A/N: Ok, so I'll be completely honest. This sort of felt like the "blah" chapter to me. It's a transition chapter, and there are things that just need to be out in the open before the characters can progress with their interactions/relationships...so I guess that's my justification. Anyways, I hope that you all aren't bored to tears. On another note, I've been recently told that I'm "Comma Happy." (I'm sadly aware of this flaw. I'm quite the hypocrite-I hate reading over grammatical errors but mine are just as prominent as the next guy.) Hopefully they won't deter from the story!

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and squinted into the morning light. As her eyes adjusted, she warily took in her surroundings.

Where the hell am I?

She sat up quickly as her heart began to pound. Disoriented, she flung herself out of the bed, nearly tripping over her own feet, and frantically searched the room for her wand.

Where is it? Where am I? What in the name of Merlin is going on?

With a slight glance back to the bed, Hermione saw the tail end of her wand sticking out from underneath her pillow. Letting out a sigh of relief, she crossed the room in three quick strides and grabbed the familiar object. Almost as though it was some kind of trigger to her memory, the moment she touched her wand, the previous day's events flooded her mind in a chaotic whirlwind.

Malfoy Manor. The library. Texts on Horcruxes? Oh, the forgotten possibilities! Leaving Harry...running into...Malfoy.

Malfoy.

The raging storm, the castle... and Snape?

Snape.

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the hundreds of thoughts that all appeared to be converging in her mind at the exact same moment.

So much for coherency.

Sitting down quietly on the foot of her bed, she observed the surroundings of her room for the first time.

After Malfoy left her quite literally speechless the night before; Hermione stumbled into the darkness of her room, quickly found a bed, and then collapsed and was out within the next minute. The light that was now coming from the window on the right side of the room illuminated the comfortable space. Her room was neither large nor small, but the vaulted ceiling in the tower gave the room the appearance that it might have been larger than it actually was. Directly across from the bed was an empty fireplace that Hermione had missed the night before.

Incendio!

Immediately a fire roared to life, and Hermione extracted herself from the bed and made her way over to the comforting warmth.

Why is it that castles are always so damn cold?

Turning around, she noticed a small desk in one of the room's corners. A few rolls of parchment and a quill were strewn haphazardly on the surface. Across from the desk on the opposite corner of the room was a tall dresser that was resting with one of it's side doors slightly open. Curiousness always getting the better of her, Hermione left the warmth of the fire and walked over to examine the contents of the dresser.

She realized as she cautiously opened the side door, that she was half expecting moths to come fluttering out at any moment and get trapped in the confines of her hair. But as she peaked inside the dresser, she saw a dozen witch's robes hanging gracefully, with no trace of the horrid little flying insects that she had inventively imagined.

Ever skeptical, Hermione pulled out the nearest robe and looked it over. It was a beautiful shade of navy with cloth that felt like silk as it slid between her fingers. Suppressing a chuckle, Hermione held the robe up in front of her to discover that Professor Slughorn would have been able to fit in it quite nicely and still had room to breathe.

Typical.

Brandishing her wand, Hermione quickly discarded the robe she was currently wearing and with an impressive feat of transfiguration, the navy robe was able to fit her body nicely. As she crossed the room once more to grab her cloak, her eyes caught a trace of movement just outside her window. Walking quickly towards the window, Hermione was able to, for the first time since arriving at Muron Castle, see her entire surroundings clearly.

The castle was set upon a massive cliff. Beneath the cliff, the ocean was crashing and rolling in random waves of fury. Sea birds were gliding on the blustery air currents around the castle and then disappearing in a mass of clouds. Looking in the opposite direction was a vast valley that gradually led up to the castle. Jagged boulders stood out as they dotted the entire expanse of the valley.

And Malfoy wonders why I was tripping all over.

It really was a beautiful place. Hostile, but beautiful. And as far as Hermione could tell, Snape didn't even need to bother with the anti-muggle charms or the renovation signs: there wasn't anything else in sight. With one final glance at the tumultuous landscape and a quick flick of her wand over her hair, Hermione turned from the window and headed out of her room.

The inner hallways of the castle were as dark as if it had been night. The hallways created a complex labyrinth as they folded in on themselves, leaving little or no light. With a silent flick of her wand, Hermione found herself able to see around the maze of hallway that led to the east stairs. As she reached the top of the staircase, light gradually came into view. The wall's torches were already lit as they led the way down the staircase. Hermione irritatedly suspected it was Malfoy's doing.

The prat thinks that I'll fall and kill myself.

Sweet?

No. Condescending is more like it.

Hermione quietly made her way down the stairway as her footfalls fell softly on the concrete. As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she could hear voices in the main hallway.

"...Draco, you can't seriously expect me to believe that," came Snape's silky voice from around the corner.

"Why would I lie about something like this? I'm telling you, I've never seen anything like it before in my life," Malfoy's unmistakable voice was saying.

Hermione edged closer and gripped the hard stone wall as she strained to hear more of the conversation.

Where are Fred and George and their Extendable Ears when I need them?

"She summoned her own Veritaserum that she had brewed. If she was staying in Blackmoor Forest like you suspected, then she summoned it from several kilometers away. Sir, she didn't even break eye contact with me," Malfoy added, sounding exasperated.

There was silence for the space of several seconds before Snape spoke. His voice came from a different point in the entranceway than before. "I have asked you repeatedly to not call me that."

Again, silence.

"Sorry."

Hermione had to physically restrain herself to remain rooted to the spot. It was taking everything that she had to not look around the corner to get a glimpse of Snape's face.

Finally going to admit that I've accomplished something worthwhile? And all it took was, what? Thirteen years?

Not bad, Granger.

Hermione smirked to herself as she rested her head against the cool stone wall. Snape's deeply bound prejudices against Gryffindor House were common knowledge. In her seven years of magical education-well six years, technically, that Snape was there; she had never received one compliment from the despicable man.

Not one.

My day has finally come.

"You realize, Draco," said Snape, breaking the silence once more, "If the Dark Lord were ever to discover that Miss Granger possessed these..." He appeared to be struggling for the right word.

You can do it, Snape. One little compliment, that's all it will take to make up for years of dismissal from you.

"abilities..."

Not bad. I'll take it any day over "insufferable know-it-all".

"...that it would be end game for her," he concluded.

Damn. Never really stopped to think about that one.

"He won't find out," Malfoy said with such determination that Hermione almost felt embarrassed.

Why is he trying to protect me? I'm not a damsel in distress. I certainly don't need him to look after me.

It was in that exact moment that while Hermione was leaning forward, her foot caught the edge of an immaculate rug; simultaneously, she slipped and yelped as she fell to the floor.

"Ah, and it looks as though she's decided to make her presence known this morning," Snape acknowledged as Hermione looked up into his condescending eyes from around the corner.

Hermione scowled angrily as she quickly pulled herself off the ground with as much dignity as she could muster.

Malfoy merely chucked.

"Well, Granger. It's become painfully obvious to me as to why you never played Quidditch," he scoffed.

"Shove off, Malfoy. If you'd ever like to face me in a duel, I'd be quite happy to oblige," Hermione retorted as she brushed off her robes. It was childish and she knew it. But a part of her couldn't help but feel as though they were back at Hogwarts, bickering at each other like always. That thought, at least, brought some semblance of normalcy to her increasingly odd situation.

"Or," she continued, "would you rather I just punch you in face? I'm sure that would bring back a pleasant memory."

"Enough!" Snape bellowed before Malfoy could fire off an insult.

Hermione and Malfoy glared at each other as Snape stood between them.

"Are you quite ready to act like an adult, Miss Granger? Surely you realize that there are more important things to be discussed here than your clumsiness and lack of coordination," Snape said as he rounded on her.

She was just about ready to retort when she had an epiphany.

"Yes, there are more important things, " Hermione spat as she crossed her arms. "Obviously you consider them to be important, or you wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing me here; needing my help."

She emphasized the last three words with as much exaggeration as she could.

Snape glared down at her.

Malfoy, despite their recent quarrel, merely looked impressed.

"Sit!" Snape commanded.

Startled, she did so.

Snape walked over to a lavish sofa, twirled his wand in his fingers, and sat down. He began massaging his temples.

"Miss Granger," he began after a moment of silence, "let us not waste time on reviewing unnecessary information. I know you know of the Horcruxes."

He looked at her, obviously knowing that he was correct in his statement, but still waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

Hermione nodded.

"I have come to learn that you, Potter and..., " he hesitated, as though he knew it would bump the dull knife embedded in her heart, "Mr. Weasley..."

At least he had the courtesy to put the "Mr" in there.

Hermione allowed herself a quiet moment of pity as Snape continued on.

Ron.

Why does it still hurt after all this time?

And then she caught back up with reality and tried to focus in on what Snape was talking about.

"...though I already have been made aware that Draco has informed you of my position as..."

"Sir?" Hermione interrupted.

Snape stopped speaking immediately and raised an eyebrow.

'Sir'? Dammit! How could I have let myself fall into that pattern? Especially now with what I'm about to ask him.

"I..., " Hermione began.

"I...It's just that...before anything else happens...that is to say...umm...I just..."

"Miss Granger, do try to articulate your thoughts before your speak. You sound like an illiterate house elf," Snape snapped as he folded his arms.

That was a discussion long forgotten to Hermione. Her house elf liberation front had ended when she graduated from Hogwarts, and she regretted that with everything else she had been trying to accomplish, she had not yet returned to her "elf activism". And she realized with sudden clairty that six years ago she would have taken the insult far more personally.

But it was enough. It gave her the courage she needed to ask the question that had haunted her for the past agonizing years.

"Did you do it?"

Silence.

The cracking from the fire that roared from the hearth in the nearby drawing room was the only sound Hermione heard besides her erratic breathing and thumping heart.

Malfoy, who had been standing behind Snape up until that point, walked forward and sat on the sofa, looking slightly confused.

Snape, however, seemed to understand exactly what Hermione was referring to. His eyes never left hers.

"No," he replied, simply.

And Hermione felt something unclench in her chest. What was it?

Relief?

Certainly that, but something else...

Disappointment.

Why would I be disappointed that Snape wasn't the one to kill Ron?

And then, she knew.

Because you want to find and kill the bastard that did it and finally try to move on with your life.

Somehow, she always had a feeling that it wasn't Snape that had murdered Ron. Heaven only knew why. She had known full well that Snape had killed Dumbledore in cold blood-even when the dying man had begged for him to spare his life. Or, in light of her new understanding, to end it.

But somehow, it was never Snape. Her recall of that night always flashed back to those horrifying moments.

Black robes.

A Death Eater's mask.

And that voice...

It wasn't Snape's.

"No," Snape said again, breaking her reverie.

The second time that he had spoken, his voice was soft-almost gentle.

Is there no end to my insanity? That must be the answer to everything that has happened. I am, in fact, going insane.

"I'm sorry. I just...I just had to know," Hermione said, lamely.

"And what, pray tell, Miss Granger would you have done had I said, 'yes?'" Snape asked, just as gently as before. A whisper.

The fire that met his eyes from her own was enough for Snape to not press the matter any further.

Malfoy, who had been completely silent since Hermione had first entered the room, shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

"I think," Snape said as he stood from his seated position, "that some breakfast is in order. Considering, Miss Granger, that it is already past noon, you should eat something. No doubt you are hungry." And with that, he strode out of the entryway with his black robes ever billowing behind him.

"Um, Granger?" Malfoy asked, as he slowly rose to his feet.

Hermione looked over to him from where she sat.

"I'm sorry," he said, awkwardly after a moment.

The second apology from him in two days? I must be hallucinating.

Hermione raised eyebrows in confusion, "For what, Malfoy? We always insult one another. You know perfectly well that I can't play quidditch. And I know perfectly well that I would win you in a duel," she said with a triumphant smirk.

"No. Not that. I mean, I'm sorry about...about Weasley," Malfoy said quietly, as he looked at the ground - paying keen attention to an unseen spot on the lavish rug.

Hermione's smirk fell.

She eyed him strangely for a moment before she felt tears forming, and strode quickly out of the room.

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