A/N: Action, Action, Action! Plot, Plot, Plot! Mrs. Weasley will be back, but not this chapter.

I'd like to call your attention to the quote. Terry Pratchett is a favorite writer of mine. He's witty, sarcastic and irreverent! Unfortunately, he has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and won't be giving us any more little glimpses of his merry soul. Terry, you brilliant bastard, thanks for making the rest of us writers look like chumps!

Doggie Food Drive for my local animal shelter is still going on in Chapter 26. Details are in the author's notes at the beginning of that chapter. We're up to $42 ($21 from you, $21 from me). It'll be open until the 15th.

We're getting close to the end now, lovelies. If we're lucky I'll get one more chapter out before I have to leave (early) tomorrow night. :) Reviews are awesome, I love you guys!

Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Thirty

…

"Build a man a fire and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life."

-Terry Pratchett

On the horizon were the kind of clouds that blow in with warm, fat drops of rain. Hermione stood at the top of the Astronomy tower, her cloak snapping in the wind, her hair wild with the promise of the coming storm. She'd come here to escape the memories of the very loud argument that had ensued in Dumbledore's rooms after Molly's entrance. She'd come here to think alone.

She smiled wryly at the hushed voices in the stairwell behind her. Or, mostly alone. The shadowy figures of Remus Lupin and Charlie Weasley, lingered just inside, their heads together, talking softly. At least they knew enough not to buzz around her with incessant questions.

Six days. She had six days to disable Lucius Malfoy, eradicate the Death Eaters and engineer the duel between Harry and Voldemort. All the while, she'd have to work among Order members she didn't trust. Snape, she could understand, but Professor McGonagall and Tonks had really hurt. Trust was in short supply in any war, but Professor McGonagall had known her for years and Tonks she'd thought of as an older sister.

The whole thing was a mess, one she didn't want any part of. Dumbledore and his damned twinkle. She leaned on the railing and ran her fingers in circles over her temples. It was enough to give the brightest witch of her age a migraine.

She heard a step scuff lightly on the flag stones to her right. Remus Lupin leaned against the rail on his elbows, looking out at the gathering storm. His robes were frayed and stitched together awkwardly in places. He twirled his wand in his hands idly. His face was thoughtful. "Are you frightened?" He asked softly.

"Aren't we all?" She shrugged, pulling a blowing lock of hair from her mouth.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said hesitantly, "You know, at first I thought Dumbledore was out of his mind." When she turned to face him, he was still looking out over the grounds, his warm brown hair tangled in the wind.

She turned her gaze back out to the empty Quidditch pitch. Four colored flags flapped merrily in the wind. "Maybe so."

He shifted to face her, leaning his right hip against the rail. "You might be young but...I don't doubt you, Hermione. Dumbledore has his reasons."

"They didn't convince Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape."

"Minerva will come around," he reassured, comforting her as only Remus could. "You weren't here to see how manic she was when you went missing. I thought Dumbledore was going to stun her one more than one occasion. I think talking to her would help."

"I was thinking about it anyway," she shrugged. "It feels strange to have her angry with me."

"As for Severus, well, he was never a wizard with a hat full of fuzzy bunnies, was he?" He gave her a gentle smile.

She chuckled, "No." Then she gave a triumphant smirk. "Of course it didn't help that I disarmed, silenced and trussed him up to a chair the first time I saw him outside of Hogwarts. Or threatened to blow him sky high. Or tossed him through a floo like a sack of flour."

Remus's eyes went wide and he couldn't hold back a laugh. "You didn't!" She laughed at his expression, nodding in reply, then looked back out at the trees on the far edge of the pitch, watching them undulate in the wind like a green sea. "You really are something," he said wryly, following her gaze. The two of them stayed silent for several minutes. He cleared his throat. "I hear congratulations are in order." His voice was carefully neutral.

She spun her engagement ring around with her thumb and a tiny smile. "Yes. Thank you."

"Harry told me about your... adventure these last weeks. Oddly, he won't hear a word against Draco." It was a question more than a statement. It hung between them until she turned back.

She met his eye, saying evenly, "It isn't what you think."

He pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder and bent at the waist to meet her at eye level. "You don't have to do this, Hermione. After next week no one will be holding a wand to your head."

She stiffened. "Remus, no one is holding a wand to my head now."

His eyes bulged and he let his hand slip from her shoulder in shock. "Do you love him?"

Did she? A month ago if someone would have told her she'd be in the love with the amazing bouncing Ferret, she'd have hexed them all the way to St. Mungo's. It had only been a little over two weeks. The logical side of her balked at falling in love in such a short amount of time.

Then again, in those same two weeks she'd learned Draco Malfoy wasn't any of the things anyone thought he was. He wasn't a willing Death Eater. He was tortured for not participating in the torture of others. He was forced into betraying Dumbledore to save the life of his mother. With nowhere to turn, he was just a scared young man. Everyone wanted to use him, to abuse him, to sacrifice him for their own schemes.

Even, she had to admit with an inward wince, herself. She hadn't kidnapped him intending to save him or his mother. He was a means to an end, no more. But something had happened in that cabin in Iceland; he'd changed right before her eyes.

Once she'd taken him out of that hellish situation, he'd been free of those influences. In those same two weeks, he'd cashed in a blood debt with Viktor to avenge her parents. He'd probably saved her life when he forced his magic into her. He'd tried to save her from his own father - twice. He'd said she was beautiful and brilliant under truth serum. Hours later she'd felt something between them, there in that sunny bedroom in Auch; something neither of them could bring themselves to name.

"Hermione?"

She blinked out of her thoughts and found Remus watching her intently. She must have been silent in their conversation a little too long. She gave him a soft smile. "Yes. Yes, I do love him."

He wrapped her in a fatherly embrace and gave a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad. You'll probably have some explaining to do, though. Knowing you, even I thought you were planning ahead to unite both sides after the war."

She laughed, "I won't deny that was part of it at first."

"And then?" He prompted, pulling back to look at her.

She shrugged, beaming bashfully. "Who knew ferrets were so irresistible?"He laughed and gave her another tight hug.

The sound of pounding feet made them jerk apart. Ron pelted out onto the balcony and sagged down, his hands on his knees, gulping for breath. "Malfoy," he panted, gasping out the words. "Attacked."

Even though it was spotless, the bedroom in Grimmauld Place reeked of decades of neglect. Draco's still form was stripped to the waist, face down on the narrow bed. Hermione slid her hand into his, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. A tiny round pink scar sat between his ribs. A new scar. She brushed aside his fringe of blond bangs, noting the paler than usual complexion and the bluish tinge to his lips.

"Draco," she called softly near his ear. "I'm here, love." Her bottom lip trembled and she tightened her lips to still it. Snape stood on the opposite side of the bed, frowning in concentration and waving his wand over Draco's still form. She wouldn't cry in front of the greasy git. She'd made that decision in fourth year when he embarrassed her outside his classroom about her teeth. Thinking of that day, she scowled at him. He caught her with a brief glance. The dark look he sent back told her she was in the way without him having to say a word. Kissing Draco's forehead, Hermione crossed to the doorway, where Remus placed his hands on her shoulders from behind.

She didn't bother to flick a glance at either Fred or George. Beside her the twins shuffled their feet, not daring to say a word. She was too furious at them for allowing this to happen. They were his bloody guards, for Merlin's sake!

For several minutes she stood stock still, watching Snape work, trying in vain to get her temper in check. She was slow to anger, at least compared to Harry and Ron, but hell thought it knew fury when a Weasley was riled. Hell was wrong. Hermione was in a fury the likes of which none of her friends had ever seen, but most of it was directed at herself.

This was her fault. Draco was lying there unresponsive and barely breathing because of her. She knew he'd be a target. She knew something bad would happen if she took him back to Hogwarts. And what idiot would approve Fred and George to guard a piggy bank, let alone the man she loved? She shouldn't have relented when Draco found them the least objectionable of Molly's suggestions. She should have shoved Charlie and Bill down his throat. Hermione had only given in because she'd wanted him at least to have a say in who guarded him. The hostile looks in the room were smothering him, she could feel it.

She wanted him to know- everyone to know- that his opinion mattered, that she cared what he thought. She had wanted to send a message, to prove a point to everyone in that room who didn't know him like she did. And look what that hubris brought.

"What happened?" She breathed, in a barely audible whisper.

Beside her Fred stammered, "We apparated into the park outside Grimmauld Place for the meeting."

"We thought he was right behind us," added George from her opposite side.

"We heard him talking and turn around. He looked like some bloke was hugging him." Fred peeled a nail from his finger with his teeth.

"We thought it was all friendly-like, didn't we Fred?" George asked, begging his twin to agree with his eyes.

"Right, they were talking and hugging. And we didn't figure it'd be right to overhear, so we waited." Fred said, peeling another nail. "But then..."

"Then he just dropped to the ground. And the fellow he was talking to started to run. I guess to get out of the non-apparition wards."

"Right, so then we..."

"Enough," Hermione said quietly, effectively cutting them both off. Hearing the twins tell a story in tandem was enough to make her head throb. "Professor? How is he?"

"How do you think he is, Miss Granger? He was stabbed in the back with that," he motioned to a thin bladed knife on the bed side table. She'd been too worried about Draco to even look at anything else in the room. The pommel of the knife had a large green stone in it, there was writing along the handle, but it was too far away to make out. "Punctured his right lung, internal bleeding, his lungs were filling with fluids," Snape began to tick off on his fingers.

"Have you stopped the bleeding?" She asked quietly, interrupting him and approaching the knife. She began running detection spells over it.

"Do you take me for a fool?" The greasy haired professor sneered. "Of course I stopped the bleeding!"

"Severus," Remus growled in warning behind her.

Under the third spell, the knife gave off a sickly green cast. "It's cursed," she said, the blood draining from her face.

"Congratulations!" Snape said, his words dripping sarcasm. "You really are the brightest witch of our age!"

"Severus! Now that's enough," barked Remus.

"No, Remus. It's fine." She ignored the barb and said evenly, "Thank you, Severus." She turned to Remus, "Find Bill. I want to know what kind of curse we're dealing with." Finally, she turned to look at Fred and George. Fred didn't have any fingernails left, so he was nipping at the rough edges and spitting them on the floor. "Where is he?"She ground out.

"Mum said..." George began.

"I don't give a tinker's damn what your mum said!" She grabbed a fistful of George's shirt, and too stunned to react, he let the little witch slam him into the open door. "Where is he?" She ground out.

"D-downstairs. The drawing room," George stuttered.

"Tonks and Kingsley are with him," added Fred.

She gave Fred a killing glare, pointing emphatically at the floor. "You two stay here. No one comes in and no one goes out except for Professor Snape and myself. If anything changes, and I mean anything, you come and get me. Got it?" He mutely gave an emphatic nod, raising his hands in supplication. She swiveled her glare on George, he held up his hands in an identical gesture.

She swept out of the bedroom, her hair crackling with unbound magic and thundered down the steps to the second floor drawing room.

"Bloody scary, she is," one of the twins said behind her.

She tried to calm herself. She had to be calm to think clearly. There were literally thousands of types of curses that could be placed on a knife. The Slytherin green of the jeweled pommel made her stomach roil. There were thousands of ways to die, too. If anyone had information on that curse, it would be the wizard who stabbed him.

With an angry swipe of her wand, she tore through the wards the Aurors had erected like wet tissue. She slammed the drawing room door open, letting it bang on the wall. In the center of the room was a brown haired wizard bound to a wooden chair, his back to her. Kingsley jumped away from his place leaning against the wall. Tonks jerked up, her wand still pointed at the figure in the chair.

"Get out!" She hissed. When neither of them moved, she pointed her wand at a metal lamp and obliterated it into a thousand pieces, shooting glass and smoking shrapnel across the room. "Out!" She shrieked.

Exchanging an uneasy look, Tonks and Kingsley slowly left the room, closing the door behind them. With a flick of her wand the chair swung around allowing her to see his face.

"You! You were his friend!" She growled.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Mudblood herself." Smirked Theo Nott. A wide wash of blood came from a flapping eyebrow over his left eye and disappeared into the collar of his black. The eye itself was an angry purple and swollen tightly shut. Bruises peppered his jaw. Blood covered his teeth when he gave a self-satisfied smile.

"You listen to me, Nott. Tell me what kind of curse was on that knife or your mother will weep when she sees what I've done to you." Hermione spat. Her hair was floating on a non-existent wind and her eyes flashed with fiendfyre.

"My mother's dead," There was an uneasy lightness to his tone as if he was happy she was gone. "You know it's funny, Granger. The other two didn't give a rat's arse about the curse. Wonder why that is?" He said in a bored tone.

Multicolored sparks were shooting from her wand as she ground it into his forehead between his eyes. "The curse," she said between gritted teeth.

He whimpered as the smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils. "I don't help blood traitors." He gathered a glob of bloody spit and sprayed it in her face.

On the mantle she spied a bottle of veritaserum. She smiled. With a flick of her wand, she had positioned his chair to face a crushed velvet couch. Another flick had his mouth open and swallowing three drops of the potion.

He laughed loudly, as if she'd just told the funniest joke in the world. "Oh, Mudblood!" He wheezed. "Veritaserum? Really?" He guffawed. "Even you have to know that all Death Eaters are immune!" She cut away the left sleeve of his robes. The Dark Mark leered at her from his forearm. "They practically put it in our baby bottles!"

Suddenly, the actions of the Order made sense. If truth serum didn't work on Death Eaters, they'd have to use something to get them to talk. Being a legilimens was very rare. Using the Imperius curse was grounds for a lifetime stay in Azkaban, but there were other motivators. Positive reinforcement like pleasure might be humane, but it wouldn't provide enough motivation to tell the truth. Hunger was a good motivation. They could lock them in a cell to starve it out of them. That would take too long when lives were on the line. Thirst was another. Shorter, yes, but it still took days.

Which led her to pain.

She stopped pacing at the front of his chair and gave a predatory smile. She held it for a long moment until his laughter faded and he wiggled nervously in his chair. She conjured a bluebell flame in the air between them. It was a simple spell any second year could conjure. By itself, it was an innocuous spell, giving a little blue light and a slow burning heat. She, Harry and Ron had often kept their hands warm by one conjured into a jar on cold winter days when they'd needed the fresh air of the courtyards. A jar had been necessary because a bluebell flame was hot enough to ignite cloth, like Snape's robes.

Theo saw the familiar flame and visibly relaxed, a confident smirk back across his face. He opened his mouth to make another snide remark. That was her cue. She flicked her wand and settled the little second year flame spell directly on his crotch.

She sat across from him on the sofa and waited with a smirk.