When I awoke, the sky outside the window was streaked with pink-red clouds. I wasn't sure if it was sunrise or sunset. I looked around the room and was surprised to find Daphne curled up in one of the wingback chairs by the fire. I sat up slowly and she carefully placed the book she'd been reading on the table next to her before crossing the room to sit on the end of my bed.

"How are you feeling?" she queried.

"Surprisingly okay," I lied smoothly.

Daphne raised an eyebrow but didn't push it any more than that. "Glad to hear it."

"Is it morning or night?" I asked, indicating the fiery sky.

"Night. Antonin asked me to sit in with you; he was called away by You-know-who, but didn't want you to wake up alone." I registered with interest that she hadn't called him the Dark Lord. Perhaps not a terribly ardent follower?

"Thank you, I do appreciate it. I hope you weren't too bored,"

"Not at all. I was just reading Tugwood's newest book. She has the most fascinating theory about the interactions of lunar herbs and those in the Lamiaceae family."

"Really?" I asked, feeling a spark of genuine interest. Daphne seemed to sense I didn't want to talk about what had happened that morning, and let herself be sidetracked.

We settled by the fire and began a heated discussion of this idea, followed by other recent potions theories. We were so engrossed in our chat that before we noticed, night had fallen. Finally, Daphne looked out the window and exclaimed, "Oh no! You must be starving. And me here talking your ear off about potions!"

"I didn't notice- I was thoroughly enjoying it!" I assured her with a genuine grin. It was true. Talking with Daphne was the first time in weeks that I'd forgotten about the war and the mission hanging over my head.

"Well I can't let you starve to death. Antonin would never forgive me," she chuckled. "Mopsy!"

A tiny elf, wrapped in what appeared to be a hearth rug, appeared with a crack. "How can Mopsy be helping Miss Daphne and Mistress Hermione?"

"Could you please bring us some of whatever was served for dinner?"

Mopsy tisked. "Mopsy will not be bringing nasty old leftovers, no. Mopsy will bring proper dinner for the young ladies," she asserted. And before either of us could respond, she was gone.

Daphne sighed resignedly, "She thinks I'm too skinny. You'll see- she'll bring up a roast ox."

Several hours later, after Daphne and I had stuffed ourselves to bursting at Mopsy's insistence, I was back in bed. Daphne and Mopsy had both been firm in the belief that I should get more sleep. However, now that they had left, my mind started whirring at a hundred miles an hour. I found myself agonizing over everything from what my next steps should be, to what my moral responsibility was towards Scabior's death. On the one hand, it was war. I'd killed people before and I would probably kill again. On the other, I had lured him to what I imagine was a horribly violent end. And then snogged his executioner. On top of that, I'd had a lovely afternoon with Daphne and hadn't thought about his death once. What kind of screwed up person did that make me?

The other question that kept popping up, no matter how often I reminded myself that I really shouldn't care either way, was 'Where the hell is Dolohov?' I wondered if it was normal for Voldemort to send him on overnight missions. I couldn't help imagining him hurt somewhere, alone. At what point should I be concerned if he didn't come back? And what would happen to me if that occurred?

Finally I resigned myself to the fact that my body wasn't ready to sleep yet. I took the comforter with me and ensconced myself in one of the wingbacks by the fire. I wasn't waiting up for Dolohov, I told myself. I was just having a late-night reading session.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly stiff, to the unwelcome sight of Severus towering over me. However much I grew to respect the man, I just couldn't quite avoid the initial shudder every time I saw him. What can I say... bats just creep me out.

"Was there something wrong with your marital bed, Madame Dolohov? Too empty perhaps?" Severus smirked.

"Oh stuff it," I groused. "I fell asleep reading."

"Naturally." Severus drawled, turning the word into about ten syllables.

"Just give me five minutes to get ready," I yawned, hauling myself out of the chair.

Severus settled himself in the other one, "Very well. I'll order breakfast to your rooms while I wait, if that is agreeable to you."

"Sure," I called over my shoulder as I dashed into the bathroom. I knew Severus would find a thousand ways to make my day unpleasant if I made him wait too long.

Luckily I'd developed a very low-maintenance routine on the run with Harry and Ron the year before, so I was out of the shower and dressed in under five minutes. I plopped down in the chair opposite Severus and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Hit my hair with a drying charm, will you?" I requested, since I still wasn't allowed to carry a wand.

He obliged, and I felt my hair frizz instantly. Judging by Severus's wide-eyed expression, I knew it must be pretty bad.

"I'm not a potions beaker, Severus!" I squeaked indignantly, "Don't you know any beauty charms?"

Severus turned a very interesting shade of puce, but didn't respond. I suppose he didn't like being at a disadvantage in any area, even this one.

"Oh, give me your wand. I'll show you!" I grumbled.

With my hair properly subdued, I returned the wand to Severus and attacked my breakfast in earnest.

"Slow down, girl!" chided Severus, "I won't vanish it before you're done."

I gulped down a huge mouthful before I could respond, "Sorry! I know I'm late and you want to get stared early."

"Madame... Hermione. That's not why I'm here. While I would appreciate your assistance in the lab, I first wanted to check on you."

I gave him a look of surprise. Severus and I were perfectly amicable colleagues, but I wouldn't call us friends. I'd defended him vehemently to the rest of the Order once I found out he was innocent, but that had been on principle. In fact, I'd always thought he rather resented needing my defense at all.

"Oh," I finally managed, "Well I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

"I'm glad to hear it. So...I take it yesterday was on purpose?"

"Well, more or less. It got out of control pretty quickly, but I think it will have the desired effect."

"I think you rather overshot the desired effect. Certainly, nobody will ever be telling Dolohov that they were... involved with you. However, you may have precious few takers after this. Men might brave a spot of light torture to get laid, but few want to die for it."

"You don't think that will just make them insist on secrecy?"

"Perhaps. But you'd have to be an idiot of monumental proportions to risk getting murdered for a bit of skirt."

"Well I hope you underestimate how many of your compatriots are idiots, then."

Severus, wonder of wonders, smiled, "Well when you put it like that I suppose you've got a chance."

We both sat quietly for a moment, thinking.

"So," I finally asked, "Who are the high-value targets?"