"Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!" the little house-elf tutted in concern. Milly was working on healing the angry purple bruises circling Lavender's throat and neck when the door to the room opened and Hermione was ushered through. Both the blonde girl and the house-elf were surprised that Hermione was able to enter the room without the aid of a Death Eater lackey using a mobilus corpus spell. As the bolt was shot home behind her, Hermione walked over to where they sat.

"Oh, honey, who happened to you tonight?" she asked gently, brushing her room-mate's hair back from her shoulders to get a better look as she sat down on the end of the bed.

"Draco happened," Lavender rasped through bruised vocal cords, "he was extremely pissed off because you weren't available, the huffy little git!" At her words, the effects of the Imperius swept over her and she shuddered.

"I'm sorry, Lavender."

"Don't be. It's not your fault he's so bloody twisted and volatile… and if he hadn't taken it out on me, it would have been one of the other girls." Another shudder wracked her body and as she fought it down she took the time to study Hermione more closely. "But what about you? You haven't a mark on you for a change and you look like the cat who stole the cream."

"I do?" Hermione asked, a half-smile colouring her voice. Lavender nodded. "Well, I doubt you'll believe me, but I had a very interesting evening entertaining a reluctant guest," Lavender cocked a questioning eyebrow and Hermione continued, "our former Potions professor."

"Snape?!? Professor Snape?!?" Lavender's damaged voice cracked with disbelief as she jerked away from Milly's ministrations in shock. "The greasy git who made our lives miserable for all those years? That Professor Snape?"

"Do you know any other? And anyway, don't sound so flabbergasted." Hermione had expected this reaction. "I'll have you know he was very gentle and a gentleman to boot, not like the others…" she trailed off, not wishing to follow that train of thought. "I guess they don't tell him everything that goes on, though."

"And why is that?" Lavender was still trying to get her mind around what she'd just been told and failing miserably.

"When I took the mask off that Malfoy Sr. made me wear he was totally spooked and just about had a heart attack. He thought I was dead."

"I guess they all do. It would go a long way to explaining why we're still here."

"I suppose it does. Of course, we don't even know where here is, so how can we expect anyone else to. And Snape said he'd no idea where he was either." Hermione answered, stifling a yawn as she stood up and started peeling off the velvet costume, carelessly kicking the pieces into the corner by her bed.

"But why would a Death Eater not know about this place? Do you believe him?" Lavender asked as Hermione pulled down the sheets and crawled under the covers.

"After everything that happened tonight, I'm inclined to. Goodnight, Lavender."

"G'night, Hermione."

***

Snape was so tired he had almost stumbled over the threshold to his suite of rooms at Hogwarts. He realized what time it was as dawn began to break and the first pale threads of sunlight filtered in through the window. Thank the gods it was Sunday today and he'd be able to catch a couple of hours of sleep before he'd have to start into everything. Yawning, he strode across the room to pull the heavy curtains shut and stopped in his tracks as the view called to mind the one he had seen last night out the window of the brothel.

The thought reminded him that he hadn't been doing his job. He hadn't even been aware of the place, which was unforgivable for a spy. Much as he was loath to admit it, he needed to be in the company of Death Eaters more often than in his capacity as Headmaster of Hogwarts and Voldemort's pet potions master. All notion of sleep, no matter how welcome, was driven from his mind, but one thing was for certain--he wasn't going anywhere until he washed and changed. He walked over to the night table beside his four-poster and opened it, fishing around inside until his fingers came into contact with the vial that signified a Wit Sharpening Potion. Cracking open the seal somewhat carelessly, he quickly downed the contents, grimacing so completely at the taste that his wisdom teeth shone in the morning light. He waited for a few moments until the potion took effect, brushing off the cobwebs that had been gathering in his tired mind, before going through his routine post-revel ablutions, which mostly consisted of standing under a scalding hot shower and trying to burn all traces of the night's atrocities from his skin.

***

Harry hadn't slept well at all. He had tossed and turned all night, worrying about the Headmaster and wondering if he'd done the right thing by asking him to go to the revel. He sat up in his cot and covered a large yawn with both his hands before casting about in the dark for his glasses. As he wiped the sleep from his eyes under the weight of his glasses, he swung his feet off the side of the cot and sighed. He had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.

The resistance headquarters was a series of rooms and tunnels hewn out of the rock magically, some metres below the windswept Yorkshire countryside. It was unplottable and heavily warded and only a select few knew of its existence and even fewer knew its location. The usual way in or out was via portkey but there was also one well-guarded fireplace in the complex that was linked to a very small, private floo network only known to the same resistance members who knew of the portkeys. The two dozen operatives who lived here were well hidden and as safe as galleons at Gringotts here, but sometimes the place was as oppressive as a prison or tomb. Other smaller resistance cells were scattered throughout the country in places where the Death Eaters were unlikely to look or suspect

Harry decided he needed a soak and made his way to where an underground heated spring bubbled up through the rock in the centre of the compound. He stripped off his clothes and sank gratefully into the water, feeling the warmth of the mineral spring permeate right down to his bones, a rare sigh of contentment escaping him as he laid his head back to rest on the smooth rock at the edge of the spring and closed his eyes.

This was how Ron found him twenty minutes later. "Oi, you, what do you think you're doing?" The thin, lanky red-head asked, his voice carrying the edge of a smile. "Padma wants to know if you're going to come and eat something."

"Well, as long as it's her turn to cook and not yours, I guess you can let her know I'll be there in a minute." Harry answered flippantly.

"And just what's wrong with my cooking?" Ron asked, folding his arms across his chest and drawing himself up tall and straight in an unconscious parody of their old potions teacher.

"You mean what's right with your cooking. You've never been subjected to Muggle school dinners have you?"

"Nope, can't say that I have." Ron answered, knowing where this familiar objection of Harry's was leading.

"Your cooking is on par with the worst primary school meal I've ever had, rogue earwigs in the boiled cabbage and potato sacking in the powdered mashed potatoes in P7 not withstanding." Harry was grinning as Ron picked up his clothes and threw them unceremoniously at the young man who used to be known with quite a bit of awed reverence as 'The Boy Who Lived."

"Get dressed will you, you stupid git!" he commanded, having a hard time disguising a self-deprecating laugh as he turned on his heel and returned to the room they'd dubbed the Hall--a place laid out in a miniature copy of the Hogwarts Great Hall of their youth, right down to the charmed ceiling that reflected the sky outside.

Harry sighed and stepped out of the spring, struggling to pull dry clothes over sopping wet skin. He thought the only thing wrong with this whole resistance scenario was the fact Hermione, who had been their best friend since first form, wasn't there to share it with them and hadn't been with them for the last six months. God, he missed her brains and her insight. He missed having her around as the voice of reason when they were about to go haring off on some mission or another. He sighed and shook his head and when he was finally able to get his clothes on he made his way to the Hall.

***

When Harry arrived, he found Padma shoveling a ladle full of food onto the plate set in front of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, while Ron sat across from him with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face.

"Headmaster," he acknowledged as he sat down.

"Potter." Snape responded, with a curt nod as he spooned a few mouthfuls into his face. Harry could tell from the way he was holding himself that the headmaster was exhausted. He thanked Padma as she ladled some of the food into the bowl in front of him.

"I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Harry commented as he stirred the stew, chasing a carrot around in the broth with his spoon.

"I wasn't expecting to have to come so soon," Snape answered without looking up, "but there were some developments I thought you should be made aware of as soon as possible."

"Such as?"

"Who else have you had keeping tabs on Death Eater activities?" Snape asked, instead of elaborating.

"What kind of activities are we talking about here?" Harry wished he'd just get to the point.

"What they're doing in their leisure time, specifically."

"Creevy's been keeping track of that sort of stuff, and I don't think he's turned up much at all." Harry answered with a shrug. "Even though he's been working as a photographer for the Prophet, they don't trust him much because he's a Gryffindor. He hasn't been able to attend anything but the most 'official' functions at the Ministry and such. He's mostly reported a lot of smaller comings and goings from Malfoy Manor. It's not like he can get inside the gates to get a closer look, so he's been using his zoom lens to capture images of people as they cross the threshold."

"Has anyone reported anything untoward or unexplained?" Snape asked before eating another spoonful. The way the Headmaster was asking questions was troubling Harry a bit. He seemed like he was a man who'd just woken from a coma he'd been in for years and was desperate for information.

"Padma's the one who sorts and organizes all the information. She's the one with the eidetic memory." Ron spoke up and Snape turned to look at the Ravenclaw girl who had joined the resistance the day the free wizarding world and her sister had died.

"Miss Patil?"

"What exactly are you looking for, sir?" she asked, sitting down at the table.

"Can you recall the names of the fallen during the war?" Padma nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with this. "Of the bodies that were not recovered and of whom no trace could be found, what percentage were Muggle-born?" Padma closed her eyes for a moment as she mentally compiled a list.

"About ninety percent of them." she finally answered. Snape nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"Has anyone reported information on brothels or other such establishments?"

"Where are you going with this, Headmaster, and what has this got to do with last night's revel?" Harry asked impatiently before Padma could reply. Snape turned and looked at Harry, his measured gaze boring darkly into him.

"I was taken via Floo Network from Malfoy Manor to such an establishment, last night." Snape replied. "I had no idea such a place existed. My wand was taken from me and I was locked in a room with a prostitute."

"Gods, Snape, do you have to subject us to a blow-by-blow account of your sex life?" Ron asked, looking positively green at the thought.

"I can assure you, Mr. Weasley, you are the last person I wish to have this discussion with, but this is indeed important." Ron rolled his eyes and Harry motioned for the Headmaster to continue. "As I was saying, I was locked in a room with a prostitute. I did not want to be there, in fact, I was very suspicious of the whole thing and thought it might be a trap of some sort as the girl was masked so I could not see her face. This is also not one of your run-of-the-mill whore houses. It is a very high class operation, one, I suspect, created for the exclusive use of the upper echelons of the Dark Lord's sycophants." Snape's thoughts turned inwards and he didn't say anything for a moment or two.

"And?" Harry prompted.

"The prostitutes there are controlled by the Imperius Curse, courtesy of the Malfoys, Mr. Potter."

"That's just despicable!" Padma exclaimed. Harry and Ron had paled at the revelation, knowing from the look on his face that Snape wasn't finished.

"And that's not the worst of it, Miss Patil, not at all." Snape's voice had taken on a tone that reminded them of a razor blade sheathed in velvet and they dreaded what he would say next.

"Does this have something to do with the question you asked Padma a few minutes ago?" Harry asked, his horrified mind suddenly putting two and two together. Snape nodded.

"The girl who entertained me last night was none other than Hermione Granger."

"You lying bastard!" Ron yelled, as he stood up and grabbed the front of the Headmaster's robes. Snape met his eyes and Ron felt the anger leech out of him. He could tell by the look on the man's tired face that he was telling the truth and released his grip on the folds of material he had wadded in his fist.

"I'm not lying Mr. Weasley. Apparently, Miss Granger is not the only girl there. The majority of the prostitutes are Muggleborn, but there are a few purebloods there as well, strictly as a form of punishment from what I understand."

"How could you?" Ron asked, his voice filled with emotion. "How could you put her through that?" Harry sat silently, stricken at the news the Headmaster had brought.

"I had no choice, Mr. Weasley." Snape rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. "If she had disobeyed Lucius Malfoy's instructions, she'd have been crippled with the pain and as it was, she was masked and anonymous for the first part of the evening… and I was in the wolf's den, I had to be careful and do what they expected of me." He was silent for a moment before adding, "For what little it's worth, I was gentle with her, not like her usual customers, from what I understand." He looked up at Padma to see she was crying silently, tears leaking down her face as her shoulders shook. Harry stood up and moved to kneel beside her and comfort her.

"It's okay, love, shhh…" he told her as he rubbed her back. He looked up at Snape, his green eyes serious and angry. "We've got to free them."

"That's all well and good, Mr. Potter, but I have absolutely no idea where this place is, other than it is built on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. And there's a number of guards too. Even if I knew where it was, we wouldn't be able to just waltz in and free them."

"Well, you're just going to have to find an excuse to go back for another visit then, aren't you." Snape raised an eyebrow as he realized Harry wasn't kidding.