Disclaimer: The same as usual.

A/N: I know. It's been a terribly long time... But this is the next part. So sorry for the delay.


Chapter Three:

So...So you think you can tell?


As she found the first name, Hermione felt no surprise, only a sense of weariness. "Draco Malfoy," she intoned flatly. She sat the contract aside and reached for the second.

"Marcus Flint." This option was only mildly less revolting and insulting, really.

"Clinton Warrington. Wasn't he just leaving school our first year?" This one was better, she thought, but she was still growing more wary as she opened the fourth scroll.

"Stanton Vaisey." Hermione snorted with something akin to disdain at that one.

"Adrian Pucey" was followed by a short silence and a long look at Ron, as she read out "Ronald Weasley."

Ron was looking slightly sheepish as he explained, "You were bound to be a Death Eater target. I wanted to make sure you had at least one feasible option." Having finished this speech, Ron was blushing when Hermione murmured a soft "Thank you, Ron." before continuing with the pile.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Miles Bletchy." The last name was met with a small sound of amusement from across the table before Fred asked, "Isn't he with some other bloke?"

"William Travers. I'm certain he's almost old enough to be my father," Hermione murmured.

As Hermione reached for the last scroll, she felt another small surge of thanks for Ron. She didn't love him, she couldn't love him. Not as anything other than a friend. But he was just that - a friend. Marriage to him might not be ideal, but at least it would mean she would have someone to talk to. Someone who didn't want her dead.

She broke the last seal and all of her previous thoughts were forgotten as her eyes slid over the words. She couldn't possibly be seeing what she was seeing. But she was. She read it once, twice, three times before she was sure her eyes weren't playing a very awkward and strange trick on her.

"What is it, Hermione?" Remus asked gently. Internally he wondered what sort of offer could create this reaction of silence.

When Hermione answered, it was slowly and in a whisper, "There must be some mistake: 'On behalf of his son Severus, Agentes Snape respectfully offers for the hand of one Miss Hermione Jean Granger.' I-it must be a mistake." she trailed off into silence as there was a sharp intake of breathe from Ron, Harry, and Ginny.

Ginny was the one who managed to speak first. "Oh Hermione, I'm so sorry. But it can't be right, can it?" Hermione could only shake her head in response. Harry reached for the piece of parchment in Hermione's hands slowly; as if almost afraid to see that it was true.

Remus suddenly stood as if he had been sitting on a hot cauldron and began trying to sort things into order. "Molly, could you send an owl off to...?" He trailed off as he saw her nod. Then he gathered up the parchments resting on the table in front of Hermione, and shot a quick look at Sirius, then the boys. Sirius nodded shortly, and then asked Harry and Ron to join him in the drawing room.

Molly ushered Fred and George out of the kitchen after Arthur, before going out herself to dispatch an owl to Dumbledore - and Severus.

Hermione had sat through it all in silence, not stirring until Ginny had left the kitchen with Tonks. "That was fairly dramatic, wasn't it? I could have at least said something." she chuckled half-heartedly.

Remus gave her a wry smile and sat down to await the arrival from Hogwarts with her.


Hermione couldn't remember much of the meeting that had taken place. Dumbledore had arrived first, and Remus had done most of the talking, Dumbledore the rest. Hermione had merely sat and listened as the whole evening was related in what reminded her curiously of a debriefing session. She had gone up to the room she shared with Ginny when it was finished, grateful that Snape hadn't arrived yet, so she didn't have to see him. As she lay down, Hermione wondered what was going on below. Somehow, no matter what hour of the day or night, there was always some small noise coming from the rooms below the fourth floor, some comforting sound that announced a presence, and thus safety. Tonight there was nothing, there was absolute silence. When Ginny came in a short while later, Hermione pretended to be asleep.


When she woke the next morning, Hermione skipped breakfast and secreted herself away in a small unused bedroom with every book on healing and dark healing that she could find and busied herself looking for all possible meanings of the phrase 'Quod me nutrit me destruit.' in potions making and healing.

She found that the phrase had only the one meaning that Zabini had mentioned, but the phrase did not make discernible sense in a medical context. The entire point was that to nourish was not to destroy. Hermione began combing the indexes of potion and healing books. She was having no luck, however, until she ran across a small volume that had the phrase listed beside twelve page numbers. One by one, she traced each reference. It wasn't until she had reached the twelfth and last that she understood.

In each entry the phrase appeared, there were mentions of which potions and spells shouldn't be combined with the healing method. The majority of the potions were calming draughts, dreamless sleep potions, pain reducers, muscle relaxers, and the occasional severe throat soother. Hermione was not sure she wanted to think about this last in context, in all reality.

"Quod me nutrit me destruit, what nourishes me destroys me, what sooths me destroys me. It means not to use certain potions that ease one's suffering in other ways, and many Healers, many wizards in general, would have ignored that warning, under pressure. They are seen as Dark Arts because no one could be bothered to adhere to the fine print."

Hermione added these last thoughts to her notes, then collected all of the books to add to the collection she was already going to ask Sirius for his permission to borrow. Then she hissed, "Fools!" under her breath before she made her way down to lunch.


A figure enveloped in black was briskly crossing the lawns of Witmoor with a purpose. The purpose was, most likely, the intent to harm a sire. Agentes allowed himself a moment to smile at the window, before giving instructions to a house elf to meet his son at the door. Severus had unwittingly arrived exactly on time. Agentes chuckled softly; his fun was only beginning.


Author's Note: Please Read & Review. It tends to lead to speedier updates. ... Well, except when my life gets turned upside down for two years. (won't happen again, swear.)