Hi everyone! :) I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update, I won't bore you with excuses. Let's just say 'life' got in the way :P

Also, the 'A' key on my laptop has started playing up so if you spot any spelling errors involving a missing 'A', please let me know and I'll fix them. I am being careful but nobody's perfect :)

Massive thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and especially to Zukuto for reminding me that it's been so long since my last update! Sorry everyone! :s This chapter has some pretty important stuff in it, so I hope that makes up for the wait?

Enjoy!

In the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry jumped as a sudden heat burned his leg through his jeans pocket. Cursing, he dug the hot coin out between the tips of tentative fingers. "I swear, if Nott's mucking about again..."

He trailed off as he read the message.

Tomorrow night. Half past ten.

"What is it?" Ginny asked worriedly, crossing the room and peering at the coin.

"We're going in tomorrow," he told her, showing her the message. "Nott says he'll lower the wards tomorrow night."

"Are you sure we can trust him?" she asked.

Harry looked up. "I saw his memories. I felt how he feels about Hermione. He won't betray us."

"Will he fight for us?" Ron walked in and sat on a chair by the fire. His expression was tight; Harry wasn't sure if that was an effect of the torturous waiting, or a result of what he'd said about Nott and Hermione.

"I don't think so. He won't fight against us, though." Harry was sure of this; Luna had explained to him exactly how much power Nott had handed them in that tiny vial of blood. Blood-magic was seriously dark stuff, but Harry knew he wasn't the only one prepared to use it if anything happened to Hermione due to their trust of the Slytherin.

Tomorrow night. Half past ten.

Theo set down the galleon on his bedside table and watched the message slowly melt away. As soon as it was gone he started to feel the cold fingers of doubt crawling down his spine. What if he failed? What if they tried to get in and he hadn't managed to lower the wards in time? He'd ruin everything and Hermione would be...

He couldn't even finish the sentence.

When did you get so attached, Theo? he asked himself, shaking his head. This used to be nothing more than a school crush, but it's something else now.

He pulled on his pyjamas and got into bed, but found himself unable to even consider sleeping. He felt like he'd been hit with some kind of energy bolt, sparks fizzing in his veins.

Tomorrow night, he was going to let the enemy into the Death Eater's headquarters. He was going to betray the Dark Lord, rescue a muggleborn prisoner and - unlikely, but possibly - escape with her. He didn't even know if the Order would let him escape with them, or if they'd put him down along with the other Death Eaters on this side of the fence. Would his actions in helping Hermione be enough to absolve him of the sin of bearing the Mark? He hoped so, but it didn't seem likely. Potter was reasonable enough to consider it, he was sure, but there wouldn't be enough support for the idea. Potter would have to cede to the majority if he wanted to maintain a strong leadership.

Theo shook his head again. How had he got to thinking about the politics of the Order? That was weird, even for him.

Reaching to his bedside table, he picked up a photo frame and turned it to catch the light. Inside the frame, a younger Theo and his mother smiled and waved shyly at the camera. A gap on one side of the pair showed where his father should have been standing, but he had walked out of the frame - in more ways than one - a long time ago. Theo was just glad that he only had one parent to worry about now. Theo Nott Sr. made his choice when he allowed his son to take the Mark against his will, and when he'd given his wife over to his Death Eater friends for 'fun'. His parents thought Theo didn't know about that. Sometimes, he wished he didn't.

There was a small 'crack' and Theo winced, realising he'd clenched his hand hard enough to crack the glass in the frame. "Damn it," he muttered, grabbing his wand. "Reparo."

He gritted his teeth as a bit of glass that had wedged itself into his finger pulled itself out, shook off a few drops of blood and flew back into the frame. His photo-self and photo-mother hadn't seemed to notice; waving and smiling away, they reminded him forcibly of happier times. And of what life could be like if he succeeded tomorrow.

Morning couldn't come quickly enough.

There was no concept of time down in the dungeons. The boy-with-no-name hated it. Not that being imprisoned was much fun, but it might be easier to pass the time if there was some way of telling the time in the first place.

It really didn't help that he had nothing to entertain himself with, in terms of memories or stories. He still couldn't remember anything of who he had been before he was locked away in this dark hole. He couldn't even talk to himself, not knowing what his own name was. He supposed that he should be grateful he still remembered things like how to talk and what words meant. What could cause that sort of specific memory loss, though?

Before he could descend into panic - as he so often felt like doing when he thought about his predicament - he coughed lightly and said, "How are you feeling now?"

Hermione didn't reply for a few seconds, then croaked, "I'm alright. You?"

He winced at the roughness in her voice. Her throat must have been killing her. "I'm fine."

His question was prompted by what he had heard earlier. He'd been rendered unable to speak by some kind of silencing spell (at least he still remembered the existence of magic) but he had been able to hear what was said. It seemed he was not the only person worried by Hermione's decision to stop eating. A few minute after the other boy had left, he'd heard a soft crunch that sounded like she was eating a piece of apple. This had made him feel somewhat relieved...until choked retching noises had informed him that she had thrown it straight back up again. She hadn't tried eating again since, but he supposed it was probably for the best, given her earlier reaction.

"Um..." He paused, unsure of how to word his question. "What did...Nott, was it? What did he mean, a 'plan'?"

"I don't really know," Hermione replied. "He didn't tell me much. Just that it could be anytime from now onwards."

"What could?" he pressed, confused.

"I don't bloody know!" she snapped.

He caught his breath at the sudden rise in volume and snapped his mouth shut. He felt bad for pushing her but, at the same time, couldn't she understand that he was just as anxious as she was to get out of this place? Resentment threatened to rear its ugly head but he forced it back down, reasoning that she had been here much longer than he had - as far as he was aware. She had more reason to be highly strung than almost anyone in the world.

Silence filled the dungeon until there was a soft cough and she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...to snap like that."

"No, it's alright. I shouldn't have pushed. I'm sorry too."

"Don't worry about it."

They were silent for a few more seconds, then the boy had an idea. It was silly but he wanted to try it, in case it cheered her up a bit. "Um, I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...D."

Hermione seemed to freeze, then the boy got the reaction he'd wanted - she burst out laughing. "Seriously?" she managed, once she'd calmed down a little. "Something beginning with D?"

"Aren't you going to guess it?"

"Is there any point?"

He chuckled. "It's something to do."

"Alright." She pretended to consider for a moment. "Um...dark?"

"Nope." He grinned, forgetting she couldn't see it.

"Darkened? Darker? Darkness?"

"No. You're getting closer, though."

"Um..." She paused, evidently thinking hard. "There aren't any more!" she cried out eventually.

The boy laughed out loud. She sounded truly anguished by this concept; he wondered if she was the kind of person who had always known the answers in school. "Do you give up?"

"No! I will...I will guess it..." He could hear her muttering to herself, trying to figure it out. Growing a little worried, he wondered if he'd picked one that was too hard. It seemed so obvious to him; he was surprised she hadn't guessed it already.

"Okay, I give up." It was obvious how hard it was for her to admit that, so he didn't gloat.

"Alright. Dimness."

There was a pause. "Dimness?" she exploded. "Dimness?"

He burst out laughing at the expression he imagined was on her face right then and, after a few moments, she joined in. To him, if only for a minute, it felt like they were somewhere else. Not forced together by awful circumstance, but a pair of friends, just having a laugh about nothing.

The boy knew that Hermione hadn't recognised him from before; they hadn't been friends, or even acquaintances. She most likely had other friends, close friends, who she would want to spend time with when (if) they were rescued. He hoped that she would still have time for him in the future. It wasn't a wrong thing to want, he reasoned - it wasn't as if he intended to replace her other friends. He only wanted to have one. Even if he'd had friends before, he hadn't any now - that much was obvious. He wanted to keep his friendship with Hermione.

A small twinge of jealousy flickered through him before he could realise what it was and stop it in its tracks. He couldn't be jealous of her friends, could he? Not before he'd even met them, surely?

Weirder things had happened. He himself was proof of that.

The next morning, Hermione attempted wandless magic again. She hadn't tried much since the first time she did it, not having the energy or the motivation. Now, her energy levels were fairly low but she wanted to take the chance to see her companion again, in case today was their last day together. She'd scarcely allowed herself to feel hope about what might happen. For all she knew, this was Nott's way of warning her that Bellatrix was coming back and that she needed to be ready to face her fate. The white light slowly grew in intensity until it filled their section of the dungeon. For the second time, Hermione was made visually aware that she was not alone. Despite the cold metal bars and distance between them, it was comforting to actually see for herself that there was someone else there.

"You look awful," the boy said without preamble.

"Thanks. You're not looking too good yourself," she retorted, but without venom. She knew she was a mess, her hair ragged around the edges and the skin of her arms scabbed and torn.

"It's going to happen today, isn't it? Whatever Nott was talking about?"

If it's going to happen at all, Hermione muttered silently, but out loud she replied, "I expect so."

"I hope we get some warning."

Hermione frowned. "You're awfully calm about all of this, you know that?"

"What are you implying?" he asked, sounding defensive.

"I'm not implying anything," she replied quickly. "I just...When you say things like that, you sound so... I don't know. Forget I said anything."

Hermione didn't really know what she'd meant by what she'd said. Maybe her paranoia was finally getting to her and she'd thought for a moment that he could be a spy for the Death Eaters, waiting for her to let her guard down before the next round of torture. Maybe she really was losing her marbles.

"It's okay, Hermione." He spoke gently, his expression so filled with understanding that it made her want to cry. "You don't have to apologise."

She sniffled and the light started to flicker. "No!" she cried, forcing herself to focus harder, but it was too much effort. Her head ached and she felt a trickle of something warm run over her top lip. Touching a finger to her lip, she brought it up to her eyes, but the light was gone before she could see what it was. From the taste, she thought she already knew.

"It's alright, Hermione. Let it go." The boy's voice was probably supposed to reassure her, but at that point Hermione wasn't really listening.

She had never had a nosebleed from using magic before. Not even when she was first learning to use wandless magic. She'd had a lot of headaches, but never actual bleeding. That told her a lot about her condition at that moment and what it told her wasn't good.

Exhausted, she leaned back against the wall of the cell and closed her eyes just for a moment, just to ease her aching head...

"Hermione! Hermione!"

She jerked awake, moaning as the movement made her head spin. "What?" she asked quickly, scanning the darkness for any flickers of light that signalled their doom.

"Can't you hear that?"

Hermione listened. Yes, there was something going on upstairs. She could hear footsteps, banging and shouting. Panic started to well up in her throat.

No no she can't be back not yet please not yet-

"Hermione, listen to me. Listen!" the boy snapped, drawing her back to the present and making her cease her terrified muttering. "They're not celebrating."

She listened again and realised he was right. Those were screams of pain, not cries of joy. What was going on then?

Suddenly there was a 'crack', like the sound of a whipcrack. She knew that sound and what it heralded.

Footsteps rushed down the corridor towards them. Hermione's heartbeat grew faster and faster, until it felt like she was going to pass out from terror, as a dark figure wrapped in a cloak appeared in front of her cell, carrying a lit wand. The wand was pointed at the lock, which sprang open, and Hermione shrank back into the corner of the cell, her eyes so wide they hurt.

"Hermione?"

That voice - it couldn't be. No, it was a trick, a horrible, awful trick to make her think that he was there. It couldn't be him.

"Hermione, it's me." The figure reached out a hand and she threw herself away, pulling her knees up protectively.

"You're not...You're not real. It's a trick," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. This wasn't fair. After everything else, they couldn't just kill her without a little more torture first, could they?

"Hermione, it's really me. I'm really here." The hand was extended again and this time, it brushed her shoulder gently. Not a grab, just a gentle touch. It was warm and felt real. She almost reached out to take the hand before she caught herself and clenched her jaw.

"Prove it," she said roughly, her throat catching. "Prove you're him."

He paused, floundering. "Uh, you were paired with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the night we left Privet Drive?"

"Lucky guess," Hermione whispered. She knew she was being too harsh, but she had to be sure.

"We danced, the night Ron left."

Hermione's world shattered. Nobody could possibly know that. Nobody except...

"Harry?"

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I hope you enjoyed :) Another chapter should be coming your way in the next week or so, laptop permitting (it's been a bit temperamental lately _)

Thanks for reading! :D