disclaimer: No...I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is a genius!

Thanks for being patient with me and for reading my fanfic!

I would like to wish Mr. Tom Snyder a very happy birthday which will be tomorrow! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOM! Thanks for giving me that extra incentive to finish chapter 30! hahaha. (For those who don't know, Tom is the guy that gave me my tattoo! He works at The Jade Dragon in Chicago...excellent tattoo parlor! ) look it up)

And now, without further ado...chapter 30!

-boots26


The Whomping Willow stretched its branches towards the sky in search of the sun, shaking off snowflakes- which fell softly to the ground like sleepy wood nymphs. The December air was heavy with the smells of burning wood and smoked meats wafting over from nearby Hogsmeade. Without the bustle of students preparing for their classes, Hogwarts was so still- as if the whole world had stopped turning.

As Thomas Crowe made his way through the courtyard, he glanced up at the gray sky, closed his eyes and allowed his human body to dissolve into it. Thomas never felt more free than when he was in his animagus form and he took his time, darting between the gnarly branches and dive bombing through Hagrid's garden. It was eight o'clock and his "meeting" with the mysterious Lady Hatshepsut was set for ten. Flying around as a crow, it was easy to lose track of the time, but Thomas did his best to keep his mind on task. As he glided on the wind, his heart beat so hard in his tiny chest that he felt quite overwhelmed by it all; what information did this lady have regarding his mother? Would he finally be reunited with her? What would he say to a mother he hardly knew?

The Third Dynasty was a dingy little second-hand clothing shop, nestled between Olivander's and Gambol and Japes. The shop was run by an elderly woman by the name of Hattie O'Connor and the "Closed" sign was usually in the window, though she had a sign hanging in the opposite window which read "Open 8 Days a Week!" By the time Thomas arrived at Diagon Alley it was nearly nine-thirty. He perched on a busted lamp post across the street, from where he had a clear view of the front of the shop.

The night his mother went mad returned to him like a sword to the gut. Her clothing ripped to shreds- blood smeared across her face; Thomas had watched her scream in agony as Ministry officials led her away from their home. Having no living relations, Thomas had been all but forced into an orphanage and even now, his lust for revenge burned hot- fueling his every move.

All thoughts of his past suddenly faded as he focused his attention on a hooded woman approaching the shop. He swooped down from the lamp post and settled on the window sill right next to the door- a bold move on his part, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this and didn't feel like playing games or solving riddles. The cloaked woman moved quickly as she knocked at the door and fidgeted with something beneath her robes. Just then, she dropped her coin purse. As she bent low to the ground to collect it, her hood slipped, revealing the pale and chiseled face of none other than Narcissa Malfoy.

Thomas swallowed a hard lump in his throat, unsure of what to make of this most unsettling revelation. Narcissa was met at the door by old lady O'Connor, who upon spying Thomas at the window, shooed him away with such viciousness, it was hard to believe she was a whopping 190 years old!

"Damn crows! I'm not dead yet!"

"Oh- Ms. O'Connor- that's vultures" Narcissa sighed.

"Crows- Vultures- what difference does it make? They're like dementors with feathers, the lot of em!" the old woman cackled maniacally.

Narcissa's presence at the grimy shop intrigued Thomas. Was it a trap after all? If so, who was behind it? Thomas thought about returning to Hogwarts and alerting Dumbledore but something urged him to stay. If Narcissa Malfoy had information concerning his mother, then he wanted to know of it, and the truth was worth every bit of risk.

"Could some one pass the salt please?"

A mass of arms criss-crossed over the long table, knocking over water glasses and plunging forks into towering stacks of pancakes: a typical morning at the Weasley home.

"Here you go Harry" Fred and George chimed in unison. Harry Potter was enjoying his holiday with the Weasleys even if they were at times, a bit unconventional.

"The cap better be screwed on this time" Harry raised an eyebrow at the smirking twins and cautiously sprinkled some salt on his eggs. He had been rather preoccupied with Ginny but Hermione was never far from his mind and he wondered how she was faring all alone at Hogwarts.

"Do ya fink we should see if Hermamani wants to come shopping wih ush at Diagon Alley tomorah?" Ron's mouth was so full, he could barely get the words out.

Harry simply nodded and continued to check the staircase for any sign of the girl he was only now starting to think of as "his Ginny".

"Harry?" Arthur Weasley was bent over some very large books, cup of coffee in one hand and a cup of oatmeal in the other. "What is the muggle significance behind leaving milk and cookies by the fireplace at Christmas time?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but the sight of Ginny approaching the table left him rather speechless.

Mr. Weasley raised his eyes up from his array of books "Harry? You look a bit sick...are you feeling alright?"

"Oh- uh, yes- the cookies…they're for Santa Clause"

"Ginny dear- would you mind feeding the chickens this morning?" Mrs. Weasley poked her head out from inside the pantry.

Mr. Weasley exchanged a rather befuddled look with Ron, "You mean like Father Christmas?"

"Yes sir."

"What kind of cookies would you say are most commonly used in this bizarre muggle ritual?"

"I don't know- um…chocolate chip…would you please excuse me?"

Outside, the air was as bitter and unyielding as Ginny's eyes had been all week and as Harry approached the chicken coop, a million and one thoughts raced through his mind. He would tell her how he felt, he would tell her she was beautiful, he would tell her that he could think of nothing else, he would…

"Harry- why were you standing outside my bedroom door last night?"

Harry Potter was stunned. How could she have known? Ginny never turned to face him as she continued to indifferently sprinkle grains along the ground, but the faint smile that spread across her lips was apparent in her voice; which rang out like a bell.

"I was coming down the stairs from the washroom- I saw you from the stair landing"

"Oh…"

For a minute, neither knew what to say next. Ginny had been so embarrassed by her confession that night in the common room, that she had thoroughly avoided any lengthy conversations with Harry. But now, finally alone in the chicken coop; away from prying school hallways and a particularly nosey family, she found it a great deal easier to be honest with him.

"Harry…I…I'm sorry- I've been so rude to you this whole time…I…"

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had placed his hands on Ginny's shivering shoulders and turned her body to face him.

"I've been trying to tell you…I…" Harry searched her pale face for the right words but nothing came to mind and in fact, the young wizard looked as though he might really be sick.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I'd…It's just…I'd really like to kiss you…I just…"

Ginny suddenly pressed her lips into his and a rush of warmth spread through their bodies, lighting their faces up like beacons along the rocky sea cliffs of Anglesey. As they pulled apart, Ginny's bright brown eyes gleamed like polished tiger's eye.

"Wow" Harry was entirely overwhelmed.

"We better get back inside…Ron's probably wondering where you went off to." The little red-head giggled.

"Ron?" It suddenly occurred to Harry that he had just kissed his best friend's little sister.

"Harry, are you coming?" Ginny smiled warmly and the two headed back inside. Harry was happy that the tension had been relieved between him and Ginny, but now a whole new anxiety began to take hold.

Hermione had finally fallen asleep in Professor Snape's sitting room, much to his displeasure. And yet, as she laid there, fingers wrapped tightly around a throw pillow, the dark wizard couldn't help but be fascinated by her. She was strong-willed with a voracious appetite for knowledge that rivaled his own but there was a spirituality that surrounded her- an inner magic that emitted the most beautiful glow about her face.

"No…I need to…he's…no…I'm not- I…"

Severus watched Hermione writhe on the sofa for a moment before she settled back into a restless slumber. He sighed and apprehensively pulled a blanket on top of her before exiting to his adjoining lab. When he finally revealed who her father was, her reaction had been so wretchedly violent that the potion's master loathed to think what the witch would do upon waking to the reality that the Dark Lord was in fact her father.

Severus began sorting through some roots in an effort to clear his mind but to no avail. He found himself recalling on the sensation of the young witch limply clinging to his arms- emotionally exhausted and afraid of letting go. The brooding wizard wondered if that was what it felt like to be needed.

He flicked his wand at a nearby kettle and set about preparing an infusion of lemon balm and angelica root. While he waited for the water to boil, Severus quietly crossed the sitting room, careful not to disturb the sleeping urchin that he was sure would inevitably ruin his holiday. He stood before his bookcase and retrieved a small box from the top shelf. With the greatest caution he returned to his lab and contemplated the tiny artifact. It was a silver box with very delicate etchings along the lid. He traced a long white finger across the patterns and a peculiar smirk spread across his face. The kettle let out a low whistle and he was quick to lift it from the burner. Severus waited for the tea to steep and took a seat at his desk. Cradling the box in both hands, he finally set it down in front of him and opened it. The scent of jasmine and vetyver washed over him like a monsoon and he savored the lingering fragrance as he carefully lifted a long strand of spider pearls up from the box. Spider pearls were incredibly rare to come by, even in the Wizarding world. They glowed from deep within their core and cast a blood red shadow when exposed to light. Severus rolled the little pearls around in his hand and thought his heart would burst as he lifted a faded photograph from the bottom of the little box.

"Severus- dear boy- I hope I'm not disturbing you" The fire spit and sputtered a luminous ash.

"Naturally you are. But no matter, enter."

Albus Dumbledore emerged from the fireplace with a coy eye turned toward the potion's master.

"So…" Albus looked around the lab and made a physical acknowledgement of the two teacups which were set out on the counter. "I take it you were expecting me?" His eyes glistened with a playful sparkle.

"I…"

"We missed you at breakfast this morning, Severus"

It suddenly donned on the professor that he not only had a student in his private rooms, but it was a female student and she happened to be sleeping on his sofa.

"I haven't had much of an appetite as of…late"

"I see" The Headmaster reserved a chuckle as he paced the lab. "You're a fan of muggle literature, are you not?"

Severus nodded curtly.

"You know- a muggle writer by the name of William Somerset Maugham once said that 'The only way to eat well in England is to have breakfast three times a day" he beamed.

Severus was unsure of how Dumbledore would react to him telling Hermione the truth about her father. In fact, he was far more worried about that than her being "found" in his private chambers.

"Sir…seeing as we are not IN England I see no relevance in such…"

"I always say that a full belly makes for a full mind"

"Belly?"

"Well, I should be going- incidentally, will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Dinner? I…"

The younger wizard was quite perplexed by all this talk of proper nutrition and the seemingly pointless intrusion to his lab.

"Oh- and Severus, I find that when I've lost my appetite the only way to get it back…is to start with very tiny bites. Good afternoon." In a flash of green and blue, the Headmaster was gone.

Severus Snape steadily poured himself a cup of tea and returned to his desk.

"Old hoodwinking…funny hat wearing…" He calmly sipped at his tea, his teeth grazing the rim of the cup. The tea felt warm in his throat and he quickly turned his attention back to the photograph. A black haired woman dressed in dark blue robes languidly smiled at him and he found that he was quite incapable of scowling in his customary fashion. The woman wore a single white lily in her limp hair and occasionally narrowed her charcoal colored eyes in the same way Severus did when he was in deep study. He took another large sip of tea and listened intently to Hermione's breath; rising and falling like Spring wind on a Scottish moor. He set the photograph back into the box and placed the pearls on top of it, taking in the scent which still lingered on the air, before carefully closing it up.

Thomas had been spying on the Third Dynasty clothing shop for over an hour and could barely see a thing through the dusty windows. Though he was certain Narcissa had come alone, he could not be entirely certain who else could be lurking within the walls of the filthy little store. He soon realized that he was late for his "meeting" with "Lady Hatshepsut".

"I guess it's now or never." Thomas dove into an alleyway where he transformed and emerged in human form. He inhaled deeply and took a minute to smooth his hair down before rapping on the door.

"I'm comin, I'm comin'. I'm not deaf after all!" Lady O'Connor squawked from within.

"I'm sorry- I just…I wanted to make sure someone was here"

The old woman looked the scrawny boy up and down and made an odd noise of recognition that sounded like a squeaky door hinge.

"I'm here to see Lady Hatshepsut"

"Are you?"

Thomas nodded and began to think he had made a terrible mistake in coming at all, when he suddenly heard faint voices coming from the back of the shop.

"Come this way young Tommy"

The boy thought to ask how she knew his name but refrained when he saw her spit into a crystal cup and mumble "By the Oracle of Amun, Open." In truth, Thomas would have thought her quite mad if a hidden door had not magically revealed itself.

"Well…go on lad"

The young wizard looked up at her with a most incredulous expression but the witch nudged him forward and he made his way down a dank hallway that smelled of burnt snake skin and mold. At the end of the corridor, which seemed to stretch on forever, was another door.

"Go on…speak the words"

Thomas gasped. "Have you been behind me this whole time?"

Lady O'Connor let out a deafening cackle and slapped Thomas on the back so hard, he really thought the air might have been knocked out of him had he not been holding in his breath from the great stench.

"By the Oracle of a nun, Open"

"Amun, boy! Honestly!" The old woman whacked him on the head so hard, that he suddenly thought nothing of Professor Snape's violent propensity. "Speak it again!"

"By the Oracle of AMUN, Open"

Thomas was unsure of what to expect as he pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the sweetest smelling room he had ever been in. The walls were covered head to toe with lavender curtains and a plush ivory carpet covered the stone floor. Along the walls were small beds with velvet curtains drawn between them and trunks situated at the foot boards, not unlike his dorm room at Hogwarts.

"Welcome Thomas" A familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Mrs. Malfoy…I'm here because…did you?"

"It was I who sent you the letter Thomas. Miss O'Connor is the proprietor of this…shelter. She is Lady Hatshepsut."

Lady O'Connor, who had been slouching in the door way suddenly stood to attention at the mention of her name, much like a soldier.

"Shelter?"

"For battered witches...It's a safe haven"

"Mrs. Malfoy- how do you-"

"I know why you joined them, but I will assure you it will only get you killed."

Thomas maintained a reserve about his face as Narcissa led him to a sitting area.

"Hot Chocolate?"

The boy shook his head and examined her every move.

"Biscuit?"

"No thank you"

"You're right to be so cautious. I often tell Draco to be more…" Narcissa's face looked pained and she quickly changed the subject as she poured herself a cup of cocoa.

"You said you had some information about my mother"

Narcissa bowed her head. "Your parents and I were friends in school. I was a grade ahead of your mother but we had a friend in common." She swallowed hard as if choking back a short cry "My…husband…had a sister. She became pregnant and well, she was- like a number of people, living in constant fear of the Dark Lord…"

"But surely-"

Lady O'Connor suddenly whacked the boy on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

"Ouch!"

"Hold your tongue boy"

"Thank you Lady O'Connor- but that won't be necessary."

Narcissa smiled warmly; attempting to gently dismiss the old woman, who eventually took her leave.

"Anyway, she went into hiding and no one knew where she had gone except your mother."

The boy shifted uneasily in his chair.

"When your father wouldn't force the information out of her, he was subjected to torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Lucius questioned your mother for days but she wouldn't betray her friend and…I'm pretty sure you know the rest"

Thomas cracked his knuckles to fill the silence but his heart was reeling, screaming from within his chest at the injustice of it all.

"You said in the letter that she escaped from St. Mungo's. Do you know where she might have gone to?" He didn't look Narcissa in the eyes; somehow he couldn't.

"She's here"

At this, Thomas' eyes grew wide and glassy with awareness. Narcissa stood and directed him to the back of the room, which was very dimly lit. The curtains were drawn around the last bed.

"Go to her" She whispered as if it was a secret meant only for him.

As Thomas approached the bed slowly, he felt all manner of caution fall from him like drops of rain sliding down a windowpane.

"Who's there?" A soft voice sighed and Thomas gently pulled the curtain back to reveal a cadaverous woman with long messy braids in her thick black hair, wearing a cotton nightgown.

"It's me…I'm…I'm Thomas."

Isabeaura sat up for the first time in several weeks and opened her deep-set green eyes as wide as she could.

"Of course you are"

The dungeons echoed an eerie cry through the corridors; something of a windsong to those who had heard it before. Severus Snape sat quietly in his sitting room, reading by a single candlelight. From time to time, he would glance over at the sleeping witch and wonder how she had come so far. True, guilt still ran through him when he thought of how he failed Katrina; but when he looked at her, he was inclined to believe in something utterly foreign to his cold precise mind; "hope".

Hermione shifted her body and gently opened her eyes.

"Feeling better?"

For a moment, Hermione was sure she was still dreaming. The room was completely dark, save the single candle and his voice seemed to drip down the shadowy walls like some inky poison.

"Miss Granger, tell me- are you quite in the habit of falling asleep in other people's private quarters after dropping in unannounced?"

This was no dream. Hermione had hoped that she would fall asleep and wake up to a whole new world. But she was still a bushy haired little nobody, her mother was still long dead, Professor Snape was still an intimidating old bat and the most evil wizard to ever live was still her father. Hermione stared at the floor, unsure of what to say.

"Would you…like some tea?" Severus lifted his wand to raise the lights and Hermione noticed that a cup of hot tea and a small vile of honey had been laid out for her on the table beside the sofa. She nodded sheepishly and watched her professor watching her.

"What am I to do?" It was almost as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"Do? Miss Granger, I hardly think there's anything to be done."

They sat in silence for a long time, each contemplating the other's role in this badly rehearsed drama that had become their everyday lives.

"I want to meet him"

Again, a long silence stood between them. Severus could not believe the young girl's spirit nor could he believe her naivety.

"He will kill you."

Hermione silently considered his words and hungrily downed a second cup of tea. Severus watched her intently and found her enthusiastic gulping rather endearing.

"For being as thin as you are, you certainly have an appetite"

Hermione suddenly became very self-conscious and set her teacup down, embarrassedly looking anywhere but at her professor.

A knock at the door broke the awkward tension that was building between them and a chubby little house elf called Wobble entered, pushing a small cart.

"Wobble is brings you room services!"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the elf and gritted his teeth in annoyance. "What is the meaning of this Wobble? Out!"

"But sir, Mr. Snape sir…"

"Professor"

"Yes…Mr. Professor Snape sir, Wobble just does what he is told sir..."

"Wait…" Hermione finally stood and walked over to the distraught little elf, kneeling down to look him in the eyes. "Hello Wobble, I'm Hermione Granger."

Severus rolled his eyes at her altruistic attitude toward the pathetic creature.

"Would you mind telling us who sent this dinner down to the dungeons?" she continued. But the house elf threw his head back in a fit of laughter.

"Oh Miss…there is no dinner here."

"Oh" Hermione looked up at Severus with a confused look, to which the dark wizard simply pinched the bridge of his extensive nose in frustration.

"Is your breakfast on the cart, Miss" Wobble pulled the cover off the tray and revealed a gourmet breakfast. The house elf winked at Severus, who abruptly kicked him out the door.

"You shouldn't be so mean to them"

"And you shouldn't even be here!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to the little feast.

"Well?" The dark wizard leaned against the cold dungeon wall.

"Well what?"

He gestured awkwardly at the mountain of food piled before her.

"Honestly- I'm not that hungry"

Severus Snape took a seat by the fireplace and stared into the flames as if he expected them to speak. Was she serious about wanting to meet the Dark Lord? Did she not realize that this man had no intention of a heartfelt reunion with his long lost daughter? He looked over at the naïve girl, picking at her food in the most perfectly innocent fashion and a sinking feeling fell over him. Severus clutched his arm, trying to conceal the pain that was creeping up his spine like an agitated ashwinder. The dark mark burned his skin so viciously that he thought he would surrender to it right there.

Hermione looked up into his face and understood the pain she saw there. "Sir…let me go with you"

"Start… with small… bites…Miss Granger" he growled and retreated to his lab, locking the door behind him.