Waves of fright racked her body as Hermione stared into the glinting eyes of a long, black, serpent. She found herself desperately attempting to veil her panic from the indigo eyes of The Hunter. His face was not lacking in amusement as she tore her gaze to him and then back to their slippery friend, repeatedly. The snake's lean head was cocked in her direction, tongue darting hastily in and out at her, letting out a fear-provoking hiss.

"Ms. Granger. You aren't scared, are you?" Isaac mocked, raising an eyebrow at her arrogantly.

She chose not to answer, instead keeping both eyes trained on the reptile. Subconsciously, she began to tug on her bindings. The rope didn't loosen despite her fraught yanks. She had always had a phobia of sorts towards the hideous creatures as a child. She couldn't help but cringe in its presence, despite being twenty-one years old.

"Oh, dear. You haven't lied to me about your fear, have you?" Isaac said in mock appall, "I hate liars."

"I'm so sure you do," Hermione growled, "A man who is defined by sin and treachery."

"Here come more crude remarks. Would you talk to your mother this way? Oh, pardon. I momentarily forgot," his cerulean eyes flashed maliciously, "The precious muggle is dead."

Hermione roared, "Shut up you foul, despicable, abominable insect!" Rage coursed through her body like never before. Her eyes darkened as she suddenly felt something surging through her veins. Her head was thrown back in pain as energy boiled within her very blood. A bright spark danced within the tips of her fingers, burning like fire through the bulky ropes until they fell onto the stone floor. As if in a trance, she forcefully muttered, "Incendio."

Isaac watched on in mild surprise as his serpent burst into flames with a final hiss. The witch before him seemed to shake her head as if just awakening in a fog. She stared directly towards the ash at her feet before looking up at him with widened eyes. His own eyes flashed with entertainment, "Do you still fail to see why you hold my curiosity, Ms. Granger?" She narrowed her eyes at him in bother, but was unable to hide her curiosity, "You are more powerful than your Order ever saw. You are capable of a substantial amount of Wandless Magic already, my dear. Imagine how essential to this war you would be to either side after a spot of training."

"I-I. That wasn't my doing, though," Hermione objected.

"Oh?" Isaac inquired in amusement before moving his eyes away from hers and mockingly glancing around the chambers, "Pardon me. I guess I must have missed whoever ran in, blew up my snake, and ran out. Damn, that's just too bad. Would have been fascinating to meet the fastest person in history." His smirk grew wider when upon looking back at Hermione, he found her trying desperately to fight a grin and stifle a laugh.

"That's not what I meant, Mr. Dawson," Hermione said, trying to make her voice hard. She reminded herself that this was a man who had threatened her life consecutively along with her son's.

Isaac tilted his head to the side, "Then what, Ms. Granger, did you mean?"

He was goading her like a hunter does his prey before attacking. That's what she was to him, wasn't it? A quarry in whatever game he was urging her to join for his enjoyment but her death. He was prodding her with a stick, riling her up, hoping to make her burst in rage and give him a sport worth taking part in. And she wished to the highest degree that she didn't want to play as well. To make the words she said less than an hour ago, true. To be the one who brought him to his sticky end.

"I had no control of my actions," she defended before scoffing, "Maybe you shouldn't taunt a fox."

He smiled with inner satisfaction that she was not caving to his antics, "You're telling a snake not to taunt a harmless mutt?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes but cocked her chin to remain poised, "Foxes are not some reeking, garbage prowling, dog."

"Is that so? Do enlighten me."

"Foxes are sly, deceitful and devious. They're crafty and strategic," she explained, "They think before every move but still remain quick and dangerous."

"Snakes are cunning and strike without thought. It's all about instinct, my dear. There is no need for strategy when your bite is of venom."

"Any bite a repulsive reptile sends my way will just come back at his arse," Hermione warned with a glint in her eyes that would have made many cower. "Foxes may not be vengeful, but lets just say I throw that into the mix myself."

"You've got spunk," Isaac mused with a smirk, "I can come to appreciate that. I do find myself fond of your logic. You would have faired nicely in Slytherin, my dear. If you grasped your tempter and directed that bite at the correct people."

"I would never have made it in Slytherin," Hermione scowled at him in disagreement, "And what do you mean by the "correct people"? You mean those who are compassionate and virtuous? People like my friends who are loyal and selfless. I'm sorry, Mr. Dawson, but I do not think our beliefs of the "correct people" are shared."

"Oh, I never doubted it," Isaac sneered, "I must be on my way soon. Though, it simply is such a pleasure chatting with you Ms. Granger."

"No worries, the pleasure was all mine," Hermione beamed in obvious sarcasm.

"I'm sure," he said with a grin. "I've been meaning to get to the topic of something, however."

"Oh?" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes, my dear. I was simply wondering to myself how your precious boyfriend was going to take your death."

Hermione's eyes broadened in mild surprise at his choice of subject. Then, she picked up on his words with more detail, "So, you're going to truly kill me?" Her voice didn't sound dreading, it sounded unaffected, and she silently thanked Merlin for that matter.

"It's not in the plan, no."

"Then-"

He smirked, "Your beloved Fred Weasley doesn't need to know that. He can presume your death upon his own accord."

"He knows when I'm alive. He carries the proof on him at all times," Hermione found herself grinning in relief that she had followed through with her plan to give Fred the pendant.

"Ah, seeing a psychic are we?" Isaac chuckled to himself, smiling in amusement at her vague explanation.

"Oh, clear off!" Hermione requested in unexpected jest, "No, you dimwit, don't be silly." She saw his dark eyebrows shoot up at her choice of wording. It was obvious that he was surprised she had just used that terminology and tone with him. They were so juvenile and playful, that it was as if they had both abruptly turned into two teenage girls at a slumber party. "What?" She asked with an innocent expression that she'd mastered from years of trickery with Ron and Harry.

Isaac stared at her with a curious look, not knowing what to take out of her actions. They were so different from the defensive manner she'd displayed since awakening to him. Her eyes were big with a untainted virtue, the coffee brown gleaming. Yes, she was truly dazzling; but, her power was far more essential to him than her mere appearance. "Never mind," he said, "Tell me how your psychic knows you're not dead."

"My charm. It's a pendant that I gave him last night…or whenever actually," She looked at him in uncertainty, "How long, exactly, have I been here?"

"You were unconscious for two hours. Do continue on about this charm."

"Oh, right. I guess it was two nights ago, then, that I gave it to him. It's bewitched to tell when I am in trouble. Let's just say, Fred will be the first of the outside world to know if, or when, I'm killed." She internally wanted to pat herself on the back for being evasive, yet informative, at the same time. There wouldn't be a need to get into more detailed facts of the pendant. However, it felt extremely pleasing to have one up on The Hunter.

Isaac nodded, "Ah. I see." He didn't care about the pendant nearly enough to press matters more. "Well, Ms. Granger, now I'll take my leave. It's nearly four in the morning. I encourage you to rest up a bit."

Hermione stared at him and then looked at the floor with a sigh. "Sure."

"What's wrong, now?," He shook his head in irritation at her obvious reluctance.

"There isn't anything to lay on. You want me to rest on the cold, stone floor?" Truthfully, she didn't care in the least. She wasn't going to tire anytime soon, anyhow. Hermione was just partial to showing him her disobedience of his instructions.

"Yes, I do. It shouldn't matter, anyway, you already have laid on it," Isaac said and glared as she continued to scowl, "You're not getting anything else. So deal. Apologies, Ms. Granger, but you're a hostage of sorts. Not a fairy princess."

"Fine." She stomped her foot in an act of pure exasperation. She quickly caught a peek at the floor next to her foot and saw the familiarity of her wand. Being sure to hide it in the tent of her cloak, she then -with one more glower at Isaac- turned into her animagus again. Sitting on her hind legs above the wand, she cocked her head at him as he raised an eyebrow. Next, she stretched herself out before dropping to the floor and curling herself into a snug ball with her wand beneath her body.

Isaac watched her with minor interest, shaking his head when she dug her muzzle into her coat, no longer sparing him a glance. He glared at his captive, wondering how the bloody hell she'd been declared the brightest witch of the age. Sure, she was intelligent, brave, and confident. Yet, it didn't hide the fact that she was also a right pain in the arse. Turning on his heel he strode over to the door, threw it open, and made his way up the aged flight of stairs and into a long, bleak, corridor.

Grimmuald Place was buzzing with activity. Bill was in the massive library of the Black Mansion. Endless volumes of thick, ancient, stories and knowledge were along towering book shelves that reached up to the height of the soaring ceiling. A long ladder leaned against one set of shelves, where Bill had needed to climb to retrieve a book from a top shelf.

Bill was resting his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow braced him on an elongated, oak, table in a corner of the vast room. He had been rummaging through volumes of his own knowledge and the library's. Trying to figure out how the pendant would react in the instance of Hermione's death. It was a minor fact, but Remus had decided it might be crucial in the long run.

It had been a long night for the Order. Everyone's nerves were shot. Fred had tried to keep his composure for about two hours after they'd all returned home and had failed miserably. At around five this morning- only two hours ago- Arthur had sent him to his chambers. Telling him to catch some rest, but keep an eye on the pendant.

The All-Seeing-Eye had stopped glowing crimson around five that morning, as well. The others were hoping it simply meant she was calm or maybe sleeping. Bill sighed and slammed his head into the table. "Buggar," he whispered on a groan. He is the eldest Weasley son. He is supposed to remain calm and collected. Unfortunately, he was failing critically. His inner wolf was growling in protectiveness of the woman who had been an enormous saving aspect of his life. He wanted to no longer have doubts of her safety.

His ex-fiancé, Fleur, had broken their engagement not long after he'd been bitten by Greyback years ago. Even his family had changed in his presence. Of course, unlike Fleur, they weren't scared of him. They all were so used to Remus' lycanthropy. However, now that Bill was half-lycanthrope, they hadn't any idea how to continue in normalcy. They were scared of saying the wrong thing to him. Scared of upsetting him even more then he already was over the issue. What he really needed them to do was go about it as if nothing had changed. To make him see that this condition was not going to be his demise. No one seemed to understand this.

Except Hermione Granger, that is. She saw him in a light he'd never imagined anyone could see a werewolf. Then again, he'd always thought of Remus as a compassionate gentleman. How dare society bring down a man who was such a caring soul. However, Bill had never thought of himself as such a respectable person. Hermione did. She would prance into the room, kiss his cheek by way of greeting, send him a playful smile and say, "Hey, Fur Ball! Howl at the moon lately?"

Instead of this being upsetting, he loved it. Loved how she could joke about it. Loved how she just cherished him more as a person because of it. Mostly, he loved her for being such a magnificent human being. When the misery of his new lower-status became too much, she'd tightly wrap her arms around his much larger frame. Cradling him away from the harshness of the world as if her small body was his only protection. She'd whisper kind words in his ears, "Never fear moments of darkness, Billy." If he'd ever question her logic, she'd simply place a kiss at his temple and murmur, "Where there are shadows, there is always a source of light."

She was his source of light. His angel in the darkness. Though, Bill never really thought she'd figured that out. Figured out how much he'd counted on her. He'd even found himself searching for her familiar face on the battlefield after Harry had killed Voldemort, winning the war for the Order of the Phoenix. Bill had pushed people aside, growled at those who tried to stop him, jumped over the numerous dead bodies; Anything to find Hermione Granger and ensure himself of her safety.

His own body had been covered in cuts and bruises. His arm was broken and soaked with blood which oozed from a deep gash in his shoulder from a slicing curse. Yet, the pain didn't seem to matter any more when he spotted the 'Golden Trio' standing at the top of a hill, overlooking the bloody field of war. Just thinking back on it, Bill could still remember in complete clarity the sheer relief that he had felt at that moment. Of seeing his little brother and his two best friends, alive. Of seeing the huge smile that spread across Hermione's face when she sensed his eyes on her back and spun to face him.

If she hadn't disappeared following the completion of her final year at Hogwarts back when she was eighteen, he'd probably of fancied himself in love with her. In fact, despite being nearly seven years her elder, he loved her terribly much. He'd been just another Weasley boy in a puddle at the feet of Know-it-All Granger. Not that she'd of ever known. She just made it too easy to love her. To easy to want to give anything, even your life, if it meant she would be safe. That she would be able to grace the world with her confidence, bravery, wit and compassion. She was a one-of-a-kind treasure and his brother was damn lucky to have her heart.

Bill lifted his head from the table, shaking away his thoughts of the past. Focusing completely on the task at hand, he continued skimming through volume after volume of Egyptian information. Knowing with every turn of the page, he got closer to bringing Hermione back to them. Maybe when she returned home, he'd tell her how much he cared about her. Not more than in a sisterly way, of course. No need to get Fred's panties in a bunch.