A/N: Sorry on the wait. My computer died last Tuesday… various RAM issues and whatnot…it was quite the dinosaur. Anyway, brand new laptop! (I've never had a laptop before…sad for a college student, I know)…so in any case, I'll hopefully make up for lost time this week, what with the novelty and all. ;-)

Disclaimer: Same as always

Chapter 24

With a blast of magical energy, Voldemort forced his way into the dank, dark room. And there was someone waiting for him.

"I wondered when you'd come," a dry, reedy voice that sounded as though it were tired from a lack of use sounded from across the room. The voice belonged to a withered old man with dark, sunken, shifty eyes and gnarled hands which sat folded calmly in his lap.

"Grindelwald…"

"Yes. It is me. You've been searching for some time, I daresay."

Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly. "What is time to me?" he hissed. "Irrelevant. And now I am here. And I think you know why."

"Strange…I do. But I must urge you against what you seek."

Another hiss. "Against?" he asked, incredulously. "I will possess the Death Stick. And you- you will tell me how."

There was several seconds' silence while Grindelwald sized up Voldemort. Two of the evilest wizards of their days, one at the newly-returned height of power, the other long declining, powerless. But here, they were a match, were equals, in their quests for the same knowledge, the same mastery of death.

"You had it." Voldemort prompted. "How long was it in your possession?" Grindelwald said nothing. "Crucio!" He contorted with pain and shrieked horribly. "Come now, come. What is the point? You must recognize your own imminent death. You can tell me what I desire, or you may not, but surely you realize that Lord Voldemort will gain the truth- one way or another."

Grindelwald's face tightened into hard lines.

"I will give you what you seek."

"You will tell me what has become of the wand?"

"No- I will give you the wand, and the secret to being its master. But I will warn you now- it is not worth it. Death may not be conquered. You will become more its slave than ever. Look at me."

Voldemort laughed cynically. "Your power is laughable to mine. Indeed, I have already gained a level of immortality unknown to wizard kind. Think of the Death Stick as- an additional bonus."

Grindelwald bowed his head in apparent defeat. He reached a clawed hand into his dirty, matted robes and produced a wand- it seemed to shine in the dankness of the room. Voldemort's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"You still have it? How can this be?"

"It is a mockery to me," Grindelwald said bitterly, eyes flashing. "Dumbledore knew, when he defeated me, that death would be a blessing. What he didn't know was that, by leaving me alive, but defeated, he broke the power of the wand. It is worthless to me."

"Then…it will answer to Dumbledore?" He almost spit the name with distaste.

"No."

"How is that possible?"

"It is the Death Stick. Death is the secret. His weakness was his mercy. Had he possessed the strength to kill me, the wand would have passed to him. The last possessor of the wand, before Gregorovitch took it to study- and he never truly believed in its power, never used it, never had the strength to master it- he was killed by one who knew not what the wand was. Since the death of its murderer, it has waited to be taken up by a worthy master, and it thought me so. Now, after my defeat, it awaits my death."

Voldemort's laugh was high and cold this time.

"How utterly convenient for me then," he whispered. "I was going to kill you anyway."

"And I will welcome the relief. But beware. It is tricky in ways you cannot even begin to imagine."

He died with Voldemort's laugh ringing in his ears.

The four emerged from the mists of the pensieve, silent but for the deafening resonation of that cold laugh. Hermione looked at Snape, and found his expression guarded, revealing nothing. Harry looked lost and confused, and Ron just looked bewildered.

"Is it…is it true then?" Harry seemed reluctant to speak, and braced himself visible for Snape's onslaught of scathing insults. It never came.

"We will wait for Professor Dumbledore to return," he finally said evenly.

"But- -"

"I would not wish to speculate at this critical moment. If there is any truth to this, the Dark Lord will act quickly, and he will strike hard."

Harry and Ron left shortly after that. Hermione promised to call them as soon as they reached Dumbledore, and then she was alone with Snape. She turned to him and opened her mouth, but he held up a halting hand.

"Let me think a moment."

She nodded and wordlessly left the room, returning a few minutes later with two cups of tea. When she held one out to him, he looked at her, surprised, as though he hadn't even noticed that she left the room.

"You alright?"

"Hm." He looked pensive as he sipped his tea. "Difficult to say. I struggle to believe that which is being thrust upon me again and again." He sighed.

"Do you know of Cassandra? The daughter of Priam?" He looked amused.

"Please do not compare Potter to a classical Greek prophetess. I shall be wary, however, that I not dismiss his…seeing abilities."

She laughed lightly, then sobered. "Are you going to send a message to Professor Dumbledore?"

"There is no need."

Both turned in alarm at the new voice from the doorway. Indeed, Dumbledore stood there in the flesh, looking more worn than Hermione was comfortable to see.

"That was a fast trip," Snape observed wryly.

Dumbledore smiled ambiguously. "My business was faster than I expected." He turned to Hermione. "How are you, my dear?"

"I'm quite well, thanks," she murmured. "You look a little beat though, sir, I must admit."

A bit of the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eye, and he chuckled. "Yes, I suspected as much. But forgive me, I'm behind the times- Severus was supposed to send me a message?"

Hermione started subtly. She always took it for granted that Dumbledore knew what was going on, knew what the next step had to be. It never occurred to her that he had simply showed up now, when he was needed, and not known why.

"Potter." Snape said simply. Dumbledore's expression faltered slightly, and Hermione thought she saw a dark flash across his face before he mastered himself.

"Voldemort?" the question was casual, but Hermione sensed the tension behind it.

"Indeed. It's all in the pensieve, if you care to view it firsthand." Again, Hermione thought Dumbledore hesitated, but he acquiesced with a grateful nod.

She shot a perplexed look to Snape, who in turn looked a bit baffled at Dumbledore's seeming disconnectedness.

When he emerged from the pensieve, he looked sadly resigned.

"How long ago did Harry see this?"

"Not more than an hour. He came and woke me," Hermione told him softly.

He thought for a moment. "We will reconvene in a few hours," he finally said.

"That's it?" Snape finally spoke. "We've been waiting for this…ridiculous…development, and now that it has occurred…we will wait?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Voldemort will not bring down the wizarding world in the time it takes us to sleep properly and regain our wits; mine especially." Again, Hermione realized just how wearied he look now, more so than ever before. "I will send you a message."

"Albus- is it real?"

He turned back to Snape and smiled sadly. "As real as you or I."

"Did you not know? When you defeated him?"

He paused. "I knew that these matters of death and wands were far more complicated and complex than most comprehend."

And with those unhelpful, completely ambiguous words, he left Hermione alone with Snape once more.

"What do you think?" Snape spoke up after a minute of silence.

"I think…that we should take Professor Dumbledore's advice and get some sleep."

He sighed and moved towards the stairs with her. "I doubt I would succeed in such an endeavor."

"Then come with me." He raised an eyebrow but followed her the opposite way down the hallway to her own room. Once there, she shed her outer covering robe and gestured that he should do the same. That done, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her inquiringly. She approached him slowly, bare feet sinking softly into the thick rug.

His eyes never left hers as she gently reached for him, bringing her arms up and placing her hands at the back of his neck. He remained unmoving as she brought her face down to meet his, lips ghosting over his and across his cheek before leaning to whisper in his ear.

"Relax."

He seemed to, somewhat. He settled back slightly and brought his hands to her waist.

She brought her face back to his and placed her lips against his more forcefully this time. He tensed again and she persisted; gradually, he allowed it, and his fingers clenched, digging into the soft material of her pyjamas.

Without warning, he pulled away, but maintained his grip on her waist.

"Hermione…"

"Don't," she murmured. "I know what you'll say. It's okay. Leave if you want. But don't say it."

His eyes flashed with an expression she couldn't quite read. Suddenly, she found her lips crushed to his again, this time by his doing. She gasped in surprise when she felt herself lifted and swung around onto the bed next to him.

He leaned over and continued to kiss her fervently, pinning her body with his own, hands lightly tracing up and down her sides.

It seemed no time at all before Snape was pulling away, a seeming-regretful look on his face.

"What's wrong?" she propped herself up on her elbows to better look at him.

He smiled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. But you should learn patience." His tone was gently teasing and she grinned abashedly. "Try and get some sleep now," he told her quietly.

"Will you stay?" she asked, looking resigned.

There was only the slightest hesitation this time. "Of course," he agreed, and they settled into what was seeming to become a habitual position, with him holding her tightly, and her pressed snugly to him, head resting against his chest.

"Miss Granger seems much improved from my last visit," Dumbledore remarked sagely the following afternoon before lunch. He and Snape were alone in the drawing room, waiting on Hermione to fetch Harry and Ron.

Snape's expression turned defensive.

"My reading into the situation was…inaccurate," he said stiltedly.

"And were you able to remedy whatever was troubling her?"

A ghost of a smile passed across Snape's face ever so briefly. "It's a work in progress, but yes, I daresay progress is being made."

"Good, good," Dumbledore looked about the room inquisitively, and Snape guessed that his mind, too, was otherwise occupied.

SCENESCENESCENESCENESCENE

A/N: A bit shorter than usual, but I didn't want to start another long complex section of Voldemort analysis. So my apologies.

Hope you enjoyed. Sorry again for the wait.

Until next time,

Cheers!