A/N: Here we go. Computer troubles almost meant I couldn't post today.

I also completely forgot that Snape had already used the epitaph line in OoTP: "Would you like me to do it now? Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?" Whoops. Thank you readers for catching that!

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

"Harry's been making progress," Hermione said two weeks later, when they were all gathered at Grimmauld Place. Severus had been summoned earlier that evening, and hadn't returned in time to attend. "It's slow, to be sure, and he doesn't really have a talent for it, but he's coming along."

"Excellent," Minerva said approvingly, giving Hermione a rare, thin smile.

"How much have you told him about the Weapon?" Tonks asked, and Hermione knew she was trying to gauge Harry's current skill.

"Nothing vital," Hermione admitted. "The most he knows is that it's a Prophecy concerning both himself and the Dark Lord."

"And when do you plan to tell him where it is?" Moody asked roughly.

"As soon as I plan to take him there to retrieve it," Hermione replied. "That will come last—and, most importantly, when I think he's ready to hear it."

There were nods of agreement, some more reluctant than others, but invariably conceding.

"Next order of business," Kingsley said, smiling. "I officially listed Hermione Granger as missing last week, and I've added her to my caseload."

"So you're in charge of both the hunt for Sirius Black and my apparent abduction," Hermione said dryly.

"It's put a streak on Umbridge's career, that's for certain," Moody growled, looking rather self-satisfied. "First week as Headmistress, and she's already missing a high-profile student."

"And the fireworks," Arthur said, not quite meeting Molly's eyes. "Mustn't forget the fireworks."

Kingsley winked at him. "Naturally. Although they've been rather quiet for the past several weeks."

"They must be planning something big," Tonks said, looking hopeful.

"They'd better not," Molly said, just a bit too forcefully.

"Harry and Ron are dealing with your absence rather well," Kingsley continued, breaking apart the discussion before it could devolve into an argument. "They don't, of course, have the full details, but I thought it pertinent to assure them that you were safe."

Hermione nodded. "I appreciate that," she said quietly.

The meeting was quickly adjourned after that, and Sirius pulled Hermione aside before she could slip back to Hogwarts.

"Harry contacted me earlier this week," he said in an undertone.

"By Floo?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. "Sirius—"

"No—no," Sirius assured her. "That's too risky. I gave Harry one of the mirrors James and I used to use while we were in detention…"

"Brilliant," Hermione said, and she meant it. "I don't know why he didn't think to use it earlier. I wish you had told me!"

Sirius shifted uneasily. "I think he didn't want to use it, at first," he admitted, "because I gave it to him so that he could tell me if—if Snape was giving him any trouble in Occlumency."

Ah. And Harry wouldn't want to risk Sirius storming into the castle to have a word with Snape for perceived maltreatment. "But you gave it to him anyway, and he—contacted you?"

"He had questions," Sirius said quietly. "About—about what James was like when we were kids, about you and where you fit into all of this, and your… connection with Snape."

Hermione pursed her lips. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him you and Snape were close in school," Sirius confessed. "Harry also told me about some of the memories he saw in Snape's pensieve—I won't repeat that to anyone else, I swear," he added, seeing the blood drain from Hermione's face. "As much as I hate him, I wouldn't—you know I wouldn't."

Hermione swallowed. "I know. What else did you say?"

"To be honest, very little else," Sirius admitted. "I think Harry just needed someone to talk to about this." He paused. "He did say that Snape is… deferential around you. That's what was bothering him the most, aside from what he saw James do."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Harry's bothered by the fact that Severus and I get along?"

"He's bothered by the rapport you two have," Sirius clarified. "He said it was like you two already knew each other from a long time ago—which is true, actually," he said, as Hermione made a moue of distaste, "which is why I told him you two were friends, back in school."

"Did that satisfy him?"

Sirius paused.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I trust you with my life, and I've already told him that—but you have to admit, being a Death Eater's wife, you're treading a fine line between reality and disguise."

Hermione nodded. She uncrossed her arms and took his hand in hers, and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Thanks for telling me," she said softly. "It means a lot to me."

"You needed to know," Sirius said rather seriously, and grimaced. "Just don't tell Harry I told you. It was meant to be said in confidence."

"I won't say a word."

~o~O~o~

"The Dark Lord is growing increasingly impatient," Severus pronounced slowly, after he had returned to their quarters that evening. "He confided to me that he sensed the link between himself and Potter, and has been waiting for an opportunity to exploit it."

"And it's not working?" Hermione asked, delighted.

Severus smirked. "Potter has been avoiding the link, if not outright blocking it," he said. "The Dark Lord is growing worried that Potter is becoming a skilled enough Occlumens to keep him out—perhaps even throw him out, if he were to try and possess Potter through the link.

"Of course," he continued, "he knows that I've been giving him lessons, but he's attributing this improvement to natural skill, rather than any actual help."

"That's good," Hermione breathed. "That's excellent." She set down her notebook, which she had been scrawling furiously in. "Maybe—perhaps it's time to take him to retrieve the Prophecy," she said. "We're nearing the end of the school year, so we haven't much time left."

"I'll admit that if we stopped the lessons now, I could declare him adequately competent," Severus allowed, seating himself in one of the armchairs. "The question is how are you going to get him out of school, undetected?"

Hermione smiled.

"I've already got a plan," she said.

~o~O~o~

"Did you speak to Fred and George?" Hermione asked, as she led Harry into an abandoned classroom.

"They agreed," Harry said, shutting the door behind him. "I've got Transfiguration next—"

"I know. I already spoke to Minerva." Hermione checked that the door was secure, and then leaned against it. "Yesterday was your last official Occlumency lesson. Take a moment to celebrate."

Harry gaped at her, and then a grin spread across his face. "No more lessons?" he asked, as though to make sure.

"None, as long as you keep up your exercises," Hermione told him cheerfully. She paused, and then said, "Which means that I'm going to give you the final piece of information about the Weapon."

Harry looked at her eagerly.

"It's in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione said, keeping her voice low. "Row ninety-seven."

Harry's breath caught. "It's just—there?" he asked, his voice hushed. "No one's taken it?"

"No one can take it," Hermione corrected him gently. "People were already harmed by trying."

"Then how—"

"Only the person or persons who the Prophecy is made about can remove it from the Hall of Prophecy," Hermione said quietly. "And that's where we'll be going, this evening. I've already arranged for Madam Pomfrey to tell everyone that you came to the hospital wing very ill when you should have been in Transfiguration, if anyone should ask."

She could tell Harry was thinking quickly. "That's it? We just go to retrieve the Prophecy, come back, and act like nothing's happened?"

Hermione shook her head.

"As soon as we bring it back, you're going to get a chance to hear it," she assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You, more than anyone else, have the right to know what that Prophecy says about you." Her eyes landed on his lightning-shaped scar. "After all," she murmured, tracing it lightly with her finger, "it's the reason you have… that."

Harry swallowed, and put a hand up to his forehead. "My scar?"

"The Dark Lord heard a portion of the Prophecy, which is why he sought you out," Hermione said. "But he didn't hear it all, which led to his first downfall. Now he wants to hear it in whole, to understand why he failed to kill you when you were a baby."

She tapped his forehead.

"Tonight, you're finally going to find out why he gave you this," she said.

There was a loud, sudden, tell-tale explosion from several floors above, and she smiled.

"That's our signal, I believe." She opened the door to the abandoned classroom. "Are you ready?"

~o~O~o~

They escaped through the same secret passage Hermione had used to sneak into Honeydukes with Severus so many years ago, slipping out of the sweetshop without being seen, and making their way down the High Street. Hermione Disillusioned herself, though Harry had wisely brought his Invisibility Cloak, and she led them inside The Three Broomsticks to use Madam Rosmerta's Floo. A pinch of powder, an explosion of emerald-green flames, and they each took a turn whirling into one of the many fireplaces lining the Ministry's Entrance hall, where the Fountain of Magical Brethren awaited them.

"This way," Hermione murmured, taking Harry's arm in hers. "Watch that no one runs into you—I'd cast some Repelling Charms, but those might make us more visible in a crowd… watch your step—here."

They'd made it inside one of the elevators, and squashed themselves into a corner to avoid knocking into the two witches and single wizard they shared their ride with. Several memos flew in and out, quickly settling in as the doors closed. Hermione quietly pressed the button for level nine and backed away.

"Who's going down to nine today, Dirk?" one of the witches asked.

Dirk shrugged. "I'm at four as always, Maggie."

"Really? I thought I heard one of the folks in your department talking about the Department of Mysteries yesterday…"

"What—oh, yes. Well, I think we've finally made some headway on identifying the properties of Goblin-made armor, so we're hoping the Unspeakables will take on the case…"

There was an exclamation of admiration from the other witch, and Hermione and Harry stepped out of the lift in time to avoid hearing the rest of the conversation. It was late in the afternoon now, and most of the Ministry workers were undoubtedly heading home soon, which meant that down here, it would be much less crowded…

"What's so special about Goblin-made armor, anyway?" Harry muttered, as they made their way to the door at the end of the corridor. "Hey—this is the same door as the one in my dreams…"

"Dreams you haven't been having anymore, I hope," Hermione said pointedly, as she and Harry quietly slipped inside.

"Erm—no," Harry said, as the door shut behind them. "I just remembered it—from before I started practicing, I mean."

"Good." They were in a large, blue-lit, circular room filled with doors. Hermione paused, and then approached the first one they saw. "Goblin-made armor has unique properties that wizards have envied for centuries, so any witch or wizard who can figure out their trick will make a fortune. And, of course, tick off the known Goblin population." She tried the first door. "We're not Unspeakables, so we don't know the trick to this—we're going to have to do this by process of elimination."

The first door was locked. Hermione tapped it with her wand, murmuring several spells to identify it, and then stepped back and drew a searing red 'X' on it. It glowed faintly for a moment, and then faded away.

She tried another door, and pulled it open. The room they peered into was dimly lit, surrounded by stone that descended into a pit. There was an ancient-looking archway with black, frayed fabric that fluttered forlornly. Hermione and Harry gazed at it for a moment, and then she pulled him back and quickly shut the door, carving another red 'x' into it.

"What was that?" Harry asked, as the room began to spin. "Hey—"

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out," Hermione said tightly. "Let's try another."

She flicked her wand, and both of the doors she had marked flared to life. Harry looked around at the remaining ten, untried doors, and she saw his fingers twitch in anticipation before he took a step forward and pushed the nearest one.

Hermione blinked, and carefully followed Harry into the next room, which was full of bright, glittering light—

"This is it," she heard Harry breathe, not quite listening as she gazed at a glass bell-jar on a desk, where a tiny hummingbird was rising and falling with the cycle of life. "The next room—it has to be…"

Hermione stopped by the shelf of Time-Turners—all of different shapes and sizes, but unmistakable. She was rather wary of Time-Turners now, after what had happened, but she couldn't help but be fascinated. So much time—so many possibilities—here, in this room…

"Professor—" Harry was standing by another door, holding it ajar. He had torn off his Invisibility Cloak, looking elated. "Professor, this is it!"

Hermione tore herself away from the Time-Turners and followed Harry into the next room. She let out a small gasp, as the sight of orbs—thousands upon thousands of dusty, spun-glass spheres—lined the room, shelf by shelf. Footsteps echoed as Harry began striding down the rows, and Hermione stopped, ears cocked for a moment, before satisfying herself that they were well and truly alone before jogging after him.

"Slow down," she whispered, as she caught up. Row ninety-five… ninety-six… "You don't want to bump into any of these accidentally—they might not look dangerous, but these are what put Bode in St. Mungo's, remember?"

Harry let out a sharp breath. "I'd forgotten…"

They stopped at row ninety-seven, and exchanged glances.

"This is it," Hermione murmured, slowly walking down the aisle. "It should be near the end…"

"Where are all the Unspeakables?" Harry asked in an undertone. "Shouldn't they be here…?"

"It's late," Hermione whispered. "We've been gone for longer than you realize. By the time we get back, I wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry were almost completely empty…"

They came to a stop, and Hermione pointed at the glass sphere that bore Harry and the Dark Lord's name.

"It's yours," she promised. "Take it."

Harry reached out with trembling hands, and Hermione watched him hesitate, and then snatch it up. Nothing happened. They both exchanged looks of almost giddy relief, and then Hermione motioned for him to pocket it.

"Put your Invisibility Cloak back on," she whispered, renewing her Disillusionment Charm. "We're leaving."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as they left the Hall of Prophecy, and slipped back into the brightly-lit Time Room. "You know, I thought—I thought this might be more difficult…"

"It might have been, if the Dark Lord had continued to share his obsession with the room with you," Hermione acknowledged. "But since you've blocked him out, he's come to believe you adamantly refuse to look yourself." She offered him a warm smile. "He doesn't know you as well as he would like to think."

Harry grinned, looking elated, and then his expression suddenly turned serious. "I've been wondering about some other stuff," he admitted.

"Like what?" Hermione prompted, knowing he was still a bit wary about prying.

Harry made a face. "It's just—you and Snape…" he began.

"Ah, yes," Hermione said, with a wry twist of her lips. "The two of you have never gotten along, I know. And you don't trust him."

"But you do," Harry said slowly. "And Sirius trusts you, but he doesn't trust Snape."

"That puts you in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?" Hermione agreed, as they slipped back into the circular chamber.

Harry gave her an odd look, as Hermione firmly placed her hand on the door opposite of the first door she had marked—the locked door—and pushed it open, revealing the dimly-lit corridor that led back to the upper levels of the Ministry.

"Why don't you think for yourself?" Hermione prompted, as they made their way back to the lift. "Decide whether you trust me based on what's an important factor in determining trustworthiness, and not on whether Sirius is my best friend, or Severus is someone I knew from my school years. I think," she continued, as they stepped into the now-empty cage, and pressed the button for Level Eight, "You'll be a lot happier if you do it that way."

"You're not bothered that I don't trust you?" Harry asked with surprise, as the lift shuddered close and slowly began to rise. "I mean, I trust you, given all you've done for me, but I—"

"I'd be more bothered if you didn't learn to think for yourself," Hermione told him. "True—it's good to learn to trust the judgment of your friends, but it's also important to be able to look at things carefully when they don't sit right with you. And the truth is," she said, as they stepped out of the lift, "you really don't know me. You have every right to be wary."

"You're rather straightforward about this," Harry said frankly.

Hermione gave him a wicked smile. "Did I ever tell you I was in Gryffindor?"

The Atrium was empty as they stepped out, and the two of them invisibly made their way over to the Floo chambers.

"Harry, do you have the Map on you?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"The what?" Harry asked, surprised.

"The Marauder's Map. Do you have that on you?"

Harry began fiddling with his pocket, and then pulled out the yellowing sheet of parchment. Hermione held out her hand for it, and he gave her a hesitant look, before doing so. She unrolled it, and then tapped it with her wand.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good…"

"You know how to use the map!" Harry exclaimed in a hushed undertone.

"Of course. I was with the Marauders, wasn't I?" Hermione said lazily, as she perused the map, searching for Umbridge. "She's not in her office—she's patrolling the corridor just outside the Hospital Wing… we can use her Floo to shortcut."

She folded the map back up and handed it to Harry, who stuffed it back into his pocket. Sudden footsteps behind them, however, made Harry and Hermione wheel around.

"Who's there?" Lucius Malfoy demanded, striding across the room.

Hermione hesitated, and then shoved Harry toward the Floo. Harry fumbled with the Floo powder for a moment, and she unveiled herself just as the flames turned emerald green.

"It is I," she said calmly, pointing her wand at Malfoy. "And what are you doing here so late, Lucius?"

"For someone who's supposed to be a missing woman, you're uncommonly easy to find," Lucius drawled, coming to a stop. Hermione saw his hand twitch toward the head of his cane. There was the sudden whoosh as the flames turned red again, signaling Harry's departure, and he snapped suddenly, "Who's with you?"

"No one," Hermione quipped. "They're gone now, aren't they?"

Lucius's nostrils flared angrily, and he took a step forward. "What were you doing here, tonight?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Hermione said, reaching for a pinch of floo powder with one hand, her wand still pointed at the blond man with the other. "It's a little late to be paying the Minister a visit, isn't it?"

Lucius's wand whipped out, and Hermione stepped forward, one foot in the flames.

"You went to the Hall of Prophecy, didn't you?" Lucius whispered. "Of course. That must mean you brought Potter with you here tonight…"

"No proof," Hermione said happily, swinging her other foot into the fireplace. Malfoy's wand jerked in her direction, and she waved her hand at him in farewell as she almost unintelligibly uttered, "Umbridge's office, Hogwarts!"

She spun away in time to see a jet of red light aim for her, only to land impotently in the brick wall behind her head. The world rotated dizzily for a moment, and then she managed to right herself and step out into Umbridge's seemingly-empty office.

Harry tore off his Invisibility Cloak once he saw it was her.

"What was Mr. Malfoy doing there?" he asked fiercely.

"Any number of things, I suppose," Hermione said, brushing her robes off. "Paying a visit to the Minister, sneaking around the Department of Mysteries—probably gone to check that now, actually…you know how it is." She shrugged, and spelled her boots clean of soot. "The usual things villains do when they've been thwarted."

Harry goggled at her. Hermione grinned.

"You ought to go off to bed," she told him. "I'll let you keep the Prophecy for now, but don't break it. Keep it safe until I meet you tomorrow." She ruffled his already messy hair, and then tugged the Cloak back over his head. "Finish up your classes, and then come join me in Minerva's office. You can bring Ron, if you like."

They ducked out of the High Inquisitor's kitten-infested office, and silently made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione made sure that Harry returned to the common room safely, though she halted him as an afterthought, just before he woke up the Portrait.

"Harry, would you mind lending me your Map?" Hermione asked in an undertone, as the Fat Lady snoozed away. "Just for a bit. I know the last person you lent it to wasn't who you thought it was, but I sneak around the castle all day, and it would be rather useful…" she trailed off.

The real reason was that she didn't want Harry to spot her name on the Map. Not yet. So far, he hadn't spotted her, those few times she had been in the castle while he had checked, but she didn't want to risk a slip-up now. And if she could persuade him…

Harry hesitated. She knew he was thinking it over carefully, gauging his previous bad experience with the time he had spent with her. Improving Occlumency, getting the approval of the Order to learn classified information, one of his parents' best friends… someone they had trusted enough to make him his Godmother…

Someone who called the Dark Lord by his self-appointed title. Someone who was friendly with Severus Snape, a man Harry didn't trust. Someone who always had a cold, hardened, slightly wounded appearance about her, as though there were some things from which she would never fully recover. Dark secrets, he was sure, that she would never willingly reveal. And yet….

There was a crackle of old paper as he retrieved the Map once more, and after a pause, pressed it into her hands.

"Take good care of it."

"I'll give it back after your exams," Hermione whispered. "Promise."

They woke up the Fat Lady, who was rather annoyed, but let Harry in all the same. Hermione waited until the Portrait had dozed off again, and then began making her way back down to the dungeons.

"We did it," she told Severus, pulling back the bedcovers. She hadn't even undressed—she was too excited for this to wait. "We got the Prophecy."

Severus cracked a tired eye open, and then rolled over to make room for her. "You missed the show," he mumbled. "The Weasley twins left today—they went out with a bang, so to speak."

"They left?" Hermione repeated, bewildered.

"One last prank to advertise their new joke shop," Severus sneered, draping his right arm over his face. "They've already got premises in Diagon Alley. Discounts for all students who use the products to get rid of Umbridge." He let out a weary sigh. "The next few weeks are going to be hell, I'm sure."

"You're not the one who's going to have to deal with Molly," Hermione said, eyeing their bedroom door warily, as though expecting the Weasley matriarch to come storming in to take her to task. "It was my idea for Harry to convince them to give us a diversion."

"They didn't look like they needed much convincing," Severus muttered. He let out a low huff, and then pulled his arm away from his face to look at her. "You got the Prophecy?"

"That's right," Hermione replied happily, snuggling up against him.

Beside her, she heard Severus inhale deeply, and then let out a long, weary sigh.

"I am going to be in for a very rough week, for this…"

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-Anubis Ankh