Disclaimer: This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of JK Rowling. I am only borrowing them.

Warning: Mature themes, subject to change: mild violence, strong language, substance use or abuse, scenes of a sexual nature as well as general innuendo smattered throughout, adult themes including but not limited to death and disease both mental and physical.

[A/N] I am having a really hard time writing this story right now. As soon as I posted chapter 13, went to bed and woke up, Alan Rickman had followed David Bowie. Rickman was not the Snape I thought was perfect in the movies at first but his performance impressed me in the end. There were so many other roles he did that were so well done. Maybe writing will help. Rest in peace, you beautifully talented men.

Playlist: Lazarus - David Bowie | Suite No. 1 in G Minor for Solo Bass Viole - Sainte Colombe le Fils | Skyfall - Adele

Thursday, August 4th, 2005 | 3:12 pm | The Lodge, Loch Lomond

The summer air in Scotland was not nearly as oppressive as it was in London. Instead of streams of sweat coursing down her shoulder blades, Hermione sat comfortably on the balcony of the Malfoy Lodge with longer sleeves as the nest of paperwork continued to build around her. Absentmindedly, she reached for another of her empty teacups to rest as a paperweight to her left, reading a report in her right hand fastidiously.

Arithmancic equations bobbed in the air around her: glowing runes showing connections and threads between names and images of ingredients, charts and graphs and long timelines with dozens of tick marks denoting dates starting after the Easter holidays of 1998.

"Sevření," intoned a quiet voice behind her.

If not for the brush of a spell against her skin Hermione would not have realized the caster was there at all. As it was, she became acutely aware of her now shared space with Snape as he took a seat gracefully at the other end of the balcony.

The silence stretched as Snape opened a Potions Quarterly journal that she recognized as originally published in Portuguese.

"Was that Russian?" she asked. Her empty left hand rested lightly on the parchment he had charmed, the wind no longer rustling the documents and disturbing her visually disastrous organizational system.

"No," Snape replied flatly. He almost seemed to hesitate before he looked up at her and added: "It was Czech."

Hermione nodded in silent thanks as their eyes met briefly. Neither spoke again, each engrossed entirely in their afternoon projects, until the pop of Apparition could be heard in the foyer inside. The sound was for courtesy's sake as each person within the house knew how to Apparate silently.

"I'm surprised Rix is letting you laze about in this filth," quipped Draco as he walked out to meet them.

"If your elf could even look at me for more than a few seconds I'm sure he would be trembling at the sight." Hermione looked up as Draco sat down cross-legged in front of her, inches away from a copy of Grey's Anatomy opened to a section with a diagram of the left atrium of the heart. Sensing her unease, Draco pushed himself a little further away from her paperwork. "Did Kingsley give you a hard time today?"

"Blessedly I did not encounter the Minister, I was able to book the Portkey without interacting with anyone...superfluous."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in question. Draco's face was a cool mask but the effect was diminished when one of her floating equations listing the properties of salamander entrails within various potions ghosted by. Instead of looking at her directly he watched the constellation of numbers winking around her head as if on floating chalkboards.

"Potter wasn't around," he stated plainly, "before you ask. Probably doing damage control still, your name is still all over the blasted Prophet. Should keep him out of our hair when we go to the labs to bring down the enchantments. And no, 'we' does not include you."

"I know that!" snapped Hermione before she could reign in the retort. A huff of breath later, "Grab that parchment by your right hand...no the other one, the one with blue ink...yes. No, I don't need it, I want you to read it. Those are the equations I started last night after dinner about the Muggleborn wards."

"She's attempting to convince you to bring her tomorrow, Draco," drawled Snape behind his journal. The shimmer of the translation spell cast on it glinted in the summer sun.

With his eyebrows knit together in a slight scowl, or as knit as the two perfectly manicured lines could be, Draco frowned. "I can see that. Hermione, we don't need Muggleborn blood to take them down. And if we did I couldn't use yours for reasons you are perfectly aware of."

"My blood was the last to strengthen them."

"But you're not well enough, your core -"

"It doesn't matter if my core isn't ready to cast the spells to take the wards down. It will not hurt me if you use a bit of my blood to help dismantle them so I can work in the Manor."

"Blood magic isn't something to tamper with!"

"You sound like the fucking Ministry," mumbled Snape. "Blood magic is about intention. Stop your hedging, Draco. Granger does not need to be present, but her blood was the last Muggleborn's to be spilled in that house. We would be remiss to not bring a vial with us."

"And the fresher the better," Hermione chimed in with a false brightness, which made Snape scowl down his nose at her.

Draco was starting to see an infuriating pattern with the two of them sharing opinions that were the direct opposite of his own. "Then we will take a vial right before Severus and I leave for the Manor, but you are not coming with us! Please, don't be needlessly Gryffindor. I've had enough of that recently. You need to stay here and not be around the magical interference."

Pouting was the only accurate description for what Hermione did as she stood from the center of her cocoon of parchment. She very nearly stamped her foot. A practiced wave of her wand and all the documents neatly stacked themselves the exact way she had brought them out of the transfigured waste bin that Dudley had sent by Floo.

Snape and Draco would lock her up in her room if they had their way, and there was no chance she would be drinking or eating anything she had not prepared herself until the next morning lest they slip her a sleeping draught. Though, if they did, she would have full license to completely eviscerate them. Dismantling the Muggleborn wards on the Manor would be difficult without blood to unlock them and the equations proved her point. All she would need to do would be prick her finger and touch the place where the wards were sealed in the first place centuries ago by much more prejudiced Malfoys. From there unlocking them would be simple and the fresher the "sample" the more effective it would be.

Arguing wasn't getting her anywhere but she made it clear in her body language as she stormed into the house proper that it wasn't an argument she was conceding yet.

Thursday, August 4th, 2005 | 8:57 pm | The Lodge, Loch Lomond

"Severus?"

"What is it?"

"Should we bring her?"

That made him look up sharply from the cauldron he was currently stirring counterclockwise. "Draco-"

"Wait, let me explain. She's going to try to follow us, and she will not be fooled by some sleeping draught in her tea. That's why she's been locked up in her room all night, though I doubt if we tried to actually lock her up in her room that it would work."

Draco stepped into the small makeshift lab that had once been a half-bath off of Severus's quarters in the basement of the lodge. The last rays of the setting sun shone through the French doors on the far wall, igniting his platinum blonde hair to a shining gold. Leaning against the doorjamb he exuded calm and the constant undercurrent of self assuredness every pureblood carried. At least, every pureblood that wasn't a Weasley.

"I don't want to bring her as much as you do, it's too dangerous and she is too erratic magically since her collapse. Instead, I sent Potter an owl today like you asked."

With one last stir, Severus put a stasis charm on the cauldron and placed the lid on tightly. "Is she amenable?"

"Entirely. She doesn't trust local apothecaries and with Hermione not speaking to them the last few weeks she hasn't had the potions she wants. Instead of owling she sent a Patronus back practically begging us to send her this. Is it ready to be owled?"

"After another thirty minutes of stasis, and she will need to add her own fresh mint to help with the taste as I do not have any left in my stores and it's the thing that will not interfere with the potion negatively as well as mask the flavor."

"Good."

[2nd A/N] Sevření is Czech for "hold fast" and is pronounced a bit like "Sev-jenknee". Any mistakes made in translations are my own fault, as I shamelessly use Google translate for the best looking, feeling, or sounding spell or phrase translations.

Also, I am looking for an alpha reader if anyone is interested.