For anyone not confronting a murderer in a shack, the end of term was a dull affair. Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again. Gryffindor won the House Cup again. There was some smug exultation among the Slytherins when word got around Professor Lupin had been fired. All the parents thwarted over the Dementor incident insisted forcefully that Fudge do something about the werewolf, and as the Minister could throw mud at Dumbledore, he did liberally.

It had been Hermione's bad luck that the final class of the year had been Potions and her Head of House had marched her from the classroom to the apprentice's suite adjoining his quarters. He'd disarmed her and locked her in with assurances that her belongings would be packed. She would be conveyed to her guardian's home as soon as Narcissa Malfoy came to fetch her. He shut the door on her protests.

"Moppet." Hermione did not hesitate to call for reinforcements as she pulled the Map out of her pocket. "Voice, now what?"

"Do you continue to be committed to refusing the hospitality of the Malfoys?" Hogwarts inquired, evidently wishing her to reconsider her confrontational stance.

"I was tortured there. Cursed dagger. Screaming on the floor. Cruciatus Curse." She bit the words. "I will not play nice with people who watched and did nothing."

"We understand." The Voice altered, becoming more conciliatory. "Nor more shall we speak of it."

"Moppet can get Miss's wand back then Miss can run away with Moppet." The house elf suggested. She'd enjoyed their trip to Man Island with the two wheels and the ice cream. "Moppet can go as far as Hogwarts School allows."

"If you can get a hawthorn wand from the Lost Wands and substitute it, hopefully Professor Snape won't notice." Hermione suggested. Moppet nodded and disappeared. "Voice, can you do anything to keep someone out of the Castle? Delaying Mrs Malfoy will buy me time to get out of here."

"Not in the way we believe you mean. Any may come to Hogwarts." The Voice paused to test the strictures of its being. "The Headmaster may close the school in time of need."

"I'd rather not involve Dumbledore. If Cathal goes to him for protection, there will be a price." While Hermione respected the Headmaster for all he had done, she did not idolise him as she had when younger. Doing something 'for the greater good' was too easy an excuse to abuse. "Peeves could be helpful. I assume he's basically your id."

"We shall persuade him." The Voice did not sound enthusiastic but the speech box above the Map's legend went blank, indicating it had left the conversation. Hermione put the Map away and upended the bed in the small sleeping area. Apprentice accommodation was not lavish. She climbed onto the oak frame to peer into the ventilation grille. Behind it was a niche containing a bulbous ceramic pot; a jar of four winds to make fresh air. No escape that way.

The bathroom facilities were a chamber pot and a sink. Hermione paced the entirety of the suite. She was done by the time Moppet reappeared with her wand. There was no secret door or cunningly hidden exit. On the up side, she could now add the interior of the apprentice quarters more accurately to the Map. She hadn't had the opportunity to poke around Professor Snape's private rooms.

"Via Speculo." Hermione cast the Mirror Road Charm on the medicine cabinet above the sink. The glass discoloured and she felt a weird rushing sensation before an upswell of nausea. She swallowed, breathing slowly. Nothing else happened. Disappointing but not surprising. The charm was a variant of the Vanishing Cabinet enchantment that used to be used to travel between one mirror and another. It had fallen out of fashion after Ignatia Wildsmith invented Floo powder.

"Was Miss supposed to go through the looking glass?" Moppet asked tentatively, not wanting to hurt her friend's feelings by pointing out she was still there. Maybe she should've pretended she couldn't see Miss.

"It would've been handy." Hermione frowned. "But honestly, no. The charm's fiddly and this is the first time I've actually cast it. But it does leave a characteristic residue on any mirror used so Cathal has a plausible exit." She held her hand out to the house elf. "But I much prefer your way of travelling."

With a grin, Moppet popped them away.

They ended up some place dark. Hermione lit her wand. They were in a room very similar to the one they had left except this one was lined with shelves slightly canted downwards. There was a very strong smell. She sniffed, identified camphor and rotten meat then hastily cast Nox. The scent grew more pungent as the fungus growing on the shelves began to fluoresce.

"Shit." Hermione picked up Moppet, muffling the house elf under her robes and blindly cast an Unlocking Charm. She rushed out of the room before the Combustible Mushrooms did what the name suggested. "Scour... achoo." The witch tried to cast as the paroxysm of sneezing started. Tears streamed as the spores stung the sensitive mucosa of her eyes and nose. "Sc... achoo...fy."

She was on the floor sneezing convulsively when a door thudded open, flooding the workroom with light. Hermione saw a pair of sensible boots with dried mud on the uppers and heard a Cleaning Charm. The strong mothball scent dissipated, leaving her crouching with her face running with tears and snot. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand.

"Miss Rosier, I must say I didn't expect you to be daft enough to sneak into my mushroom store." Professor Sprout inspected the Slytherin as the younger witch mopped herself up.

"Not my intention, Professor." Hermione said abjectly, rubbing her outraged nose.

"What was your intention then?" The Herbology Professor cast another Cleaning Charm on the girl's hair as the fruiting bodies of Calvatia cheirovomvida were effusive in their release. She never handled them without a Bubble-Head Charm and didn't allow anyone to work with them unsupervised.

"My spell went awry." Hermione was very conscious of Moppet sniffling into the back of her legs trying not to sneeze.

"Come now, a little more explanation than that." Pomona had not yet had any trouble with the taciturn girl, and had not seen any indication of the Rosier viciousness that had characterised Evan. She had taught Cathal's father through to his OWLs and had known him to be a diligent student. No trouble, unless crossed and then he became an implacable foe. The girl thus far hadn't shown any tendency to be vindictive. Indeed, Pomona recalled what Malcolm Preece had confided to her about his confrontation with the daughter of his father's murderer. Rosier had been kind, in a cold, serpentine way. "It's not like you to indulge in pranks."

"I was trying to cast the Mirror Road Charm." The lie wasn't a whole untruth but Hermione didn't like the taste of it nonetheless. "I was locked in the apprentice chambers attached to the Slytherin Head's office."

"Well, no harm done, I suppose." Professor Sprout was aware of the venomous politics in Slytherin House. If someone had locked Rosier in, it was unlikely to have been a light-hearted jape. It was also unlikely that the girl would give her a straight answer. "Run along. You don't want to be late for the Feast."

"Yes, Professor." Hermione shuffled out, Moppet invisible under her cloak. Once in the hallway, she picked up the house elf and hurried to the nearest room to Scourgify her friend. The mushroom spores didn't have as debilitating effect on magical creatures as they did on humans but Moppet's nose was as red as a strawberry.

"Moppet does not like the puff sneezes." Moppet complained as Hermione cleaned her thoroughly.

"They're not my favourite fungus either. All I can smell is camphor." The witch Transfigured a desk into a wash basin and filled it via Aguamenti so they could wash their faces. Not strictly necessary as the Cleaning Charm was thorough but her nose and eyes felt raw. "What happened?"

"Moppet thinks the wards against the hungry darks keeps house elves in. Moppet hasn't left Hogwarts since the bad things came." The house elf splashed herself with the water then dismissed it with a snap of her fingers. "Do we walk, Miss?"

"I think we'd best hide. Narcissa Malfoy is bound to be in the Castle by now. She never struck me as a woman with a sense of humour." Hermione flicked up the hood of her robes and pulled off her tie. They were in Hufflepuff country so hopefully at first glance she'd pass for a Badger. "Stay invisible, and if I get caught, leave me. I don't want you dragged off to Malfoy Manor too."

It shouldn't be possible to look petulant while invisible but Moppet managed it. Hermione walked casually into the corridor and turned the second corner, heading up a half-flight of stairs leading to a long arcade lined with benches that would've been crowded with students prior to exams. She took a left, slipped between the paired statues of Helixa and Syna Hyslop, inventors of the Doubling Charm, and through the arched passage into the Vestibule of Mischief.

Hermione had to pause there to orient herself as the portraits in the circular chamber shuffled themselves around, usually clustering in the 'Coign of Vantage' or the 'Three Wine Glasses and a Stuffed Partridge'. She needed the frame of Bridget Wenlock, noted Arithmancer. An art enthusiast in the sixteenth century had gilded all the frames near the Hufflepuff Common Room, meaning she had to count clockwise from the wide mouth of the Vestibule eleven portraits to find the one concealing the corridor she needed.

Once inside the uncommonly travelled but not exactly secret hallway, Hermione hurried to the third niche and tapped the hand of the statue of Mopsus Divining Defeat. The curved wall behind the marble figure slid open to reveal a spiral staircase. She headed down, ducking her head as the twist was tight. This wasn't the fastest way to her hidden laboratory and she felt like Maxwell Smart but this route kept her away from the Slytherin part of the dungeons.

A heavy, locked door hidden among wood panelling in a gloomy room led to her stewed mint scented workroom. Months of boiling nettles had left a strong lingering odour despite multiple freshening charms. Hermione sat down on a ratty chintz armchair and took stock. Moppet sat on the matching fainting couch, which was lower to the floor so she didn't have to clamber up.

"Right." Hermione said, feeling she now had a moment to think. She didn't like making rushed decisions or flying by the seat of her pants. Or flying at all, if given the choice. "I wish I knew more about the wards. There was never time to ask during the battle." She took a deep breath, dropping her hand when she made to rub her sore eyes. "We should be able to just walk out but I'm concerned a lone exit will be obvious. The Headmaster might be able to detect us crossing the boundaries."

"Does Miss really need to leave Hogwarts? Miss stays here most of most summers." Moppet observed, putting her feet on the long chair because no one would punish her for doing so.

"I could just dig in. The staff will be very busy with the Triwizard Tournament preparation." She didn't know why she felt so up-and-down. Hormones, probably. Could be approaching that time of the month for the first time, again. She had not missed menstruating. Puberty was awful. "But I need to be seen leaving or at least to have presumed to have left."

Hermione told herself not to over think her plans. What was the easiest way out of any magical building? Floo, usually. Hogwarts wasn't connected to the Floo Network. You could make fire calls but not full body translocation. Apparition was possible outside the boundary. Getting out of the Castle itself by Shank's pony was relatively easy. She shouldn't overcomplicate her exit.

"Moppet, can you fly a broom?" Hermione asked speculatively.

"Moppet will find out." The house elf grinned.

They snuck circuitously to the Quidditch Pitch, able to get most of the way via a maintenance tunnel before emerging into the understorey of the stadium in a warren of beams. It was dusk as they crossed the grounds to the broomshed and fingers crossed no one would want a last minute night flight. The door to the shed was locked but a murmured Alohomora let them creep in.

To intrude on an intimate moment between two people naked on the floor.

As a Prefect, Hermione had chanced across more than a few couples snogging in discreet niches. She had never walked in on anyone in flagrante delicto before. She stood momentarily stunned, wand illuminating the two wizards as they scrambling for their robes. The witch recollected herself, hastily grabbed a broom, and left the shed.

"Rosier, wait!" Flint shoved himself into his trousers and gave chase. He hadn't a notion what he was going to say but he couldn't let her leave without some sort of lie.

"I can't hang about." Hermione stopped as he caught her shoulder and pulled her around. Standing so close she noticed how much she had grown. The year before she'd been nose to sternum with him. Now she was eye level with his shoulders. Nice shoulders, albeit with the small red smudges of precursor bruises where someone had gripped them tightly.

"That wasn't what it looked like." He said and got a very old fashioned look from a thirteen year old.

"It looked like you were fucking Oliver Wood." She said dryly. Wood hurried up behind Flint, pulling on a shirt with only three buttons left. The Gryffindor wasn't going to leave his lover to face calumny alone.

"I put a Love Potion in his drink." Wood said, hoping to bluff the young witch. He'd face a suspension if she took the accusation to the Headmaster but as he was graduating, there wasn't much Dumbledore could do to him. It wasn't in his power to withhold his NEWTs results. Far better he kept Flint, whose family was very, very conservative, out of the whole mess.

"No, you didn't." Hermione countered. "He's speaking coherently, his pupils aren't dilated, and you aren't a rapist."

"Rosier, you don't understand." Flint elbowed Wood to get him to shut up before he blurted out more chivalrous nonsense. "If my father found out about this, he'd kill Oliver and I'd be married off to some miserable witch by his right as paterfamilias."

"Just as well I have no intention of telling him or anyone." She asserted firmly. "I have to go. Narcissa Malfoy is in the Castle."

"Where the bloody Hell are you going at this time of night?" Wood had been distracted first by Marcus's amazing hands and then by the shock of discovery but his wits caught up now. Rosier had broken into the broomshed to nick one of the Slytherin team's Nimbuses. He'd never seen her on a broom. He wasn't sure if she even watched her House's Quidditch games.

"Aberdeen." Hermione had planned for Moppet to fly across the ward boundaries towards a plausible destination then after a mile or so stash the broom somewhere and return by elf magic. "Not that it is any business of yours, Wood."

"This feud of yours with the Malfoys has to stop." Flint insisted. "I don't care how clever you think you are, Rosier. It's not safe for you to hide among Muggles. Spend the damn summer with Draco. You can set the furniture on him all you like."

"What?" Oliver's eyes narrowed. He and Marcus hadn't talked about their respective Houses. They hadn't talked about much, other than arguing about Quidditch. It was easier that way. "Are you running away from school?"

"No, I'll be back in September." Hermione edged away from the boys. Flint had that determined expression that had seen him grind through mountains of coursework. He didn't like studying but he'd done it.

"That's not the bloody point." The older Slytherin snapped.

"You've been dossing out every summer?" Wood asked, recalling vaguely that Rosier was an orphan. "How'd you avoid Children's Services?"

"Keep moving and look middle class." She answered simply. "I'm articulate and clean. People might wonder why I'm out alone but if I look like I have somewhere to be, they generally don't ask."

"I suppose they wouldn't, at that." He frowned. "Look, I can't just let you leave. Why don't you come back to the Castle and we'll go to Professor McGonagall? She's not likely to hand you over to the Malfoys and maybe there's some place you can stay."

"McGonagall is happy enough to send Potter back to his Muggles and they beat him." Hermione met Wood's eyes stolidly, daring him to refute her allegation. He couldn't. Anyone who'd seen Harry get changed could see his scars. The Dursleys hadn't hit him anywhere someone would see but Vernon had been generous with his belt.

"You'll stay with me." Flint announced. "My mother is at Flint Manor so you'll have a chaperone." This statement got him sceptical looks from both Rosier and Wood. "It matters, Olly, and no, Rosier, I'm not going to leave this alone."

"Why wouldn't your mother owl the Malfoys as soon as I show up?" She didn't object to the suggestion. She just didn't think it would work.

"My mother doesn't care for Lucius Malfoy or his wife, and she doesn't give a damn about the Ministry." That part was an easy sell. As Sacred Twenty-Eight, there wasn't much the Flints had to bestir themselves to do except make more Flints. "If I tell her I wish to court you, she'll fall over herself to make you welcome."

"Damn it, Marcus." Oliver burst out, again thankful he was a half-blood. He'd had the awkward talk with his mum about not fancying girls last year. Her big concern had been him being bullied at school, not the dynastic continuation of the family name.

"She'd accept that explanation?" Hermione's knowledge of pure-blood social mores came from books, the Weasleys, and displays of Slytherin arrogance.

"Yes, indeed." Marcus scowled. Eglantine Flint nee Bulstrode was not a particularly perceptive woman but she had noticed her only son's inclination towards wizards. If he'd had a brother, the matter wouldn't have been anything to trouble the mater. However, he was an only child and he absolutely had to marry a witch. "If I add the Malfoys want you for their son, she'd fend off dragons to keep you."