A/N: Ah, questions from my reviewers, what is, why does, can we kill,when will... If you've enjoyed the story thus far, I ask you to trust me, my lovelies. Let the story unfold like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I promise, every question will be answered in it's own good time. :) For now, please enjoy this super, extra, bonus chapter and see if it doesn't clear a few things up.

I LOVE MY LOVELY, LOVELY REVIEWERS! (I could love you, too, if you review!)

This one is a bit short, but it has to stop where it does. You'll understand why. Then I'll get hate reviews. :(

-Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Thirteen

"The man who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the man with no secrets to keep."

-E.W. Howe

When Hermione finally woke in the late morning, she found Malfoy shackled to the bed and Snape gone. Sitting up, she yawned and rubbed her eyes, before asking, "Where is he?"

Malfoy shrugged, "I dunno. He was gone when I woke up."

She frowned before getting dressed. Unshackling Malfoy, they shared breakfast. It was obvious he wanted to ask her something with every covert glance and every half-started word that trailed off into silence. Finally, he huffed out a breath, tired of biting his tongue. "Okay, Granger, out with it. When are we breaking into Gringott's?"

She snorted in laughter, then clapped a hand to her mouth, embarrassed. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

"And here I thought you were smart," he sneered, but the tone was remarkably different from the usual Malfoy insult; it was playful. "Let me ask it another way: Why did you link enough exploding charms in that magic sink to leave a crater the size of Hogwarts?"

She let the tip of her fork rest on her plate as she reached for another slice of buttered toast. She took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully before asking, "Malfoy, have you ever had pests in your home? Doxies or the like?"

He looked disgusted, almost turning green as he swallowed. "You're not serious? My mother would've given clothes to every house elf we own if she found even one Doxie egg."

She'd expected his answer. "Muggles sometimes get pests. Do you know what they do when the infestation is particularly bad?"

Malfoy rolled his hand in the air, a 'hurry up' gesture. "Granger, just answer the damn..."

"They bomb the house." She picked up a piece of bacon and let her lips twist into a smirk, "I'm feeling particularly pestered lately, aren't you?" She bit into the pork with satisfaction and waited. To his credit, it didn't take long. His eyes went wide in comprehension. Yup, ferret, we're not playing, she thought. If Snape refused to leave them alone after tomorrow, she'd planned ahead. Of course she had, she was the brightest witch of her age.

This morning it was Hermione's turn to take a gamble. She stepped outside the door and closed the blood wards on the tiny island. If Snape returned, he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the little cabin until she reopened them. As an afterthought, she added a confundus ward to temporarily confuse him and keep him from apperating away. It wouldn't do for him to go crying to Dumbledore if he was stuck on the little beach.

Once inside, she carefully extracted her partially constructed magic sink. She set the four inch square copper cube in the center of the table and glanced over her notes. Just like the night before, she drained almost all of her magic in fifteen minutes or less casting repeated exploding charms into it, charging the device. Sagging into a chair, the amethyst geode center glowed so brightly she could barely look at it. Consulting her book one last time, she winced as she cast the final incantation to lock her magic inside the magical bomb, hoping she wouldn't accidentally trigger it by mispronouncing the unfamiliar incantation.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she caught Malfoy peeking out from behind the foot of his bed, a frown on his face. Exasperated, he said, "Jeez, Granger! Warn me next time you have a death wish!"

She gave a dry laugh. "If you think that's the most dangerous thing we're going to do in the next two days, you sadly underestimate Professor Snape."

"If we try anything, Snape will eat our lunch! He's already plenty mad." At her questioning look, he continued reluctantly, "I have to go back, Granger. I have to protect my mother. I know he's a liar, but he can get to her. I can't afford to piss him off."

"No." She said firmly as she cleared off the table without meeting his eye. With more care than was strictly necessary, she packed the evidence of their project in her beaded bag. "Sorry, Malfoy. That's not part of the plan."

"To hell with your plan! My father is beating her!" He hollered, in a rare display of lost temper.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Going back isn't an option."

He slammed both palms onto the table next to her, making her jump. "Why the hell not? I thought we had a deal!" He raged.

"We do. I'll tell you tomorrow." She put a hand tentatively on his shoulder.

Malfoy roughly shrugged it off, his temper slow to cool once given it's full head. "Not bloody good enough, Granger!"

"Draco!" Yelling his first name stunned him into silence. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and calmly continued, "I haven't forgotten about your mother. Tomorrow. You just have to trust me." With that, she stepped outside to reverse the wards.

Malfoy slammed the door open, dogging her footsteps. "She's my mother, Granger! I thought you, of all people, would understand!"

Hermione whirled around and pointed her wand at his throat, "Believe it or not, Malfoy, I'm not the bad guy here. I haven't lied to you. I haven't threatened your mother. Remember that when we have our little chat tomorrow."

She turned on her heel and left him standing there, a red mark of irritation on his throat where her magic had accidentally sparked angrily out of her wand. Walking away, she called over her shoulder, "Don't get too close to the wards, you'll get hurt."

Lunch found Malfoy sulking on his bed and Hermione watching him more than the knitting in her lap. She was trying to decide if he was so thick that she needed to spell it out, or if he was playing stupid. He had to know he would never escape again if he went back to Malfoy Manor. If his father didn't kill him for protecting his mother from his rages or allowing himself to get captured or any other pitiful excuse the man could think of, Voldemort surely would.

She had never wanted to make an enemy out of Snape, but that decision had been taken from her the night she disagreed with his plans to make Malfoy a sacrificial lamb. She knew what she wanted to say tomorrow, but would blackballing herself from the entire Order really be the best course of action? Harry and Ron would be furious with her.

Not that they were exactly in the Hermione Granger fan club at the moment, anyway.

Her depressing thoughts sat like a weight on her chest and she sighed. Malfoy flicked his eyes to her, scowled, then turned away, staring at the wall. And as if that wasn't enough to worry about, there's always Mary Sunshine over there, she thought bitterly.

From behind the sheet, Krum groaned. Hermione stood and giving Malfoy one last glance, ducked behind the sheet. Krum's color had returned under Snape's care. The boy that had taken her to the Tri-Wizard Ball was now a man. His face sported a bristly beard from not shaving for a few days and his hair was matted to his head over his single eyebrow. She was relieved to see his improvement, he was definitely on the mend.

His eyes flickered, then opened. Quickly, she cast a muffliato charm, and just managed to get it up before his face relaxed into a smile and he rasped, "Her-mee-o-niny!"

She placed a cool hand over his forehead and shushed him. "How are you feeling?"

He struggled to clear his throat, then said, "Better. Where am I?"

She wrung a flannel out in the basin and wiped his face and hands, pasting on a fake smile. "Don't worry, you're safe."

He saw right through her act. The questions were there in his eyes. He settled for asking, "Why are you here?"

She evaded this question, as easily as the last, saying only, "Snape brought you to me. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"

He nodded. "And thirsty. Where is he?"

"He'll be back soon." She called Dobby and requested broth, water and weak tea. She gestured to the black mark on his left forearm and said neutrally, "That's new."

Self-consciously, his right hand covered his Dark Mark and his eyes slid away from her face in shame. "I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, but Snape made me swear."

"I know," she said gently. "It's alright."

He turned back to her hesitantly, with an uncertain smile on his lips. She patted his arm, trying to comfort him. His smile grew brighter. "I was yours long before I was his, Her-mee-o-niny."

Uncomfortable, she put a wobbly grin on her face and handed him a glass of water without a reply.

He took a few short sips, his swallowing getting easier with each one. He handed her back the glass with another smile. "I've missed you."

She groaned inwardly. They'd agreed to be friends. Friends, dammit. "Thank you for your letters," she said tightly.

"I liked yours, as well." He darted his eyes to her lips and involuntarily licked his own. He gave a shy blushing smile, "This is better. I can't kiss you in a letter."

She lowered the bowl of broth into her lap with a sigh, "Viktor... Please, don't."

His face fell and he whispered, "I did this for you. To make you proud. Please..."

Her heart wrenched. "I already was proud of you. Please don't..."

He desperately clutched at her hand, "I took this disgusting Mark for you, so I could spy for you, to keep you safe. You can't imagine what disgusting things the Dark Lord asks me to do. But I do it. I do it all, so I can help you. Please, Her-mee-o-niny..."

The guilt assaulted her until she could only manage to whisper a reply, "Viktor. Don't. We're friends. You know that."

"I don't want that! I've never wanted that!" He argued.

She battled through the guilt-induced numbness suffocating her to choke out, "But we agreed..."

"No! You agreed. I want more, I've always wanted more. I waited for you." He'd been eighteen when she was only fifteen. Merlin knew the number of groupies that threw themselves at him in the last three years. Three years that for him had been filled with nothing but letters and an empty hope.

She felt like her heart had been cut out completely out of her chest. The pain of it took her breath. "Don't do this, Viktor. Please," she begged him. At last he relented, but a light went out of his eyes. When she lifted the spoon of broth to his mouth, he accepted it mechanically while stubbornly refusing to look at her. After he was fed, she wheeled the cart over to his bedside and placed the water and tea on it.

She pulled his blankets up to his chest, and still he wouldn't meet her eye. Apologetically, she said, "If you need anything," but she trailed off. There wasn't anything left to say. She gave him a mild sedative and let him drift back to sleep.

When she parted the curtain she found Malfoy pacing the floor, his brow dropped in an angry vee. As soon as he saw her, he spun to face her and growled, "Who is he?"

"He's hurt, Malfoy, keep it down." He's a heartsick man, she thought. A man who took the Dark Mark for her. Gods, she was going to be sick, and it was all her fault.

He crossed the floor in two long strides and grabbed her by the elbow, "Dammit, Granger! Who is it? Weasley? That Death Eater you're fucking? Tell me!"

His grip was hurting her. She yanked at her elbow, but his fingers tightened painfully. "Let me go!" She reached for wand.

"I've done everything you wanted, everything you've asked." He shook her roughly, his eyes flashing. "Now you tell me. Who. The. Fuck. Is. He?" His growl escalated into a yell, even as anger flushed his face.

She pressed the tip of her wand under his chin. "Let go." With a sneer of disgust, he shoved her away. She pointed with her left hand to the table, her wand still trained on him. "Sit."

He turned his back to her, sneering, "Forget it, Granger."

"I said sit!" She shrieked and he dropped reluctantly onto a chair, refusing to look at her. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She snapped, bending over the table across from him to get in his face.

"I said forget it," he said between gritted teeth, his face still flushed with anger.

"I thought you didn't hurt women," she provoked. "I guess I know you better than you know yourself."With an angry flick of her wand he was naked again.

"What's the matter, Granger?" He leered at her. "Can't he satisfy you? Need to see a real man, so you can get yourself off later?" He let his eyes roam openly over her body. She'd never felt so cheap and dirty in her life.

"Fuck you!" She petrified him and levitated him to the bed. "You know what? I should let you go back to the Manor with Snape! What the hell do I care if they kill you and your mother?" She was shackling him back to the bed in jerky, furious movements as she ranted. "Why the bloody hell did I get involved? I don't need this, Malfoy! I don't need you!"

Once he was shackled, she flicked her wand, allowing Malfoy to relax out of the petrification charm. She stomped back to her chair by the fire and picked up her knitting with a huff, turning her back to him. After a moment, she threw her knitting back down, removing her robe, exposing the large blossoming bruise around her left elbow. She shot a glare over her shoulder and picked her knitting back up with disgust.

Some time later Malfoy called from the corner, "Granger?" She stiffened, but ignored him. After what she thought might be a curse muttered under his breath, he tried again. "Granger?" She threw her knitting to the floor and spun in her chair. Scowling, she leveled her wand at him, not deigning to reply. He blew out a frustrated breath, "Granger, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach! Don't you dare talk to me," she hissed.

"Just... Granger..." Her fury seemed to rob him of his ability to speak. "I don't want... Gods!" He rolled his eyes at his own speechlessness and rushed to add more, his voice getting quieter as he went. "I don't want him touching you. I... don't want anyone touching you. I...I like you, okay?"

Disbelief coursed through her veins, the nerve of him! "I'm a dirty, filthy mudblood, Malfoy," she sneered. "The crud stuck to the bottom of your shoe is worth more than me, remember?"

"Gr- Hermione, please." He held up his shackled hands, showing open palms in supplication. "Come here."

She drew in a deep breath struggling for patience, then stood. "I swear to Merlin, if you hurt me again, Malfoy, I will make you wish you were never born."

"My word. I won't. Please," he begged. A Malfoy? Begging? Begging a mudblood? It was such a shocking revelation, it stunned her clear off her guard.

She crossed the room to stand over his bed, her wand leveled suspiciously at his chest. "What?" She snapped. She'd barely gotten the word out before she saw a tear track down his face.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione. I lost control. When I think about you with..." He drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes as another tear fell. When he opened them again, they darted to her bruised elbow and he cringed. "Please... I don't want to be my father," he said, clearly in anguish.

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, then pocketed her wand and sat on the edge of the bed. "Gods, Draco! You idiot!" Seeing him so vulnerable, her anger finally evaporated. She wrapped her arm awkwardly around his neck and pressed her forehead to his before whispering, "Don't you ever think that. You are a far better man than he will ever be." She closed her eyes, trying to will some of her strength into him.

He struggled to even out his breathing and get himself under control. Her eyes opened and she watched him draw long breaths through his nose. His eyes remained closed until his breathing slowed. When he finally did open them, he looked deep into hers for a long moment.

Then with a sudden, small forward effort the Ferret kissed her.

This was nothing like the kiss he'd given her as Pansy. It was tender and desperate, asking forgiveness and giving comfort all at once. It was disarmingly honest and without thinking or hesitation, she kissed him back. When her stunned lips began to move under his, he made a soft needy noise and strained against his shackles to wrap himself around her. She threaded her fingers in his tousled hair, opening her lips, tasting him, moving with him. Her lungs burned for air, and hungrily she sucked in a breath and dove back into him. No matter what he'd ever said, what he'd ever done; he was revealed to her through this kiss. It was like he reached out to her with his soul, and the resulting sparks were chasing through her very veins.

They flew apart at the opening of the door.

"Well, well. Isn't this touching?" Snape sneered.