A/N: I do apologize. As long as I need to. RL sucks.

However, at this point I am happy to say that this story is finally finished, and will be updated weekly from now on. So stick with me, the ride might be a tad bumpy, but all the more interesting. ;)

Chapter 10: Lost and found

As Severus ran through the corridors, seemingly taking forever but in reality, reaching his destination in mere minutes, he had enough time to wonder whether Dumbledore would be able to shed some light on his condition. Guilt and shame warred with anger and frustration as he approached the door that led to Albus' room, and Severus needed to gather himself before he entered. The old man knew too much of him as it was, so there really was no need for another teary eyed visitor. Minerva would take care of that, Severus was certain.

Severus opened the door and quietly slipped inside. The dim light illuminated only the bedside table, casting a warm glow on Dumbledores face. The old wizard lay peacefully, eyes closed and breathing steadily, but Severus had no doubt that his Master was fully awake and aware of his surroundings.

Truly enough, Albus opened his eyes and eyed Severus silently. Severus stayed out of the ray of light, preferring the shadowed corner, as per usual. Knowing better than to expect Severus to sit by his sickbed, Dumbledore sighed, propped himself in a sitting position, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I see you have abandoned all your duties to come to see an old man," Albus remarked dryly.

Severus scoffed. His boss should already know very well, that Severus was not to be toyed with. Mind games were his specialty, and the pathetic attempt the Headmaster had just made told Severus a great deal more than what was being said.

"Do not try to play me, old man," Severus spat. The worry he had felt was slowly giving way to contempt. How hard it was to hide at times.

"Severus, forgive me for my lousy sense of humor. Perhaps I am too old for all this," he stated, gaze wavering.

"Perhaps you are," Severus sighed. "The current state of affairs is however very serious, and demands most urgent attention. If you allow me, Headmaster, I shall fill you in..."

As Severus did what he was best at, Albus merely listened, hardly making any questions at all. When Snape was finished, silence slowly filled the space, leaving the two men deep in their thoughts. Finally, Dumbledore raised his eyes and began to speak.

"My boy, I fear Mr. Weasley is in grave danger. As are we all, but the three friends in particular. I cannot emphasize enough, how vitally important it is to find the Weasley boy as soon as possible."

"Albus, everything that can be done is already done. Molly and Arthur..."

"Severus, you do not understand. If we do not find Ronald Weasley soon, there is no telling where he will end up. The Boy Who Lived needs him. He MUST be found!" Dumbledore was out of breath, and Severus slipped out of the room as Healers rushed in, shouting commands to each other and to Mediwitches. Robes billowing behind him, Severus exited the ward, making his way to the nearest Floo. He had a lot to do, and even more to think.

Cold. So cold. Shivering helplessly, already forgetting what it felt like to be warm.

Rain did little to help the freezing boy, but it hid his tracks quite effectively. Making his way through bushes, Ron Weasley was soaked, hungry, and utterly alone. Not knowing where to go after leaving Hogwarts, Ron had run, almost blindly, and eventually, found himself in the woods. As he was less prepared to spend time outdoors, he soon discovered his error, but being upset made it impossible for him to Apparate, and so he was left to his own devices, not knowing where he was.

It had been days since he had last eaten, and he felt weak as he stumbled forward, in a desperate need of shelter. He knew he was in some part of the Forbidden Forest, but that was as much as he knew, and remembering the late Aragog and the spawn, he kept moving, scared out of his wits.

Had he been less terrified, he probably would have noticed something different in his surroundings. Perhaps he would have heard the quiet murmur of human voices, or seen the flicker of a tiny flame.

"My my, it's not every day you have your meal delivered to your doorstep," a rough voice drawled. Too late, Ron realized the danger he was in. As blackness enveloped him, he heard low growling and howls from a distance. The last thing he saw was the almost full moon peaking behind a cloud.

Hermione kept up the appearances, revising, tutoring and making sure all Prefects knew their tasks. She volunteered to do her rounds on Fridays and Saturdays, knowing the others would appreciate the time off. She, on the other hand, hoped to run into her Professor, since all they had been able to exchange lately were some quick but all the more meaningful looks. Severus was busy, juggling between teaching, spying and helping Minerva, and it seemed Dumbledore would never return.

Keeping busy was a good distraction, but as time passed, Hermione grew restless and unsure. Sometimes she even wondered if she had imagined it all, but then she would catch her lover staring and drown in the ebony depths of his eyes. We'll have our moment, she told herself. Unfortunately, Hermione was not one to possess the fine virtue called patience, and she grew increasingly snappish, as days went by.

Furthermore, she was unable to soothe herself, as her own fingers no longer possessed the power to give release. Not the way she needed it, anyway. Hermione craved his touch, wanted him so much her body ached. Had she not felt his eyes burning holes to her clothing, she would have thought she was the only one randy beyond reason. However, the smoldering eyes followed her keenly, giving away the passion only she knew.

Ron had lost track of time. He was not sure how long he had been kept captive; however, he knew his time was running out. It was almost full moon, and his captors kept arguing whether or not Ron would be devoured or made one of them. He was not certain which would be worse; to live or to die. The pack of werewolves was not a large one, but Ron had heard talk of Greyback, and the bits and pieces of information he was able to gather confirmed that a visit from the twisted beast was to be expected soon. Until then, Ron would be safe; the pack was too scared to make decisions on their own. He hoped Greyback would not be back any time soon; hope was hard to give up on, no matter how little of it was available.

Someone will come for me, Ron assured himself. By now, he had had time to think things through, and he was more than ready to return and face what he had done. I will make things right. I will make it up to her. All will be well again.