Hermione wondered if Madam Pomfrey ever found the white beds of the hospital wing depressing. It seemed to her that she had already spent more time in this part of Hogwarts than she ought to. Even if she couldn't exactly remember being Petrified, her body knew it. But then, it was the mediwitch's job to see that everyone else got out of this place as soon as they could. She'd always come through for them in the past... and there was only the one patient this time. Surely she could save the day.

The little Hufflepuff lay limp and pale on the bed. Rose didn't look well. The backs of her hands were covered with puffy red scratches, and a large bruise was swelling on her cheek. More worrying, to Hermione, was the fact that she hadn't stirred at all. Dim memories of Muggle first-aid made Hermione itch to check the girl's pulse and pry open her eyes, but Draco had spun away the moment Hermione had reached for the burden in his arms, insisting on taking her straight to a properly qualified healer. Now, the blond was hovering by her bedside like a worried older brother.

Boots clicked rapidly on the stones outside, and Hermione looked up to see Ginny entering with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall in tow. Hermione and Draco stepped back so that the healer could begin her examination.

"What is your explanation for this, Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall began, her eyes darting worriedly between the young man and the child on the bed. "What have you done?"

"What have I done?" he repeated angrily. "I've risked everything to help her! The Dark Circle, they were using her as a toy... I couldn't just leave her there. I brought her here so you could help her!"

"Why did you not take her to St Mungo's?"

Draco smoothed his hair back in an irritated gesture. "They would have arrested me! This was the only place I could think of where she would be safe - where I thought someone could do something for her!"

"It's all right," Ginny broke in. "She's just worried. We were surprised." She tried to lay a delicate hand on Draco's shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

"Just tell me I haven't done this for nothing," he insisted. "Tell me she'll be all right."

Madam Pomfrey looked up. "Rose is not in immediate physical danger," she asserted, and Draco let out a breath in relief. "But it would help my treatment if I knew precisely what spells had been cast on her."

He shook his head. "There were too many. I couldn't remember them all."

"Too many?" Hermione burst out, aghast. "How long did you stand there and watch?"

"What was I supposed to do?" he spat. "Fight them all? Join her in the circle as the next bit of entertainment? Then who would have been there to help her afterward?"

"So what did you do?" Hermione accused. "Did you cast any spells on her?"

He didn't answer that, turning instead to Madam Pomfrey. "You should know - she's been bitten. On the leg." He reached for her robes, then, after a nod from the matron, pulled the hem up to expose the ugly raw wound on her thigh.

"Dear Merlin," Minerva McGonagall breathed. "She's only a child."

"Greyback likes children," Draco said flatly. "He always has. He used to chase us when we were too young for wands..."

Ginny stared at him in horror.

"But he wasn't shifted, right?" asked Hermione. "So she'll be okay, mostly. Right?"

Pomfrey cleaned the bloody marks and lay her hand against Rose's clammy forehead. "I must ask you again - what happened to this girl? Anything you can tell me will help."

He tugged at his hair and stared silently at Ginny and Hermione. "I'll show you," he said at last. "If you've got a Pensieve."

"Of course," said McGonagall, and led him into Pomfrey's office.

Hermione gripped the rail at the end of the little girl's bed, her eyes fixed on the werewolf's bite. "First Bill, now Rose... I hope this isn't the start of something. If there's a rash of bites in human form..."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked. "Wouldn't it be worse if he were biting people as a wolf?"

"Worse for the victims, yes, but not worse for the other werewolves," Hermione explained. "It's hard enough for people to believe someone like Lupin could ever be trusted if he turns into a monster once a month. If people hear about this, they'll be certain he's a monster all the time. They'll lock him up and throw away the key."

"But," Ginny protested. "The Ministry has better things to do than chase werewolves. There's a war on!"

"And poor, tired Remus is a much easier target to arrest than the dangerous Dark Wizards. Scrimgeour would love to have something to show that he was protecting the public." Hermione sighed. "He's probably the only one they'd catch, too. The rest are already in hiding - or working with the Death Eaters."

The two older women returned to the room, Draco following behind them. He looked tired, but somehow relieved. McGonagall, however, wore a look of pinched disapproval, while Pomfrey only appeared determined. "I'll just pop her over to St Mungo's, then," she said. "Better for her to stay asleep for a bit. When she wakes up, we can see if there is any permanent mental damage."

"Mental damage?" Ginny asked.

"Prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse," the nurse explained, and the girls flinched. "Followed by a memory alteration, which might prevent any harm, or might compound it. We'll have to see." She and her charge vanished with a crackle of magic.

Draco sank onto the rumpled white sheets of the bed, deflated. "It's just not fair," he said quietly. "She didn't deserve this."

"Nobody deserves that," Hermione argued.

"But Rose hadn't done anything wrong!" Draco insisted. "She was a pureblood."

"Oh, so it would be perfectly all right, then, if it was me they were torturing?" Hermione sniffed. "I guess I shouldn't expect anything more from you."

"At least then there would be a reason!" Draco fired back. "Cleansing Mudbloods is a policy. It's something you can believe in. What happened to Rose was just... stupid. A bunch of grown men acting like school bullies."

"You should know," Hermione snapped. "You're the biggest bully of them all! You've never had a problem casting curses and jinxes on us, and you want us to believe you're on our side now?"

"Don't be any more stupid than you have to be, Granger," Draco said. "I'm not on your side. I'm on my side. And as for bullying, I never jinxed you more than you jinxed me!"

"You started-"

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall interrupted. "In light of your personal history with Mister Malfoy, perhaps it would be better if you left us alone for a while."

Hermione sucked in a breath to argue, then slumped her shoulders. "You're right. I'm not ready to deal with him. I'll be in the library." She turned an apologetic look on Ginny. "And if it's this hard for me, it's going to be even harder for Harry."

---

"Bossy tart," Draco muttered as Hermione left the infirmary.

Ginny giggled. "Tart? Hermione?" she teased. "I've heard her called a lot of things, but not that." She was relieved to see Draco smirk at her words, and a little of the tension eased out of his shoulders.

"Will you be in danger at this point, Draco?" the headmistress asked. "If they consider you a defector, we may need to arrange a safehouse for you."

Draco shook his head. "You saw what happened. They didn't tell me where to go. If anyone asks, I can just say I went looking for them and got lost. There won't be any problem."

"If you return to them, you will end up in situations like this again," Minerva warned. "You will be forced to do things you may regret."

"I have no real choice," Draco shrugged, and flopped backwards onto the hospital bed. His skin color wasn't that much more healthy than Rose's had been, Ginny noted. He continued, "You need someone on the inside, don't you? If I hadn't been there, no one could have helped Rose. If I leave, no one can save my mother. You want the Dark Lord dead? So do I."

"It wasn't that long ago that you were supporting him," Ginny reminded gently. "How do you know he won't change your mind again?"

"I believed in a strong leader with a noble purpose," Draco said, closing his eyes. "He was going to usher in a new age of prosperity for the purebloods. I thought my father was his right-hand man. We were going to rule the world." He opened one eye to stare at Ginny. "Aren't you going to tell me how evil and wrong that was?"

"Would it do any good?"

"No. Not really." He closed his eyes again and continued. "But then he left my father to rot. He picks up a harmless little Hufflepuff and beats her up for no reason. He lets Grayback play with kids. And it turns out his real right hand is Snape, who isn't even pureblood, not that he ever told me. Has it all been lies?"

"You don't know?" Ginny asked quietly.

Draco's eyes snapped open just in time to catch McGonagall's shushing motion. "What don't I know?"

"Voldemort," Ginny said defiantly, "is a halfblood."

Draco gaped. "No. What? He's... he's the Heir of Slytherin! He's the purest of us all!"

"Only on one side. His dad was a Muggle."

"Fuck," Draco breathed. "No wonder he's so keen on Snape." His eyes closed again, angry tears growing in the corners. "Just... fuck."

"Draco," McGonagall broke in again. "I understand that you have had a difficult day. However, if, as you said, you intend to return to your position, you will need to leave soon. In the meantime, is there any information you can give us? Any plans you are aware of?"

"Not much," Draco said. "Snape's involved in some secret brewing project, but I can't figure out what he's making. It's no potion I've ever heard of. And I guess they need to make lots of it. Goyle's father was ordered to have his son help them buy more supplies."

"So that's what Goyle was doing with the perfumes!" Ginny said.

"Is young Mister Goyle officially a member now, then?" McGonagall asked.

"No. Not Crabbe either. I haven't seen anyone my age. They just do what their parents ask - they're not really part of it," Draco said.

"Well, then." Professor McGonagall gave Draco a hand up to his feet, then patted him on the shoulder. "You'd best be going. Let us know if you hear anything more, or if you need our help. We will always be here for you."

When Draco had left, Ginny turned back to Minerva. "Do you really believe him?"

The older witch was quiet for a moment. "As you know, a Pensieve is primarily a visual record. I am not skilled in Legilimency. I cannot read his thoughts. But a memory, a whole memory plucked from a mind, can't help but carry a bit of the emotional state with it. Our young Draco was honestly upset by what he witnessed, and came to us for aid. I think that's a strong beginning."

Ginny plucked at her robes and smiled.

---

Hermione was in one of her favorite places - the Hogwarts library. She was seated in the only truly comfortable chair, a deep blue seat with padded arms that was usually lost off in a corner but now, with the school empty, could be pulled up to a table. Books and old newspapers were piled in front of her. She was in her element.

And yet, she had to force herself to take deep, calming breaths.

What had gotten into her?

They needed Draco. They needed the information he could provide. And she, especially, needed him - he was her best link to Snape. If anyone knew where to find him now, it would be Draco. The last thing she wanted to do was make him angry and drive him away.

But seeing him standing there, the same horrible ferret-faced brat who had teased her and hexed her all the years she'd known him, hearing him say the word 'Mudblood' - it made her want nothing more than to break his nose.

How much harder must it have been for Severus Snape to work with Sirius Black? Draco had only harassed her - Sirius had tried to get Snape killed.

She'd just have to learn to control her feelings.

Right. Well. Back to work!

Wizarding obituaries were rather sad, Hermione thought. Wizarding photos were so personable. It was easy to get drawn into them, to wonder about the stories behind them - but here, you knew that the person in the picture smiling and nodding at you was dead and gone.

The first name she was researching was that of Caractacus Burke, co-founder of Borgin and Burke's. She found him eventually listed about eighteen years ago, stabbed in the back with a poisoned dagger from his own store. There was no mention of any investigation - the newspaper hinted darkly that the death was connected with the mysterious Death Eaters and left it at that. All his possessions, and his share in the store, were left to his daughter, one Rebekah Burke. No wife listed, so Hermione guessed that she had died previously.

So... Burke had been killed off by Voldemort and his followers. Perhaps Tom Riddle hadn't been entirely pleased with the way the man had treated his mother after all. If they could find this Rebekah, maybe she would know more.

Scanning the records, she found no sign of an obituary for a Rebekah Burke, so hopefully the woman was still alive. Locating her would take a bit more work - but it might be faster to ask around first.

Then, Hermione turned her attention to Eileen Snape. What had become of Snape's parents? His father, being a Muggle, might not be listed here, but...

There it was!

Eileen Prince Snape, died October 31, 1981. Survived by her son, Severus Snape. No sign of her husband there, so either he was, again, already dead, or they didn't consider a Muggle relative worth mentioning.

Wait a minute.

Halloween, 1981. Wasn't that the day...

... that Harry's parents died?

---

Draco knew it would be too much to ask to be allowed to slip back into his cupboard-bedroom unnoticed. He expected accusations, interrogations, perhaps another round of Crucio while he groveled and swore to respect the name of the Dark Lord.

What he hadn't expected was to find Snape leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded, and smiling.

"So," said Severus Snape. "What have you learned?"

---

Author's note:

Just another brief reminder that I am working without a beta-reader, and the more juggling balls I add to this act, the more likely it is that I will screw up somewhere and contradict myself occasionally. :) So if something doesn't make sense, feel free to ask about it. In most cases, it should be just that it hasn't been explained yet, but I may get things wrong that need fixing.

Of course, the fun of a story filled with spying, investigating, and double-agents is that even the characters don't always know when they're telling the truth! Some people's assumptions are completely wrong, and if they spread those incorrect ideas to others, everyone can be going off in the wrong direction.