Two sets of footsteps were approaching. They reverberated off the stones in the passageway outside my laboratory in the dungeons. I dipped my quill into the inkwell and busied myself as the pair entered the room.

"Here she is, sir."

Useful little errand boy, aren't you Draco? I carefully finished my sentence before deigning to look up at them. A few locks of Draco's blond hair were ever so slightly out of place, and he was wearing a slightly irritated expression. Or perhaps that was just Narcissa's looks finally coming out in the boy. Hermione looked utterly calm in comparison. In fact, she looked curious- interested even, as if…

Damn.

Granger. Not Hermione. Granger.

I scowled. I need to stop making that mistake. And she shouldn't look so bloody happy!

"Sorry I took so long sir," Draco must have noticed my displeasure, "I looked all over the-"

"Not-" I cut him off sharply "-to worry Draco," I emphasized every syllable. "I'm sure Miss Granger was just hiding herself away in some dark corner of the library." I glared at her. At Granger.

"I checked-"

"Thank you, Draco." I gave him a polite smile. Brat. "You've been very helpful. You may go."

I rose from my seat and watched the arrogant little prig leave. When he was gone I flicked my wand to close the door. The latch made a metallic click as it set.

"When do I leave?" She asked immediately. I turned. She looked at me expectantly. The red trim of her Gryffindor robes made the warm brown of her eyes glow against the gloom of the dungeon.

Leave? Ah yes. I suppose I had promised her freedom if she told me Potter's plans.

I sniffed dismissively. "The Dark Lord has other plans for you."

Her eyebrows came together in a frown. "You said-"

"You're not leaving." My tone left no room for argument.

She looked unsurprised. Apparently she expected me to break my word. Unfortunate. That is to say, it would be easier to control her if I had her trust. "Why did you have Malfoy drag me down here?"

"You were not dragged." I snapped. "If I had wanted you dragged I would have sent a Carrow. They would have tossed you head over heels down the stairs and you would have arrived bruised all over with your knickers on display."

She raised an eyebrow. Bloody disrespectful! I resisted the urge to pound my fist on something. Bickering is a waste of time. I pulled out a chair for her opposite mine. "Sit," I ordered.

"What do you know of esse potare, Miss Granger?" I asked as we seated ourselves.

"It's a method of separating the essential part of a potion from other ingredients that were used only to aid in the brewing process," she recited. "Sometimes it's used to purify mixtures and increase their potency."

She pushed a bundle of curls over her shoulder. At this close distance I could detect a refreshing, clean fragrance. I sniffed. This dungeon had seen one too many pungent beetle carcasses and not enough cleansing charms. Perhaps I could get a few detention students out of harms' way by making them clean my laboratory.

"And how is this method executed?"

"I don't know. It's very advanced, it's usually better just to practice good brewing technique in the first place."

"A textbook answer," I sneered. "From Apostol's Tome of Potion Procedures, in fact. Obviously there are cases when esse potare is the only option. Such as when a valuable, but harmful potion must be separated from another equally valuable substance."

It took only a moment for comprehension to dawn in her eyes. "Like my blood, which contains a few drops of Gwyar's cordial."

"Correct." I said. "Most poisons will either degrade over time or be flushed out of the body. It seems that the cordial does neither. The same amount of cordial is in your blood as was present three weeks ago when you first arrived. With esse potare, I can set up a sort of filtration system to extract all of the cordial."

Probably. It would be devilishly complicated, but it seemed reasonable that it should work.

Oh hell- I didn't need to read her mind to know that the skeptical tilt of Granger's eyebrow meant she too realized the danger of such a procedure. If it went wrong she could end up losing a great deal of blood.

"Obviously, I will begin with a few tests."

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "You want my blood."

"Yes."

"You can't have it. I know the kind of things you could do with it."

Bloody know-it-all! She was unfortunately correct. "Miss Granger," I said, exasperated, "There are pathetically theatrical dark wizards who dabble with blood curses or similar nonsense. I can curse you quite effectively in the usual way and therefore have no need for such gimmicks."

She studied me carefully. For the second time, her composure surprised me. "Valuable potion…" she said softly, "it's the cordial that you want. Curing me is just a side effect."

"The Dark Lord has taken an interest." I said dryly.

"Well then you most certainly cannot have my blood!" She put both hands on the table and leaned forward as if to spit in my face.

I copied her posture. "Listen Granger. You are alive because you have two things the Dark Lord wants: the last of a powerful ancient potion in your blood and secrets of the Order in your head. The longer your blood is tainted the more likely you are to have another relapse, and I may not be there to save your miserable life again. Even if you do succeed in keeping your secrets, the Dark Lord eventually will drain you dry to get a few drops of potion. So use those brains you pride yourself on and listen to reason."

I debated using legilimency as she considered. But it's better if I don't know if she trusts me. I could take her blood by force, of course, but then she would be convinced that I was going to use it for some devious purpose. If I am to protect her and the secrets she holds she must at least listen to my advice. She wore a mutinous expression as she opened her mouth to deliver a retort…

I reached out and gently touched her wrist. "Hermione…"

She froze. Merlin, I'd done it again.

Shit. How many times have I done that now? It's getting to be a habit. One I must break. Her name is Granger. And I should not be touching her.

On the positive side, it did seem to yield results. Her skin was warm and smooth. Her pulse accelerated, but as I pulled her arm toward me and she didn't resist. I pushed up the sleeve of her robe to reveal an ivory forearm. I quickly cast a desensitizing spell on the silky skin and cut into a vein, letting her blood flow into a vial. When it was barely half full, I healed the cut.

A few drops of crimson remained. I dampened a cloth and wiped them away.

"Thank you." She said, looking me straight in the eye. "For trying to heal me."

She held my gaze the way no man or woman has dared to hold it for decades. I saw- in her eyes, in the relaxed tilt of her head, the careless way she was still leaning forward- I saw trust.

It was too much. I couldn't hold her gaze.

"This is for the Dark Lord."

"Of course."

She left, with that soft, mysterious smile on her lips. I could still smell the bright, fresh scent she had introduced to my laboratory.