A/N: Do you think Draco's inability to keep his clothes on has anything to do with his inability to keep his mouth shut? Nah. Unpossible. :P

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Happy Turkey Day!

-Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Nine

"People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."

-Isaac Asimov

Hermione sat bolt upright, covered in sweat, her heart in her throat. Over and over in her dreams, Dolohov shot her with that purple squirming light; she collapsed at the Ministry, at the Burrow, in front of her parents, in her own bed at Hogwarts. Over and over she died and Dolohov cackled, the sound of it echoing through her nightmare.

It wasn't a new dream, but each time she had it terror gripped her and wouldn't let go. Each time she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep without seeing his crooked yellow teeth and smelling his putrid breath on her face. She untangled her legs from the blankets with a tired sigh.

She slipped into her bathrobe and padded over to the kitchenette, putting the kettle on. Malfoy was still sleeping off the potion, so she couldn't have been asleep long, an hour, maybe two. It was going to be a long night.

Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, she stood by the toasty stove until the kettle was just about to boil. She caught it before the whistle screamed. There was no need for both of them to be up. Silently, she poured out her tea, warming her hands on the mug. Walking past the table her eyes landed on Harry's letter. She clutched at it, thinking a few kind words from her oldest friend could help comfort her and clear her head.

She sank into the chair, alternately blowing across and sipping from her cup. With a small smile, she broke the seal on the letter. She read in the dim red light of the stove, her mouth falling open and her eyes increasing in speed the lower on the page she went.

She'd known he and Ron would be angry, but she thought for sure Harry would understand. After all, wasn't he doing his own set of tasks for Dumbledore? Apparently Harry couldn't be counted on either. According to his letter she had 'betrayed them', 'abandoned them' and were making them 'sick with worry'. He proceeded to give her the worst tongue lashing of their whole friendship in five paragraphs or less.

A tear slid down her cheek, and the deep breath she took to steady herself was shaky and thin. The letter fluttered to the floor from her numb fingers. Clutching the tea cup in one hand, she covered her eyes with the other and wept softly. How dare he accuse her of betraying them? She'd expected it from Ron, certainly, but counted on Harry to calm him down and smooth things over. She'd thought she would always have his loyalty.

Obviously, she was wrong.

Here she was, stuck in the back of beyond in the most dangerous game of cat and mouse of her young life trying to save Harry Potter's bloody behind and he had the nerve to tell her off. She couldn't separate her feelings enough to tell if she was more sad, lonely, bitter, betrayed or indignant. It didn't matter, the stifled sobs came regardless.

"Viktor dump you then?"Just what she needed. Malfoy was awake. His voice was gravely with sleep.

She gave a bitter laugh, swiped hastily at her tears and took a long breath. It may not have been Viktor, but a friend had certainly told her off. "Something like that." The last thing she wanted was for him to watch her fall apart. Without turning around she said, "You should go back to sleep. It's late."

"Is there more tea?" She could hear him shifting around, probably trying to sit up. Wordlessly she poured him a cuppa and brought it to him. His eyes glowed in the firelight as he searched for something in her face. He accepted his cup and asked,"Who was he, Granger?"

"Who was who?" It was an honest question. There had been such a swirl of trauma to her mind in the last hour, she'd completely forgotten the last thing he'd seen.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "The Death Eater, Granger." He waited a moment before asking, "Was it Krum?" He sipped his tea.

She crossed back to the chair next to the fire, turning her back to him. "No. He doesn't know..." She started to explain herself, but she was tired and he really didn't rate an explanation, did he? "No."

"What did he want?" More questions. Why couldn't he just leave it alone.

She thought for a long time. She'd spent hours last night wondering if she could trust him. It was time to make up her mind. He would give away any information he had if he saw an advantage. No, then, she couldn't trust him. She sighed heavily before answering him quietly. "I'd rather not say."

"You're quite the Death Eater party favor. Do Scarhead and Weasel-bee know?" His voice came from the darkness, snide and bitter.

She spun in her chair, leveling her wand at him, her mouth a grim line. "You're sick, Malfoy! Shut it, or I'll shut it for you."

A long silence settled between them, Hermione staring at him down her wand, Malfoy glaring at her with eyes glowing from the fire light. Eventually her hackles went down and she turned back to the fire, staring into her empty tea cup. Some time later she found him still in the same position, still glaring suspiciously at her. She snatched the cup from his hand and snapped, "For your information, I wasn't expecting him."

As she turned to levitate the cup to the sink, he shot back, "Obviously you were expecting him or we'd be on the run by now."

"Obviously I wasn't. I stunned and shackled him." She crossed her arms high on her chest, her spine stiff.

"Who knows? Maybe he's into that kinky stuff." She goggled at him, but his tongue was quick and the next words were meant to maim, "Tell me, does he get off because you're a Mudblood, or because you're Potter and Weasley's princess?"

With a boldness that came from anger, she dragged her fingernails lightly down his chest and fingered the waistband of his boxers suggestively. "You sound jealous, Malfoy. Craving a little Mudblood of your own? Maybe if your father plays his cards right you'll get your wish." He gasped and became instantly erect.

She gave a mirthless laugh. "Don't knock it 'til you try it." She took a step back from his bed.

"What? Not gonna give me a go, Granger? I'm in the club, too." He said acidly, as he twisted his arm to show his Dark Mark.

Hands on her hips, she retorted, "I don't fuck small mammals."

"So that's why the Weasel threw you over for Brown. Can't say I blame him. Who'd want you when you could have Brown? She might be a revolving door, but at least she's fucking her own side."

"I've got a joke for you, Malfoy. A Wizard went to a Healer and told him about the great trip he'd just returned from. He drank a hundred different fire whiskeys and had a hundred different whores. The Healer said it sounded like a great trip and asked what the problem was. The Wizard explained that after the hundredth whore his penis turned black. The Wizard had to search high and low for healers that spoke English, but each one he found said his condition was incurable and his penis would have to be amputated. 'So you see,' said the Wizard, 'That's why I'm here.' The Healer examined him and told him not to worry. The Wizard was so relieved he could have kissed the old Healer. 'It's really no problem,' the Healer said, 'Give it a week and it will fall off all by itself.'"

With a sweep of her wand, the blanket flew back. With another, his boxers vanished. With a muttered caulis lividus his erection turned a pestilent black and blue. Malfoy screamed then gaped at her in horror.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!" Malfoy shrieked. She gave him a saucy wink. "GRANGER! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE..."

With a flick of her wand she silenced him and poured another cup of tea. It was only a harmless color changing spell, but he didn't need to know that.

Sometimes, it was good to be a witch.

Hours later found Hermione surfing real estate websites in France. She scribbled down some notes. She'd have to start thinking about her own future after the war. She'd never considered moving to France, but she'd always enjoyed it when she vacationed there with her parents. Totaling the figures on her parchment, she pulled out the withdrawal slip from Gringotts.

She entered the mind boggling figure, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She glanced at Malfoy. As usual, his eyes were boring into her. Maybe she should remove the charm first. Hermione's mother always said you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. She thought about it. She really did. Nope. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. He deserved to sweat a few bezoars after the things he'd said this morning. She took another fortifying breath and grabbed a self-inking quill.

Without preamble, she shoved the paper at him. "You need to sign this."

His eyes flicked across the page and his eyes widened, "A hundred thousand galleons?" he choked out. "Are you mental?" He turned to face the wall.

She smirked, and said evenly, "What's your cock worth to you?"

He bellowed, "That's blackmail!"

She smiled and nodded agreeably, saying lightly, "Yes, I think it is."

"You're going to charge me almost three hundred and fifty thousand pounds for a counter curse?!"

"Huh!" Her eyebrows went up with a look of feigned interest. "You know muggle money. Who knew?" Malfoy growled. "No. I'm not going to charge you a hundred thousand galleons for a counter curse. You're going to give me the hundred thousand galleons and I'm going to be nice and uncurse your bits for free." She pasted on a fake sweet smile.

"Merlin's manky balls!" He cursed, then sat thinking about it. "What the hell do you need so much money for anyway?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "I can't tell you," she mumbled.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Then I can't give it to you."

She looked again at his shrunken, black manhood and shrugged. She said lightly, "Okay. Your loss. I didn't figure you had that much anyway." She started to walk back to the table.

"Granger, wait!" She turned back around. "Of course I have that much! What the hell is going on? What kind of trouble are you in?"

He was caving, she could feel it. She wasn't going to beg; not Malfoy the amazing bouncing ferret, not ever. But she could wheedle. "I will tell you. You will find out. Just not right now. Not yet."

He glared at her.

"I'll even sign a promissory note," She went on. "If you don't approve of where the money's gone, you can sue me in the Ministry, smear my name all over the papers, do whatever you want. I just don't have time to play games." She twitched her head toward his crotch. "And neither do you."

Malfoy growled in frustration before finally grumbling, "Fine! But you owe me a favor. Of my choosing."

Hermione stuck her hand out, preparing to shake, but pulled it back quickly. She narrowed her eyes. "No sexual favors." He was opening his mouth to protest, but she talked right over him, "I mean it!"

He gave a disappointed sigh, then said, "Fine."

She smirked and shook his right hand. She brought over a book for him to sign against and handed him the quill. He scrawled his name. Snatching the form in victory, she placed it on the table. "Hey! Granger! What about my counter curse?"

"I didn't forget." She laughed, flicking her wand to remove the color charm, conjuring boxers to cover him and pulling up the blanket. She brought over two cups of cocoa.

He shook his head and said laughing, "You're evil, Granger. You know that?"

"Hey! You started it!" She said, trying to be indignant and failing when she started giggling. "You're really gonna be mad when I tell you it was just a color changing charm."

Malfoy was gobsmacked. She nearly fell off the edge of the bed she was laughing so hard. He shook his head playfully, "You got sorted into the wrong house. You're Slytherin for sure." She was still trying to catch her breath when he cracked a sudden mischievous smirk, "Played your hand a little too soon, Granger. I'm the king of Slytherins and I still have a favor to cash in."

The laptop phone rang. Hermione sobered at once. Malfoy gave her a long look, eyebrows raised in question.

"That'll be your father. Stay quiet." She sat at the table and threw up a muffliato charm so Malfoy wouldn't hear.

Sliding on the headphones, she hit the button on the laptop to answer the phone line. "Yes?" She typed into the text to speech program.

To her surprise Narcissa Malfoy spoke, "It is done."

Hermione typed, "We know. Draco appreciates it."

"I want to talk to my son!" She demanded.

"Perhaps in a moment. Do you have a quill?" Hermione's fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Y-yes." The older woman stuttered as a shuffling noise came from the other end of the line.

"Write down Frederick Nott, seven days. Then phone this number." She gave Narcissa the new phone number she'd be switching to on her voice over internet phone card.

"But we just bought seven days!" Narcissa shrilled through Hermione's headphones.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you will be reunited with your son." Hermione gave a calculated pause, then typed, "We can always wait the full seven days before we give you the next task, if you like."

"No! No! We'll do it!" Malfoy's mother said desperately.

Hermione smirked, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner Draco Malfoy was out of her hair. She was saving a bottle of champagne in her beaded bag for that happy day. The text to voice program spoke as she typed, "Give that to Lucius with any...encouragement he might need."

"Yes, of course. Wait! When do I get to talk to Draco?" She begged this last bit. If Hermione ever had a question whether Narcissa Malfoy loved her son, everything she ever needed to convince her was in that anguished voice.

"Just a minute, let me get him." She dropped the muffliato charm and unplugged the headset, re-routing the sound to the speakers. She said to Malfoy, "Your mother wants to talk to you. You tell me what to type and you'll be able to hear her answers." He instantly perked up. "You should say something in the beginning so she knows it's you. She won't be able to hear your voice."

Malfoy thought for a moment and said, "Ask her if she remembers going to Italy when I was four? Tell her it was the time I fell in the canal from the gondola." Hermione typed as fast as she could.

Over the laptop speakers, Narcissa sobbed in relief, "Draco! Oh, my son! What are they doing to you, sweetheart?"

Hermione glanced up when it took Malfoy a moment to respond. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, "Tell her I'm fine. Tell her I just had cocoa. Say I'll be home soon. Say everything will be alright. Make her believe it."

"Your father is so angry. How dare they threaten to m-" Hermione snapped the headset in the jack, effectively cutting off the audio. She ignored Malfoy's protests.

She typed furiously, "He doesn't know. He doesn't need to. We have every confidence you and Lucius will do whatever is required and no harm will come to him or your bloodline. I won't warn you again."

"Please. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Narcissa Malfoy's voice was ragged with fear. Hermione was glad Draco wasn't hearing it. It wouldn't do to get him worked up again.

"No more mistakes." Hermione warned over the keys.

Malfoy meanwhile was yelling, "What the hell, Granger? What happened to my mother?"

She purposefully chose a smooth, even tone to reply to him and said, "Calm down, Malfoy. We had to establish some rules. She's still on the line. What do you want to say?"

"Ask her if she's alright. She doesn't sound right." He said plaintively.

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine, just a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well. I ran out of potions." She did sound tired, more tired than anyone Hermione had ever heard.

Malfoy frowned and said, "Tell her to have Minky get her some more. She needs her rest."

Hermione finished transcribing his speech while watching the timer on the phone call. When it approached three minutes, she said to Malfoy, "You're out of time, say goodbye."

He grunted in frustration, then said hurriedly, "Tell her I have to go. Tell her we'll talk again soon. Ask her to please take good care of herself. Tell her I love her, Granger."

Mrs. Malfoy choked back a sob, then managed to say, "I love you, too."

Hermione disconnected the call, taking her time saving the file and putting everything away. She avoided looking at Malfoy. She wanted to give him some privacy to digest the phone call with his mother.

Eventually, after straightening up, dragging in the fire wood and wiping down the kitchenette, she ran out of things to do. She spooned out two bowls of the thick stew Dobby had left on the stove and added big chunks of crusty, buttered bread. She went outside and dug two muggle beers from the melting snow.

She pushed a chair over to the side of Malfoy's bed placing the bowl and a tall glass of beer on it within reach. Placing her own meal on the table, she sat down.

Malfoy looked at her, then asked quietly, "Granger? Do you mind if I join you?"

An hour later, they were leaning over the portable chess board. Hermione took a sip of beer and opened the game by moving her white pawn. Malfoy moved a black pawn. This continued until several pawns were in the center of the board. On Malfoy's next turn he slid a pawn diagonally forward and took the white pawn she'd just pushed forward two squares from behind.

Hermione choked on a swallow of beer to protest, "Hey! Put that back!"

"What?" He fingered the first taken piece of the game with a smirk.

"Pawns don't move like that. They can't go diagonally! You cheated!" She folded her arms and huffed.

"It's called an en passant. It's French rule added in the 15th century to counter the double-square pawn opening move." He watched her as she scowled so deeply her left eye twitched. "It means I just kicked your pawn's ass." Laughing at the expression on her face, he put the pawns back. Demonstrating the move slowly, he said, "Here, look."

"If it's so legal, why didn't Ron teach it to me?" Hermione spat.

"You're asking me to explain the inner workings of Weasel's two brain cells?" He thought for a moment. "No. I take that back. Weasel has no brain at all. I mean, he had a fifty percent chance of choosing right and he goes for Lavender Brown over you! What an idiot!"

"What did you just say?" She looked at him in suspicious disbelief.

"What? I just said Weasel didn't have a brain," he said evasively.

Hermione's eyes narrowed before angrily yanked a stray curl behind her ear. "Don't you butter me up, ferret! You're just trying to distract me from your cheating. Well, it won't work!"

Ten minutes later they were both looking at the laptop screen. Malfoy whooped in victory. "I told you! Legal! Right there in black and white!"

In the chair next to him, Hermione slumped her chin on her palm and snapped, "Well, you don't have to be so smug about it!"