"Severus, a word?" Albus Dumbledore was quickly growing impatient with his inability to find his Potions Master. Severus was always - always - supposed to tell him before he left the castle. Suddenly he wasn't answering his Floo. A quick look at Dumbledore's own, cobbled-together imitation of the rather clever Marauder's Map Harry had once loaned him, revealed that the subject of his inquiry was not in the immediate vicinity of Hogwarts Castle. Quickly, he dispatched Fawkes with a note for the tavern keeper in Hogsmeade to inquire after his Potions Master.

Albus then waited with a huffy impatience, contemplating the maddening problem of a potentially renegade Severus Snape. He knew that he'd have his power back from Hermione soon. Normally there would be no sense in rushing things, or involving himself unnecessarily. If he went to her, she would most likely give him freely what he required of her. She had no use for it. But he could not be involved in breaking the law where she was concerned; things were delicate enough as it was regarding his position. He'd always been able to get others to do his dirty work for him, and while conscience sometimes could be an issue - it was for his use of Harry Potter, whom Albus had come to care about very much - conscience would never be an issue for employing Malfoy.

Snape had been a trusted servant of his own free will. Why wouldn't he be? Albus could still snap his fingers and get Snape committed to Azkaban for atrocities performed, ironically, in the name of being a spy for the Order. That knowledge, and the awareness that Albus might cease to protect him at any moment, had always been enough to keep him in line. But that was Severus' choice, his alone, and Albus would not accept responsibility for it.

Malfoy would come up with her in time. Granger was a problem, had always been too smart for her own good, and his foolish brother hadn't made things easier. She had been so nicely tucked out of the way until Aberforth fucked it all to hell. Oh, why, why? Why had he had to be selfish and take away Albus' power? Didn't the old goat (he thought fondly) understand it would kill him to absorb that much power?

Albus had adored and cherished his brother, once upon a time. His brother had been useful, by virtue of having been born. The eldest son got the family spoils. That was the way of the wizarding family, although the Dumbledores certainly had been unorthodox in the choice of how the youngest would lend assistance to the eldest in preserving the family name and legacy. Albus had only used the gift their father had given him for good. He had defeated evil with the powers he had. Even Aberforth had to concede the wisdom of their father's choice in the fight against Grindelwald, and later Voldemort. Aberforth should have realized that he was the true hero because of their father's choice and his sacrifice. Why didn't he see that?

Dumbledore's tiny remnant of rational mind feebly attempted to remind him that there wasn't exactly evil lurking around every corner anymore. Unfortunately, his sane self had mostly taken leave when Aberforth died. That was the unfortunate part of growing old; one's ability to adapt and deal with changes in life became more and more difficult when one was well into the second century of life. It was an excuse, anyway. Still, the old man could feel his grip on the political power and wisdom of elder statesmanship slipping out of his grasp. It was premature. He still had so much to do. Far too much, really, for a young witch-in-exile and the foolishness of his brother to stand in the way for long.

Hermione wasn't the main problem. At this point, she was an insignificant Muggle who had no concept of the power she'd been granted. Severus Snape, indeed, was the real difficulty now. The return of Fawkes from Hogsmeade with a note from the ever-resourceful Madam Rosmerta, as expected, noted that Severus had not been seen in the town that night. The Map had confirmed his absence from the grounds. Thus, Albus was forced to conclude that Severus had disobeyed his direct orders and headed for London again.

He'd have to get in touch with Draco Malfoy. He would know if Severus had broken his word. Yes, he must get in touch with Draco. At the very least, as highly placed in the Ministry as Draco was, he might know who the Arbiter of London was. If it was possible to bribe the Arbiter, then Albus could approach Hermione and do whatever magic was necessary to get back what was rightfully his. He pulled out a quill and parchment, and began to write a note. At that very moment, he heard the stone gargoyle that guarded his office move away from the door to allow access to the stairs. He stood and waited to see who had gained entrance. Not very many were aware of the new set of passwords he had installed.

"Headmaster," said Draco Malfoy, to the side of his father when they entered the room. "It appears we have a minor problem."

"Minor...?" he queried, looking at Lucius. He had not expected to see the two of them together, especially as he had always kept his dealings with both of them well separated.

"It's that lunatic Snape again," Lucius said. "He's apparently been captured in London, according to my son."

"Captured?" Dumbledore said, not understanding at first. "By whom?"

"Hermione Granger," said a still out-of-breath Draco, cursing his father for dragging him here and forcing him to prove his loyalty. "We thought we'd come here to show you." Draco produced a crystal ball from his robes.

"That...is what you are using for surveillance?" Lucius said, breaking into a laugh. "And the Ministry thinks you are so magnificent? A common crystal ball. What, did you nick it off that lunatic Trelawney?"

"Hush, Father, and learn something," Draco said, waving his wand. The image in the ball faded into a foggy scene of Snape lying on the floor. "I have a regular Muggle 'bug' - it's a recording device that Muggle law enforcement uses to track criminal activity - on her flat, so what goes on in her living area is broadcast wirelessly to this modified crystal ball. Usually, to be honest, she's quite boring. But after my father was finished distracting me from work earlier at the pub and I'd gone outside for a cigarette break, I checked it and saw Snape in her chambers."

"Interesting! Draco! Are you the Arbiter of London?" Albus clapped, smiling feverishly, as Draco nodded once in uneasy assent to the question. "Muggle technology. Very intelligent, young Malfoy. Now, did you see why he was on the floor?" Albus leaned over rather hopefully and attempted to will more information to come out of the ball. If Granger had dispensed with Snape using her magic, so much the better. Saved him from the bloody mess, and she'd find herself in Azkaban very soon - and Snape would too, he wasn't as dead as he seemed lying there on her floor. The Ministry would see to that, once Draco, whose now-revealed official Ministry capacity was Arbiter for Improper Use of Magic for London, had confirmed the illegal use of magic that they surely had detected. Yes, this was working out much better than he'd hoped. If she were incarcerated in Azkaban, no one of significance would know that he had come to retrieve Aberforth's gift, and no one would help her there.

"No. I missed that part. My father thought you should know. I need to go make my report to the Ministry now, by your leave?" He looked at his father and Headmaster Dumbledore. They both nodded absently, apparently lost in their individual thoughts. The heels of Draco's dragon-skin boots clicked on the polished marble floor as he exited. As soon as he was a safe distance from the castle and running down towards Hogsmeade, he flipped open his cell phone and dialed Snape.

Back in Dumbledore's office, Lucius had finally made a polite exit, mumbling something about seeing if Narcissa had finally killed Umbridge yet. Albus called for a house-elf as soon as the elder Malfoy left. "I'll need a travel bag made up. I'm going to London to see about the death of Severus Snape." He looked down at the bewildered elf. "If it hasn't happened already, little friend, it soon will."

~*~*~*~

On the stoop of a London flat, a cell phone began to ring in a man's pocket. A man and a woman, locked in an unlikely embrace, sprung apart. She eyed the man very suspiciously as he sighed and ignored the ringer.

"Miss Granger, I..."

"I don't want to know why a cellular phone is ringing in your pocket. Wizards don't carry Muggle gadgetry. I...just want you to leave." Her tear-stained face nearly undid him as his eyes briefly touched hers, but he steeled himself, as he knew he must as she whimpered softly, "I'm sorry I sniffled on you, but I assure you, it won't happen again."

"I need to enter your place, Miss Granger. I am here to take away that...person...on your rug."

"I made a mistake earlier by letting that person in. I cannot trust you. You say you're Professor Snape, but you have a cell phone. Seems a bit off to me." She seemed to be gathering herself, Severus noted.

"You'll deal with it yourself? I thought you had more sense than this."

"I don't have to take orders from you anymore," she said coldly. "I'm a Muggle, remember? I wish to remain alone and be completely unconnected with your world. As it is, I can't imagine why the Ministry hasn't apprehended me for using magic in my flat. I don't want to lose this life for whatever these games you're playing are. Just go."

Snape thought of Draco, and hoped that he would handle Mafalda Hopkirk's owl as smoothly as he'd deflected the one that had come to him for verification after the first incident outside Hermione's flat. Azkaban would be the worst place for her right now. He knew she'd be completely at Dumbledore's mercy there, but as long as she was here, she had some protection from him. "Let me deal with...whoever that is on your rug, Miss Granger. Polyjuice, I'm certain of it."

"Henry...Aberforth...said something earlier. Since I didn't allow that...whoever it is...in, I was able to stop it from hurting me." Snape was reminded of the way this girl's mind had worked in his class. The wheels were turning, and Snape wasn't entirely sure what was safe to tell her.

"Yes," Snape said slowly. "It's Aberforth's story to tell. I just want to keep you...from harm."

"Harm?" her eyes narrowed. "Why, suddenly, is there so much interest in me? I saw Lucius Malfoy earlier this evening; Henry the old cleaning fellow tells me he's the ghost of Headmaster Dumbledore's brother; then someone who looks and sounds just like Professor Snape turns up and tries to kill me. Before I know it, another person claiming to be Professor Snape shows up, and is kind to me, which is entirely out of character. Magical people are following me, they are attacking me, and they won't take a hint and leave me the hell alone. Why should I believe any of you freakish hypocrites that had me thrown out for a crime that I was only marginally responsible for?" She had worked up quite a head of steam. Snape realized, uncomfortably, that it suited her very well to summon up that much anger. She'd changed quite a bit in the years since she had been his student. She looked tired and drawn, and unreasonably thin as if she hadn't taken care of herself very well, but wasn't completely unattractive. He forced himself to think of the here and now and leave time for ruminations about seeing her like this later.

"You shouldn't," Snape said simply, "but you definitely don't want to have that woman on your floor."

Hermione wheeled around to see that the Polyjuice was wearing off of the faux Snape, who now resembled Dolores Umbridge. She shuddered at the sight and the memory of the horrible woman.

"I don't want to risk any more magic in your flat," Snape said. "We can only hold off the Ministry so long before they decide to overrule the Arbiter that makes the decision on whether or not Enforcers will be dispatched here. Right now I assume the Arbiter is holding them off, or they'd be here already. Shove her over here, and I will remove her and myself from your life. I can't promise you a life of happy blissful Muggledom, though. I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that this isn't over."

"I guess not," Hermione said, deflating a little at trying to defend her life which was far from happy and blissful, "I still have no idea why the sudden interest."

"Aberforth is the one you should talk to. I have better things to do with my time, I assure you, Miss Granger." She could hear his attempt at a cutting remark, but it seemed rather insincere after his unexpected embrace.

Hermione went over to the still form of Dolores Umbridge, and began to pull her towards the door. She was so heavy that Hermione could barely budge her. She was torn - if she let Snape in, she would be breaking some kind of spell that Henry had alluded to in his last cryptic remark. But it did seem like this was the real Snape, and that he wasn't interested in doing her any harm. If he was, he could have done so easily in her moment of weakness when she stood outside the door. Instead, he had held her as she sobbed. It made no sense, of course. The real Professor Snape would never have done something so kind. He would have belittled her and called her a few choice names as he mocked her inability to move the body.

Finally, exhaustion won out over self-preservation. "You want her? Come and get her."

Snape entered and helped Hermione drag Umbridge to the outside of the flat. "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Do you have any tea?"

She looked at him, dumbfounded.

"Tea. You know. Hot water, small leaves of a..."

"Oh, do shut up," she snapped, her temerity surprising him. His lip curled as he tried not to bite her head off; she hadn't exactly had a normal day, after all. "Come back in."

She busied herself in her small kitchen with the tea while he picked up Umbridge's wand, casting another Binding Charm. Her condition couldn't be traced to him, which might be advantageous. Pocketing her wand, he waited for Hermione to come back. She appeared a few moments later, bearing a cup, looking a bit sheepish. "Sugar?"

"Sit," he commanded. She obeyed immediately, as if he would suddenly tak off points from Gryffindor if she failed to comply. "Do you trust me?" he said in a low, odd tone.

She was confused. "About what?"

"Miss Granger-" he began, his voice now almost dangerous. "Do you trust me to do what is right in this...unfortunate...situation?"

His photograph flashed into her mind, followed closely by the unnerving brush with Lucius Malfoy in the pub. "Do I have a choice?"

He closed his eyes, leaning back against her worn, but comfortable sofa cushions. "You always have a choice, Miss Granger. Especially in your own home."

"Let me ask you a question, then," she said. "Why are you here?"

"I can't answer that."

"Then how can you presume to ask if I trust you, Professor Snape?"

She had a point. "I can't. Miss Granger, it would be best if you don't remember that I have been here."

A sudden tear came to her eye with quick understanding of his meaning. "You want to Obliviate this night...everything?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"And what? And I don't remember...what? You? Her? Aberforth?"

"Me. Umbridge. Aberforth. Yes. I will tell him what happened, and he can do as he sees fit. But I...it's dangerous, Miss Granger, I am not here. I cannot be here."

"For your sake or mine?" She knew she was being impertinent again, but she really didn't care. Why was he asking permission? As far as he knew, she was unarmed and she was unprotected now that she'd invited him in. She still had her hidden wand, but the fact that he was asking rather than simply Obliviating her and being done with it made her pause. His demeanor, his questions invited her to trust him, when it couldn't possibly be warranted or prudent.

"This is more complicated...Miss Granger, it is not my place to tell. I just need to take her away from here, to a place where she cannot harm you."

She nodded, sipping her tea. "I...yes, Professor. You can...oh, bloody hell. Do as you see fit. I can't stop you, really."

He nodded slowly, looking away. "I will make you sleep. When you wake up, you won't remember this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, whatever you say is best. Whatever you say." All she could see now in her mind's eye was Snape, his comforting arms around her as she had railed against him and had cried on his chest earlier. She couldn't focus on anything else. She should have been angrier with him for taking this away, should have been disgusted with herself for allowing him to touch her- if anything, he was less attractive, older, tireder than she remembered. The nose had grown wider, the skin was paler, and the hair was now a limp, greasy black and gray, very long and loosely tied back. But it didn't seem to matter, in her weakened state, that he was physically unappealing. She hadn't been held - by anyone - in years. Her skin was still warm from his unexpected embrace.

Now, with a flick of his wand, she wouldn't even have that.

He drew closer to her and pulled out Umbridge's wand rather than his own. She was confused again. She remembered very well the wand he had when she had been a student; it was much longer, and of a darker wood than the one he held. For a split second, indecision crept into her mind, but she did not voice it as he whispered the incantation that would make her sleep. He then used Umbridge's wand to cast an Obliviate. As she fell completely insensate on his shoulder, he put his hands on her temples, using his Legilimency skills to coax into her mind altered memories of the night. He placed her on the couch, covering her with the blanket he found over the back of a nearby chair.

For just a moment, he watched her sleep. She had no idea now that he had shown weakness in her presence, had made a foolish mistake in allowing his facade of aloofness to crack for her. It was naturally much better this way. If he could keep her from the knowledge of why Dumbledore was after her it would be worth the inexplicably empty feeling he had just now. It had been a long time since he had a cause to believe in, a plan to care about. But now, watching her sleep, he knew he had to protect her and fix the things that Dumbledore had broken five years ago. He would be able to keep his promise to Aberforth Dumbledore. Severus closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her in his arms, the soft sobs on his chest, her fiery eyes as she accused him of being a hypocrite. Straightening his hunched shoulders, he walked out, closing the door as quietly as possible, and looked at the lump of fetid humanity that was Dolores Umbridge.

Severus crouched down and touched her clammy, still arms, and Apparated her bound body to just outside the main entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Clutching her wand in his right hand still, he used another, more secure Binding charm on her that would easily last until at daybreak or later. Finally, he used her wand to cast Cruciatus on a passing squirrel. Smirking, he cleaned the wand of his own fingerprints and slipped it back in her pocket. She would be on the next train to Azkaban for casting an Unforgivable. One down, three to go.

~*~*~*~

"Severus, assuming you're not lying dead on Granger's floor. I'm buying you some time. Very, very little time. Use it wisely." Draco hung up after leaving the message, and Disapparated directly to his home office. He flipped on his computer, threw his boots and Slytherin shawl in an untidy heap on the floor, and began a very unusual entry in his LiveJournal.

Forgive me for the cryptic post. I am working out a mental problem and sometimes it helps to write it all down.

I spend all my time worrying about and watching a person I know. This person doesn't know, can never know, what is happening. But now I'm being asked by a third party - someone I cannot refuse - to give the person up. Saying no to the request would be disaster, but saying yes might be worse. Help me.

Something is really rotten inside my world tonight.

Nothing else could be said without getting really strange to his other readers. His hope now was that Snape would read the post and decode the message within, quickly, if he wasn't dead. If he was...well, if he was, Draco had no choice but to swallow his feelings and ally himself with Dumbledore again. Alone, he had no impetus or backing to single-handedly defy the Ministry, his father, and Dumbledore. He was a fine watcher of people, but in all the power moves of being a Slytherin prince, the son of a formidable wizarding family, he'd never made the alliances he could have. His father's arrest and Voldemort's fall assured his place as a Ministry drudge, with occasional side work for Dumbledore. The situation with Hermione had been very unexpected and unethical and, despite his distaste for her in school, had horrified him. It was why he jumped at the chance to lend assistance to Snape. But now...Draco turned away from his computer, shaking his head in dismay. Against his better judgment, he placed the crystal ball on the desk again, waving his wand and putting his chin down close to the orb to try and see what would happen next. An owl fluttered in, with the expected note from the Misuse of Magic office asking him if magic had been used in or near Hermione's flat that night. The owl waited patiently as he scrawled a line on the note and sent it back.

Of course she had used magic - how else to explain the image they had all seen in Dumbledore's office of Snape laying on her floor? But he wasn't going to make this easy for the old man, even if Snape was now out of the picture, and even if his conflicting priorities were now closing in on him quickly.

~*~*~*~

"Minerva, I have some important business to attend to in London. Look after the students for a few days, my dear, will you?" Minerva McGonagall, shaking the sleep from her eyes to look at her unexpected visitor, noticed immediately the distraction and haste in Albus' face. She was fully aware that the Headmaster had not been himself for several weeks, including not even batting an eye when the talk at the staff table had turned to the release of Azkaban's most famous inmates weeks before. He'd been distracted, irritable, and reclusive to an extreme that she'd not seen in her many years of working for him. Minerva's finest gift in human relations, however, was her unwavering ability to keep her mouth completely shut when it was prudent.

Also, she had a knack for taking advantage of opportunity when it presented itself. She could see one opening up right now.

"Anything I should be aware of?" she said lightly.

"No," he snapped, "but if Snape returns tonight, I want Fawkes to come to me immediately. Immediately, do you understand? Not in the morning, not after you're done with tea. Immediately."

"Yes, Albus. No need to be so testy, dear heart, you know thy will be done."

He betrayed further his descent into madness when he turned away without a last glance, rather than chuckle at their private endearment and inside joke. She'd passed from mild concern to alarm at his mental state in the blink of an eye.

Once her boss was well gone, Minerva walked down to the kitchens with deliberate speed. Ducking in after the appropriate tickle of the fruit, she cleared her throat. "Which of you is on duty?"

"Oh!" A small, ancient house elf jumped up from his mat on the floor. "Dinky is, Madam. Oh, Dinky was asleep on the job, bad Dinky! Bad!" The elf started to bang his head on a stockpot nearby, but Minerva laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.

"I need some information, Dinky. About the Headmaster."

The elf looked around nervously. "You isn't Dinky's mistress, Madam. Dinky cannot betray his Dumbly-dorr, no ma'am, no no. Dinky keeps his master's secrets."

"Dinky, who is your master?"

"The school Headmaster."

"And if the Headmaster is not in residence?"

He thought a minute. "The Acting Headmaster?"

"Very good, very good, Dinky. Currently, I, Minerva McGonagall, am Acting Headmaster. So you will tell me what you know about Albus Dumbledore's state of mind. And you will tell me what you know about why he wants Severus Snape tonight, and anything else pertinent to his...mood. Do you understand, Dinky?"

The house-elf trembled in fear. He not only understood, he knew what she was after, and she wouldn't like it. No one on the house-elf staff understood what the fuss was about, but there was one of their number that Dinky knew would not hesitate to share the entire story with Professor McGonagall. Dobby was furious with the deal that Dumbledore had made with the Malfoy family and the Ministry. "Mistress, if I may."

"Speak freely, Dinky. Do not be alarmed at what I am asking. I need to know what is happening."

"Dobby. Dobby knows all, Mistress, I am just a lowly cook..."

"Wake him, please, Dinky. Wake him now. It's very important."

Forty-two minutes later, Minerva had trouble closing her mouth from the jaw-dropping story that Dobby told her about Albus, Aberforth, Hermione, and the conversation he had overheard between the Malfoys and Albus earlier while clearing away the Headmaster's dishes. He left no detail out. "How do you hear so much, Dobby?" She was in awe.

"House elves keep their master's secrets," Dobby said, looking affronted.

"Unless..."

"The Master turned over his authority to you when he was leaving tonight, yes. But Mistress Minerva, Miss Hermione loves house-elves. Even those..." he looked reproachfully across the room at his fellow sleeping elves, "that will not listen to Miss Hermione. We has our own thoughts, our own feelings, our own secrets, too. We tells those when asked by our masters." A gleam of vengeance shone in the house-elf's eyes.

~*~*~*~

Severus gave some thought to trying to track down Aberforth directly, as he ambled along the road leading away from the Ministry into the very early morning grayness. He should really get back to Hogwarts, but he was worried about Aberforth's reaction to what he had done to Hermione. As he pondered what to do next, a tawny owl swooped through the lightening sky to him.

He opened the note, recognizing Minerva's writing at once. "Stay, little one," he said to the owl. "I may need you for an errand." Severus searched in his cloak, finding a bit of biscuit to offer the owl while he read the terse note from his longtime friend and colleague.

He turned the note over and fished out a regular ballpoint pen. You never knew, in the field, when you'd need the mundane to function for you. "Message received. You'll need to find a substitute for a while. And don't worry; your precious young Gryffindor is unharmed. So far. I will send an update if it is safe."

He grimaced as he sent the owl back. Only a handful of change - Sickles and Knuts, not Muggle money - on him, and going to Gringotts would probably be madness if Dumbledore was looking for him. He'd have to call and wake up young Draco. Flipping open his phone and dialing, he continued walking in the ever-brightening dawn, unaware that he was being observed from the shadows.

~*~*~*~

Hermione awoke from a troubled sleep with a start. She shook her head, as if she'd had a really disturbing dream, but she couldn't quite place what it had been.

The evening seemed sort of fuzzy. She'd gone to get a bite and a drink with Henry, had walked home, checked her e-mail, and lay on the couch to read. She'd been asleep for a few hours, obviously, as she could see the first pinkness of dawn outside the window. Shaking the cobwebs off, she got up and walked back over to the computer to see if she'd gotten any email or interesting journal posts overnight.

Odd. There was an email from the night before, from Bats50, that she didn't remember. The time was all wrong - she should have seen this email. She opened it, and was startled at the content. It responded - rudely, of course - to a post that she didn't remember even making. Baffled, she looked over at her kitchen, searching for unremembered empty bottles. She didn't feel hung over...but that didn't necessarily follow, of course. Maybe she'd had a few more drinks than she thought. She read through her post and the response from Bats50. Something seemed very familiar about the answer to the post, but not the post itself.

Confused and still mumbling to herself about spiked drinks, she turned to her friends list. There was a very strange stalker post that didn't make any sense from QuIdiot. It made Hermione feel uncomfortable to read it, though she couldn't explain why she felt so strange about his words.

"I'm turning off this damn thing!" she muttered to no one in particular. "I need rest and calm, not fear." But even as she said the words, she knew something was wrong with her world. She couldn't get a handle on it, but she felt as if she should track Henry down and ask him what they'd discussed the night before. It was all vague. Something about his past. She needed to know more.

Walking slowly into the kitchen, she noticed that her teapot was across the room from the normal place she kept her tea things. Odder and odder. She filled the pot, took the cups - cups? - and put them in her dishwasher. Suddenly, she felt a wave of loss and loneliness wash over her. Where had that come from? What the hell were they putting in their Black and Tans over at the pub?

Taking her now-steaming cup of tea into her bedroom, her eyes fell on the wizarding photograph on her dresser. She gasped as she nearly dropped her cup at the surprise waiting for her there. Severus Snape waved at her, smirking as if they shared some kind of private joke, before turning his attention back to the long-ago completed Quidditch match. Draco Malfoy was now sitting in the stands instead of flying on his broom - next to his father. He wasn't looking at her anymore, though his back wasn't turned like her other classmates'. But as shocking as Snape's wave had been, nothing had prepared her for seeing Harry Potter's face again. He was half-turned towards her, looking at Snape, who nodded at him.

"It's getting old. The enchantments are finally wearing off. Bloody photo," she said loudly, picking up the offending picture and slamming it into a drawer. "I won't hold with this... foolishness! It's over! Why can't you forget it, Hermione? Why?" She stomped into her bathroom, cursing loudly and swearing that she would get rid of her wand, her photos, everything. She was finished with it. All. "You hear me, wizards? Leave me the hell alone!"