A/N: This quote is one of my personal favorites. Edvard Munch was a famous Norwegian artist that painted The Scream. A beautiful and profound thought from a man who fought mental illness and depression most of his life.

Thanks for the great response to last chapter. The reviews really made my day! You, my lovelies, are the reason I fought to sneak this chapter into my busy day. I'm pretty tired, so I apologize for any typos. FF makes words around missing spaces vanish and other goofy stuff. I tried to catch them all, but tired eyes suck at proofreading.

Drop me a line in a review, lovelies, ya?

Love and fuzzy bunny slippers,

Elvee

P.S. I mean it this time, I have to get back to work. :) Update info will always be current in my profile.

Snatch

Chapter Thirty Two

…

"From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity."

-Edvard Munch

…

Hermione started awake with a crick in her neck. She'd fallen asleep slumped over at Draco's bedside with one book in her lap and a pile of others next to her chair. Draco hadn't moved. Outside, the stars were beginning to dim against the first tinges of blue in the dark sky. It wasn't yet dawn.

There was scant information in the Black library, but it wasn't for lack of looking. She found some information dealing with magical cores, but nothing remotely detailed enough to base any kind of theory from. And although she'd gone through every single book dealing with dark magic, there wasn't even a mention of the curse that afflicted Draco. The answer wasn't to be found here, then. She gave a tired sigh, gathered her books and replaced them in the library. Exhausted, she padded down to the kitchen, trying not to wake the rest of the house.

At the bottom of the steps she heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen. Remus, Harry, Ron, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley were all seated around the huge table, bleary eyed and talking over half empty tea cups. They were still wearing yesterday's clothes, now rumpled. Apparently none of them had slept last night. Mrs. Weasley was frying bacon and eggs. A pot of beans bubbled lazily on the back burner. They all looked up as Hermione entered.

"How is he, "Mione?" Asked Harry with a yawn. Ron was snoring softly, leaning against Harry's shoulder.

"Find anything new?" Bill swung around, cup half way to his lips. There was hope in his eyes.

She shook her head. "No. No change. Bill, would you mind going up to sit with Draco? I made notes on what I was able to find last night. Maybe you'll see something I didn't. They're upstairs on the bedside table."

"Sure. Don't worry. We'll figure something out." Bill rose from the table and gave her shoulder a pat on the way out. She gave him a smile of thanks as she brushed past, heading for the peg where someone had hung her cloak. Mrs. Weasley intercepted her and steered her to a chair.

Hermione gave a weak argument, "I don't really have time. I've got to floo to Hogwarts to use Dumbledore's penseive. Bellatrix's memories will have to be gone through. Snape says she thought the curse was permanent. But I've got to try."Not only was it a long shot, the sheer amount of memories she'd pulled from Bellatrix's head would take dozens of hours to review. And, if her reputation for brutality was anything to go by, it would also take a strong stomach.

Molly made a tutting noise with her tongue. "Of course you do, but don't be silly. Minerva will put a Chinese Fireball to shame if you don't let her have her morning cuppa. Now you sit and eat something before you completely waste away!" It was probably half four in the morning. Waking Professor McGonagall at this hour certainly wouldn't help her patch things up enough to get permission from the acting Headmistress to use the library. Molly Weasley had a point.

She sighed and allowed herself to be pressed into Bill's vacated chair. "Just coffee, Mrs. Weasley, please."

"Nonsense! You have to eat!" The Weasley matriarch was already shoving a heaped plate in front of her.

"How are you, dear?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly, patting her wrist.

A hysterical laugh almost escaped her lips. Never in her life had her shoulders felt so heavy. She tried to cover it by taking a gulp of coffee before answering him. "Spread a bit thin, to be honest. I've got to get everyone organized for the final battle, hunt down Lucius Malfoy and try to find a counter curse for Draco. There just aren't enough hours in the day."

"We'll help you 'Mione," Ron said, who had apparently woke when his mother had placed a plate of food in front of him.

"Thanks, Ron, but these are things that I have to do myself." Hermione sighed.

"Not at all," said Mr. Weasley. "You have the entire Order to help you now. Granted, most of them aren't happy being shown up by such a young brilliant witch," He winked and gave her a fatherly smile. "But after that speech you made last night, they'll do as they're told."

Harry conjured parchment, quill and ink. "Do what you do best, 'Mione. Make a list," he said pushing them across the table.

"Excellent idea, Harry!" Mr. Weasley said. "Then we can take it from there."

An hour later, with six pages of tiny writing in front of her, Hermione could think of nothing else. She spent the next hour deciding who could be delegated to each task. After going over the list of tasks with Mr. Weasley and discussing who was the right person for each of them, she'd learned quite a bit. Playing to everyone's strengths would make everything much easier.

By the time the twins had come down, the sun was over the horizon and her stomach was touchy from too much coffee. As Mrs. Weasley put plates in front of the twins, they both shot sheepish looks at her. She conjured a fresh piece of parchment and scribbled something down on it. With an apologetic smile, she pushed it over to Fred. She passed him fifty muggle pounds. He read the few words and passing it over to George, he gave her a quizzical look.

"Today, I'd like you to go to a muggle book store and buy a few books on muggle ordinance. Bombs, rockets, that sort of thing."

"Rockers?" Mr. Weasley asked, his interest peaked by the mention of anything muggle.

"Rockets," Hermione repeated. "They're a kind of muggle weapon. They are generally launched with a propulsion system similar to a firework, or dropped on top of a target from the air. When they hit the target, they either explode or deliver a... potion or gas. The muggle versions use electronics and mechanical parts, but I thought you two might be able to come up with something. I was thinking we could figure out a way to flush the Death Eaters out of the Manor and into the open. It would be much safer for the Order if we weren't fighting in such tight quarters."

Fred and George looked at each other with wide understanding smiles. "That's brilliant!" They enthused, together.

She left Fred and George over their forgotten breakfast plates, heads together whispering furiously. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley reassured her they were going to contact the Order members and hand out the new assignments.

Much relieved, she pulled her cloak over her shoulders, surprised to find Harry, Ron, Remus and Charlie doing the same. "Please give me your word that if Draco wakes you'll let me know at once. He's not to be interrogated under any circumstances."

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she came over to give her a hug, "Of course, dear. We'll see to it. He'll be alright."

The five of them tumbled out of the floo into Dumbledore's office. Minerva McGonagall sat behind his desk, quill in hand and a large stack of parchments before her. A cup of fragrant Earl Grey steamed at her elbow. "Good morning, Miss Granger." She said tightly, giving a curt nod to the others. "How can I be of service?"

"Good morning, Professor. I'd like to have Professor Lupin go over Bellatrix's memories, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." Hermione asked politely. Her head of House was a good woman, but she was proud.

"She owned the knife that was used in yesterday's attack. We're looking for any information on the curse that struck young Mister Malfoy. It wouldn't be too much bother, would it Minerva?" Remus added, stepping forward and putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"I don't really know what you'll find. I went over them myself." She motioned to the cabinet that held Dumbledore's penseive. "But then again, I was looking for different information at the time."

"We know it's a long shot," he sighed. "But we have to try."

"Of course. Go right ahead."As Professor McGonagall sank back into Dumbledore's chair and prepared to take up her quill again, another question interrupted her.

"Um, Professor, would it be alright if we went in to see Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, as he and Ron paused just outside his chamber door. Harry's slight frown told her he was thinking of having to disarm Dumbledore and take his wand. He wasn't happy when they'd discussed it earlier at the breakfast table, and it didn't look like his opinion had changed at all.

She nodded and replied sadly, "He would like that, I think. We doubt he'll last the day." She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the end of her long nose.

"I'll wait for you by the gargoyle. Go on," Charlie whispered in Hermione's ear, giving her a shove into the open space before Dumbledore's desk. Before she knew what was happening, she heard the door close behind her.

She stood fidgeting in front of Dumbledore's desk for a full minute, trying to figure out how to apologize. It would certainly sound loaded if she were to ask to use the library in addition to the apology. She shuffled her feet like a nervous firstie.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" The older Griffindor snapped, slapping her quill down in irritation. "I've got a thousand things to attend to!"

She wasn't good with people. She didn't know what to say. Her apology hung up on the regret in her throat. She'd do what she came here to do, then. "I-I was wondering if I might use the library?" Hermione stammered.

"Yes, yes. Go." Minerva McGonagall didn't even look at her. Instead she pulled a parchment from the tall stack to the center of the desk and began to read.

Hermione allowed her shoulders to slump as she reached the door to the spiral stairs. She couldn't leave things like this. "I'm sorry, Professor. You've always been there for me and I... I never meant to worry you," she said softly to the tops of her shoes and slipped out.

Hours later, she and Charlie were seated at a table buried up to their necks in books. Hermione slammed another thick book shut, planting her elbows on the table and flopping her forehead into the heels of her palms. "Every time I think of something else to try, I dig through the bloody books only find out I'll burn him alive! Or he'll die of magic overload! Or lose his mind!" She wailed.

Charlie looked up from his own dusty book and opened his mouth to reassure her.

Before he could get a word out, Hermione leapt to her feet, her face hardening with determination. "No. It's got to be here somewhere. It's got to be!" She marched past him without so much as a look, and disappeared into the restricted section. She didn't see him shake his head with a wry smile and turn another page.

As the sun was sinking into amber and orange in the high windows of the library, she sensed a presence standing over her. She waited for someone to interrupt her. When no one did, she tore her burning eyes from the page impatiently to snap at them for hovering, only to find Harry. His face was blotchy and streaked with tears. In his trembling hands he fidgeted with the twisted length of ivory wood that had been Dumbledore's wand.

"He's gone," Harry managed in a wobbly voice before letting out a strangled sob. Hermione stood and gave him a fierce hug. A moment later they were joined by Charlie and Ron. They embraced for a long minute in the last rays of the sun.

The great Albus Dumbledore had pierced the veil.

Thunder, like two muggle children banging metal bin lids together under the window, woke her with a start and a cry of 'Draco'. Just as her eyes opened, a flash of lightening blinded her. She felt his warm hand in hers, just as still as it was before she'd fallen asleep and relaxed. She tried to rub the exhaustion from her eyes and check on Draco. Shadows from the lantern across the room played over his features; still sleeping.

The lantern had been turned down to it's lowest setting, and there was a throw around her shoulders she didn't have any memory of. Mrs. Weasley had promised her some food earlier. As promised, it sat under a warming charm next to the bed. She must have fallen asleep before Molly could make a round trip to the kitchens. Hermione smiled softly. No one could worry and mother like Molly Weasley.

A hushing sound of moving blankets was barely audible above the sound of pelting rain. She felt the hand in her own flex. Then, "Granger?"

She slid forward and ran a hand over his forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'm here. How do you feel?"

He tried to sit up and winced, rasping out, "Like I got stabbed."

She pressed a conjured glass of water to his lips. "Drink this," she said and helped him take a few sips. "Better?"

His gray eyes opened and took her in. "You look like hell, Princess."

She pulled a sarcastic face. "Never. Do that. Again."

"Do what?"

Merlin, she wanted to kiss him and pummel him all in one go. "Get stabbed, you prat! No, you know what? No dying, period. Got it?"

"Cranky much, Granger?"He smirked. It wasn't the old Draco smirk. It was tired and worn a little thin, but she'd take it. She settled for wrapping her arms about his neck and letting the tears fall. "Hey, hey. Princess, I'm fine. Everything's fine." He lifted the blankets and pulled her in beside him. He smoothed her hair while she cried herself out.

When her sobs had turned to sniffles he asked quietly, "Did they catch Theo?" In answer, she nodded into his neck. She was tucked nice and snug under his chin and they'd have to hex her to get her to move. "That bastard better get what he's got coming to him," he growled.

Then an odd thing happened. She giggled. She couldn't stop it from bubbling out. "Oh, I think he did."

"Why? What happened?"He pulled away from her to look her in the eye.

"I set his cock on fire," she said wide eyed, desperate to appear apologetic about it while stifling another horrible case of the giggles.

His jaw fell open. "Merlin's naughty knickers! You didn't!" She lost the fight and giggled again. "You did!" She nodded, managing to calm her giggles into a wide grin. He pulled her in for a tight hug. "Gods, I love you, Hermione Granger!"