Disclaimer: I lay no claim to HP and related material. This is for entertainment only.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews for the last chapter! I've been working hard to switch over computers and there were some complications, but I've fixed them and am finally able to post one the most important chapters yet. Thank you for your pateince. I'm not sure how long it will until I'm able to up-date again because so much of my time is already being taken up by classes and homework, but I will work hard to catch back up. Reviews are an excellent motivator.

On that subject: brace yourselves, this is a long one. It was originay two chapters, but they were a tad short, so I turned them into one just for you guys who left such wonderful reviews and wanted a new chapter so badly. Enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you thought!

Stolen

Chapter 9: The Diary

Hermione awoke to the feel of something warm against her leg. It was solid. It was fury. It tickled her calf. Her eyes shot open, she sat bolt upright, and ripped the covers off of her to find Crookshanks beside her.

"Crookshanks!" she practically squealed. She scooped the cat up in her arms, squeezing him tightly and cooing all over him. It was the happiest she'd felt since she'd found she was to marry Draco. Draco... he'd been loyal to her, really. Truly loyal. He'd even saved her life and she was well aware of both the magical and moral bond that formed as a direct result of this. However, did it begin the form of some other bond as well? Foolish notion.

On that topic: where was Draco anyway? Looking around, she realized she'd been put back in her own bed. When she had been in his room earlier, she had been quite shaken up by the whole ordeal and had taken advantage of his rare compassion, or pity, or remorse, by allowing him comfort her as the tears silently poured down her face. He had offered no false promises, spoke no pretend words of affection, but his quite presence had been enough. He had not grimaced and recoiled at her show of weakness, as she would have expected from him, but rather seemed to understand it. If only Ron and Harry had seen the gentle way he had wiped at her face, wrapped an arm around her, and sunk into the bed sheets beside her. They would not have believed their eyes, she was certain. Ron would say the debonair was pinning for something else. Could that be? Draco was known for his... appetite. But he, no doubt, could understand her momentary loss of control. Had Harry not said he had witnessed the boy go through a similar breakdown the year before? It would prove to him that he could trust her the way she was now confident that she could trust him. Yet, she was indebted to him.

Why, then had he suddenly changed and fled from the room. Why had he been so angry and so hateful again all of the sudden? There really was no understanding that boy. And Ron says women are complicated! Knobby appeared an instant later, interrupting her musings.

"Hello Miss!" Knobby said enthusiastically. "Knobby is so glad to find Miss feeling better."

"Why thank you Knobby. I do feel much better. Crookshanks is here as well."

"Yes, Miss. Knobby had him brought in first thing this morning. Master said to do it right away."

"Master? You didn't get him yourself?"

"No, Miss. Master Draco ordered it."

"Oh!"

"Is there anything I can get for you Miss?"

"No thank you, Knobby. How are you feeling?"

"Fine Miss. Dumpy just shoved Knobby into an oven is all, Miss. Knobby escaped."

"Oh dear."

"Miss must promise to call if Miss should need anything. Master Lucius says Knobby is to be the only elf to look after Miss Granger and Knobby shall do anything Miss pleases."

"Well, that's very generous of him, but not necessary. I can look after myself. I'm sure you have plenty of other work to do."

"No, Miss. They says this is to be Knobby's only job." The elf gave a big smile.

"Alright then. It will a pleasure to have you help me, I'm sure. I think I shall get dressed and write in my diary now, if you don't mind."

"Not all Miss." The elf bowed and turned to leave.

"Knobby!" she suddenly remembered.

"Yes?"

"What happened to Dumpy?"

The elf visibly shivered and Hermione instantly regretted ever asking.

"He was punished. Miss is safe now." The elf left Hermione sitting in bed with her mouth open.

Only partially recovered, she felt that she better immediately begin work with her diary. It only took a few moments for her to freshen up for the day. She picked out some robes of a midnight blue and moved to the roll top desk, removed the diary, and stared at the blank pages of parchment. If only she had come up with a way to memorize all the guests names. It was important, as Snape had said, but try as she might, only a few faces and names swam into her memory. Even if she could recall them all, it would difficult to pass such a list off as looking innocent.

'Well, best to begin at the beginning,' she supposed. 'No, not the beginning. When the Malfoys must believe I learned of the proposal. This morning.'

"Dear Diary,

I find myself compelled to confide in you, my most trusted friend, the strange series of events that have befallen me recently."

She stopped and reflected. It seemed appropriate. It definitely sounded like her, and the bit she had thrown in about 'most trusted friend' was a direct address to the Order reading this. They would catch on.

'Hmm,' she thought. 'This part, however, painstakingly it must be done, might be fun.'

She continued: "It is really odd when I remind myself that it was only a single day ago that Ginny and I were picking out clothes for this year. It feels like an eternity ago that I was bickering with Harry and Ron over finishing their homework. It was a whole other life. Now, I am to be married to Malfoy. Malfoy! But I suppose that I should start at the beginning.

"Yesterday morning, I was studying when I was told I had mail from the ministry. I found two proposals made under the new marriage law. Ghastly law! One was from my dear friend Ronald and the other was from Draco Malfoy-my enemy. I was shocked to say the least. Then, I found I had to go to tea at their estate almost immediately. I hurried over there to meet, and found myself talking, within minutes, to Lucius Malfoy! He said Ron may in danger if I chose not accept his proposal, so I did…Draco was a rather impressive dancer. I was so grateful for mum making me take those dancing lessons. I wonder where he learned it… Bellatrix Lestrange and Rita Skeeter were there! Dreadful old…Can you imagine...?"

Hermione did not know it, but, by the time she got to the kiss, she had been writing for hours. She put down her quill and thought hard about how this bit ought to be worded. She went over possible phrases in her head:

'It was quite suddenly and inexplicably that the kiss happened- no that was stupid.'

' It was horrendous-well, that wasn't entirely true.'

' Draco kissed me. It was the strangest feeling. As if I wasn't kissing Draco at all, but someone capable of love and warmth. My friends would think I was crazy to hear me say such a thing, and certainly don't feel myself at all. -That sounded good.'

While she began to write about being poisoned, she felt tears spring to hers eyes. She wiped them away angrily as she continued to force herself to write the words, telling Knobby she desired no lunch, thank you. Once she finished commenting on her outrage and registering her astonishment that the offending elf had been killed, she closed the diary on that note, deciding she desperately needed some fresh air. She had almost begun believing what she wrote about Draco's hidden, softer nature and that was dangerous.

Now, to find her way outside. She considered actually going to ask Draco how to get there. Why not? A knock on the door, however, told her he was not there. Perhaps he was still eating lunch with his parents, possibly discussing the events of last night or maybe even discussing her. Snape would probably yell at her if she told him she had left them to speak freely. Not wanting to dwell on that, she found the main stairs and descended. Leaving the imposing hall, she walked to the left hallway which she had come through when she first arrived at the manor.

She tried going straight down the long corridor towards the back of the house in hopes of encountering a door that would lead out back, but before she even made it that far, something else stopped her in her tracks.

She couldn't believe her eyes. It was monstrous. It was beautiful. Above the great double doors before her was written: "In Libris Libertas". She paused, dumbstruck, outside the entrance to the Malfoys' ancient library. The open doors seemed to beckon her inwards for her moment of restraint, then, she all but rushed in.

To her friends it had always been a mystery; her love affair with books. Reading and remembering had always come easy for Hermione Granger. She could remember being read to at an early age. It had been her favorite way to spend time with her parents. Her parents...

In school, being book clever was not only easy, but it was also a way to excel, to stand out, to be productive and even appreciated. The more she read, the more she wanted to read. It was exciting. There was so much out there and so many questions that could be answered. It was like an ocean of information ready to be sailed. How could anyone stand on the shore? How could anyone not like reading? The smell of books, old or fresh off the press, tingled her senses. The love potion with three scents she had encountered in her sixth year even contained one of those scents for her.

Books were powerful things, really. They had always impressed her, educated her, captivated her, and gave her window into worlds she would otherwise never come to know or understand. Once she had been accepted into Hogwarts, she had studied so much, knowing that she would be completely ignorant of an entire world and race. When life was trying and difficult or lonely, Hermione could lose herself and her problems in books.

Now, books were her once again her lifeline, but for a very different reason. They were a symbol of normalcy, of the old Hermione who used to read away the afternoon. Now she found herself jubilant, surrounded by mountains of them, each glittered like a gem to her eyes. Worlds may change, but libraries were still there. Truly the saying above the doors was fact: "In Libris Libertas; In books there is freedom".

Wall to wall bookshelves encompassed the room, raising to a second story level accessible only by an intricately designed, spindly spiral metal staircase, twirling upwards by the chimney. The ceiling was covered entirely in a painting, like the cysteine chapel, only it gave the distinct impression that the artist must have been very talented and slightly demented.

It was, at first glance, the clear night sky. However, the constellations that the twinkling stars outlined in a vast darkness, were exaggerated. The dragon seen in the constellation Draco, for instance, was not the scrawny, edgy figure the stars really cut, but, in the same place and style, a real looking dragon with clouds being blown furiously out of it's nostrils. Pegasus was a rather accurate horse skeleton with beautiful extended wings. Scorpius, the scorpion, was daemonic looking and rather detailed. His sting was unnaturally large. Delphinius, the frolicking dolphin, caught her eye. She smiled up at it. Aquilla, the eagle, was majestic in half-flight. Ursa major and minor, the bears, seemed to be sniffing the skies. It looked as if, slowly, all of them were gliding slightly and peacefully. In the center of the room, emitting a real glowing light, was the silvery moon, full.

She instantly loved the room, although, the titles of more than a few books and the aurora of many sections, made her uneasy. No doubt, her breathing increased as she realized, some of the most forbidden and ancient books known to the wizarding world were in the very room in which she now stood. It sent goose pimples on her bare arms. She examined the spines on the books nearest her. After a few minuets, she chose one with a unique title: The Tragic History of Casus Malfoy.

Hermione moved to the center of the room, which was covered by a rug, she could only imagine how expensive and old, of the near-black, darkest blue with silver stars all over it. It matched the assortment of celestial style couches, armchairs, and a chaise, scattered around. She curled up by the empty fireplace, tossing a matching fleece throw over her legs out of habit more than anything else, and opened the book, as curious as ever.

"Introduction. Perseus Malfoy. The death of Casus Malfoy was singularly tragic and devastating event for the entire Malfoy clan and, although a spot of blood on its history, also a mark of honor and courage."

'Honor and courage?' she wondered. 'Malfoy?'

"It is the duty of those that carry on the blood of such a being to remember the injustices done unto him and the remarkable strength which he showed. Each Malfoy, and pureblood alike, should become to be as familiar with the facts I have collected of his story as they are with their own personal history. Afterwards, they may walk forever forth with an air of honor and pride in the blood that flows through their veins, never forgetting their heritage and their allegiance to such men as Casus. May the horrors of his death never be repeated on any of his descendants and the loyalty he showed to his noble, magical blood be always repeated, in each of us. Hence our motto was changed at his death in everlasting memoriam from the ancient: Nulli Secundus to: "Cicatrix manet".

That was all there was of an introduction. Undeniably intrigued, Hermione delved further into the book until she was totally immersed. It began by with an abridged synopsis of the lineage of Malfoy as a family. It then proceeded with the birth, in 1540, of Casus Malfoy and the unusual circumstances under which it occurred. As the plot thickened with the mysterious execution of Casus' mother, Hermione failed to remember to keep an eye on the time and hours had passed before she was discovered.

"Miss!" yelped Knobby from the entrance. The elf looked panic stricken. Hermione, on impulse, stowed the book in the inner pocket of her robes. Hastily, she scrambled over to the door.

"What on earth is the matter, Knobby?" The elf's eyes were brimming tremendously. "What's wrong?"

"Knobby failed in her duty Miss. Knobby must be punished."

Unlike Dobby, this elf seemed at least hesitant to punish herself, or perhaps Malfoy had ordered her to allow him that liberty. She was becoming steadily more distraught. "What duty did you fail in Knobby?"

"Miss was not supposed to go anywhere without Knobby. Knobby was supposed to watch Miss' every move."

"Thank you Knobby, but as I said, its really not necessary."

"Not for you Miss, for Master. He said I was supposed to tell him everything and Miss left and Knobby has nothing to tell but that she lost Miss before tea and found her snooping." The elf was growing hysterical.

"Knobby calm down." Hermione commanded gently. "Now, there a must be a way to save both of us. Here, walk me back to my room, I'll get ready for tea and-"

"But Knobby will be in so much trouble. Miss was not supposed to wander. Knobby was supposed to report on what Miss said. See if Miss tried to contact her friends-"

"Knobby that's it!"

"What?"

"The diary! That's it, Knobby. You'll take my diary and tell them that you had to let me go to the library, so that you could take it from my desk. They can read it, and then put it back to continue to read more from it later."

"Take Miss' diary?" The elf looked horrified at the mere suggestion.

"Yes. Don't worry, Knobby. Trust me. Now hurry and get it while I get ready for tea."

"Yes Miss." The elf scampered off.

Hermione removed the book from her robe pocket for a moment and looked at it again. "The Tragic History of Casus Malfoy." The mystery of his death would just have to wait. She had a tea to attend.

She hurried upstairs to freshen up and make herself look presentable. Then, she hurried to the tea room at top speed, coming to an abrupt halt outside the door next to the tea room. It had a white door, identical to the one next to it, and there were harsh muffled sounds coming from within. She checked to see if the corridor was clear, and, then, pressed her ear to the door.

"Not supposed to let her out of your sight you foolish elf!" Lucius was in the middle of saying. Hermione heard Knobby whimper in a very Dobby-like way.

"I'm so sorry, Master, but Knobby must let Miss go to the library to do Knobby's plan, sir."

"Was your plan was to infuriate me and set loose a mudblood in my home?"

"No sir. Please, sir. Knobby knew miss would go to the library and Knobby let her, so Knobby could sneak the diary Miss was writing in from Miss' desk."

"Oh! So you thought you'd thought you'd allow a mudblood to wander the noble house of Malfoy while you snuck out her precious little d- her what?"

"Diary, sir."

There was a quiet moment in which the tension was so strong in could not be contained by the room and it seeped out into the hallway where Hermione waited anxiously for it to end. She was startled to hear Narcissa break the silence. The lady of the house had not spoken the whole time, and Hermione had not even known she was in there. She wondered if Draco was as well and, since he didn't know about the diary, whether he was as frightened as she suspected he must be.

"Well, well this is certainly surprising. A simple little elf like you thought up a clever little plan like that." Hermione fumed. How dare she assume that Knobby was so stupid, and tell her so! She should be thanking her!

"Knobby saw her writing in it and thought Master would want to know. If Knobby puts it back when Master's done, Master can keep reading the mudblood's thoughts without her knowing."

"Yes that all very good, but are you sure you've got the brain in your tiny little skull to come up with such a plan?"

"What does Lady Malfoy mean?"

"I mean, vermin, that was this your idea? Did you bring us this diary of your own accord?" Hermione gulped. She was screwed. Knobby could not lie and if they found out about the diary she was in serious, serious, trouble.

After a moment, in which Hermione held her breath painfully tight and tried to quiet her own heartbeat, the silence was broken by the timid elf.

"Yes, Miss." Hermione thought she heard the tiniest gasp issue from the room she was ease dropping on, but she couldn't be sure whether it was from Knobby or Draco. She hoped no one had heard her own.

"Well done, Knobby. Leave." Narcissa instructed.

"Yes ma'am."

"I will call you to replace the diary as tea ends."

"Yes, ma'am."

That was it. Hermione heard the pop that meant the elf had left the room. No reward whatsoever? If she were not so surprised she could have managed outrage.

"Lucius, you know what this means?"

"That we hold a window into the heart of a mudblood brat?"

"Exactly. She may write about Potter, dear, or Order business. She may give away something important. Draco may even be able to woo her and get her properly under his finger. She's already in his debt, but if she fell in love with him..."

"It would give us a great advantage."

"The Dark Lord would be pleased."

"What say you, Draco? Would you enjoy playing with her mind and breaking her pathetic little heart?"

"Yes, father."

"You sound reluctant Draco. Not having feelings for the muggle brat, are we?"

'No,' thought Hermione, 'He's scared out of his wits about what I could have written.'

"No father! I hate that snooping know-it-all! What a filthy mudblood."

"You were kind to her earlier."

"So she would think she could trust me. She owes me her life. She can't deny me anything."

"You enjoy the power?"

"Very much." It sounded like he was telling the truth about the love of control. Perhaps he was. She scowled in disgust.

Lucius laughed. "You should read this. It's is rather entertaining. Apparently, Draco, you are possibly capable of love and warmth."

"Stupid mudblood." He sounded relieved.

"Proceed to the tea room, Draco. The girl is waiting for you. I'll be there soon."

"Yes mother."

He was walking towards the door. Hermione jumped backwards, only to collide with a small, round marble table, balancing a vase of flowers. She landed on her butt roughly and knocked over the table and vase, breaking them at the exact moment the door swung open.

'Oh God!' she chastised herself. 'All the subtly of a real spy. Pride of the Scotland yard.' Draco had looked startled at first, then quickly changed to angry, and then rolled his eyes.

"Draco what was that noise?" came the anxious and annoyed voice of Laces from inside. Hermione, helpless and overwhelmingly sore, laid on the hard marble floor at his feet as he stared distastefully down at her. Once again that day, she held her breath.

"Draco?" his mother asked. He smirked. He wouldn't dare! He was just teasing her, wasn't he?

"Draco, what was that blasted noise?" his father repeated impatiently.

"It's just that stupid fur ball."Hermione threw him a glorious I'm-going-to-straggle-you-and enjoy-it-immensely look. "Dumb cat." He laughed as he pulled the white door closed behind him.

Hermione had been seated in the notorious tea room for only a few minutes before she reached a very startling conclusion. She was not actually to have any say in her wedding to Malfoy at all.

Narcissa had chosen spring as the perfect time for the wedding without any regard to Hermione' feelings that she had always dreamed of a winter wedding. When it came time to chose the colors for the wedding, Narcissa insisted upon lilac and gold and did not glance towards Hermione's polite protests that she thought red and white were a finer choice, though gold could certainly be incorporated. A copy of the guest list was handed to Hermione and no questions were posed. It was then that Hermione realized that not only was her presence not to be acknowledge by the lady of Malfoy manor, but by default, her ideas too were meaningless.

With a slightly depressed sigh, she turned her gaze to the now open window and scowered the horizon for the birds she had once saw soar just outside. She tried not to listen to Draco's mother discuss flowers because Hermione wanted white Orchids and red poinsettias, but that was not to be. Instead there would be lilacs and rare golden roses. Where Hermione would have placed hovering candles and flowers as center pieces, Narissa had already arranged for extravagant bouquets of white and gold, centered with unicorn horns.

At least, Hermione tried to reassure herself, it wasn't her real wedding. This was one that would never really occur, so she allowed Narcissa to plan joyously with her son, without once mentioning or taking note of Hermione, an event that would never actually occur.

All the same, she could not pretend not to take some offence to Narcissa Malfoy's purposeful resolution to ignore Hermione presence. She had not expected to be welcomed with open arms into the family. She had expected rudeness and exclusion, but to refuse to acknowledge her existence completely was a cruelty for which Hermione was not prepared Then, she chastised herself for such selfishness. She was lucky she wasn't being beaten or starved.

Then, for the first time, a horrible fear crept into her mind like a thief in the night. If the ministry fell, that assurance would fail. Her safety would depend on the mercy of the Malfoys. She did not think that left her much hope. Perhaps Draco would be different, she wondered. She found herself brooding and hoping for the next hour. Perhaps that soft spot she had written about in her diary was really there. Perhaps there was a glimmer of compassion in his dark heart. Then again, he may be fooling her.

Even as she dared to dream, she also doubted. She felt suddenly trapped. As she sat there, forced to dwell on such feelings, she grew desperate for fresh air.

"If you'll excuse me, please, I think I need to step outside." Hermione interjected, as quietly as she could, and rose gently from her chair by the window, heading towards the door.

With all he grace of a deadly leopardess, Narcissa Malfoy rose from her chair as well, moving in what seemed to be a single fluid motion , blocking Hermione's way out. Standing before her, brought up to full height, finally addressing Hermione's presence made Hermione wish she was once again insignificant and invisible. The woman was more intimidating than her husband when she felt the need. Hermione, for a moment, felt her nerve falter.

"I-I was only headed out for a breath of fresh a-" She did not finish her week sentence in time. A hand struck her so hard against her face her head was slung aside, blood instantly evident to her taste buds, actually thrown off-balance. She stumbled in the general direction of the chair, but missed it and landed, without a scrap of dignity, on the floor.

Her eyes filled with teas at such humiliation, Hermione kept them trained upon the elegant carpet. For the first time, Narcissa addressed her.

"Take these. Send proper thank you notes to the guests of the party." It was nothing more than an order, spoken as one might speak to a house elf. Perhaps it was the only way she could justify speaking to a muggleborn. Narcissa threw down the document before her, as if to touch it as she placed in Hermione's hands would risk dangerous contamination. She walked away.

Hermione stood, back straight, shoulders back. She bent down and picked up the papers, and left without a word. Once in the hall, she let the quiet sob escape her and tears burned her cheeks. She fled immediately to her room.

This had to be tone of the worst days she had ever experienced and it was really only her first day there. So far she had been poisoned, embarrassed by Draco, seen two house elves hurt because she was there, found the wonderful library, tricked Lucius, saved Knobby, been saved by Draco, and been slapped by Narcissa. All in all, it hadn't been entirely unsuccessful, but it had been pretty stressful and miserable and she still had a dinner to attend. Frankly, she did not think she could manage. Being that she was poisoned just this morning, she may be able to use the excuse she was not feeling well. It may give Narcissa satisfaction of thinking Hermione was too frighten or ashamed to face her again, though. Her pride may be injured, but the mission would be helped by such an impression. She wasn't going to eat anyway.

The question remained: what was to be done about the thanks you notes. She looked at the piece of paper to find a long list with the names of each guest, their address, their costume, their title, and a small notation indicating the gift they had left for the happy couple. It did not escape her notice that she had not seen one of said gifts. Not altogether surprised, she decided she might as well begin working on it as Narcissa would expect them to be done and she knew it would be working against her goal to make the lady of Malfoy Manor displeased with her. She grimace at the mere thought of it.

Organized as always, Hermione began by opening the drawer to extract a piece of paper upon which to copy the list in a different fashion and set it up to mark it off as she finished. It was when she did this that one of her more brilliant ideas occurred t her, and, of course, that is saying something. Laying their peacefully, in the bottom of her desk drawer was the diary, faithfully replaced by Knobby. She smiled at that, her plan working like a well cast charm. She even huffed out a small laugh at her own cunning, before another stroke of genius crossed her. The diary! Once again the diary was a tool whose usefulness she had fully underestimated.

Snape had asked her for information of the guests at the party and she had disappointed him by only being able to recall a few names and almost no information. Admittedly, she had been a tad bit disappointed in herself; that her distress had caused her usual quick wit to dampen. She had before her, in her hands, brought to her by the Order and Narcissa own cruelness, a way to amend that shortcoming. In her diary she would write what appeared to be a note to herself regarding the list. She would also include a copy, names, titles, and addresses, of each of the people in attendance of the Malfoy's party. Innocently, she headed the paper: "Guests". Then, she nearly squealed with excitement.

It was perfect, brilliant, that she the Malfoy's laughing over her seemingly pathetic diary, unknowing that they were actually passing information to the Order. A neat freak's list of duties they would no doubt have a joke over was actually being delivered from their hands into their enemies. It was such a sweet revenge. upon the wicked woman who had struck her as well as a way to prove her usefulnes to the order, which may very have been at stake. She wondered how they would react to reading such a entry, what the knowledge may do for them.

Perhaps, at first, they would roll their eyes at such a list, thinking it may be a list to throw them off. Their eyes would widen in amazement as they realized what they were seeing. Perhaps someone would make a sudden exclamation calling the others to attention. They may even be others who doubted her going on this mission. She would prove Snape wrong! It was such a high lift to her spirits. Ron and Harry would be so proud, some of her bigger supporters even say "I knew it all along." or "What did I tell you? " or "That's our Hermione!" Such thoughts made her glow with a sudden feeling of warmth and vindication and justice. Pleased with herself, she scrambled to copy the list to a tea. She included all the details she could and even drafted false thank you notes, to make it appear benign to the Malfoys. She even added a tear stained long rant about how hurt she was with Narcissa hitting her. I was a pathetic and whiny as she could bear it to be. She knew they would be distracted I relishing this to think on the organizational notes of a know-it-all.

She hurried to finish, but checked it carefully, one mistake could mean one in the Order would pay dearly. Twice Knobby came to ask if she wanted dinner, but, busy with her work, she declined both offers. After an hour of writing in which he eyes became cloudy and dry, all at once she heard approaching footsteps. She quickly scribbled out the rest of the intended entry and paused in horror to listen to the steady thumps grow louder. Vaguely, she was reminded of muggle horror flicks. Tossing the thought away she leapt into bed, as she was supposed to be feeling dreadfully weak.

Without so much as knock, Severus Snape came striding in, unaccompanied. He shut the door with a snap and continued towards the bed. Standing over her in that intimidating air he always retained, he seemed to loom even more than usual, although she never really imagined that possible. He flicked his wand over her and took out a bottle and small bag of vials and certain dry ingredients.

"There are some in the Order, who feel that this mission was a poor idea. They think you are in grave danger and there is little you can do here."

Hermione did not respond. A painful, heavy lump had solidified in her throat. Her fears were confirmed. Snape did not share his personal views on the matter, but instead, surprised her by asking: "What do you think?"

She could not begin to explain the sudden presence of tears in her eyes; it had been a difficult day. With a steady breath she replied: "I think the idea of the mission was an extreme one, but a brilliant one. What could have meant the worst to me, Draco, or the both of us. We've managed to turn around for us and the order. The idea, whether it works or not, was a good one." It was his idea, she knew, and he would not take too kindly to such comments that certain order members made. Truthfully, as crazy as the idea sounded, it was good, again, in theory.

"Many things look good in theory, but do not work out. Some have disastrous consequences. You have learned enough to be aware of that."

Yes," she accented the point. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. I also learned in school that sometimes risks must be taken for real action t be taken."

"I don't think that's in the curriculum."

She laughed half heartedly. "I would expect not, not even at Hogwarts."

"And the danger?" He asked, not able to keep the insult from his tones.

"We are all in grave danger. All of us. I am in less danger than most." He nodded affirmatively as he continued his work upon the beside table.

"And the last bit?" he asked after a pause.

"The last bit?"

"Do you think that you can serve sufficient purpose for the order here, or are you just placing yourself in danger with no equal return?" His tone was by no means devoid of accusation. Even so, armed with her new plan, she felt the tightness in her throat loosen a little.

"Well, as for use, I'm not sure. Would the Order have any use for a list of names, occupation, relationship to the Malfoys, and the addresses of each of their guests."

Snape may not have showed his surprise, but she had a feeling that his ears had perked up.

"We might. How, pray tell, would we go about collecting said documents?"

"Oh, I'll just have to think of something," she grinned mischievously. He looked at her piercingly, neither amused nor displeased.

Handing her the bottle with a sketical, yet intrigued, expression he murmurred: "We shall see."

A/N: The ending was tricky to write. What was your favorite part? Any things you'd rather weren't in there? What do you want to see happen next? Any guesses about what may be important later on? Please share your questions and opinions in a review! It's an amazing tool for improvement and a great way to tell a writer: keep going, I enjoy your story. Thank you.