A/N: Courtesy of being snowed in yesterday in Evanston, Wyoming, I give you Chapter 11. After struggling to fit Lucius in more (because I do love him, le sigh), I found the plot flows better this way. Boo! I know. I was disappointed, too.

There are some massive plot developments and character arcs in this chapter. So even though no one gets naked and no one kisses anyone else, it is absolutely pivotal to the story and the upcoming development of Dramione as a couple.

I can't believe I got 6 reviews in 24 hours! They were thoughtful and funny and I squee-d when I read them. Thank you, my lovelies, you made my day! If you'd like to donate to the 'love the artist' campaign, feel free to hit that little review button. I'd love to hear from you. I'm also working on 12 as we speak and I could have it up as soon as tomorrow if you guys are ready for it. It'll be a lot more... well, you'll see.

-Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Eleven

"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

-Ernest Hemmingway

Hermione sat up late in the night, long after Snape had taken one of the cots she'd conjured. She had downed a shot of fire whiskey and was working on a second as she stewed these new revelations over. This wasn't the first time she'd had to question the Order's methods. Stan Shunpike had been tortured by the Order before they turned him over to the Ministry as a Death Eater. Stan Shunpike, for Merlin's sake! The Knight Bus conductor couldn't even finish his own sentences if it wasn't for the driver Ernie. She'd overheard the results of the torture session being reported late one night at Grimmauld Place, when the adults thought she, Harry and Ron were asleep.

It had made her skin crawl, it enraged her, it opened her eyes. There were no good sides in this war. Dumbledore wasn't a loveable old man. He was a Machiavellian planner. The only major difference was that the Order didn't torture and kill muggles and muggle-borns out of hand. Granted, that was a big difference, but the fact that both sides were using sadistic means had been burned into her that night, and she never forgot it.

Snape was Dumbledore's right hand, doing the dirty deeds and wet work that the old wizard wasn't willing to. He wasn't just a spy, that was more than obvious. She eyed Snape warily. His breathing was even and he was snoring softly. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw a hippogryph. For Malfoy's sake, she couldn't afford to. How dare he even suggest Malfoy return to the Manor?

Thinking of Malfoy, she stood up to tuck his blanket over his shoulders. He looked so innocent in sleep, his white hair tousled and hanging over one eye. She reached out and smoothed it back. Her hand froze when he took a deep breath and murmured, "Granger" before the ghost of a smile passed over his features. He was dreaming, apparently about her. When he took another deep breath and snuggled deeper into his pillow she withdrew her hand.

"Don't worry, Malfoy. We've got this," she whispered before tucking him in gently and retiring to her own cot.

As Hermione rose out of the depths of sleep early the next morning, she heard hushed voices. Opening her eyes a fraction of an inch she saw Snape and Malfoy eating breakfast together. Malfoy was considering something Snape said carefully. He was completely dressed and unshackled.

That greasy git! He had no right undermining her authority!

She froze for a moment collecting herself. It would do no one any good to fly off the handle. As they began to speak in hushed tones again, Hermione took her cue and sat up. She was still in her clothes from last night. Snape glared a challenge at her. Malfoy didn't spare her a glance, instead he seemed to be considering something the older man had said. She took the chair across from Malfoy, making sure her wand was handy. Snape had clearly anticipated her losing her temper. Good, she thought, keep him off balance. It will make him easier to handle.

"Morning, Ferret. Snape," she said neutrally.

Malfoy studied her, then said with a smirk, "No more free peeks, Granger."

She yawned before retorting with a smirk of her own, "You'll lose them eventually. We both know it."

A flicker of pain played its way across Snape's features before he smoothed his face into an impassive mask. Malfoy dropped his fork and clutched his left arm with a hiss. As Snape stood to leave, she pulled the Magicaine out of her bag.

"Roll up your sleeve, Malfoy." Remembering the murtlap essence, he complied immediately.

Snape leaned over to look in the jar Hermione had just opened. His eyebrow went up and he shifted his eyes between them before stiffening slightly and launching himself out the door to answer his master's summons.

Wordlessly, she smoothed the balm over his Dark Mark, then smoothed an equal amount over her own left forearm.

Malfoy gave her a quizzical look. "I know it smells good, Granger, but you should leave that for those of us who need it."

"You were good at potions, Malfoy. Do you even know what this is?" She tipped to container so he could see inside. He squinted at the open container., smelled his arm, then frowned and shook his head. "It's called Magicaine. Ring any bells?"

His eyes widened with recognition, then suddenly he was yelling, "Wash it off right now, Granger!" Malfoy was angry, very angry. She flinched as her left forearm began to burn. It felt like her blood was boiling in that part of her arm. It felt like a razor blade was peeling back her skin. It was excruciating, and she sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.

Malfoy jumped up from the table and ransacked the cupboards in the kitchenette. He found a tea towel and a bowl. He filled the bowl with icy water from the hand pump and threw the small towel in it. He slammed the bowl down on the table next to her, sloshing water all over her breakfast. He wrung out the towel and turned to apply it to her arm only to be brought up short by Hermione's wand pointed right between his eyes.

"It's fine, Malfoy. I can take it. It's only half of your pain." Magicaine worked by transferring half of the pain from an injured person to the brewer of the balm. Merlin on a stick, did it hurt. She struggled to maintain her composure and won by a thread.

He still held the dripping towel over her arm, but had stopped trying to go any further. "Granger, you don't have to do this."

"I know. Now go finish your breakfast." Hermione struggled to keep her voice calm and collected.

Instead of finishing his own breakfast he made her a new plate and poured her a blessed cup of hot coffee. The cream and sugar were perfect, all this time he must have been watching her closer than she could even guess. She inclined her head in thanks, but left her plate untouched. She eyed her coffee warily and with a shaking hand examined it very carefully for tampering before taking her first sip.

"So what, Granger, you think I'm going to poison you now?" He rolled his eyes.

"You weren't the only person sitting at this table, Malfoy." She wasn't going to tell him she still didn't trust him, but she wasn't going to make it a secret she was suspicious of Snape, either. Whether he knew it or not, his life hung in the balance. She wouldn't say anything overt. She'd give Snape enough rope to hang himself, and pray that he'd slip.

As clueless as Malfoy might be about her supposed love life, she had every confidence he'd already picked up on her body language and slight turns of phrase. He may be a ferret, but ferrets had sharp eyes and a good nose for danger. He'd ask when he was ready. She just hoped the timing would allow her to tell him.

They sat there for the better part of an hour with Malfoy refilling her cup each time it emptied. In the meantime, she summoned Dobby and sent him to find a copy of the Daily Prophet and books on making a magical sink. She didn't bother to hide this request behind a buzzing muffliato charm. When Dobby cracked away, she looked back across the table to find him staring at her, his eyebrow raised.

In response to his unspoken question, the only thing she said was, "Trust starts here, Malfoy."

Hermione left Malfoy unshackled as she set up the laptop to wait for Lucius's call. She warned him to stay away from the curtain around her old bed and kept one eye on him as he wandered around, eventually settling on picking a book from her shelf and sitting by the stove.

Hermione took advantage of Snape's absence and went behind the curtain to check on Viktor. He was breathing easier, and most of his large wounds were now angry pink lines. She picked up the clothes that littered the bed and the floor. As she did, she felt the distinct rigidity of Viktor's wand and froze.

She had no idea where Viktor would stand in her disagreement with Snape. They might be old friends, but he was in the Order now, and likely was taking his direction from the very man she'd just angered. She couldn't afford to have two armed wizards stand against her. Snape by himself would be a handful.

Deftly she pocketed his wand. If he woke up and stood with her, she could always give it back.

She ducked under the curtain and into the main room in time to catch Malfoy watching her. She met his gaze, but kept quiet. She took an empty vial out of her bag and filled it with milk, charming it to look like the mellow chalky blue of a sleeping draught. She pocketed it after charming it not to spoil.

She went through the paper with a fine toothed comb looking for any reference to Frederick Nott. The only thing was an article that suggested his son Theo would be taking over the reigns for the family company. So it was done, then. Not a moment too soon. Snape's power play was forcing her time-line.

She went to the pile of books Dobby had left on the table and transfigured the covers on all of her books to look like an assortment of dry academic texts. Then she began to read like her life depended on it. She had a feeling it probably would.

By the time the wards alerted her to Snape's return, she had devoured half of the first book, making copious notes. She stuffed the notes in her beaded bag and returned to her book. When Snape came through the door a few minutes later, she merely blinked owlishly up at him. After a dismissive glance at her, he disappeared behind the curtain without a word, checking on Krum.

She exchanged an unreadable look with Malfoy before returning to her book. While Snape was still behind the curtain, she hurriedly dropped to a knee alongside Malfoy. Throwing up a muffliato she whispered quickly, "You're going to have to figure out who you trust and where you stand. You're out of time." He stared at her for a long second then nodded once. Dropping the charm she said in a louder voice, "I'm expecting a call any day now from your parents."

"Can I talk to her this time?" He asked cautiously.

"We'll see," she said noncommittally.

"Granger!" He hissed, trying to hide his impatience.

She shrugged and said simply, "Our negotiations are ongoing, Malfoy."

Exasperation got the better of him and he asked the question she knew had been on his lips for more than a week, "How hard can it be to hand over a fat sack of galleons?"

"Is that what you think?" She put a thoughtful expression on her face for his benefit and made a noise of consideration as if to say, 'how interesting'. It didn't take him long to catch on. She'd just told him she hadn't asked for money at all. He flicked his eyes to the curtain then back to her face. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. No, neither Viktor nor Snape were part of the deal.

He looked surprised at that, but quickly forced the feelings away from his face. She stood, giving him a crisp nod and squeezed his shoulder, going back to her book.

Snape reappeared from the curtain moments later, wiping his hands on a clean towel. He rolled down his sleeves, covering his Dark Mark. With an Order member behind the curtain and the Dark Mark on his arm, it was a solid reminder of just how intelligent and cunning Snape could be.

Closing her book, she asked, "How is he?"

"Improving." His eyes tried to read her face since she wouldn't allow him to make eye contact. "How is your arm?" He sneered.

"Well enough." It actually hurt like a blast ended skrewt had crunched it in a pincer, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "So I heard a friend of ours had a little accident. Yesterday? The day before?"

"Two nights ago." His face gave away no flicker of emotion.

"That's too bad." After a thoughtful pause, she frowned at the leather journal on the table in front of her. This time she spoke in a light, brittle tone, saying, "You know I bought a leather journal days ago and can never seem to find time to write in it. You ever have that problem, Master Snape?" His lips tightened in reply. She gave a forced bright laugh, then said, "No, of course not. You would never be foolish enough to buy something you wouldn't use. You're far too sensible."

So, he was withholding information. He was also feeding Malfoy false information, she was sure of it. Ironically, out of everyone in the cabin, she could trust Malfoy the most. She had counted on not trusting anyone, but if she didn't try to communicate with Malfoy he might buy the line of crap Snape was feeding him and return to the Manor.

She hadn't kidnapped him to save his life, but now that she had the opportunity, she wasn't going to let it slip away. Last week she'd already decided Malfoy and his mother would walk away from this whole mess if she had anything to say about it. She hadn't told him, she hadn't promised him anything – and she wasn't going to. It was better to produce results than promise them.

Just then the laptop signaled an incoming call. Getting to her feet, she said smoothly, "I'm sure you can see yourself out, Master Snape?"

His features tightened, but he stood and said, "Of course." With a slight bow and a swirl of his black cape he went outside.

Hermione pulled the headphones on as Malfoy hovered over her shoulder. "Over there until I call for you." She pointed to a chair that couldn't see the screen. Malfoy plopped unhappily into it. After casting a muffling charm, she hit a key to answer the call and typed, "Yes?"

"It is done," Lucius Malfoy sneered through her headphones.

She waited a beat before replying, "Took your sweet time calling, Lucius." Talking with Lucius Malfoy was a whole different animal than negotiating with his wife. Or, rather, Malfoy Senior was an animal, a predatory one. She had to gain and hold control of the conversation the whole way through or he would exploit whatever weakness he sensed.

His voice rose, but he didn't shout. Malfoys would never stoop to shouting. "Now see here..."

"Just for that we're going to put a little more pressure on you. There are two moles in the Ministry of Magic, buffoons both of them. Yaxley and Donovan. You have until midnight tomorrow."She held her breath after the text-to-speech program finally read the last of her frantic bout of typing. She was trying to see if she could keep him off balance. The phone call would go much better if she could.

"That's impossible!" Lucius spluttered.

"You are Lucius Malfoy, are you not? Or perhaps you are not worthy to sit at the Dark Lord's table? Tell us Lucius, have you truly fallen that far?"

"It takes time to arrange such... accidents." She could picture him talking down his nose to her as he said that in all his beautiful and terrible glory.

"Then don't make it look like an accident," she typed and the text-to-speech program made the sentence sound empty and foreboding. She slid one earphone away from her ear and asked Malfoy, "It's your father. Should I assume you have nothing to say?"

He pulled a face, then leaned across the table to lay a hand lightly on her wrist. "Ask for my mother, Granger. Please." It stunned her to see him so exposed.

In her other ear Lucius was ranting, "Fine. I will do it. But if you harm one hair on my son's head, I swear I will track you to the ends of the Earth and pluck out your eyes before I..."

"Flay us alive. Yes, yes, we know. Very big words from a man whose son sits in front of me as we speak. Would you like to hear him scream for us?" There was a seething silence at the other end of the line. She let the silence play out before continuing to type, "I'm going to take that as a 'no'. You take all the fun out of it, Lucius. He has such a lovely screaming voice. Give the muggle device to Narcissa, now, or you will never get the sound of his screams out of your pretty blonde head." It disgusted her to play the monster, but she had to maintain the Death Eater persona, and no Death Eater would hesitate to make the young man next to her scream.

There was a nervous pause, then Lucius replied smoothly, "My wife is not here at the moment."

"Not acceptable. She will contact me by midnight. It would be such a shame to disfigure his pretty face before he marries his mudblood bride." She let that sink in before typing, "Midnight, Lucius." She hit the button to disconnect the call and looked up into Malfoy's worried face. "He said she wasn't there."

He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair to the floor. "Liar! Where the hell is she gonna go, Granger? That jack bastard! She's hurt, I just know it!"

"Don't start worrying yet. We'll find out by midnight. I told him to have her call." She reset the laptop to prepare for Narcissa's call as Malfoy paced the floor like a tiger.

He stopped and looked at her, really looked at her. "You did that?"He asked softly.

She turned away, busying herself overmuch with the electronic equipment. "Mudbloods don't just spring up out of the ground, Malfoy. I used to have a mother, too."