A/N: All is not as it appears, my lovelies. Enough said. For those of you wondering about the beaded bag, you're about to find out the plan. Harry and Ron? The Order? Yep. Lucius? An inkling. After the last few fluffy chapters, it's time to turn our eye back to the plot.

To answer the question about my quotes, I research one for each chapter and refuse to post until I find the perfect one. I adore witty quotes, and I hope you do, too. :) This time the (*) indicates a quote in the text. If you don't recognize it, it's from Shakespeare's Hamlet.

I love each and every one of my reviewers! If you review, I will love you, too. I am blown away by the response to this story each (we're at 38k hits and counting!) and every time I receive a new review it feels like I'm wearing my favorite bunny slippers. Yes, I really have some. They are Monty Python Holy Grail bunnies, so they have teeth, lol.

-Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Twenty Three

"For years my wedding ring has done it's job. It has led me not into temptation. It has reminded my husband numerous times at parties that it's time to go home. It has been a source of relief to a dinner companion. It has been a status symbol in the maternity ward."

-Erma Bombeck

Narcissa had grown tired, and Draco had escorted her back to her room, leaving Hermione sitting in the garden. She stared off into the distance, her gaze on the neighboring winery on the far hill, her mind racing. The diamond on the third finger of her right hand flared in the sun.

What the hell had just happened? Her feelings were in a jumble and her logic was reeling.

After the giddiness of the moment passed, the weight of the ring on her right hand felt alien. It felt wrong. Narcissa Malfoy had been gracious and warm. But she'd also been a bit too insistent on the match. Her son's little speech had certainly been moving, but it didn't fit the mold. Sure, he admitted he didn't love her, but he'd pressed her anyway. Malfoy had dropped to his knees at her feet. It was that little over the top gesture that had set her teeth on edge. The Malfoy she knew wouldn't bend knee to anyone without being at wand point.

She considered three obvious possibilities: He could be genuine. Perhaps he wanted his mother to have the peace of mind she'd asked for: the knowledge that he'd marry someone who cared about him. He was obviously attracted to her. Even if he hadn't said it in so many words, his body's reaction to her certainly had. But this was Malfoy. If his reputation was anything to go by, he'd screw anything in a skirt. Except a mudblood. Despite his protestations, for him suddenly to disregard her blood status was... unnerving. Perhaps he did feel something for her, but kneezles didn't change their stripes. Did they? Did he want to marry her because he cared about her? It seemed a slim chance at best.

Secondly, they could feel indebted to her. She'd saved their lives and in the process they'd both incurred life debts with her. In the Wizarding World life debts were no small matter. Until they were released, she could call upon them to do anything she desired and they'd magically be compelled to comply. There were only two ways to erase the debt: they could save her life or she could voluntarily release them. At first, Hermione had seen Draco trying to save her from Lucius as an act of friendship, but Slytherins did nothing without a selfish motivation. In the clear light of morning it seemed certain that he was trying to discharge his debt. This seemed more likely. No Malfoy wanted to be under the thumb of a mudblood.

Lastly, they could be angling for some advantage. Slytherins were masters of manipulation, and that bright, sunny breakfast proved it. Manipulation wasn't just sneering and disparaging. It was using any means available to control a set of circumstances to one's advantage. Using that logical definition, she had certainly been manipulated. Narcissa's charming kindness had been disarming. She hadn't gone to breakfast this morning considering or even wanting to be married to Malfoy. Yet, an hour later here she was with a ring on her finger. She bit her lip.

She'd trusted him, cared for him and even felt herself falling a little bit in love with him.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.*

It hurt.

She eyed the twinkling diamond as she carefully extracted her feelings from the facts. It was an engagement. Engagements were broken all the time. At least she had the presence of mind to ensure she'd had a way out before she'd agreed. Trying to out-slytherin Slytherins gave her a headache. Let them scheme. When the time came, she'd simply walk away.

Until then, she'd use her new engagement to her advantage.

She conjured parchment, quill and ink. Her beaded bag wasn't just going to fall back into her lap, and plans didn't make themselves. She'd find it, change the names and addresses on the forged documents, turn them over to Draco and Narcissa and get the hell out of this snake pit. Time was running out, the war was marching on back home and she had things to do. With that last thought, she began scribbling furiously.

"How are you feeling, 'Mione?" Ron slumped into a chair next to her, loudly chewing an apple. She hastened to bury the parchments she'd filled with her scrawl under the pile.

"Better," she smiled. "I was just tired." Her ring caught the sun again and flashed. Ron's eyes bugged.

"Merlin! Is that what I think it is?" He grabbed her hand in his sticky fingers, yanking it to him to get a better look.

Inwardly wincing, she tried to paste on a convincing bright smile, "Malfoy proposed this morning and I..."

"What?" He choked on his mouthful of apple.

"I accepted. We're getting married." It was mostly true. He had proposed and she'd accepted. Little did anyone suspect she had no intention of going through with it. How she hated lying to her boys. Especially when she knew Ron was bound to blow a gasket any second. Unfortunately, it was necessary. No matter what Narcissa and Malfoy were playing at, she'd promised to save their lives. Hermione Granger kept her word, even if it she gave it to a ferret.

"Bit sudden, isn't it?" He surprised her by asking quietly. His blue eyes pleaded with her and in that moment she saw it: Ron's breaking heart. Malfoy was right. How had he known? Ron's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Look, I know you're expecting me to go off the deep end. Malfoy's a git and a Death Eater and everything. I want to. Believe me." He gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "But Harry and I talked about it last night. 'Mione, you're the smartest person I've ever met, so I know you've already thought about it. And we saw him with you last night. I might not like him, but he does care about you. Hell, even I can see it."

She smiled softly and placed her right hand on his arm, giving a gentle squeeze. That was a mistake. When he looked down, his face frowned at her ring. "What I don't understand is why," he continued,keeping his eyes glued to her hand. "Why do you love him?" The implied question being why do you love him and not me was never asked.

She was saved having to answer by the slamming of the back door. Harry, blinking at the bright morning light, walked onto the patio carrying a mug. "Morning..." Hermione grimaced at the interruption and Ron broke away, spots of color high on his cheeks. Looking between them, Harry stopped mid-stride, then slowly sat in the chair on her left. His green eyes darted from the ring she was nervously twisting on her finger to her face. "Nice ring." He sipped his drink in the awkward silence that followed.

He surprised her by asking softly, "Do you love him?"Why weren't they exploding? Why weren't they yelling and throwing a fit? What exactly had they talked about last night while Malfoy was wrapped around her in his bed?

Hermione swallowed hard, not wanting to lie to them any more than she had to. It was time for a verbal Wronski feint. "I wouldn't marry him if I didn't." And she wouldn't be marrying him, so technically it wasn't a lie. Technically.

Harry studied her for a long minute, before asking calmly, "Are you happy, 'Mione? Really, truly happy?"

Her eyes were filling with tears. Despite the fact she knew Harry despised Malfoy, by asking that one question, she could tell he was willing to put aside his feelings for her. This was the reason she loved her infuriating, thick headed boys so much. She wouldn't lie to them, not now, so she wouldn't answer. "Be happy for me?" She asked instead.

"I will kill him if he hurts you, 'Mione," Ron said, his voice cracking slightly.

"If he hurts me, you can have what's left when I finish with him," she gave a watery giggle and embraced them both.

"Try and leave us something, 'Mione," grinned Harry.

Malfoy emerged from the back door carrying two glasses and kissed her on the cheek. "Weasel! Hands off my fiancée!" Before any of them could retort he had folded himself smoothly into a chair, his messy hair only looking better in the warm breeze. He slid a glass in front of Hermione and took a long pull from his water, asking lazily, "So, Princess, what's the plan?"

She slid into a seat next to him, forcing Harry over a chair. Feign ignorance. "The plan was to rescue your mother and yourself and put you in hiding. In case you haven't noticed, we're here."

"Getting rid of them for starters." He nodded his head at the side of the yard where two robed figures obviously loitered in the country lane.

Hermione swiveled in her seat, "Who are they?"

"Looks like Diggle and Jones. Order members. I'll just go grab them, shall I?" Harry began to stand.

"Harry, no!" Hermione seized his arm. "If you leave, you won't be able to come back."

Harry sank back in his chair, "Just make me a secret keeper."

"No," Hermione said firmly. "Once you leave, neither of you will be able to find this house again." The knew exactly what she was talking about, the fidelius charm. Ron and Harry began to protest. Draco lounged back in his chair and observed, his passive mask firmly in place. "As a matter of fact, before you leave here, I'm going to have to obliviate any memory you have of this house."

"What!" They shouted simultaneously. So much for the newer, mature version of her boys. Hermione slid her eyes closed while they got a grip on their tempers.

"How could you think that about us?" Hissed Harry, his hands balling into fists on the table.

"I'm sorry, Harry. We both know about your..." She eyed his scar meaningfully, the unspoken message about his connection to Voldemort quite plain. "Little problem. We also know your lessons with Professor Snape didn't go as planned. If I let you leave here with knowledge of this house, there is a chance..."

"Oh, com'on!" Ron snapped, slamming his hands on the table. "Harry wouldn't let that happen!"

"There's a chance, no matter how slim," she continued firmly, "That You-Know-Who could find out where they are." She leveled a heavy gaze at Harry, saying, "You know I'm right."

Harry blew out a breath, apparently still angry, but clear headed enough to see the truth of her words. "Fine," he ground out. "But only our memories of the house! Nothing else."

"Who else did you tell, Harry?" She asked gently.

"He told Dumbledore. You gonna obliviate him, too?" Ron spat.

She shook her head. "No," she said slowly, deciding how much to tell them. Now was not the time to drop the knut that Dumbledore was dying, not with them already upset "Of course not, Ron. Don't be ridiculous. But I need to know who else in the Order knows."

"Bloody hell, 'Mione! You just can't go around obliviating everyone without so much as a by-your-leave!" Ron was in rare form. At least he was making coherent sentences.

"Draco and Narcissa are victims, Ron. They're wanted by both sides. They're in hiding to heal and put their lives back together. I'm not going to let anyone's carelessness allow them to be tortured under interrogation. Not by anyone; not the Death Eaters and not the Order."

"What the hell has gotten into you lately? The Order doesn't torture anybody!" Ron spluttered, his face flushing with anger.

So they didn't know. She sighed, suddenly very weary. "Are you sure about that, Ron? Talked to Stan Shunpike lately? Imelda Zabini? Or how about Darien Markham, the part-time employee at Borgin and Burkes? All of them were taken in for questioning by the Order before being turned over to the Ministry. If I had my beaded bag, I could show you the before and after pictures I clipped out of the Prophet."

Harry and Ron gave her a dark look. She folded her arms stubbornly and stared at both of them, daring them wordlessly to prove her wrong.

"You saw the pictures of my father after he was arrested at the Ministry, Potter. You really think my he would let himself go like that, even if he was in Azkaban?" Malfoy drawled.

"Yeah, Merlin forbid they mess up his hair! Shut it, Malfoy." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Let me speak slower for you, Weasel," Malfoy sneered. "Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt used the cruciatus curse seven times on my father while he was in Ministry custody. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the last time I checked, using unforgivable curses was hardly following standard protocol."

"That's a lie! Lupin would never..." Ron shouted.

Harry stared hard at Malfoy, weighing what he'd just been told. After a moment, he held up a hand, silencing Ron. "What do you want us to do, 'Mione?"

She reached across next to her and grasped Malfoy's hand. "I want you to help me keep my future husband and mother-in-law safe. We can go out there together and tell them Malfoy got away before confunding them and wiping their memories. Then before you leave, let me obliviate both of you." Harry's face tightened. Ron scowled. She had to seal the deal. "I've already lost one family, Harry. Ron? Please don't make me lose another." Merlin, she felt bad fighting so dirty. Draco slid a comforting arm around her shoulders and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

"You alright?"He whispered. She nodded. She was just great for someone who shamelessly manipulated her friends. The same friends that loved her enough to trust her judgment when they thought she was marrying Malfoy. Pack your trunk, Hermione, we're going on a guilt trip, she thought acidly.

"Fine. Ron and I will do it. With you missing, it'd look bad if you suddenly turn up in France." Harry said, sighing. "But we get to question them." He waited for Malfoy to give a curt nod before drawing his wand.

"Thank you," she whispered. She scribbled down the address to the cottage and let them each memorize it. The charm had to be recast anyway. Malfoy or his mother should be able to decide who they let into their home. She waved her wand and quickly added them temporarily to the wards. Those could be recast, as well.

Still grumbling, Harry and Ron disapparated out to the road. She and Draco watched as they confunded them and Harry carefully altered their memories.

"Nicely done," Malfoy said, never taking his eyes from the road. "You should have been in Slytherin." She gave him a withering glare in reply. "Think we can trust them, Princess?" Draco asked.

"If a day comes that I can't, I'll let You-Know-Who use me for target practice." And it was the truest thing she'd said all morning.

Harry and Ron waited until Diggle and Jones apparated away before crossing the wards. Ron slapped his wand on the table with a smack and slouched angrily into his chair. Harry's face was grim, but he calmly slid his wand up his sleeve and turned to Malfoy. "Give us a reason to make that worth it."

Malfoy laced his hands together and tucked them behind his neck, leaning back in his chair. "Granger's already questioned me under veritaserum, Potter. Do your worst." He shot her a wink.

She pushed her chair back. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Don't you want to stay for this?" Harry asked, surprised at her sudden departure.

"No, thanks. I've already done it." She brushed her lips lightly over Draco's and murmured, "Remember that letter I showed you this morning? Revenge is best when you don't have to lift a finger." Draco's smug smirk dropped slowly. She turned back to Harry and said, "Ask him whatever you want. He'll tell you the truth."

Manipulation wasn't just for Slytherins.

Once inside she called for Dobby. He appeared, bowing low and returning her smile. Scrawling the address of the cottage on a scrap of parchment, she handed it to him saying, "Dobby, can you please bring Mrs. Malfoy's healer to the living room right away? Show him this and have him memorize it before you bring him here. Once he's read it, destroy it. I need to speak with him about her condition."

In a few moments the tall, lanky healer appeared, poking his hand out to greet her. She smiled warmly, then pointed her wand at him, saying, "Obliviate."

When Dobby reappeared from returning the healer to his office, Hermione was tapping her lips thoughtfully. "Dobby, I have a very important question for you. When you rescued us from Berlin, did you happen to see a small blue beaded bag about this big?" She pantomimed the size of her purse with her hands.

The little elf nodded vigorously, "Yes, Mistress. I sees it out in the hallway on the floor."

She couldn't help it, she clapped her hands excitedly. "That's great! Please tell me you brought it back?" It was a long shot, she knew, but she had to try. The principle of Occam's Razor frequently solved the most complex problems: try the simplest solution first.

Dobby's ears drooped, and his bottom lip quivered. "No, Mistress." He looked up at her, his eyes shining, "Shall Dobby fetches it now for the best friend of Harry Potter?"

There hadn't been enough time to think. If Lucius was still there, sending Dobby would be unethical. He was bound to serve, after all. Once she asked for it, he wouldn't have a choice but to die trying to retrieve it. If Lucius Malfoy was still at his summer home, she would be putting Dobby in mortal danger. That was not an option. She'd gotten caught, she'd lost the bag. This was her mess and she'd have to clean it up. Of course the minute she left the safety of the Fidelius charm, all bets were off. Lucius Malfoy would be hunting her.

She shook her head, and said kindly, "No, Dobby. Thank you. Can I ask you another question? I've heard that no one but the Malfoys and their esteemed house elves can get through the wards guarding their properties. Is that true?"

Dobby was eager to please and said excitedly, "Oh, yes. That is the truest of true, Miss Friend-of-Harry-Potter."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking, then mumbled aloud, "So how in the hell am I supposed to do this if I can't get in alone?" She wasn't taking Dobby. Period. Draco was out of the question, too. She'd already seen what his father had in store for him. Even if he was a scheming ferret, nobody deserved that.

Dobby blinked, obviously confused. "But, Mistress, you can. You is a Malfoy now." He pointed to her new ring.

A slow, bright smile spread across her lips. "Thank you, Dobby."