), Harry offered him a seat and thought for a moment. "Well..." he started hesitantly, "Before I start, I need your promise that nothing I tell you here will be repeated to anyone, ever. Not even Tonks."

At Harry's words, Remus' eyes opened even further in surprise. However, the young man spoke so earnestly and appeared so genuinely worried that Remus quickly acquiesced.

"Thanks," Harry sighed in relief. "I'm going to tell you a story, about what I learned last year from Dumbledore. This is probably going to take quite awhile," he said uncertainly, wondering where to start. At the beginning, his mind supplied, when Dumbledore picked me up from the Dursley's. Right. He breathed deeply and began. For nearly an hour, words tumbled out of him, gradually revealing the extent of Dumbledore's knowledge regarding Lord Voldemort's history.

Remus was a good listener, rarely interrupting except to clarify important details. At one point, when the subject of Horcruxes was introduced, he involuntarily gasped in shock. "So that's how he survived his own rebounded curse," he concluded almost under his breath.

Harry nodded and continued with the tale. At last, Harry revealed the fake Horcrux that he and Dumbledore had retrieved, believing it to be Slytherin's locket. Harry told Remus everything that he, Ron and Hermione had concluded, which had led them to search the Black family home over the past summer. He showed Remus the journal that had once belonged to Regulus Black and finally told him of Ginny's revelation concerning Riddle's Special Award. When he was finished, he looked into Remus's eyes and said desperately, "I know what I have to do, but I don't know how. The Horcruxes have to be destroyed before I can go after Voldemort. Remus," he pleaded, "I'm a seventeen-year-old wizard who hasn't even finished school! I have some power, but not enough knowledge. Can you help me find and use the spells that will destroy the Horcruxes?"

Remus was grave. More serious, in fact, than Harry had ever seen him before. "Harry," he began, "I'm not an expert on this topic, surely you know that. But," he reflected after a moment's pause, "I believe I can discover what we need. The problem is, even if I locate and master the correct spell, I doubt that I'm strong enough to do away with such an artifact myself."

"Well then," Harry pronounced, placing his hand on Remus' shoulder, "it will be up to Ron and I to figure out how to combine our magical abilities. The three of us together should have enough force to break the Horcruxes like Dumbledore did."

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

During the first few days at their new hideout, Hermione was relieved to find that Draco did indeed have almost nothing to do with her. She hardly saw him. However, as in the beginning of her captivity at Snape's house, she was rarely left alone. When Snape was not with her, she was accompanied by a house-elf. There were two elves in the little cottage; they had been sent by Draco's mother from the Malfoy's manor house. Heaven forbid that a Malfoy should have to look after any household tasks! Hermione sneered mentally. In any case, the elves were loyal to the Malfoys and apparently under orders to keep a close watch on her. She was reminded forcefully of the elf named Winky, who had been designated as the caretaker for Barty Crouch, Jr. after his clandestine release from Azkaban. Hermione was certain that the Malfoy elves would be just as willing to use their own brand of elf magic on her if she were to attempt an escape or to harm either of the men. In addition, the house was secluded on a rather big property in God-knows-what part of the country. And even if she managed to slip away from them all and get off the grounds, she still couldn't Apparate! Crap! They really think of every angle, she fumed in frustration. She hated being resigned to her fate.

Two days after their arrival, Snape disappeared for most of an evening. Upon his return, he sauntered into the sitting room, pulling a small bundle from his pocket. "Here Granger," he smirked complacently, tossing the package to her, "you might appreciate having these items back."

Looking down at her lap, Hermione saw with amazement all of the things she had left behind at Snape's house, magically shrunk. "How did you retrieve these? Isn't the Order watching your house? How did you avoid them?" she asked in rapid succession.

He came as close as she had ever seen to a genuine smile – an odd twist of the lips – overlaid with endless arrogance. "The door is not the only point of entry into my house," he informed her. "It was being watched by the Order; it still is. But they never saw me – never even noticed that someone came and went," he scoffed. He headed for his lab, inordinately pleased with himself, to put away the contents of another package in his hands.

Just as she had eventually become used to the daily routines at Snape's house, Hermione found that she was rapidly falling into a new rhythm in this situation. She and Snape had returned to virtually the same schedule for lessons, the main difference being that there was more time for either study or leisure since the elves did all the cooking, cleaning and so forth. Hermione decided that since she was evidently stuck here for an indefinite period of time, she would immerse herself in her studies. She put her formidable determination and effort into learning as much as possible.

Snape was quite satisfied with his current situation. Draco had obeyed the Dark Lord's orders to the letter, giving him everything he required to fully equip and stock a laboratory in the basement of the little cottage. Even better, Draco stayed out of his way. The boy spent most of his time at the cottage in the little library on the main floor or upstairs in his own bedroom, even taking most of his meals apart from Granger and himself. The rest of the time Draco was off meeting with various Death Eaters who were assigned to help plan and execute the escape of their fellows from Azkaban.

Now that he had recovered his research notes, he was set to continue his work on the Impenetrable Potion. He was confident that he would make progress on both his projects. But his principal source of contentment was pure relief at leaving the Dark Lord's headquarters. As if the simple danger and inconvenience of the location hadn't been bad enough, he had been apprehensive that Krum would be given guardianship of the girl. But the Dark Lord chose me over that Quiddich-playing, Bulgarian pure-blood, he thought smugly. It was a validation of his status with the Dark Lord, as well as the safest alternative for both himself and the girl. I couldn't let her or Krum realize her memory had been modified, after all, he reasoned. Then the persistent berk showed up again 'to say goodbye' to the girl. He can't even say her name properly! He had felt quite irritated by their little goodbye scene, wanting only (so he believed) to get out of the Riddle House as soon as possible.

Now he had Granger to himself. I can work on gradually gaining her trust and loyalty without interference from anyone else, he thought with satisfaction. Snape was a man of calculation and action – not reflection. He never stopped to consider if she might, in turn, have an effect on him or what that effect could be.

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Author notes:

1. Cruris Rumpo = Legs shatter. A rather nasty (non-canon) curse that I thought up.

2. Hermione's sympathetic thought regarding Draco: 'Now that I see him, I do pity him' is a quote from The Lord of the Rings. Frodo says this when he first meets Gollum (The Two Towers: The Taming of Smeagol).