Authors Note: Oh. My. God. I. Am. Back!

Please forgive me for the long delay; my husband and i moved across the state oh AND I JUST HAD A BABY! He is lovely and sweet and is not conducive to posting regularly. So, please forgive me if updates are somewhat sporadic. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

All my love,

~C.B.

We hit the floor. Hard.

Coughing from the sudden cloud of dust that envelopes me, I roll quickly back to my feet and catch sight of Draco. He is slowly rising and his eyes catch mine. There is something there in that glance that troubles me. Draco continues to stare at me, but says nothing. Then as quickly as that unnerving pulse behind his eyes is there, it is gone. He turns away from me and makes his way towards a window that is cracked and dirty, peering out of it with his hands to the glass like a curious child.

I approach him slowly; his behavior is growing stranger by the second and I believe I know why. As if to confirm my suspicions, his fingertips are quivering against the glass pane.

"Draco,"

"It's a strange thing, isn't it," his voice is small, the end note quivering, "here I believed I would never see this place again and here I am? And it's all thanks to you Professor." His fingers are practically dancing now, restless.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out a small flask, "Here," I hold it out to his back, "Draco, you're sick. You may not think you need this, but I've been in the same place you are. It will help for now."

His hands pause, but only for a moment, "You think I'm a lush, don't you?"

"Please," I insist,"we don't have much time. I need you in some kind of coherent state-"

He finally turns around to face me and his grey eyes are surprisingly dark, "I would have never gotten this far if it weren't for you…Professor."

I can feel my wick quickly reaching its end, my voice taking on its old familiar sting,"I am losing my patience with you boy. Either you take my advice or you can lay here and begin your miserable withdrawals. Now is not the time to try and play nice. You are a drunk. Without this you will grow sicker by the minute and I will not be here to hold back your hair. Take it, or don't. I am wasting my time with you." I throw the flask to him and with surprising dexterity he catches it.

His fingers are no longer trembling. He smiles without humor,"They told me about you."

I sigh, it sounds surprisingly sad, "I figured as much."

Draco looks down at the flask and tosses it to the floor near my feet, "Yes, well," he shrugs, "I wasn't lying when I said that others had already tried to recruit me. Did you really think I would have turned down an offer to try and reclaim the honor of my family name and our home?"

"One can hope a man can change."

Draco laughs,"Like you, you mean?"

I continue to stare at him, "I am still who I always was."

"No," Draco pulls his wand out of his back pocket, "you aren't." he motions with it for me to sit in a nearby chair and I comply, "You have grown soft Snape. And you know what? I actually used to respect you. Can you believe that?"

"What did they promise you?" I growl, "Fame? Fortune?"

"Actually, they promised me nothing. I did turn them down." Draco shrugs, "The idea of bringing you to their doorstep didn't occur until you removed your glamor at my front door. You can call it a spur of the moment idea. So, what was it?"

My patience is beginning to grow thin; but I know I must continue to humor him if I want to come up with a proper escape plan, "What was what?"

Draco begins to circle me, wand never wavering, "What was it that caused the great spy, Severus Snape to lose his edge? Guilt complex? There must be a reason."

"Isn't having assassins blow up your home reason enough? I just want to be left alone."

The chuckle that comes from behind me is dark, "If that were the case you could have just run. You've managed to hide yourself for this long…why in Merlins name would you want to ever draw this much attention to yourself? It must be because of something…" the floorboards creak as he leans in towards my ear and whispers, "Or, someone."

"You have lost your damn mind," I growl, turning my head to meet his amused eyes. They are only a few inches from me and are very clear and searching.

He smiles, "Oh yes, that is it, isn't it? But who could ever bring the great Half Blood Prince to his very knees?"

"Draco," my voice is laced with warning.

As if someone turned on the lights in a dark house, there is a flicker in the grey depths staring into mine, "The mud-"

That is as far as he gets.

My forehead slams into Draco's nose and a loud crack and a grunt of surprise echo through the cabin. He stumbles and falls onto his back, hands clutching his face as bright red blood seeps out between his fingers. With a speed that surprises even me I am above him, ripping his wand from his grasp and grinding my boot into his stomach. Draco gurgles, his red hands grabbing desperately at my ankle. His nose is even more crooked than mine and large black rings are already forming around his eyes.

"You bastard," he sputters, "how dare you!"

I glare down at him and point my own wand, "Petrificus Totalus." his thrashing ceases, grip suddenly loosening so I can pull my foot away. Even his bloody nose has stopped leaking.

I could kill him, and probably should. But as I look down at this former student of mine, a young man hardened by war who has no father… I cannot help but see parallels between him and myself. Sighing, I tuck his want in my pocket with my own. "Goodbye Malfoy; this is the only mercy you will receive from me. If you I ever see you again, I will kill you."

The door looms large in front of me, daring me to make my way through. This is not the best option must be another way in. I begin ripping apart the cabin; I toss chairs, rip down the shades, tear books from their shelves… but still I cannot seem to find any other way out. With a grunt, I sit beside the young Malfoys' still form and rest my chin upon my hand. My eyes wander to his and they are still staring far off into space, giving nothing away. "I should have at lease tortured you a little," I sigh, "perhaps then you would have at least given me something useful." The form frozen on the floor beside me says nothing, but I can swear the left eyelid twitches. Seeing no better option, I also lay beside him and close my eyes, beginning to question myself and my own motives. I've mucked things up and good. I've not only destroyed my own life but Hermione's as well. Her face flickers through my mind: I can see her large brown eyes staring knowingly into mine, the pink line running down her cheek that I had been able to caress, and the soft pink bow shaped lips I had almost been able to kiss. She has changed me for the better and I know that I love her. There is an ache in my heat knowing she is somewhere in that accursed manor, more than likely having unspeakable things done to her. The hate begins to well up again and I can feel the static charge all the way down to my fingertips. I open my eyes and am surprised to realize there is something flashing at me from the ceiling. It is but a small pinprick, but there is certainly something. Jumping to my feet I grab the table from the corner and bring it right under the tiny flash. Grabbing my wand, I point it at the small light and shout, "Alohomora!"

There is a creak, a sudden outpouring of dust directly into my face, and a loud crack of the wooden door hitting stone. The small pinprick of light was a trap door in the ceiling. Despite it being daylight through the windows, the space through the door is surprisingly dark. I glance down one last time at Draco, the boy I used to teach and am surprised that I feel at least what is an echo of pity. The kind thing to do would be to drop his wand at his feet and say a proper goodbye, at least give him a chance. However, circumstances being what they are I am feeling less than generous. Whatever pity that is there for the Malfoy child is easily overtaken by anger. My life having been what it was, I know better than to give those who betray me the benefit of the doubt. The smart thing to do would be to end his life and eliminate any chance of him returning to do Hermione harm or myself. But there is a nagging in the back of my brain warning me that I may feel some regret if I do. All I want is to save Hermione and go home. Despite my reservations, I can feel my hand begin to tighten around my wands handle, begging to be taken out and used to do dark bidding. As if my body has a will of its own, my arm raises and my wands tip is pointed at the fair haired wretch lying petrified on the floor. I should do it. Kill him. He deserves it. It may even be a mercy killing considering the rather squalid condition his life has taken. My wand arm is steady and true; he wouldn't feel a thing. And yet…

I drop my arm and shove my wand back into my pocket, instead removing his wand, but only to snap it into two pieces. I throw them at his feet, "Remember what I said boy. Be grateful that I have spared your miserable life. Goodbye." Reaching up into the dark space, I take hold of the sides of the now open door and hoist myself into the oblivion.

As soon as I pull my body through the hole, the door slams shut and I am enveloped in near pitch darkness. I blink my eyes quickly, trying to adjust to my new surroundings. It smells musty and damp and somewhere in the blackness down the hallway is the faint orange glow of a torch. With sudden recollection, I realize that I am now standing in the very bowels of Malfoy Manor. These halls are familiar to me. To the left, down a short ways is the flight of stairs leading up towards the main floor of the manor. To my right is another flight, leading down into further blackness; the dungeon. A small prick of terror rises in my spine when I hear a faint wail; it could be anything really; it could be the wind, it could be nothing, or it could be…

My feet begin flying, racing towards the stairs leading even deeper into the prison below the manor. Any other wizard or witch may have brushed off that noise which was hardly a noise at all, but I would know that voice anywhere; that voice that I have heard in my deepest sleep, in my waking hours of daydreaming and that has spoken so kindly to me in some of the most wonderful and unconventional last few weeks of my life.

It is my Hermione.

It is her screams.

I cannot seem to move fast enough, time itself seeming to slow around me. And in my ears the screams grow louder, the rage in my soul building to an almost all consuming fire.

I will have vengeance.

I will have violence.

I will have blood.