A/N: This chapter is dedicated to new-ish reader, paintmetheuniverse. Hopefully you're still reading and enjoying!

-C

Emma had been spending afternoons for all of February tailing people for Mad-Eye. She didn't have the practice of someone like Mundungus, but she also happened to be nobody in particular, and the likes of Antonin Dolohov didn't look twice at her in a crowd. Her heart pounded as she pushed through that crowd.

Dolohov wouldn't have exactly attracted attention, either. He'd put on a meager disguise after leaving his family manor. If she hadn't followed him from the gate, she wouldn't have noticed him, either.

He wound through the streets of London like he was invisible. Crowds could do that to a person, turn them invisible. No doubt he thought no one could see him. Emma watched him turn a corner down a dark alley and he seemed to vanish. Emma followed him down the alley, but she froze when she heard voices, and quickly pulled out her wand and disillusioned herself. She crept toward the voices, careful not to knock any stones and be discovered. Keeping to the shadows, she grew close enough to see and she felt her heart actually stop for a moment.

Standing in front of her was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

After a strong moment of fear, Emma had a long moment of blinding rage, and she felt an urge to kill Bellatrix, exactly like Bellatrix had killed Sirius. She dug her fingers into the brick wall at her back, keeping herself out of sight and unnoticed, trying to calm herself so she could focus on hearing.

"Exactly," Dolohov said softly. "There is something new he is hiding, I think." He hesitated, and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in a way that made Emma think of Sirius, with smoothness and utter self-confidence. She fought the urge to shiver. Any sudden movement could draw attention to the imperfect visual illusion.

"What sort of something, Dolohov?" Bellatrix said. "To do with the boy?"

"I'm not sure," Dolohov said, his voice slow and careful. Even from her perch thirty feet away, Emma could see the glow in the woman's eyes, that feral look. Emma wondered if that look had been there before Azkaban, or if prison had unhinged her. Emma wished she could ask Sirius.

Dolohov cleared his throat and said, "He has spent an increased amount of time in the village, and in London. Away from the school, and not meeting with others. He seems to be watching the Ministry and Diagon Alley when in London."

Emma leaned forward slightly, unsure who they were discussing, but those were places she knew well.

"There are others assigned to those places," Bellatrix said, her eyes narrowing. "Is he following someone?"

"No one that I've noticed, on either side," Dolohov said softly. "But the motions are odd and nothing I know of in the Dark Lord's plans can account for it."

"No," Bellatrix said slowly. "Nor anything I'm aware of."

Emma held her breath, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. Could they hear it? Would they know, in their silence, that someone was hidden nearby?

She listened to them discuss something else she didn't understand and told herself she'd have to give the memory to the Order with the hopes that someone would make something of it. Finally, Bellatrix took a step away.

"The Dark Lord wants you to fetch it today, if you've got the time," Bellatrix said sardonically, and Dolohov simply nodded.

"I'll go to Gringotts as soon as we've finished here."

"We're done," Bellatrix said smoothly. She took another step back before Disapparating, leaving Dolohov standing – he thought – alone in the alley. Emma watched him pace a few times, obviously upset about something, turning it over in his mind. He looked surprisingly small after watching him interact with Bellatrix, and Emma found herself feeling a little bit sorry for him. She knew enough from talking to Sirius that firstborn sons of pureblood lines were basically treated as gods, and yet Dolohov not only had to serve Voldemort, but also had to do the bidding of Bellatrix Lestrange, a daughter of a lesser branch of a powerful line.

She thanked every higher power that came to mind that a crunching sound rose from the debris and stones beneath his feet, because the lack of conversation didn't leave her with much wiggle room for quiet breathing, which was becoming more and more difficult the longer he stayed in that back alley. It involved breathing very shallowly, and she couldn't stand that for too long of a period.

Whatever he decided, he decided it soon enough that she didn't have to start panicking, but instead she followed him carefully, watched him turn the corner as she became visible again, and she melted into the crowd as she followed him toward Gringotts.

As she approached the large marble building, Emma began to panic a little after all. It was a nearly silent lobby, and she couldn't exactly disguise herself as a goblin. She certainly wouldn't be able to follow Dolohov to the vaults, but perhaps...

She followed him up the steps, into the lobby, and watched him address a goblin close to the vaults. Emma took a deep breath and moved to the nearest available goblin.

"Excuse me," she said sweetly as possibly, although she knew it made no difference to goblins. "Is William Weasley in today?"

The goblin looked up slowly, looking her up and down.

"He is," he muttered, looking back down at the sums in front of him.

"May you tell him that Emma Norwick is here to see him?"

The goblin looked up again, staring at her levelly for a moment before setting down his quill and climbed down from the stool. She glanced over to see Dolohov following a goblin off toward the vaults and had nearly forgotten that she was waiting for something when someone touched her shoulder.

"Emma?"

"Oh, Bill," she sighed, smiling at him. "A word?"

He nodded, glancing around at the goblins before leading her around behind the main desk.

"Did you really need to see me at work?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

He nodded, understanding. She lived in the neighborhood.

When he closed the door of his office, sitting her so she could see through the window to the lobby, he said, "Who?"

"Antonin Dolohov."

Bill sighed, shaking his head, his hair shifting around his face lazily.

"He's a very dangerous man, Emma," Bill said softly. "I thought I said-"

"You said to talk to Fred," she said defiantly. "You said I should consider having a talk with Fred. I'm going to keep doing this, Bill. The only way any of us is truly safe is in hiding, and even then..."

She trailed off, watching the goblins weighing jewels and gold in the lobby. Sirius had been in hiding, and left rather than watch helplessly, maddeningly, while others made the difference and suffered consequences. The Potters had been in hiding, and it hadn't mattered in the end that they sacrificed their own war efforts for their son. Even the safest of charms wasn't really safe in the end, because human error would always be a factor. And the deeper she got into the thick of things, the more she understood how Sirius couldn't stand being in a cage, why he couldn't just wait for news about Harry.

What she couldn't understand was how the Potters had let themselves get in their situation in the first place. Worrying about a spouse could be hard enough, but a helpless child? The logic that involved bringing a child into the world during wartime was foreign to her. At one time in her life it might not have been, but now that she'd taken an active role she couldn't imagine taking time out long enough to safely have a baby, much less to care for the child and keep it out of danger. And she couldn't ask Fred to go into hiding in her stead, or without her.

Bill just nodded again, glancing over his shoulder into the lobby.

"It's hard for all of us," he said gently. "I promise. But still, you need to be careful."

"I will," she said softly. "Anything?"

"Not yet," he said, frowning. "Did he mention what he was getting?"

"No, they already both knew. Any guesses what could take so long?"

"The ancestral pureblood vaults are pretty deep," Bill said with a shrug. "It can take a while just to get to and from. Are you reporting soon?"

"As soon as he Disapparates and I can no longer follow him," Emma said, watching the window. It was a large enough window, but there were so many people hustling and bustling by that she couldn't say for certain she hadn't missed him already. If it was too much longer of a wait, she would have to turn in her information without seeing what he'd gotten.

And then she saw his now-familiar gait as he crossed along the back of the bank floor.

"It appears it is time for me to take my leave," she muttered. "My love to the family."

"Cheers," Bill said darkly, his eyes following her as she left, but her eyes were glued to Dolohov. She followed as quickly as possible, noting that whatever he'd gotten out of the vault was well-concealed.

She followed him down the slightly-twisting street toward The Leaky Cauldron. Emma licked her lips, noting that he was walking a bit differently, which meant whatever he'd gotten, it was hidden in his cloak. Small enough to cover, but large enough to impact his stride. He snarled at a middle-aged woman who accidentally stumbled into his path. Emma tried to be as casual as possible as she followed him, moving swiftly but trying to blend in with the crowd. She thanked every higher power she could think of that she had a forgettable face, just in case he saw her.

Dolohov stopped toward the end of the street, frowning around at the passersby, waiting for something. Or someone. Emma paused at a shop, picking up a bauble, pretending to be examining it as she watched him, waiting with him.

The face of the man who arrived moments later was unfamiliar, but she memorized it anyway, just in case. The two men said nothing. They greeted each other with stiff nods, glancing around at the people. Emma could tell that the stranger's gaze was about to turn to her, and she quickly looked down at the bauble.

She heard the crack of Disapparition, and when she turned again, the two men were gone, along with whatever Dolohov had retrieved. She could only guess where they had gone, but wherever it was, she would have a difficult time following or even casually appearing there. Emma licked her lips, set down the bauble, and Apparated quickly to Grimmauld Place.

A quick tap, and Mad-Eye was waiting there, glowering down at her.

"You took long enough," he snarled.

"Indeed, long enough," Emma said coolly, walking past him and taking off her cloak. "Who's in the kitchen?"

"Fleur, Molly, Snape."

"Is Snape baking cookies?" Emma said, grinning as she took off her scarf.

"Hardly," Mad-Eye said, the corners of his mouth tipping up in a gruesome grin. "They're helping him prepare some restoratives to keep on hand."

Emma suppressed a shiver as she went down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking of all the things that could happen to someone where a restorative would be necessary. Maybe Bill was right. Maybe she hadn't given this as much consideration as she'd thought.

"Emma!" Molly said happily, obviously relieved to see her. "Why don't you help us?"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to be here very long," Emma said with an apologetic smile, secretly relieved not to be between Molly and Fleur. She hated being a buffer. "Just making a report."

"Excuse me," Severus said, leaving the women alone and following Emma and Mad-Eye into the pantry. He warded the door.

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Is that strictly necessary?"

"It is if you don't want Fred to know what you're up to," Mad-Eye said. "Now, Dolohov. What's the word?"

Emma glanced at a jar of pickled eels on the shelf behind Severus's head.

"He had a brief meeting in an alleyway with Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, feeling her nails digging into the heels of her palms. "They were talking about someone...I really couldn't tell who. Something about behavior they couldn't account for with plans they knew about. And wondering if it had to do with...'the boy,' but they didn't say who. Harry, I suspect." Severus's eyes flashed. Whatever this was, he knew all about it.

"And then?" Mad-Eye pressed.

"Then he went to Gringotts," she said, looking right at Mad-Eye's good eye. "Into his vault, something he was expected to get. Bellatrix mentioned it. Whatever it was, he could cover it with his cloak, but he had to walk more stiffly to conceal it. He met a man I didn't recognize, and they Disapparated away."

Mad-Eye and Severus exchanged a look.

"So soon," Severus said softly. "Very interesting."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"What's interesting?"

"Never you mind," Mad-Eye said gruffly. "You'd best be getting back to your flat or your Weasley might start asking questions."

Emma narrowed her eyes. She wasn't playing that game. If they were using her to gather information, they damn well better answer at least some of her questions.

"No," she said firmly, and Mad-Eye's eyes both fixed on her with some incredulity. Severus Snape's face was unreadable, but she was fairly certain that he wasn't surprised by her outburst. She opened her mouth to demand some answers, but Severus beat her to it.

"I assure you, Miss Norwick," he said pointedly, "That you will have your answers when it is prudent for you to have them."

She stared into his black eyes, recalling his promises. No lies.

"You're the man," she said softly, cocking her head. "You're the man they were talking about."

So who was the boy? Harry? It made some sense, but...

"I think that's enough for now," Mad-Eye said sternly, his magical eye quivering in its socket. "As I said, Norwick, you need to be getting back before someone starts asking questions and putting you in an uncomfortable position. And Severus, I believe you need to be heading back to the school."

"Indeed," he drawled. A slight twitch of his eyebrow indicated that she was expected to walk out with him. She nodded, following him into the kitchen, barely noticing the tension between the two women brewing.

She pulled her cloak around her tightly as she and Severus Snape stepped out into the open London air, and he glanced around Grimmauld Place with his usual expression of mild disdain.

"I misjudged you when you were my student, Mrs. Weasley," he said lazily. "You have more...Gryffindor in you than I would have expected. But there is such a thing as idiotic temerity. Your husband has it in spades. You're not unintelligent. Better if you learned to temper your bravery with something...more subtle."

Emma wasn't certain if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment, but she did know that he was trying to tell her something. Something about subtlety. And the fact that she wasn't sure what he meant probably didn't speak volumes for her skills in that matter.

"What are you suggesting?" she finally asked, and his lips twitched into a brief sneer.

"Perhaps I hadn't misjudged you entirely," he said coldly. "Nevertheless, you show some promise, and in a war such as this we use such tools as we must."

Well, that was certainly an insult, and she didn't like the sound of his implications at all.

She stared at him for a long moment before saying, "No doubt you have some plan for me, then." He said nothing. "Well, I'm not going to pretend that I won't do what's needed of me, Professor, but I certainly don't plan to do as ordered without a few answers."

His cruel smirk returned.

"As needed," he said simply. "I'll be in touch, Mrs. Weasley."

She didn't like the man, and she wasn't entirely certain that she trusted him, but what other choice did she realistically have?

Without another word, Severus Snape Disapparated, probably to the outskirts of Hogwarts. Emma lingered only a moment longer on the doorstep of Number 12 to make sure no Muggles were glancing out their windows before turning on her heel and finding herself in an Apparition-safe zone of Diagon Alley.

Not that it was so difficult to find empty parts of the street to appear at. People weren't shopping in the same force now that it was proven that Harry had been right about everything. She trudged up the street to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on high alert, as always.

The shop had begun to wind down for the day, and George and Verity were running it alone. George greeted her warmly, and told her that Fred was upstairs working on dinner.

When Emma stepped into the flat, Fred stood there, humming to himself, wearing an apron of all things, frying eggs. She smiled in sight of herself at the adorable, homey feel to the moment. And then the door closed behind her and he looked up, ruining it with his goofy grin.

"Hello, Emma," he chirped. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know how it is," she said airily, taking off her cloak and crossing to kiss him on the cheek. "A load of wild goose chases."

"Ah, but you're brilliant at chasing wild geese," he teased, tapping her nose. "Wash up, love. You can peel the potatoes."

As she washed her hands, Emma told herself that it was for everybody's good that Fred didn't know yet, that he didn't worry too much. There would be a time to tell him. But this, a happy, unencumbered moment, this wasn't it.