Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did. Sort of...

Note: Chapter title taken from Lord of the Rings, my first love.

ooo

Chapter 10 – Riddles in the Dark

After leaving Malfoy's house, Hermione Apparated to the Ministry. On Saturdays, very few people went to work, but there were enough that she wouldn't be conspicuous. She made her way to her office, but was too distracted to start working right away. The dinner meeting with Malfoy left her confused and uneasy.

Draco had said that she needed to be there, but all she did was sit at the table and eat. When he went to meet with the couple, he didn't ask her to join him, and she found that odd. Then his behavior was confusing. One minute he was yelling at her, the next talking calmly. She had fully expected him to explode on her for the wine and dessert stunt, but instead he had actually laughed about it.

Hermione sighed. Draco Malfoy was indeed a complicated person, far more complicated than she first imagined. All she knew about him was based on her experiences at Hogwarts and then everything she heard about him in the paper and at work. None of it was even remotely good. At school, he'd picked on her and her friends, called her Mudblood, and generally been a spoiled little wimpy brat. After school, he'd been merciless in his work for Voldemort. The first two years, his name was associated with the worst crimes uncovered by the Ministry. In the last two years, his name didn't appear as regularly, and in the months before he turned himself in, it was absent altogether. As she thought back, Hermione realized that she hadn't seen his name in the Prophet for two months before he turned himself in to the Ministry.

She frowned. Was that important? Did it mean something? Hermione shook her head. It would do no good to dwell on him and what made him tick. He was so good at hiding, even behind his own eyes; she didn't think she would ever figure him out. Besides, she had much more important things to dwell on. Namely, learning everything she could about the Death Eaters Malfoy had given them.

Hermione was still flipping through files when six o'clock rolled around. At 6:15, she looked up at her clock and saw that she was late. She hastily put the files away, gathered her bag, and ran to the lobby. Seamus was waiting, and he smiled as she ran toward him.

"Sorry!" she said, out of breath. "I was in the middle of something and lost track of time."

"It's okay, Hermione. Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, still catching her breath. They made their way onto the streets of Muggle London, making small talk as they walked to the restaurant. Seamus stopped after 15 minutes in front of a place that served traditional English food. He opened the door to allow Hermione to enter before him.

Once seated, they perused the menu. Hermione had already had fish that day; in fact, she'd already had an evening meal, since it was dinner time in New Zealand. She chose a salad with a cup of soup; Seamus ordered a steak.

They continued with small talk, but Hermione noticed that there was something bothering her companion.

"Seamus?" she said, once the food had arrived. "Is everything okay?"

He looked at her with a grim expression. "Have you seen today's Prophet?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, why?"

"There was an attack last night, in Berkshire."

"Death Eaters?"

He nodded. "They killed a whole family."

Hermione looked at Seamus, waiting for more; unfortunately, this sort of news was typical for Death Eaters, and she figured he wouldn't mention it unless there was something more involved.

"They targeted Aurors."

She gasped; rarely did Voldemort venture that close to the Ministry, instead preying on Muggles and Muggleborns. Only when he was very angry did he attack trained Aurors.

"Why?" she asked.

"No one knows. We were alerted to the presence of the Dark Mark last night around 11 and six of us went to investigate. We – we found them all, dead."

"Who, Seamus?" asked Hermione, not sure she really wanted the answer.

"The Pruitts. All six of them."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a sad breath.

"But there was something else," Seamus continued. She looked at him. "A short note. From a Death Eater, one we're too familiar with. Lucius Malfoy."

If Hermione's attention had not been fully placed on Seamus' story, it was now completely absorbed by it. "Lucius? What did he say?"

"It's the strangest thing. The note read, 'Return him.' That's it."

"Return who?"

"No one knows! That's what makes it all so strange! The Ministry doesn't have any Death Eaters in Azkaban currently, nor do we really have any good leads. So we were totally stunned at the message."

Hermione was almost certain she knew who 'him' was, but of course said nothing of it to Seamus. Her only thoughts now lay on what would happen when Lucius was not pacified. Would more people be hurt? Or, more likely, killed? She shuddered.

"How is your work these days, Hermione? Seems like you're always there, even weekends now."

"Oh, work is fine. My current assignment is coming along nicely. I just feel like I'm really close to something, so it makes me work harder and sometimes I don't even notice that everyone else has gone home."

"But you shouldn't work so much. You've been working nonstop for a month now; I've noticed. You look like you aren't getting enough sleep or rest."

Hermione gave him a shy smile. "Now, Seamus, that's not very nice to say to a girl, to tell her she's not looking too good."

He smiled. "I didn't mean to say you're not looking good." He blushed a little, and Hermione smiled again. "You look – exquisite tonight. Let's not talk about work anymore, what do you say?"

"Capital idea," she said, anxious to lead her thoughts down a different path.

They spent the rest of the meal in pleasant conversation about friends from Hogwarts. Hermione felt lighter than she had in a very long time. She was able to truly laugh, and for a few hours, forget about the war and the man she'd had dinner with just a few hours before. It felt normal, something she hadn't felt since Malfoy had reentered her life, and she relished the feeling. So much so, that she cautiously accepted an invitation for a second date with Seamus.

After dinner, they walked around Muggle London, watching Muggles move about, oblivious to the fact that a witch and wizard were in their midst. A chill September wind blew, kicking leaves around the empty streets. Lampposts and shop lights burned brightly as they made their way toward Hermione's flat. Seamus bade her goodnight and Disapparated. Hermione stood on the front steps of her building for a few minutes before Disapparating to the Edge.

Hermione was deep in thought, not only about Seamus, but also about the news he'd given her, when she pushed open the front door of Draco's house. She was so deep in thought that she didn't notice that the light in the drawing room was on, and that someone was sitting in the room reading a book.

"You're back," came a voice that made Hermione jump and forced her from her musings. She turned toward the source of the voice and saw Malfoy close his book and stand from the chair where he'd been sitting. He put out the light he'd been using to read and walked toward her.

There was something about the way he moved that scared her. Hermione's heart started racing and her skin went cold. The only light illuminating the room was from the moon and Draco nearly glowed in the pale silver light. His sharp features were shown in stark contrast to the blackness that surrounded him and seemed to come from him.

When he neared her, Draco stopped, leaving only a foot between them. Hermione gulped and instinctively backed away slightly. Draco smirked, sensing her fear.

"Relax, Granger," he said, walking past her and out of the room and up the stairs. When she heard the door to his room close, Hermione let out the breath she had been holding.

Breathe, she told herself. If he wanted to hurt me, he'd have done so before now. Right? Slowly Hermione made her way to her room and fell into an uneasy sleep.

ooo

The next day, Draco woke in an awful mood. He tried to convince himself it wasn't because of Hermione's date the night before, but just couldn't completely accomplish it. He wasn't envious – no, no, no – far from it. It was simply the fact that he wasn't in control of something that could potentially affect him and his goals. After all, it was only one date.

But – what if one date turned into more dates? And then they – something more? She'd have to hide everything about what she, he, and Harry were doing from the guy (her date from last night now, but if that didn't work out, it could be someone after him; anyone, really), and what if she wasn't as dedicated as Harry? He trusted Harry not to spill, but Hermione? Could she keep this from someone she cared more and more about as time passed? Would she go back to live in her flat in London? She might completely lose focus on the work she was doing because of him.

Draco scowled and forced himself out of bed. He was grumpy through breakfast, training with Harry, lunch, and then more training. When Harry was around Hermione, Draco left the room and eavesdropped on them in hopes of hearing them talk about her date – and more importantly to him, her commitment to the bloke. Sean? Shingles? Something like that.

Finally, just before dinner, he got his wish. He and Harry came in from training and Draco went directly to his room, and like he had all day, he eavesdropped on their conversation, though not really expecting to learn anything significant.

"Hey, Harry," he heard Hermione say.

"Hey."

"You look tired. How was training?"

"Malfoy was in some mood today. He pushed harder than usual."

"What kind of mood?"

"A bad one, that's all I know." Harry massaged his shoulder, wincing when he hit a tender spot. "I don't want to talk about it though. Tell me about dinner with Seamus last night."

"It was fine. I was planning on discussing it at dinner, actually."

"Oh. Okay. If you want." Draco stopped listening at that point. "Good," he thought, "Finally I'll get to hear something." About her commitment to this project, and that was all he cared about. Really. Now anxious for dinner time to arrive, and the conversation to occur, he went downstairs to begin preparing the meal.

After they were all seated, Harry and Hermione talked about the Weasleys for nearly 15 minutes, effectively driving Draco crazy. He usually went a bit dodgy whenever the Weasleys were brought up, but tonight he was also waiting for details about 'the date.' Because he needed to know where Hermione's priorities lay.

When a few minutes passed in silence, Hermione finally spoke.

"I think we should get a subscription to the Daily Prophet." Draco stared at her hard, annoyed because this had nothing to do with what he wanted. Hermione was looking at the food on her plate, pushing it around but not taking a bite.

"Why?" asked Harry.

"I just think that we need to be aware of what's happening in our world."

"We won't be getting any subscriptions," said Draco with an air of finality.

"Why not?" she asked, looking at him with a blank expression.

"We can't have owls flying out here every day. It will look suspicious."

"To whom? There's no one around for miles!" she protested.

"You can't be too sure. I don't want anything to draw attention to this place."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his apprehension. "Nothing would happen, Malfoy. You're being paranoid."

"No newspaper. You can get all the information about the world when you're at work."

"Well, yes, during the week. But what about weekends?"

"Did something happen, Hermione?" asked Harry, a little concerned at his friend's persistence.

"Yes, actually. Seamus told me about it." Draco's scowl deepened further than it had all day, but he was glad that they were finally getting to the 'date'. "There was an attack Friday night. Death Eaters."

He heard in her voice that it was something that bothered her, but he disregarded it as being her sensitive nature. "Is that all? Death Eaters attack all the time, Granger. We don't exactly need an update every time it happens." He spoke as if to say there was no need to continue the discussion.

"It was different this time," she said, annoyed at him. She looked at Harry. "They attacked Aurors."

Harry's eyes grew wide and his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Aurors?"

"Yes. And their children."

Harry put his fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore. "That's sick."

Draco knew that Death Eaters were not shy about using such tactics, but he held his tongue. He didn't think they would appreciate his reminder. Still, even he, who had seen numerous crimes and atrocities committed by his peers and then heard them bragged about, was angered by the news. It angered and shamed him that he was in any way associated with the people who had killed children. He too set his fork down.

"Who – who was it?" asked Harry, barely above a whisper.

"Scott and Julie."

Harry let his breath out. "They just had a baby!" he cried, feeling even more sick to his stomach than before.

Hermione saw Draco close his eyes and clench his fist, turning his knuckles white. She frowned a little, looking at his hand. What did he care? He'd probably done even worse things. She shook her head; he was helping Harry now. It would do no good to dwell on Malfoy's crimes.

"There's more," she said. Both Harry and Draco looked at her intently. "They left a note. It said, 'Return him.'"

"What? That's it?" said Harry, incredulously.

"It was signed," said Hermione, turning to look at Draco. When their eyes met, he felt that she was trying to see into him; he thought she might burn his eyes out with her gaze. "'L.M.'"

"Who's – " started Harry. Then he seemed to realize the significance of the initials and he paled, looking at Draco.

"The 'him' in the letter must be Malfoy," said Hermione, still looking at him. Draco was transfixed, unable to look away from her. He felt an awful sinking feeling in his gut as he slowly put the pieces together – his father had been there, had watched those children killed, had likely killed them himself. Finally able to pull his eyes from Hermione's, Draco stood up and rushed outside before he was sick all over the kitchen.

"We knew it was only a matter of time before they started to look for him," said Harry, more to himself than to Hermione. "We – we knew there might be consequences – "

"Harry! How can you say that? How could that be acceptable to you!"

"It's not, Hermione! I didn't know what would happen; I had no idea that they would be so upset about him disappearing. He made it sound like he'd barely be missed."

"Maybe that was true for most of the Death Eaters, but his own father would notice when he stopped showing up to meetings!" She put her hands in her hair roughly, staring at her plate. "What are we going to do? This cannot happen anymore; I will not be the cause of the death and pain of other people! It's what I've been fighting to prevent!"

"Hermione, you're not the cause, you know that. It's those evil, sick, monsters, who take disgusting pride in their work."

"But if we weren't here, if you hadn't left – "

"If Malfoy had never come to me at the Ministry, you're right; Scott and his family would be alive. But how many more people would be dead instead? Something happened to him to make him turn over. If that hadn't happened, he wouldn't have walked in, and we wouldn't be sitting here right now. We would be no closer to Voldemort, and there's no way to know what the count would have been. You were supposed to be on his list, remember?"

Hermione recoiled at that thought. Malfoy had been ordered to kill her. Without his change of – heart? – she wouldn't be alive. She shuddered. "But Harry, this can't continue! I won't have anyone else hurt because of what we're doing."

"Hermione, you could leave this moment and nothing would change. You know that it's because of Malfoy and me that all this is happening."

"No, Potter, it's because of me," said Draco, standing in the door. He looked much more pale than usual, even a little green around the edges. "And I'm going to fix it." He strode through the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time. Harry and Hermione heard his door close, then looked at each other.

"What do you think he's going to do?" asked Hermione quietly after a few minutes had passed.

"I have no idea. Nothing stupid, I hope."

"Like what?"

"Like get himself killed."

Harry retired soon after dinner, and Hermione moved to the porch. She took her book with her, but her thoughts were swirling in a chaotic fashion, making it hard for her to concentrate on the words in front of her. Finally she gave up trying to read and let her mind wander. It settled quickly on Malfoy, and she allowed herself to try and make sense of her conflicting emotions where he was concerned.

At times, it seemed impossible to look at him without thinking of what he'd done, to her and countless others. Then, sometimes she would be so caught up in what she was doing, or thinking, or saying, that she could forget everything. Or at least, not think about it for awhile. She could forget the fact that he had been the enemy not three months earlier, as she was so focused on her work, and Harry's work, which happened to involve him.

It amazed her that such forgetfulness could happen to her. Granted, she didn't want to constantly fight with him, but she didn't want to be okay with him either. There had to be some in-between, didn't there? A way for her to retain an aloofness from him, but also a form of interaction that didn't require harsh words or wands. Was there such a thing as not friends, but not enemies, and yet not simply acquaintances?

She thought about all the times she'd woken outside, warmed by his cloak. There was something in that small gesture that pierced a part of her heart and told her maybe, just maybe, there was something in him that she could understand. It was a kindness he showed, and she was familiar with kindness. She appreciated and admired it, whenever she saw it, because it was so rare in those dark times.

Every morning, she thought of his kindness and couldn't help but begin the day by tolerating him. And usually by the end of the day, she was considerably less tolerant. She suspected, however, that with each passing day, the level of tolerance was slowly, ever so slowly, increasing.

ooo

After closing himself in his room, Draco started pacing furiously. He had to do something to keep his father from looking for him, and more importantly from hurting others in his attempt. He knew Lucius would be furious at the thought of Draco betraying the Dark Lord, and would take it as a betrayal of himself, plus the Malfoy name and everything it stood for. He paced for what felt like an eternity, but finally decided that he would have to appeal directly to his Master.

Draco sat heavily in the chair at his desk and wrote a hurried letter.

Master,

I heard about my father's attack on the Aurors. He is rash. I am working on a project for you, and I do not want him interfering. If the Ministry suspects anything, it could be ruined for me. Everything I do is for you, my Lord. I have not informed you of my actions because I knew even you, with your infinite vision, would suspect me to have gone insane, or worse, to the other side. But it is working; I am getting very close now. Please be patient with me, my Lord. And tell Lucius to keep himself under control. Anger leads to blunders, and I can afford none if I am to succeed.

Your faithful servant,

D.M.

He reread the letter five times, to make sure there was enough praise and arrogance in it to convince the Dark Lord that he was, indeed, working for him still. He didn't know if Voldemort had ordered the attack on the Aurors, but he doubted it; it was not the way he worked. And he certainly would not have tried to find a missing Death Eater in that manner. Draco had to give the Dark Lord no reason to change his opinion that he was still loyal, still working for him, still torturing and still hating.

Draco tied the letter to Bubo's leg and sent her out. He watched her disappear into the night sky, then his eyes glazed over as he continued to stare out the window at nothing. He was snapped back to reality when he heard laughter coming from below him; Harry and Hermione were outside.

He scowled and shut the window, then threw himself on his bed. What a completely rotten day it had been. He had been grumpy and extra irritable, snapping at Harry and Hermione nearly every time he spoke. Then at dinner – the news about his father. Sure, he had considered his father while making plans, but he never imagined he would want to find his son. Probably to torture me, thought Draco bitterly. After all, no one betrays a Malfoy.

And he still hadn't heard a word about her date!

"Arghh!" he yelled, turning onto his other side, glaring at the wall that had dared to exist in front of him. 'What do I care about their stupid date?' he thought crossly. He couldn't even stand the girl! Okay, that was not entirely true, but right now he really meant it.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered. It was just a date; nothing more. And he didn't even care! He refused to care. He had made a pact with himself that he would not care about her, no matter what. It was too dangerous. In the end – well, he couldn't think about that. Not when he was already in an awful mood.

Growling, Draco got off the bed and grabbed a book off its shelf. He returned to the bed and forced himself to concentrate on the words and pushed his thoughts aside.

After an hour or so, Draco put the book down and closed his eyes. He should sleep; tomorrow would be long and hard, as his days always were. But, first things first. He left his room and went downstairs, passing Harry's closed door and Hermione's open door as he walked. Draco found Hermione outside, reading in a chair.

"Go to bed," he grumbled at her.

She looked up at him over the top of her book and frowned. "And why should I do that?"

"Because. It's time."

"I am still reading, as you might perceive."

He glared at her. "I don't care."

She considered him for a moment. "I don't think I will, just now." She looked back at her book, but then said, eyes still glued to the page, "You're not quite so green as you were."

He scoffed. "Since when do you care?"

"I don't," she said airily.

"I'm fine."

"You weren't. That's all I said."

"Leave it. Go to bed."

"I'm not tired," she stated matter-of-factly.

Draco scowled at her. "Fine." He turned and went back into the house.

Two hours later – two! – she was asleep, and Draco was finally able to go to sleep himself. He was still in a foul mood when he went out to her, muttering under his breath about anything and everything that had wronged him that day. When he saw her, sound asleep, the book held open in her lap, his scowl lessened briefly, then doubled. He moved Hermione to the swing and tucked her in with his cloak, scowling as he did so, but careful to keep his mood out of his actions so he would not wake her.

When he finally settled himself into bed, he let himself relax. Tomorrow couldn't possibly be worse than today, he thought, feeling his body numb with coming sleep.

Draco was awakened the next morning by a tapping sound. He peeled his eyes open and turned to find the source of the tapping. Bubo was waiting impatiently outside his window. Draco slowly arose from his bed and let her in. There was a letter attached to her leg and his heart jumped when he realized who it was from. Now fully awake, Draco hurried to untie the letter.

Little Malfoy

Your father's actions have been dealt with. I do not accept being left out of your plans. You obey me. Never forget that. I am, however, quite intrigued. Keep me informed of your progress. Oh, and before I send my loyal followers after your blood, do tell me what it is you are up to. Leave nothing out. I will know, you know I will know. Remember that your Mother is often left alone now, with you – gone – and your father so busy doing my bidding.

Draco paled at the mention of his mother. The Dark Lord was ever crafty and resourceful in ensuring that his loyal followers still followed. The letter was signed only with an impression of the Dark Mark. Draco crumpled the letter and threw it across the room, burning it to ash with a quick 'Incendio!' before it hit the floor. He scowled; he would have to give up something of what he was doing, but he'd already planned for this scenario. He quickly pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and scribbled furiously.

Master,

Thank you for your show of faith in me. You will not be disappointed. I press on, knowing that my success will further our cause and strike a heavy blow to the Muggle-lovers.

Harry Potter has been missing now for a few weeks. I became aware, through my contacts and persuasive interrogation techniques, that he intended to strike out on his own. I am trailing him and feeding him false information and leads. He is currently in Moscow, waiting to hear from a contact who does not exist. I will pose as the contact and further lead him astray. As I go, I am watching his movements and everyone he comes in contact with. I believe there is a traitor among your most loyal, and I intend to find him and kill him, then bring Potter to you. But I must wait until the traitor surfaces.

Again, I thank you for your trust. My years of unflinching loyalty have afforded me this trust, and I do not take it lightly. However, I know you do not accept mere words as tokens. I will keep you informed and send you tangible proof of my continued loyalty soon.

Faithful until death,

D.M.

Draco read this letter through multiple times as well as he had the previous one. It was critical that he use the right words and phrases to cast any suspicion off himself. When he finished, he dressed and went downstairs with the letter in hand. Harry and Hermione were eating breakfast, talking quietly.

"Morning, Malfoy," said Harry.

Draco nodded, then handed the letter to Harry.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at it.

"Just read it," said Draco, fixing himself a plate.

Harry's eyes widened as he read. "Malfoy – I don't understand – what is this?"

"I told you I would fix it, didn't I?"

"Yes, but – how does this fix anything?" Hermione took the letter from Harry and she too read it.

"When I orchestrated all of this, I tried to think of every possibility." Draco sat across from Harry and Hermione, talking primarily to Harry. "One of the first things I thought of was the fact that my disappearance would not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord. It was too obvious. This is the contingency plan I developed for when he demanded to know what had happened to me."

"A contingency?" asked Hermione.

"Yes."

"So this is what you came up with last night? This letter?" asked Harry.

"No. I have already written him, and received his reply this morning. This is my second letter to him."

Hermione's eyed widened. "You're writing to him?"

"I am now," he said casually. "But I knew this would happen eventually."

"How can this work? I mean, I'm not in Moscow."

"I've already worked it all out, I did ages ago. It will take me a few months to track you before I learn the identity of the traitor. All the while, I will feed the Dark Lord information about you and the traitor without ever leaving England."

"What's this tangible evidence you intend to send?"

"Pictures. Of you, meeting at night with a dark, hooded figure in the woods. I will play the role of the traitor, you will be yourself, and Granger will play me and take the pictures. There are woods on the Western edge of my property."

"And you've already thought of all of this."

"Of course. I have many contingency plans for various scenarios that might arise."

"I think we should discuss them," said Hermione.

"There are dozens; it would be a waste of time."

"Says you," she replied. "What if they involve me? Or Harry?"

"Of course they involve you. I have plans for the events of your capture, injury, betrayal, and death, to name a few."

"I would never betray Harry," said Hermione fiercely.

"No, of course not," Draco said, giving her a hard look. "But you would not think twice about betraying me. I have to be prepared for all possible events."

"Who's the traitor you speak of?" Harry asked, still focused on the letter.

Draco smirked. "Why, me, of course."

Harry frowned, but Hermione was looking at him with an expression of clarity.

"You're throwing him off the scent by putting in his mind the idea of someone betraying him, and you're saying that you intend to find that person, but all the while it's really you, and you're not really doing anything."

"Your rambling is dizzying, Granger. But you have the general idea of things."

"You're really betraying Voldemort." It was a question, but at the same time, it was a statement of realization, as if she just now understood what was really going on.

Draco looked deep into her eyes as she stared at him with an expression of confusion. "And some people said you weren't the brightest witch in our class."

"Malfoy," said Harry, warningly.

Draco put up his hands to indicate he would back off. Hermione was still staring at him with that odd look. "What?" he said, when it looked like she wasn't going to quit.

She seemed to snap out of a trance and she blinked. "I just – I don't know, I guess I didn't really realize the implications of what you're doing. Why, Malfoy?"

He shook his head. "We have had this conversation. I've given you my answer."

"Your island."

"Yes."

"Now what?" asked Harry, before they could start bickering, as they usually did.

"Nothing changes," said Draco. "We continue our training, Granger continues her job, and I periodically send the Dark Lord updates of my progress. In a week or two we'll do the pictures." He stood and cleared his plate. "And after giving it much thought, I still insist we don't get a subscription to the newspaper. Too risky."

Harry nodded. "Shall we begin then our daily dose of beating each other within an inch of our lives?"

"Yes; soon. I will send this letter in a few days. Since we're supposed to be in Russia, I have to delay my responses to him for the appropriate amount of time it would take an owl to fly from there to here, doubled. I wanted to tell you, Harry, because should there ever be an occasion where it comes up, you needed to know. I don't foresee that happening, but just in case."

He turned with a flourish and returned to his room.

"I still don't trust him," said Hermione.

Harry sighed. "I know. You don't really have to, I guess. But Hermione, I do trust him."

"And I trust you. So that means that I am indirectly trusting him."

"We put trust in him every day we're here because every day he could kill us, or worse, turn us over to Voldemort. He's been nothing but upfront with both of us about this whole matter."

"Except for the reasons he's doing all this."

"Well, yes. You're right. Besides that."

She paused to think. She didn't know if she would ever trust him, despite the things he had done for her and Harry, and the things he was doing. There was too much standing between them, namely that huge wall she'd built of him in her mind. She was pretty certain he had a similar wall built around his image, his concept, of her, too. Trust would come slowly, if at all, and it would be with one brick at a time falling from those walls.

ooo

A/N: Thanks as always! And quite little note: i love all the speculation about who the two people are from last chapter. Alas, we won't see them again for a little while. So, the question will continue unanswered for now. Gotta keep you coming back, right:)

And thank you - thank you - for all the lovely reviews and comments! They make my day, and I mean that. You all rock!