AN: Two chapters left, I anticipate. University spring term begins tomorrow, so don't expect an update for a couple of days - sorry about that:-) I hope you'll stick around til the end, maybe leave me a couple of encouraging reviews.

---

I haven't seen Snape in five days. I know he's around. Once I heard him trip in the corridor and swear loudly before running off to hide from me. Twice I've heard him shouting at Loki, absolutely roaring for some small detail Loki's forgotten.

Loki's opinion of me has turned 180 degrees. I'm no longer dirty Missy Mudblood, but the person he comes to for sympathy when Snape's left him ready to beat himself with a broom handle.

"Many peoples be asking Loki about Mistress Hermione, they does!" Loki chatters as we walk outdoors. "But Loki be keeping his lips so tight, so tight! Loki no be telling secrets! Not when Mistress be saving the Master, not when Mistress being so nice to Loki."

"Who would ask about me?"

"Oh, Misters Malfoy, Missy with the red hair, Master's sister, many peoples! Missy Mistress be so popular!"

Patchy sunlight hits the ground through a smattering of gray clouds. The air's warm,with that touch of early-spring humidity, and the apple trees near the back of the property have just begun to bud. I reach down to touch one of the wilted irises. It crumbles beneath my fingers like old parchment - it's sat out here throughout the dry winter, forgotten about, dessicating.

Have two seasons really passed?

"Oh, Master be calling for Loki again." Loki's ears droop. "Loki not leave for long."

"It's all right, I'm just tidying out here for a few hours."

I've worked on the stone fountain for days now. It gives me something to do, something to concentrate on, while Snape stays in the house and broods.

I know I should go to him and say something. I just don't know what.

I've cleaned nearly all the algae off the fountain. I have to charm it off in patches, especially on the delicate stonework, where more imprecise charms might rip off a granite coil, a snake's tongue, a carved leaf. The plumbing took more work, but after a flash of inspiration, I've managed to clear out most of the junk filling the pipes. I charmed and transfigured a metal bug to dig through all the old leaves and algae clogging the pipe. It looked like an impossible job when I began.

It's finished. I tap it once with my wand, and the water arcs upward, splashes down, into the basin below. It's clear and cold. The fountain looks out of place amongst the dry flower beds and unpruned trees.

"You made the fountain work again?"

I jump at Ginny's voice. She stands in the open entrance doors, watching me with a blank expression. She's plainer today, hair down, dressed in a brown robe. She looks like herself.

"Ginny? Why are you here?"

She looks down, the momentary tremble in her hands revealing her nervousness.

"I shouldn't have bothered you, I'll leave."

Isn't that what I'd just said to Professor Snape two weeks ago, when I was uncertain and scared? I move forward and reach for her wrist, very gently.

"Ginny, don't go." I hesitate. "Please?"

She stands awkwardly before me. Her eyes shine with unshed tears - my fault. I've hurt her.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so, so sorry for the things I said." She probably won't forgive me, but I have to try. "I don't know what to say. I shouldn't have said what I said, Ginny."

"No, you were right, in a way..."

"No, I wasn't," I interrupt. "I was all wrong. Don't you see, Ginny? It's not your fault, it's not my fault. We're the victims of circumstance. Maybe it's better that you've found..."

"Draco's getting married in a month." Ginny says coolly. "But I have the honour of remaining within the household."

What can I say? Nothing. Despite her bitter tone, she loves Draco. Every movement she makes around him exudes devotion. He'll use her and manipulate her emotions and then leave her in the basement whilst he plays husband to Pansy upstairs.

"Oh, Ginny..."

"In fact, I get a new friend, since Pansy Parkinson is bringing along her own plaything to join the household. Anthony Goldstein. He was kind enough, I suppose, when we were in school..."

"Oh, Ginny, Ginny..."

I curl my arms around her, knowing she might push me away. I deserve to be pushed away for all the awful things I said to her. She nestles her face into the crook of my shoulder and starts to sob, loudly, messily. My neck is wet from her tears. Her body shakes hard against mine.

I slide my arm around her - I don't want her crying out here. She lets me lead her through the corridors, past the covered portraits. We pass by Snape's office. Draco is there, not Lucius, and he and the Professor are deep in conversation. Snape's eyes flicker toward me, then to Ginny, crumpled beneath my arm.

I realize this is the first time I've seen Snape since he fled the library. Purple bags ring his black eyes. His skin is sallow. His hair hangs limp with grease. His teeth look yellow.

Ginny hiccups, and I turn my attention back to her . I place my arm around her shoulder and lead her into my bedroom. It's messy - there are books on the floor, parchments scribbled with notes. Thank God Loki gets rid of my old dishes for me, or I'd have old teacups and saucers littering every corner. A dozen robes sit in the corner in a pile, awaiting laundry spells. I blush.

"It's a bit messy..."

I flip out my wand, and with a charm, everything is organized into piles.

"You have a wand?" Ginny breathes.

"Er... yes?"

"The Muggle Acts - Snape helped write the Muggle Acts - forbid anyone but free Purebloods from holding wands, Hermione. Snape knows that you have that?"

"He gave it to me."

She raises one red eyebrow, but says nothing as she seats herself delicately in the bedside chair.

"Loki?"

He pops into the room. "Yes, Missy Mistress?"

"Would you bring some tea for Ginny and I, please?"

He nods, genuflects, mutters assurances that the tea will be perfect, then leaves. Ginny watches me, but I say nothing. Loki reappears with a tea tray and flapjack and sets it on the table. I scratch his ears in thanks, and he vanishes again.

"You're happy." Ginny pauses. "Well, happier."

"That wouldn't be difficult." I sigh. "I have my own space. I've come to... an acceptance of the situation, I suppose."

"That's odd."

"Why?" I ask, feeling defensive. "It's not that awful here, despite you telling me that it's a... what? Dreary little house?"

She flushes. "No, because of Professor Snape. He's locked himself up here for a week, getting pissed every day. Every time Draco tries to speak with him he dissolves into these melancholy rants before passing out..."

I turn my head down. What a mess.

"Do you know why, Hermione?" Ginny asks.

I don't answer.

"Do you hate him?"

Do I? I'm almost startled that I don't.

"No," I reply.

"Well then, you might want to figure out why he's acting this way, because it's not doing him any favours within the Inner Circle. Do you understand?"

I nod. How can I not, after that time he came back bruised and near-dead? Because he was defending me. In his own backward way, he's always defended me. How can you care for someone, but not even be able to hold a conversation with them?

I decide now, at this moment, that I'm going to make him talk to me. I have to try to mend our old friendship. I need him, and after his reaction in the library, I wonder if he thinks he needs me.

"I'll have to go soon." Ginny sets aside her teacup, watching me with a knowing smile. "It would be nice if I could come back and visit again, if Snape lets you..."

Professor Snape wouldn't bar Ginny from me. It never crossed my mind. Yet I know Draco would never let me within a hundred feet of Malfoy Manor.

"It'll be fine," I tell her.

"If you say so. I'll be here next week, though you can owl me if Snape forbids it. Draco wants me away during the dowry gifting... so Monday then?"

"How many days is that?"

She laughs then. "Seven, Hermione."

"All right, seven days. I'll see you then, Ginny."

She nods, walks over, and kisses me on the cheek.

"It's good to see you like this again, Hermione. Maybe if you're allowed, I'll send a bottle of something alcoholic to Loki so he can chill it. We can drink too much and ogle bad romance novels like we did back at school."

"I never did that. That was always, always you, Ginny, while I rolled my eyes and tried to study."

She shakes her head, laughs again, moves to the door. "See you soon, Hermione."

"Good-bye, Ginny."

The door shuts with a soft click. For the first time in days, weeks perhaps, I not only feel happy, but... hopeful. I fall asleep on my own, without the aid of a potion.

---

My last Potions class was raucous with noise. Usually Snape kept the cacophony at a minimum with sharp words and quick detentions. Not today. He sat at his desk reading a heavy book, seemingly oblivious to the pushing, shoving, and general misconduct in his classroom.

I wondered if he was in a snit because I'd decided to act as bait. Ron and Harry were behaving differently as well. Harry was distant, sad, when he looked at me. Ron was clingy.

I tried desperately to concentrate on our assigned potion - a basic love potion. I thought it odd, since Snape rarely assigned concoctions which students could obviously use to manipulate others.

I had finished the potion with time to spare, though I'd been distracted by the noise. After leaving my cauldron to steep, I capped the jar of dry holly leaves and crossed the room to place it back on the top shelf. I stretched on my toes, reached up...

My fingers felt like they'd been hit by a zap of static electricity. I yelped. The jar of holly leaves slipped from my hand.

Crash!

Dessicated gray leaves scattered across the slate floor tiles. The glass jar smashed, sending shards of glass over the floor, into the shelves, even two small fragments into my leg. I squealed in pain, then turned on Malfoy

"What did you hit me with, Malfoy?" I snarled. "What did you do?"

Only Malfoy would've hit me with a hex. He sneered back at me and tossed back his blond hair.

"Don't blame me for your mistakes, Granger."

"You hexed her, Ferret?" Harry demanded.

The chatter rose, every student either feeling sorry for me, or laughing at me.

Professor Snape finally rose from his chair, a disdainful sneer pasted across his lips. The room instantly fell silent.

"Out, all of you, now."

I turned to leave.

"You stay, Miss Granger."

"Sir," Harry spoke up. "Her leg..."

"Out, Potter!"

Harry shot me an apologetic look before retreating with the rest of the students.

I looked down at my leg. A trickle of blood, like a liquid ruby, slowly slid down my calf.

"Come here." Professor Snape's voice was barely audible.

"Sir?" I asked, though I complied.

He moved a chair to face his own, then pointed to it.

"Sit." He sighed. "I am not so inept that I cannot perform first aid on a student. Or would you rather walk up the three flights of stairs with an injured leg?"

"No, Sir," I replied meekly, settling in the wooden seat.

He leaned into his desk drawer, pulled out a wooden box, and flipped up the lid. Inside, I could see various phials of numbing potions, clean cloths, and jars of various healing potions and pastes.

He reached down, never taking his eyes off my face, and lifted my foot into his lap. After leaving his hands on my ankles a minute, as if allowing me to escape, he examined the cuts. They were small, just two of them, where flying glass fragments had embedded themselves into my skin.

"Your robes are too short, Miss Granger. They should skim the floor."

"I... I had a growth spurt last year - I didn't want to buy new ones, they're expensive and I wanted to save up for my apprenticeship, so I just transfigured them..."

"And now you have learnt the error of your ways," he interrupted. "Transfigurations rarely hold in clothing. Now, if you would, sit still."

He held out his wand to the wounds.

"Accio glass shards."

I ground my teeth as the two bits of glass wriggled in my leg, then dislodged. They flew into his hand. I was afraid they'd cut him, but the two fragments bounced off his calluses and dropped into his palm, like a pair of frozen tears.

He reached into his - first aid kit? - and pressed a clean piece of flannel to the wound, wiping away the blood with small, exacting circles.

"You know, Miss Granger, there is still time for you to change your mind," he said.

"Change my mind?"

"Your mission to act as Lucius Malfoy's bait. Your mission... you've agreed to off yourself in two days, if I'm not mistaken?"

My face flushed. "I am not offing myself. I'm helping the war effort."

He dismissed my protests with a wave. "You know what I mean."

After cleaning off my leg all too thoroughly, he unscrewed the jar of salve. Why didn't he just give me a bottle of potion to swallow? I supposed he figured that I only had a cut, better to target just the injury.

Callused fingers dragged over the cut, smearing the green jelly onto my skin. Within seconds, the lacerations knit together, smoothed out, leaving my leg as unblemished as a peach skin.

"Your potential contributions to the Magical world in the future outweigh the advantages of capturing Lucius in the present."

The comment, without the sneer and disdainful expression, might have been a compliment. I dropped my head.

"Harry's the important one. We have to make sure Harry..."

"Potter!" he bellowed, then stood suddenly. "You are entirely more stupid than I ever gave you credit, Miss Granger."

I flinched. He stood, a scowl on his face, brow knit, as if he'd come to a decision.

"Miss Granger, detention. Tonight, at four p.m., you will pick enough holly to replace that which was ruined today. There is a mature, suitable holly bush near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I expect you to harvest the holly from that grove. Do not expect me to meet you to oversee your work, I haven't the time for child-minding."

"Yes, Sir."

I kept my face down so he wouldn't see my watery eyes. I didn't want our last meeting - if it was to be our last meeting - to end like this.

"You're dismissed."

He settled into his desk, concentrating on a sheaf of papers, ignoring me. I stood, collected my books. As I passed the shattered glass and leaves, I turned back to him.

"Shall I clean this, Sir, before I go?"

He looked up from his book. He looked so tired.

"Don't bother." He looked back down at his book, and his voice dropped to a mutter. "It won't matter."

I frowned, but didn't ask him any more questions. There were a dozen reasons I could think of for his sudden despondency.

"Get out, Miss Granger," he suddenly hissed. "Stop standing there gawking at me."

I bolted for my next class.

---

I knock on Professor Snape's door. He warded himself in yesterday so I couldn't speak with him. It's early morning - he won't have started into his cups.

"Professor?"

I turn the doorknob and peer in, hoping he's not in a mercurial mood.

"Miss Granger. Why... what is it you want?"

"I want to talk with you."

"Talk with me." He snorts.

"Yes, talk with you," I snap back. "Just... conversation, that's all. It'd be nice to have a conversation with someone other than Ginny or Loki."

He looks up at me, and for a second I see an expression of fleeting confusion. Yes, Professor, I know you expect me to come here and demand to talk about our problems. I know you'd run. I'm not that stupid.

"All right then, I suppose you may have a few minutes."

How generous. I don't voice it, of course. His defensive shell is so transparent - did I always see through him?

He stares into my eyes as I think it, and he seems to jump in his chair. Legilimency. How I'd love to be a Legilimens, if only to know whether he wants to be left alone or if he's feeling affectionate.

I settle across from him. Loki has left a second, empty cup on his tea-tray, and I pour myself a cup without asking permission. He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"Ginny's visiting me on Monday." I wait a moment. "Is that acceptable with you?"

He frowns. "I'm not about to prevent you from seeing your... companions, if that is what would please you."

"Anthony Goldstein's joining the Malfoy household, maybe he'll come along."

"No. Miss Weasley is acceptable. Mister Goldstein is not," he bites back.

I crook my eyebrow. He's so terribly, terribly transparent today. He's jealous. I should be angry.

"So male friends are out. What if they're gay?"

I see a spot of colour in his cheeks.

"Their... orientation... is of little concern to me. I simply dislike Mister Goldstein."

"Liar. You'd be so angry if I told you never to speak to Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa Malfoy again."

He looks at me strangely, head cocked, brows drawn together. "Do you want me to stop speaking with them?"

"No. It's the principle of the thing."

Do I catch a flash of - disappointment? No. Maybe.

"Principles are good only for those people wholly disconnected with reality." His tone is imperious.

I feel a flash of anger. "And who keeps me 'wholly disconnected with reality'!"

Though I didn't come in here to argue, he always manages to say something to anger me. It's little comments like these, ones that make me feel like a stupid little girl...

Loki, I think, senses the tension in the room, and appears at our feet. He drags a big bottle of something bright-green behind him. He smiles up at me, and ignores Professor Snape.

"Missy Mistress, Master, Loki be bringing something nice! Missy Redhead be sending a lovely present... big bottle of drinky-drinky for Missy Mistress. Why not try? Very delicious - Missy Aurelia always asks for this. Is called Midori, Loki knows! Very sweet and tasty... make Mistress calm."

"I'm supposed to save it for later, but I suppose I might as well have a sip, since it's here and the tea's gone." I sigh, my voice still taut. "I can't imagine that Draco's had such an influence on Ginny that she'd send Japanese melon liqueur. She was always one for cheap rum or vodka..."

Snape snorts. Loki sets a glass on the table, a knuckle's worth of emerald liquid. I bring it to my lips, only to have Professor Snape reach across the desk and stop me.

"You're not just going to drink it, are you?" he asks.

"What else would you do with it?"

"Hasn't the problem with Loki and the emetics taught you anything, girl? You can trust nobody."

"Not even you?"

He pauses. "Especially not me, if it means satisfying my own desires."

"Liar, liar, liar." I reply, feeling superior. "Odd how your desires usually seem to revolve around keeping me safe."

His head snaps upward, his eyes widen. It's as if I've discovered some terrible, awful secret in his past. I smirk at him, and he turns away with a look of shame.

How guilty he can make me feel, just with a look.

"Give it to me," he mutters, taking the cup.

He swishes his wand; nothing. He examines the bottle. He takes a sip, then spits it back into the cup. His face pales.

"It's poisoned." He says. "Ricin and numbing potion. Quite potent. The liquor's strong taste conceals the flavours of the poisons well."

I swallow. Stare at him. He examines the bottle once again, performing a tracking spell, an ownership spell, a half dozen spells I don't recognize. His expression transmutes into anger.

"Loki, you foolish creature, where did you get this?"

"A house-elf... Malfoy house-elf... bring it to me and say is from Missy Redhead. Loki... what did Loki do?"

"You almost killed her, you bloody halfwitted creature..."

Loki shakes. I shake.

"Do you see, Hermione?" he asks, catching my hands in his, eyes wild. "Do you see why I keep you here? There are dozens that would like nothing more than to kill you - you're the closest to Harry Potter that they can get at. They would take out their own frustrations upon you. My sister sent this... gift to you. My own sister, not Miss Weasley."

"Why?"

My voice sounds small and weak. I feel him squeeze my fingers before sighing and dropping them.

"Aurelia is afraid of you."

He stares out the window at the soft green ivy just starting to crawl over the panes. If it were anyone but him, I'd think him daydreaming. Does he daydream? Everyone has hopes for the future, desires they never voice...

"Why would she be afraid of me? I'm just a concubine." I spit the word out, feeling a knot in my stomach.

"No," he murmurs, "You're not."

"What do you mean?"

He lifts up the bottle, sets it aside.

"I will deal with Aurelia. I assure you, this will not happen again," he says. "Go, spend your day as you wish. I must go and deal with the repercussions of this special delivery."

I open my mouth, but he holds up one hand to silence me. Despite the hand, I speak to him.

"Please, please come to me when you're finished. I want to talk with you, brew some potions, maybe eat together, like before." I turn my head toward an empty scotch bottle in the corner and the full garbage-bin of crumpled parchments. "I don't want you like this."

He lets out a huff.

"Please? You won't make me beg, will you?"

He glowers at me, then nods.

"Fine. I will be back in the afternoon, but I wish to finish some correspondence before the end of the day. I will come to you when I have a few free minutes."

I smile. "Thank you."

He coughs, then grumbles out something that sounds suspiciously like you're welcome.

Eventually we'll have to talk about what happened in the library. Not now, though. I won't push that conversation until he's let down his defenses again.

When I glance over at him leaving, I swear, just for a minute, I see a ghost of a smile in his eyes before he turns away from me and hurries out.

---