At precisely 4am, Hermione woke. She looked over at Severus, who was curled up in a little ball on one end of the couch, snoring softly. She smiled for a moment as she watched him sleep, remembering the warmth of his embrace and the fire in his voice when he thought she'd been hurt, and then nearly had to slap herself.

"You need tea," she thought to herself as she got up and crept quietly to the loo. New clothes were there, courtesy of the hidden 'Powers of the Room'. She also noticed Snape's clothing from the night before hanging next to hers on a hook, along with some personal effects and a small leather case that she didn't bother to look into, despite her usual curious nature. She needed a laptop and caffeine. There had to be some kind of all-night diner or something with Internet access – this was New York City, after all.

A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she was a marked woman right now and could no more leave this room than she could cast her magical past behind her. It was hard having a practical side. Just as she gave some thought to crawling back into bed, a small pot of steaming, cinnamon-and-vanilla scented tea appeared on the beside table, along with a new Tablet PC. She turned it on, and was delighted to discover that there was apparently some kind of built-in wireless networking.

Her eyebrow shot up. "God, the tourists don't know the half of why this building is so amazing. I could get rich selling tickets."

She willed herself not to check her mail right away, but couldn't resist a peek at her LiveJournal. She was really hoping that her obnoxious correspondent, Bats50, had left a few more comments in her absence. She snorted, thinking that the guy could give Snape a run for his money in the rude comment department. She was disappointed on that score, but noticed a private message – intended only for her eyes, apparently – from QuIdiot.

"Call me, it is insanely important. Immediately," was all it said. His phone number was listed.

She twirled a strand of her hair almost violently, finally chewing it while digging at her scalp until it protested. She was so uneasy and lost in thought about the message that she didn't hear Snape at first.

"Hermione, I asked you if you were all right." She jerked out of her thoughts to turn towards him, almost guiltily.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice, "I woke you up."

"I am not particularly concerned about that. But I am perturbed as to why you are on a computer at an early hour, looking like you've seen a ghost."

"I really can't explain that in a few words."

"Try me."

"Will you have a cup of tea..."

"Hermione," he said, stretching, "the computer? What is it?"

"It's just...someone I know back home asked me to call, which is kind of surprising. You don't suppose..."

"Who is it?"

She stood up, putting the Tablet PC down. "You may be trying to help me, Professor Snape, but that doesn't give you the right to ask details of my personal life, now does it?" She flicked the computer off, turning around before her temper flared further into a full-blown shouting match.

"I do think I have the right to ask," Snape said, also standing up, "if it might be someone trying to find you."

"It's not. It's an old friend and none of your concern," she said in a shaky voice.

"Are you going to call?"

"Sod off," she said, and ran for the only room with a lock on the door before her anger got the better of her, clutching the computer to her chest. When she got into the loo, she locked the door, cast a silencing charm with her wand, and began to scream and pound her fists against her thighs in fury.

After a moment, she realized that she had no idea why she was so upset, and began to calm down. It was the feeling of being out of her element, not in control, and unsure of herself that caused the unexpected tantrum. She needed to bite down her pride and apologize to Snape and talk to him about what they needed to do next.

As she washed her face, she heard a noise that sounded very much like a cell phone ring coming from Snape's little pile of things. She turned to stare at it. That couldn't actually be a cell phone, of course. The man was a Wizard. He had no need for such things. Still, the sound continued to emanate from the little leather case as she picked it up in her hands. It was a dreadful invasion of privacy. She needed to take the case to him; perhaps it was some magical gizmo that he needed, or a medication Remembrall of some kind, or who knew? She turned it over, and it just fell out.

It was, indeed, what appeared to be a Muggle cell phone. It had just stopped ringing, but as it clattered to the floor she saw the number in the display.

She picked it up, looking again in fascination at the number. Then she flipped the TabletPC back on and surfed back to QuIdiot's message. Vaguely, she was aware of her Silencing Charm wearing off and the pounding on the door, but the knocking didn't really register on her consciousness as she looked at the two numbers, the one on Snape's phone and the one in QuIdiot's message.

They matched.

~*~*~

"I haven't been able to rouse him," Minerva was saying over the Floo, "I know he talked to you last. Did you notice if he was ill?"

"My dear Professor," Lucius said smoothly, "he was tired, but well last night."

"He hasn't really seemed himself lately. I noticed he's been with you a number of times, Mr. Malfoy. Everything all right?"

"Are you insinuating something, Minerva?"

"Should I be?"

Suddenly, Lucius tumbled out of her grate. He drew himself up to his impressive height, towering over her, but even a casual observer would have noticed that his bid to take the upper hand with surprise and height wouldn't work with this woman. She stood her ground, ever unflappable, as he leaned closer. "What would I have to gain by hurting the old man who arranged for my release? Really, Minerva, are we back on the Scotch again? And to think I was the one in Azkaban."

She put one hand on her hip, and closed the other one around the wand hidden in her pocket just for good measure. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

He raised an eyebrow.

"The Headmaster has taken ill. You are the last one to have seen him. I think you would have made the same conclusion in my place."

"Perhaps," Lucius said, seating himself without her leave on the green chintz settee in her office. She moved back behind her large oak desk, but remained standing.

"Well, since he is tired, why not give him a rest, Minerva? Surely the place can run without him for a day."

"It can," she said evenly, "but it won't. Whatever you did to him, undo it. I've never seen him like this."

"Oh, I assure you, I'm not the one who did it to him."

"Get out, Lucius," she said.

"Temper!" he hissed, "send him my regards when he awakens…if he does. He's quite aged, you know. I'll show myself out." Lucius turned, walking to the door, only to find it locked quite shut.

"I can't leave if you won't let me," he said, turning to find her with her wand trained upon him.

"I've changed my mind," she said, and put a full-body bind on him, smirking as she stepped over him. "Poncy git."

~*~*~

John walked along the corridor near the Malfoi Brothers office, trailing his wand lightly along the walls. The wand had a yellow light at the tip; occasionally, as he walked, the light would glow more orange or even red. At these times, he painstakingly moved the wand around in a specific pattern. Sometimes a room or corridor would be revealed; sometimes a magical object was behind the wall for some reason, and sometimes he could find nothing at all. He'd been through much of the building already, but was winding his way back to the office for a quick catnap before tackling the lower floors.

Just as he rounded the corner where the office door was located, the wand flashed a particular crimson that told him something very hot was behind the wall. He laughed, because it was obviously the magical accoutrements of the Malfoi office giving off quite a bit of energy. At least he knew the spell was working properly, if it could detect his artifacts and potions and charms just behind the wall. It maybe wasn't quite in the place he might have expected, but these old magical buildings could be funny in the wave-guides and conduits of magic.

He walked on and entered the office, not realizing that he had just missed the object of his search by eight inches.

~*~*~

Deep in a secure corridor of St. Mungo's, a solitary light shone over an iron bed. An erstwhile hero lay on his side, his hair falling over his wide open green eyes and his trademark lightning-shaped forehead scar. A nursing aide came, murmuring calming words as she turned him in the bed with a spell. St. Mungo's required that their personnel actually attend to each patient in this ward manually rather than setting charms to do things on time. They wanted to keep up the respect in the profession that they were known for, and personal attention was only part of that bargain. Harry's body had to be turned every two hours to prevent pressure areas and bedsores, like the other comatose patients, all of whom were unable to turn themselves.

The aide's name was Sarah Ferguson; she'd regretted the name her parents had chosen for her all her life, and not just because she looked a bit like the Duchess, all plump and red-haired and pretty as a peach, as her father would say. Sarah had tended to Harry for two years, and loved him in the way many star-struck Witches did. She'd been a year behind him at Hogwarts, and like Ginny Weasley, had harbored secret fantasies about him; unlike Ginny, she'd never let him know that fact. It had been an honor to care for him, though it made her sad almost daily to see him there with no hope of recovery.

After turning Harry, Sarah took a basin of water and some strawberry-scented shampoo and began to wash Harry's hair. While cleaning charms were certainly permitted, Sarah had always preferred hands-on care for her spell-damaged patients. She, along with a few of her nurses, believed that touching and talking helped the patients feel connected to the world, even if they were no longer a part of it. Sarah massaged his scalp, then rinsed carefully, closing his eyes with her hands so that the soap wouldn't burn them. Finally, she began drying his hair with a towel. After finishing, she smiled. "Just one more thing, young man, and you won't argue with me about it. I know we can't get it to lie flat, but at least it will have a proper combing!" She fished in the drawer for his comb and began to comb, singing a little tune that she'd heard on the WWN just that morning on the way to work.

Without warning, Harry's eyes opened again and he looked directly at her, turning his head. The comb fell to the floor with a clatter as she backed away, mouth open.

Then his eyes closed again, and he went slack. No sound came out of her mouth as she crept closer to him, shaking him gently. "Mister Potter? Harry! Harry!"

There was no answer. Sarah was shaking as she turned towards the Nurses' station to make her report, even though she knew they wouldn't believe her.

~*~*~

"Well?"

"I told you not to come around here any more, boy."

"Where is she, Aberforth, I swear to you I'll..."

"You'll what, Draco? Kill me? I'm afraid you're too late. I don't know where she is."

Draco slumped, studying the ghost. "She hasn't emailed in, or anything?"

"I'm the janitor, Malfoy. They don't exactly confide these things in me."

"You are a ghost. You can go in and read emails and probably even get that Karen woman to spill. She knows you and Hermione are close."

"She deserves privacy, now that she knows the truth. She'll come around."

"She doesn't know the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"Snape Obliviated her. And now, well, I don't know what to think. I thought he was trustworthy but now I'm worried. He won't pick up his phone and she hasn't called and I can't..."

"What is the real issue here, Draco? Why don't you trust him?"

Draco shook his head. "I can't tell you. Thanks anyway." Draco started to walk away, but Aberforth was in front of him in a flash. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Draco closed his eyes. "I don't know who I am any more, or what to tell you. I'm sorry I bothered you." He walked out, into the hall and immediately Apparated away, despite Aberforth's entreaties to stop.

~*~*~

Hermione pocketed the phone. Shaking, she drew her wand, concealing it up her sleeve, and left the loo.

"What in the hell was that all about?" Snape yelled. She looked at his livid face, looming over hers.

She withdrew the phone. "What is this all about?"

The colour drained from his face in an instant. "I was going to..."

"No," she said quietly, "no, you weren't. You are accustomed to secrets and don't know any other way to be. You weren't going to tell me anything." She drew her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it at him. "Go to sleep, Severus."

Once she was satisfied that he was out cold, she had the room create a backpack to make up for her lost luggage, a few changes of clothes and a lot of Muggle money. She stashed the Tablet and Snape's cell phone in the bag, and walked back into the loo. She waved her wand to colour her hair blonde; then changed her eyes, the contour of her face, and her body type with a glamour. Satisfied that she was mostly unrecognizable, she walked out of the room and, as far as she was concerned, Snape's life. She was going to find a place to hunker down and start over; she was well and truly done with them all. Aberforth's power would just have to stay locked away unused. They'd all have to find a way to get along without it. She wasn't going to see any of them ever again. Casting aside the last tiny shred of strange, unwanted longing for the man on the floor, she opened the door and walked out towards the elevator, right past the impressively carved doorway to the Malfoi Brothers American office.