Disclaimer: If I was JKR this chapter wouldn't have been such a marathon to write. I'm just playing around with her words- and god are they heavy when you try and move them around.


"...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death."

Markus Zusak, The Book Thief


The girl had been pacing the room for a good ten minutes- wringing her hands before her and paying no heed to the room around her. It wasn't difficult for Kingsly to deduce her frame of mind. He'd seen the same thing as his rookie Aurors returned from their first bouts of fieldwork. The distracted agitation, the jumpy glances to the empty fireplace.

She was terrified.

"Hermione, you did fine. You did well. You're safe now. Ginny and Harry will be through shortly. Go upstairs and pack."

Kingsley did his best to make his voice as calm as possible, but the girl still started at his words.

"Pack?"

"We'll have to move. They heard my shout, they'll be coming here first."

Kingsley pretended not to see her face fall or her shoulders slump. Choosing instead to return her determined nod. He really couldn't blame the girl and it was not resent but pity that coloured his gaze as he watched her disappear up the stairs.

It could have gone far worse. All in all, Kingsley was starting to realise the determined young witch was right. A marriage law was one thing. The lab he'd now seen for himself, before Hermione had destroyed it so thoroughly, now that was something else entirely. That was something worth losing a job over. Teddy Burges had overstepped the mark and Kingsley frowned to think of what the man would attempt next. Forcing muggleborns and the children of muggleborns to marry- the man had the power to carry that off. He had over half the Wizengamot bought out, not to mention nearly every head of department in the ministry. Plus the logic was sound. He wouldn't shout it about in front of Hermione, but there was no denying- the magical blood pool had been stagnating for years. New blood- strong new magical blood- was desperately needed.

But preparing to drug huge portions of the population? Not even Burges had the money and influence to get away with that. There was something bigger going on and Kingsley couldn't shake the sinking feeling now dragging down his stomach- he was no long in a position to keep tabs on the ministries ministrations. They'd need a new ear, somewhere close to the centre. As Kingsley internally ran through a list of names, the hearth burst into life beside him. As a Harry far different from the moaning grey lump he'd seen before climbed out of the grate, Kingsley was enveloped in a fierce but hasty hug.

"Where's Hermione?"

Kingsly turned to the source of the question and came face to face with a steely looking Ginny. The fire now glinting in her eyes put the hearth to shame and not for the first time Kingsley wondered if the girls place was indeed on a broom and not in the Auror office.


As soon as Hermione crossed the threshold of Grimauld Place's spare bedroom, the room she'd been aching to leave just hours ago, the weight of the day caught up with her. In the room that stood unchanged since shed last left it, an entirely new witch sunk to the floor and took in a shuddering breath. Swamped in her lime green robes she paid no heed to the dusty state of the carpeted floor and poured all her might into the deep uneven breaths now racing through her thin frame.

She'd been stupid. So incessantly, unbelievably stupid. Of course they'd have to flee Grimauld place now. She just couldn't have jumped into the grate when Kingsley had first pulled at her, could she. Oh no. Shed been frozen- floored in her tracks and flooded with a well of rage she'd never before felt. She's wanted to see his eyes. Wanted to see his face and see some shred of pity or remorse as she was forced to flee her lab, her work, and her life.

She remembered those cold grey eyes behind the glass. She remembered that awful look of not pity, or remorse, but triumph. Triumph, like it was all a game he thought he'd won. Hate, Hermione could deal with. Hate and spite and greed – the war had numbed her to those glares, those barbs and stings of witches and wizards who would always despise her for her blood. But those grey eyes had held only triumph. Elation.

So she'd snapped.

She'd been so stupid. She'd blown that lab to pieces without a second thought, her wand attuned to the pull of her gut rather than her common sense. And now they'd have to flee. More than that. Now Kingsley would pay the price for her stupidity- Harry and Ginny too most likely. This might be a game to those in the ministry- but the fall out was real. Hermione was bitterly reminded off her first introduction to wizard's chess. Yet again Hermione found herself in a game too brutal to loose. Fighting the sickly feeling swelling in her stomach, Hermione rose to her feet once more. As much as she longed to sink into the floor and sleep for a thousand years, she couldn't make any more mistakes. She couldn't gamble with the lives of her friends. They weren't safe here. Because of her. Snatching her beaded bag from the suites bedside table, Hermione carefully deposited the St Mungo's files within. After what they'd cost, it was more important than ever to keep them safe. Shoving the beaded purse into the bottom of her satchel, Hermione resolutely made her way downstairs. It was time she fled, before any more pieces on this horrific chessboard were lost to the ministry.

Arriving on the landing, Hermione ran headlong into Harry.

"Hermione, get your things. Kingsley's already taken Ginny though the floo."

"I've got everything. Where are we going?"

"Come on." Hermione didn't comment as her friend literally pulled her by the arm into the floo and it was only as he cried the address that her question was answered.

"Shell Cottage!"


As soon as Minerva left the threshold of the lab, Severus surrendered himself to the agony of the potion. His last thoughts as feeling rushed to the reaches of his extremities, flinging his limbs into an agonising seizure, were bitter reflections on the cost of occulumency. Pain held at bay soon became twentyfold. It seemed Severus was destined to be tortured forever- even if now his last tormentor was his own bloody stupidity. Writhing on the cold stone floor a small but insistent part of his mind crowed down at his punishment.

It's what you get, you stupid prat. How hard is it to take a fucking tonic?

When the potion had finally finished burning feeling to the last of his nerves, Severus rose shakily to his feet, hunching himself over the work desk for support. Silently examining the potion in front of him, he carefully conjured a solid glass globe, ignoring the aching of his limbs. Holding the globe in front of him he siphoned the potion with his wand until it filled the glass globe, careful not to let the faint shaking of his hands jeopardise the process. He'd worked non-stop for this to work and he'd be damned if he was going to let the infirmities of the flesh hinder the explorations of the mind. Lifting his wand to his brow, Severus frowned.

Exactly when had Hermione Granger wormed her way to the forefront of his thoughts?

Scowling, he allowed the silver substance to trickle through his wand all the same. Perhaps it was fitting- after all he'd spent the last 24 hours pouring over her research. Tipping the edge of his wand through the globe, Severus watched in awe as the silver liquid dispersed through the potion. It was almost exactly like staring into a Pensieve. Without a second thought to his still sore frame, he stood fascinated as the orb bloomed into life. An eleven-year-old Granger scampered down the Quidditch pitch stairs after setting his robes on fire. Her steps thundered loudly as she ran, even amongst the noisy crowd and he watched that unsightly mane of hair cascade around her as she flew away from him. The globe quickly shifted and a slightly older Granger came into view, this time in the Hospital Wing. He watched as Poppy administered the Mandrake Draught and her stony, petrified form flooded with life.

The first words out of her mouth as she stared up at the Hogwarts Matron, Professor Sprout and himself were "It's a Basilisk." Severus snorted down at the memory. A twelve year old had figured out what he and Albus had only guessed at. That's when he knew the girl would prove herself Potter's greatest ally. It's when he knew, that bright as she was, he could never encourage the girl. Never offer the kind of support or mentoring she received from every other professor. Oh the girl was almost eerily reminiscent of himself at that age and exasperated by the fools around her, but he could never offer the recognition she deserved. Potter had to hate him. He had a role to play and the girl was just bright enough to pose a threat.

So he watched as his past self sneered down at her. He watched her face fall and her brows draw and he watched the bat of the dungeons stalk away without a second glance. With his exit the globe shifted once more, this time the girls face drawn into a pale white mask of fear. He watched as Potter ran after the madman Black and his pet fucking werewolf and he was left behind with the injured Weasley and distraught Granger. Severus watched stone-faced as his past self barked at the frightened girl to get a move on. His face was twisted with rage and though it hadn't shown, fear. Unbeknownst to the two Gryffindor's, Severus Boggart form had walked the forest that night- he'd been inconsolably afraid of Werewolves since the Marauders fateful trap fifth year. Even now watching his past self kneel and bind the Weasley brat's leg, he could remember the chewing, clawing feeling of fear in the very pit of his stomach.

Before Severus could dwell too severely on the scene before him, the electric, tingling sensation of his wards thrummed against his skin.

For fucks sake.


They'd already assembled in Shell Cottage when Harry led Hermione through the Floo. Ginny sat with her head bent over some parchment, Kingsley by her side, eyeing Hermione calculatedly. Bill walked across the room to clap Harry on the back and smile Encouragingly at Hermione and the sounds of movement in the kitchen signal a very pregnant Fleur refusing to put her feet up and rest. Harry quickly left her side to join Ginny and Hermione was left standing in the middle of the room. Looking around the room at the people ready to fight by her side, the ones who had already made sacrifices to help her, Hermione struggled to get her nerves under order.

"So what's the plan?"

She felt callous, grimly diving into the heart of the matter without thanking the people around her but the fact was they were out of time. Even Shell Cottage wouldn't remain safe indefinitely. Just as Kingsley stood to hand her a sheaf of parchment, the floo place burst into life and the room froze. Hermione's hand shot to her wand before she could think and as George's head spun into focus, every wand in the room was pointed down at his face.

"I've had warmer welcomes." The boy casually grinned as he stepped through the floo followed by a thin, sandy haired youth

"Collin?"

Harry had blurted the name out on instinct, and his error plunged the room into silence. Hermione cringed at her friend's folly. Collin and Dennis Creevey had always looked alike, after all. But watching the younger wizards face fall; she knew he would hate that resemblance forever more.

"Sorry mate- Dennis- I'm so, so sorry."

Harry's blundering apology only served to make the room more tense until abruptly, George began to laugh it off- clapping Dennis soundly on the back as he did so.

"What the public doesn't realise about the 'boy who lived' is that he actually lived to be the stupidest git in the Wizarding world. I tried to get them to change it to 'the chosen prat', but the Prophet doesn't go in for the truth apparently."

Watching Dennis benevolently shrug his shoulders and shake Harry's hand, Hermione remarked on how much war had aged the boy- he couldn't be more than 17 but he seemed far-

Hermione gasped, drawing the attention of the room.

"Dennis, how old are you?"

"16" Just as Hermione released a breath she's unknowingly been holding, he continued. "I'll be 17 next Tuesday."

Fuck

Hermione looked horrified from Dennis to George.

"Have you explained-"

"About the law?" Dennis didn't raise his voice or differ from his shy, level tone, but Hermione abruptly shut up. "Yes, George mentioned it. I want to help fight. I don't want to head back to Hogwarts with a wife and child."

George and Harry joined voices in a mighty 'hear hear', and Ginny grinned her patent Weasley grin. Hermione frowned at the thought of the boy relinquishing his education. She hadn't even considered that aspect of the law, and it could possibly be one of the most brutal parts.

"Don't you worry mate, Hermione's got plans, she's going to give the ministry what for."

Hermione swallowed humbly and looked around at the faces pressing in at her, looking up to her expectantly and all at once she remember the fiasco at St Mungo's, Ron in his hospital bed, Her notes in ashes, her lab at St Mungo's in tatters, and Kingsley losing his job.

How could they still place faith in her? She wasn't a leader like Harry or an Auror like Kingsley. She was a know-it-all bookworm and unfortunately she'd lost her copy of "How to agitate the Ministry of Magic until they amend their brutal laws."

Hermione plastered a determined look on her face and nodded all the same. She wasn't sure how she could help Collin or how she could go about using the Ministries experiments against them, or garnering public support. But she was sure of one thing- She was Hermione Granger. If there was one thing she could do, it was try, and try her best. After all- surely there was no-one else's lives left to ruin?

CRACK

With a sudden lurch, the room erupted to its feet once more, wands drawn and raised only to falter as the decrepit form of Kreacher appeared in the centre of the room- and promptly collapsed. In a whirl of movement, Harry had knelt by the elf as Ginny flew into the Kitchen, emerging with a vial of pepper up. Kingsley's face had darkened and sharing a meaningful look with Hermione he was the first to break the silence.

"They've reached Grimauld Place."

A distant part of Hermione knew she should be relieved, she should be spurned into action by yet another narrow escape, but all she could focus on was the crumpled form of Kreacher. Watching her best friend leaning over his small body, Hermione was vividly reminded of another house elf collapsing on arrival of Shell Cottage. She could only imagine what was running through Harry's mind.

"Is he..?" Hermione couldn't force the works out past the sudden lump in her throat. She watched as her messy haired friend muttered enervate and it was only as the elf's form feebly shifted on the floor that Hermione's heart reared into life once more.

"Bad wizards… breached master's house… Kreacher sorry sir… they wanted misses mudblood."

Harry shot Hermione a relieved smile, apologising for the elf's odd title for the millionth time, as if she could possibly care right now.

"You did well Kreacher. You're safe, that's all that matters and you warned us. You did very well to warn us. What did they do you?" the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stood up as the elf gave a dark, sinister chuckle.

"Nothing sir, nothing at all… The wards drained my magics; Kreacher locked the bad men in ... won't get out till master returns to his house"

Hermione swallowed before spinning from Kreacher to the troubled face of Kingsley, who grimly met her eyes.

"You said they'd be attempting to persuade me?"

She left the end of that sentence in the air, the words now running through her mind unspoken. She was sure Kingsley realised for himself that armed Magical Law enforcement wizards infiltrating Grimauld Place was just a tad more forceful than persuasion.

"St Mungo's must have forced their hands…" Spoke Kingsley, his trademark measured tone doubtful.

"But it's more than that." Ginny spoke up. "They've given up the pretence of subtlety. Its like dad said, they're bring the law forward, they can afford to be a bit bolder."

Here Kingsley shook his head.

"There's a bit bolder, and then there's pulling men from regular duties, and that means questions asked. That's not how Theodore Burges operates."

"It's Emmanuel." Hermione tried to ignore how panicked and shaky her voice sounded echoing throughout the room. "He knows there's no way I'll agree to the law. He knows I'm going to fight it."

There was a chorus of confused howls- Harry of course squawking the loudest as he returned from escorting Kreacher to the kitchen.

"Hermione, its possible you're being paranoid." Kingsley's face was fused between kindness and pity, his voice painfully delicate. "How would he know you plan to fight the ministry's law? Your exit from St Mungo's- the damage to the labs- that can all be explained away as the result of cornering a war hero. A result of instinct- of panic. They can't possibly know-"

"There's something I haven't told you yet."

Because you'll all hate me. Hate what you risked for me. You'll know I let you down.

"As soon as I walked into St Mungo's this morning, I knew Emmanuel and his men were waiting for me upstairs- Lucy, my friend at work, she overheard and well, misunderstood really" Hermione took a deep breath and tried to restrain a growl- she want being clear and they didn't need to know what Lucy had assumed.

"She warned me they were there and she accidentally let slip that they'd moved the results from the research to high security clearance."

The faces of the small room followed her every word with varying reactions. Bill, Fluer and Dennis listened curiously while Ginny still wore a mask of grim determination It was only Harry and Kingsley who listened on with apprehension, the pair of Auror's waiting warily for the point.

"I'm sorry, I could have walked out of there strait away. I could've saved everyone all your sacrifices. I didn't realise, I was just so focused with the files and Caligula is so deadly, I knew whatever made them change the security clearance couldn't be good and it was my last chance to find out and… I'm so, so sorry. Kingsley… your job, I –"

"You did what you thought as right." The man's tone was so utterly devoid of blame that Hermione started.

"You don't-"

"Blame you?" this time Harry came to her side in the middle of the room, draping an arm around her and all but forcing her into one of the living room chairs. "You're a Gryffindor, Hermione. You took a risk and we were lucky that is played off. Have you seen what's in the files?"

"Not yet. It will take me a few days I think to analyse the findings, but I think that it's the Caligula they're interested in, so-"

"The most important thing is getting you into hiding. Kreacher bought us some time, but its more important than ever to get you underground. They'll want those files back, and the threat you pose, well. Neutralised."

For some strange reason Kingsley's euphemism served to galvanise Hermione's shaky resolve. Her friends didn't blame her, and the ministry saw her as a threat.

As they should- she entirely intended to be one.

"Did you look into any safe muggle dwellings?"

Kingsley looked grim.

"I asked Nathanial, he's one of my staff to compile a list. I was meant to hear from him tonight. Things advanced rather sooner than I anticipated." The room lapsed into a pause and Hermione bit her lip, knowing her next thought wouldn't be well received.

"We could just pick a spot at random." Ginny and George tied for the loudest resounding 'No's. Hermione had to admit the thought wasn't particularly appealing- living without magic would be difficult enough without the thought of McNair or Dolohov creeping about the neighbourhood.

"I know you didn't want to leave the country, Hermione, but at least abroad you'll be able to protect yourself."

"How am I doing to fight the law from overseas though?!" Hermione didn't bother to temper her cry, and her voice seemed to echo across the room.

"And what are we then? The Granger fan club? Are we just sitting her to cheer you on while we twiddle our thumbs then?" George's tone skipped right past light and somehow managed to sound strained and hollow. As though each attempt at humour drained him.

He's right though. Still guilt niggled at Hermione's conscience and she tried to dissuade them.

"The ministry will be watching you all like hawks as soon as I contact you."

George frowned as he was forced to concede the point.

"It's true. Dad knows our floo's already being watched. Yours will probably all be watched soon too."

Everyone studiously resisted the urge to glance at the floo sitting silently vacant in the centre of the room.

"And I'm sure the ministry are more than capable of intercepting any owls I send cross country." Hermione added, strengthening her case.

Kingsley didn't correct her logic here either.

"Well…"

The interrupting voice was so quiet and timid that Hermione's head swivelled immediately. She had forgotten Dennis was even in the room. The boy visibly flinched and blushed as every eye in the room turned to listen, and Hermione could tell he rather wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"It's just that, you don't have to communicate magically." Hermione watched as the boy reached into his pocket and brought out a small, dull grey device. "You could take my mobile phone." The boy nervously filled in the rooms silent reaction, his voice hurried and high pitched.

"I mean, It wont work now so I cant show you, it doesn't work around magic that is. But as soon as you move out of range, anywhere muggle really and it starts to work again. This one does anyway. I tried a few others but it's just the Nokia ones that don't break. They're almost indestructible really."

The boy blushed and lapsed into silence almost as though waiting to be dismissed or ridiculed for his input. Hermione looked over the small brick phone in her hand and a tight smile grew on her lips.

"It's perfect. The ministry wouldn't dream I'd use a muggle phone."

Kingsley however, still looked troubled.

"What if you run into trouble around magic, how will you contact us if something happens?"

There was an undeniable logic to his words but Hermione was still buoyed up by the mobile in her hand. With her lips between her teeth Hermione puzzled it out thoroughly before replying.

"Well, Dennis will be in hiding in the muggle world, right? He'll have the designated 30 days before he's breaking the law and so your partners will be able to find him a safe house- I can contact Collin with the phone and he can contact you guys."

"But when the phone stops working?"

Time for the ugly truth Granger- admit it to them, and yourself.

Her voice was quiet and she tried vainly to avoid looking at Harry or Ginny as she got the words out.

"If I get into trouble, odds are there's nothing you'll be able to do in time. I'm on my own."

Phone in my hand. Files in my bag. I'll be okay.

"I mean, I'm not going to be getting into any trouble in the first place, of course."

Harry loudly scoffed. "Oh yeah… when did trouble ever come find us?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in a mock-scowl.

"It was following you, not me. I'll be fine."

Bill spoke up for the first time, not quite as hesitant as Dennis, but obviously not quite at ease with the tactics talk invading his living room. "You could try and find a set of enchanted mirrors. They can connect no matter the distance."

Hermione glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye and saw her friends face fall as his thoughts flew quickly to Sirius. Ginny apparently noticed the motion, grasping his hand reassuringly before continuing.

"I can ask Dung to look round for some. Then one of us will find a way of bringing them."

"Bringing them where though?"

She hadn't meant to air that doubt aloud but Hermione had never quite mastered the link between her brain and her mouth. A silence crept through the room once more.

"I have some old contacts in Copenhagen- the Wizarding community there might shield you, if I can talk them around. If the MLE lot are stuck in Grimauld Place , and Emmanuel doesn't know where you are, I've got at least a few hours to sort it out. I can probably apparate there and back in that time."

Hermione knew the magical energy that would cost the sombre wizard but knew better than to argue- it was a plan, and the only one they had. It just had to work.

"Okay, but what about planning for the law- we've only got until dawn to get our story to the public- to warn people about potions and –

Hermione stopped here, lapsing into distracted thought, and she didn't realised Harry was talking until a few moments later.

"… the reputations gone up a mile since the war- people remember it told the truth about me, about Dumbledore- even with the nutcase stuff Luna includes. The Quibblers our best bet."

"Kingsley I can get Skeeter to give me an interview but we'd need to make a deal- include her name on the register for animagus' without an announcement or notification to the office. Would any of your men be able to pull that off? I mean, now that you can't…"

The frown that lined the darker wizards face was disheartening until George spoke up from the other side of the room.

"Percy may be a prat, but he'll have access- I can make him… agreeable to the notion."

Hermione pictured the austere, pompous wizard she knew and didn't bother to hide the scepticism now clear on her face. George however remained unperturbed, and Ginny quickly interpreted her brother's motivation.

"Oliver's mother is a muggle born."

Ah. That makes sense.

"But Hermione, why bother making a deal with Skeeter? She'll write the article as soon as you threaten reporting her to the ministry."

"Oh, the deal isn't for an interview." Hermione smiled grimly. "The deal is if she can get it published in the prophet."

The appraising look Hermione received then from Harry was a boost to her confidence- She was done toeing the lines. A sort of elation was bubbling up beneath all the fear, doubt and tension. She was palpably reminded of her 3rd year.

"So I've got this phone. Dennis, you'll have to get another one, then call me so ill ave your number. Kingsley will get you set up in a safe house. Harry, I need you or Ginny to contact Luna, make sure she's ready to include an article on short notice. George- the memory orbs? Don't send any paperwork to the ministry yet- and talk to Percy; see if he'll agree re. the register. Ginny, talk to your team, see what you can arrange."

"Anything else boss?" George ribbed her sarcastically and Hermione blushed at her bossy tone. It just felt natural, no different from assigning Harry and Ron their revision schedule before an exam.

Well, hopefully different in the sense that her instructions would actually be carried out.

"I'll try and get access to a lab- Kingsley, can you try for Copenhagen n-"

Hermione was abruptly cut off as a sudden light flared a lurid green and the sounds of flames spluttered through the room. Turning to the floo, she looked in horror at the floating visage of a pale Ronald Weasley.

"Kingsley, Mione? That Emmanuel bloke was just here. Mum went mental at him- she sort of- that is I don't think she meant to or knew quite what she was doing- but she started yelling at him about the law. Emmanuel, he, well- he disarmed the both of us, then checked the place to see if you were hiding anywhere." Ron's blush reached the very tips of his ears and his face was an ugly puce colour floating amongst the emerald flames.

"He knows we know."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond when Kingsley lunged past her, wordlessly silencing her as he shoved Ron out of the hearth and extinguished the flames. The room stood dumbfounded for a moment until Ginny groaned loudly from the corner.

"Oh Ron, you stupid git."

And it clicked.

Hermione turned to Kingsley, her face a mask of horror.

"They're tracking the Burrow's Floo." The words were inane and pointless but they tumbled from her mouth all the same.

"They'll be coming." Was the man's steady response.


If Minerva was back to harass him he's hex her to kingdom come then disconnect the bloody floo for good. Scowling back down at the workbench, he tapped his wand sharply on the globe and the scene froze until a still image of the girls frightened face filled the fog. Growling he set the glass aside and made his way upstairs, the tremors and shooting pains of his limbs biting back a new- exacting their revenge on him for having ignored them so long.

"Minerva if you've brought Poppy so help me Circe you've got exactly ten seconds to leave, now."

As he grappled with the steep stone stairs a voice floated down from the floo-place.

"As much as I esteem Hogwarts' newest headmistress, Godfather, I'm going to have to take exception at such an address."

What was today? National irritate a recluse day?

"What do you want?" Stepping into the living room Severus' caught Draco's amused expression at his caustic inquiry. The boy had long since come accustomed to his godfather's manner of address.

"I see you're in a fine mood today."

Severus only growled, collapsing into his chair and glaring at the floating face of the youngest Malfoy.

"So I suppose I'll cut to the chase. Will you come and evaluate a property I'm looking into purchasing?"

Severus kept his confusion far from his face, only sardonically raising an eyebrow.

"It may astound you Draco but I'm not actually an authority on post-classical architecture."

"It you were in any other mood I'd draw this out – I do love your droll humour. But I've the oddest sense you're about to take house points of issue detention."

Severus wondered when the boy had started mimicking Lucius' pompous tones. He'd always had a distinct, almost stuck up drawl, but Severus had never heard it so pronounced. Rebuilding the family name was obviously taking ts toll on the boy.

"I'm looking to buy a magical greenhouse, an industrial one, north of Prague. I just need you to access the quality of the produce0 I'll cover the travel and board- and any costs that arise naturally."

Noticing a trace of hesitation following the end of Draco's proposition, Severus reserved comment. Silence was the most effective means of extracting further information after all, and sure enough-

"It wouldn't be just a one time job, per se. There's another property in Spain, and four more in Germany that I need to look at."

Severus looked down at the carefully blank face of the boy he'd known since infancy. The boy he'd once pledged his life to protect. The boy he'd killed for. Would he throw his lot in with the machinations of the Malfoy's once more? To be sure, there were slowly forging a path on the side of the light- but Lucius had done the exact same when their 'Lord' first fell, all those years ago.

That said, Severus truly believed Draco was different – Better- than his father. But the whole affair left a bitter held the bitter taste of De ja vu. He couldn't help but remember the times he'd leapt to do the biding of another male blonde youth- and look how well that had turned out, he'd been left with far more than a tattoo.

Part of Severus wanted to demand all the particulars- to refuse his service until he knew exactly what he would be helping- or hindering. But a far more recent part of him- the part that had barricaded him within this little hovel with nought but memories and whiskey- that part didn't want to know a thing. How could it matter? He could go with his godson, say whether the damn plants were passable or a complete crock of shit, and then return to his cesspit.

In fact. Severus could return to his cesspit and add to the Granger girl's research. Just as Severus forced his thoughts away from the potion and formulae waiting for him downstairs, he found Draco had broken the pause between them.

"Look, think it through. I'll come back in the morning- or would before noon suit you better?"

"Noon." Severus gave nothing of his inner thoughts away – he would promise the boy nothing. "Goodnight Draco. Lovely as always to receive a purely social visit."

The blush on the boys face as he spun away through the flames put Severus slightly more at ease.

This was Draco. Not Lucius.

Besides, Severus knew well enough that were he to refuse his help, to remain in his lab and in his cups, the boy would simply find another appraiser and his plans would continue. Far better then, that he involved himself- at least if he kept an eye on Draco he could stop the boy from committing anything too garish.

It seemed his life's role after all- looking after brats long after the war and his employment demanded it.

Not that you ever made the best job of it… Headmaster.

Severus scowled at the empty living room, before abandoning his chair.

No use scowling about it, Snivellus. Is it really a surprise you fucked that up, when the same thing happens to everything you ever touch? Draco lived to become his father, despite your efforts, and you treated one of the greatest minds to pass through Hogwarts, one of the few students who would have heeded your help, like absolute shit. And now, what? You expect her to accept your help? Your snivelling, pathetic excuse for an apology? Why should she give a damn for your meagre amendments- you cant even brew without collapsing like a fucking cripple!

Try as he might Severus could not ignore the thoughts that plagued his mind and the continued to dog him down the narrow set of stairs and into his lab where they heckled and needled at the orb still sat in the centre of his desk.

The frozen face of Hermione Granger was pale with fear and Severus couldn't bear to look at it. He knew, later, that he should have hurled the orb at the wall. He should have left the shattered pieces where they fell, the splintered shards floating in the silvery spillage, and he should have marched back upstairs. He should have ignored his set of tumblers and drained the whisky from the bottle until his sorry thoughts passed him by and left him in the hazy, quiet of sleep.

But Severus Snape was a glutton for punishment and the thoughts coursing through his head demanded he acquiesce. So with a tired, listless movement he brought his wand to the surface of the globe and watched as the scene shifted, as a fourth year Granger with enormous teeth ran from him in tears. He watched as the fog shifted to show him brewing eleven different potions following Potter's ministry debacle, and saw himself deliver them to Poppy in the dead of night, only once he was sure no foolish brats would see his efforts. He saw himself look on at her sleeping form drenched in moonlight and knew that his thoughts weren't on the girl at all- That behind his occluded eyes all he could see was the cost of the coming war, rather than the actual casualty. He watched as he walked away, impervious to the girl's whimpering- the pain present even as she slumbered. When the globe shifted again and revealed the girl in Defence class, the first to silently disarm and stun her opponent, he saw without surprise as he sneered and walked away, silent to her accomplishment.

Oh, he knew he'd had his excuses. He had his role to play and it was more important than anything else. But watching now as the globe showed the girl splashing dittany across his open throat, shoving a potion in his mouth, Severus was filled with a burning shame.

Which didn't abate when the globe shifted to its final scene. The girl- no, woman, swathed in baggy lime green robes fell to her knees as though in slow motion, her face covered in tears and glinting eerily in the dim shadows of the night.

And Severus knew.

If he'd ever been a second chance with Miss Granger- a chance to make amends for how he'd been forced to treat her- it was long past. He couldn't see any way the girl would forgive him now. Casting the orb aside with a dull thunk, Severus' eyes shifted to the wad of notes on the corner of the workbench.

Annotations, corrections, notes for improvements.

Why bother continuing when the girl was likely to hurl it all back in his face?

No. Severus had no business worming his way into the chit's forgiveness. There wasn't enough research in the world, surely. He'd stop this pathetic attempt now. Stop pretending he had any chance to earn her respect- earn the friendship that those damnable letters had offered.

He would take her research back.

Tell her he'd made a few slight amendments, against his better judgement.

Then he'd slither back to his how- and drown himself in the bottom of a bottle.

It was all that he deserved.

Gathering the research off the table, he carefully included his own notes at the front. He'd made up his mind. He'd fetch his cloak, and against all his wishes, return to the Burrow.


George had jumped up from his spot and looked to Hermione, the distress clear on his face.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go to mum. She wouldn't have meant anything 'Mione."

"Go, It's okay. Tell her… tell her I'm sorry."

Because she was. This all came back to her. The seconds seemed to pass Hermione then in an agonising trickle, the tableau before her slowed as though the figures of her friends moved through treacle. She was numb as she watched George apparate away. Harry was whispering something to Dennis and the boy soon followed George with nothing but a swift nod and a muffled crack. Ginny had now turned to Harry, her hushed tones quick and concise.

"Hermione? Harry and I are going to go to Diagon Alley. We'll be seen there and we'll have an excuse for not releasing the MLE squad from Grimauld Place. We'll try and buy you as much time as possible."

Hermione nodded at the red head, her face unmistakably stricken as Harry enveloped her in a fierce hug. Burying her nose into the warm fabric of his home made jumper, Hermione was struck with the thought that this was goodbye. She wouldn't see her friends until all of this was over. Ginny tacitly gave the pair a moment before wrapping Hermione in her own, equally welcome embrace.

"Babe, you'll be fine. You're Hermione Granger."

Hermione nodded even as she wondered where the girl's stout confidence stemmed from- as she wondered if the girl truly believed her own words. Because Hermione didn't feel like anything other than a scared twenty-year old and she certainly didn't feel fine as she watched Harry take his girlfriends hand and apparate away.

You'll be fine. You're Hermione Granger.

Phone in my hand. File in my bag.

A shitty plan of attack written on a transfigured WWW flier.

And nowhere to go.

"Hermione, I don't have time to check with my contacts- I can't just send you off with a name and a vague hope they'll help. They might send you straight back if you go by yourself..."

Hermione realised what the man was saying just before he said it.

"Kingsley, you need to stay here. You're our only political support. If you leave the country they'll take it as a sign of guilt and they might charge you for damages to St Mungo's. We'll lose our voice in the Wizengamot, and then even if we can prove beyond reasonable doubt that the law does more harm than good, we wont have anyway to introduce it to the cabinet."

The man had only received his spot on the hallowed benches following his interim ministership, but he'd retained the position for his efforts during the war- not to mention that the few people not bought out by Burges supported Kingsley whole heartedly. Even if the wizard lost his job for his involvement rescuing and aiding a fugitive, he would retain his position on the council. One did not have to be a ministry employee to be a part of the Wizengamot council- and to expel a member a full vote had to be undertaken, something that was likely to be a drawn out affair and result in Kingsley's pardon rather than expulsion.

As Kingsley looked on at Hermione with troubled eyes, Fleur stalked across the room.

"I think I can help." The very pregnant Fleur looked calm and controlled as she strode across the room, immune to the anxiety now draining away the air of the room, clawing up the sides of Hermione's chair and threatening to engulf the tightness of her chest. As she crossed to the mantle place, her unhurried tone continued. "Mama sent it for me so I could go an' visit, but shortly after we 'found out I was pregnant."

Hermione's brow was drawn in confusion as the pregnant witch handed her an empty ink well.

"Witches shouldn't travel by Portkey when they're with child. It needs to be re enchanted, but it will take you to my parents home in Troupeau, Payre. They will hide you."

Hermione looked down at the ink well in her hand, and knew this was the best hope she had.


George didn't know what to expect as he apparated ont the front lawn of the Burrow, but for some reason the quiet dusk air that surrounded him put him on edge. Shouldn't there be some outward sign of calamity? Someone had just hexed his mother. Rushing inside and straight to the Kitchen, George quickly chided himself. He'd forgotten they weren't at war and that people didn't get brutally murdered in their homes- anymore. His mother stood by the sink, the kitchen a buzz with the angry tinges of her magic, the potato's peeling themselves with angry slashes and the pots on the stove gurgling and hissing like manifestations of his mothers ire.

"Mum! Are you alright, I just-"

"Fine dear. I'm fine. Dinner won't be long."

"Mum, Ron said you'd just been attacked, I-"

"Attacked? By that ministry toady? Incapacitated. I've told your father about it. He's put in a complaint at work don't you worry. Who this ministry thinks it is. I've a right mind. But no. Mustn't upset anything. I know you've just come from your brothers."

George wasn't ready for the savvy glare that had taken root on his mothers face as she brandished a bread knife at him.

"I hope you'll tell our Hermione, I never meant no harm. She brought that lot into my house, but I wont have it said I blame her. George, don't get yourself into trouble, but if you can, help her. I want this law ousted as much as the rest of you. The sooner, the better. Then she can come home, and all of this can be done with."

George only nodded at his mother. She was as fierce as ever and he didn't envy Hermione the task of making peace with the woman once this was indeed 'done with.' He knew his mum had her faults but it didn't stop George quickly wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving a quick squeeze. There was no danger and perhaps he hadn't need to rush straight home, in fa-

The wards of the house flickered and the Gnomes outside gave up the typical racket that broadcasted someone making their way up the lawn. Before bothering to tell his mum to get back- as if she'd listen- George made his way to the front door, his wand drawn and a stunner at the ready. With the gravel crunching under his feet, George made it three steps out of the door before recognizing the figure swiftly walking up the path. He'd dropped his arm in shock, before his defenses caught up with him.

Surely this was a trick.

"Professor Snape."

At least he hoped it wasn't Snape because the old sod was probably about to curse his nads off for not lowering his wand.

"In your fourth year I gave you and your brother three detentions disemboweling horned toads for stealing a Hogwarts toilet seat."

Fuck, it was Snape. George couldn't hide his relief as he lowered his wand.

"Couldn't be too sure Professor. What can I do for you?"

As the man finally stepped close enough, George began to examine him in he light pouring out from the Burrow. He was thinner than he'd ever been at Hogwarts, and at the moment his hair was a terrible greasy mess, hanging long and limp against his sallow skin. His eyes had dark bags beneath them and George would have better a good ten gallons the man hadn't slept for a week. In short, not the best looking bloke around.

"I need to speak with Miss Granger."


As soon as her name had passed his lips, the Weasley boys face had turned to stone, and Severus found himself at the receiving end of a steely glare.

"She's out at the moment."

The witch obviously hated him enough to blacken his name at the Weasleys then.

Not that your name would be hard to blacken- Murderer, Death Eater, Scum.

"I'm sure." The sneer that came to his face was automatic, and the defence seemed to unsettle the boy. "I don't care what she has or hasn't said about me- or your sniveling opinions. I have her research here and-"

"Wait, her research?" The boy had dropped his offended gaze but he still seemed uneasy around his former teacher.

"Yes, for Memory Retrieval." He replied curtly, taking any opening that would let him inside to approach the girl.

"That's not possible." Severus frowned at the boy's emphatic tone. "I saw that, those notes were in ashes. She couldn't repair them."

The urge to repeat the boy's story was on the tip of his tongue but instead Severus raised an eye brow and hoped silence would force the whelp to make sense.

"That is, I mean…there was an accident and my brother, well it was magical fire you see… she lost all her research."

Ronald Weasley burnt her notes? Why was the girl with that buffoon. Honestly what was the point of helping her with the research if that moron could burn their progress in no more than a minutes work.

When had it become 'their research."

Her research.

"Mr Weasley, If you could just take me inside, I'm sure Miss Granger would be more than happy to be reacquainted with her research- She'd left it in a book I'd lent her, that I came to retrieve on my last… visit.

Would one term the drama of last time as a visit?

"She's, I meant it when I said she wasn't here." The boy looked at him appraisingly then seemed to decide on something.

"Let me see the research."

Severus raised his eyebrow again at being commanded thus. He was torn between a desire to hex the boy and search for Granger himself, but decided it would be nice perhaps, to have a 'visit' devoid of devastation.

He stiffly held out the research in front of him, all the while glaring at the boy, daring him to analyze his victory. Clearly the boy had no thoughts of trumping him on his mind- as is the case with most Gryffindor's the boys face was plastered with his every thought as he crowded over the outstretched notes.

Recognition. Hope. Then despair.

Despair?

"Come with me. She might kill me, and if she doesn't Kingsley will. But Hermione will want this before she leaves."

"Before she leaves?"

"She's leaving the country. Tonight. Quick, I'll explain later."

Severus looked down at the Gryffindor's outstretched hand and remained perfectly still. Side along apparition with no mention of the destination? The girl mysteriously leaving the country right this very minute? Sure the boy didn't believe Severus would put himself in his less than capable hands with so little impetus.

"Sir, If you want to get these to Hermione, you need to trust me. We're going to Bill and Fleur's house, Shell Cottage."

It was only as Severus re-examined the boys face, painted with truth and devoid of guile, that he noticed it. The gash on the side of his hear where his ear should be. Where Severus had cursed it off. He didn't regret it- not when he'd saved Lupin's life. But looking at it now Severus realized all the reasons the boy had to do him harm, to cause him pain. If not something as shallow as his ear, than misplaced anger at the loss of his brother.

And yet, it was that realization, that the boy should blame him, should turn him away, that made Severus take his outstretched arm. Even as he was pulled into the discomforting pull of apparition, he was unsure if his trust was well founded.

He supposed he would find out.


Emmanuel had just left the Floo Network office when the Howler came. The few onlookers still moving through the corridor spotted the tell tale red envelope and wasted no time running for the hills. The howler simply dropped at his feet and before he could reach to retrieve it, it had burst promptly into flames.

"My office. Now."

Emmanuel stood exactly as he was for a further five seconds gazing in the direction of the Floo office before sighing and swinging around, stalking back the way he'd come. He tried not to spend the elevator ride wandering just what happened to the people Teddy Burges spared a Howler for. No. Emmanuel was still the best man in Teddy's ranks. The shambles at Mungo's wouldn't change that. They needed him. If they were releasing their marriage law tomorrow, they needed him more than ever.

Stepping out of the elevator and walking through the black-glassed brick corridor, Emmanuel knew he was safe. Knocking smartly on the ebony wooden door, he refused to be anything but calm. Waiting for it to open he reviewed the facts of the scenarios and rehearsed- No! Not rehearsed. He had nothing to be nervous about. He simply let the logic of his actions run through his mind once more. Everything so far had been considered, every reaction to the girl measure and weighed.

"Enter."

Emmanuel swallowed before opening the door and entering the dimmed office. Unlike Dawlish' Ministers office just down the hall, there was no beurocratic fastidiousness. A slew of both open and closed files sat upon the desk top, piled and separated in a complicated array that made sense only to the man who commanded it.

When Emmanuel had been at Hogwarts he'd admittedly given in to the adolescent folly of titles and nicknames. He'd given one of his classmates the rather uninspired name of Merlin, after the dolt came last in every single one of his classes and that name had stuck. He'd been given his own name in turn of course. The Hawk. It had originally set out to be a slander, an unflattering reference to his conquest of nearly all the forms witches- irrespective of house. But he'd rather liked it, to be honest. It was a fitting tribute to his house, and of course, his place in it. A hawk among the ravens.

But if Emmanuel was a Hawk, Theodore Burges was a Vulture. He didn't spot an opportunity, didn't hunt or stalk his prey. He simply sensed these things, and got himself into a prime position before even the target knew it was done for.

And that was without his gold. See, that's what people mistook about the man. They assumed the chains of his command sprouted in his pockets, winding themselves around the necks of prey while glinting like the finest gold. But Emmanuel knew better, there was very little a hawk missed after all. Theodore Burges didn't lead men to the gallows; he plucked them from the hangman's grasp. Why buy a noose when there's one there for the taking.

Debt could be created from more than gold, and favours were worth twice their weight in the substance.

Which is why Emmanuel never wanted to owe the man a favour. The gold he was paid was heavy enough. Sitting down at the uncomfortable square chair before the cluttered desk, Emmanuel patiently kept his mouth shut and waited for the figure standing at the other side of the office, facing out the magical window. The Magical maintenance workers had decided it was raining today apparently. Emmanuel tried to ignore the ominous sense of pathetic fallacy- after all the entire concept was a ridiculous muggle notion.

"Forty five."

Emmanuel kept stock still as the man continued.

"You've diverted 45 officials in less than 24 hours."

Emmanuel waited until he was asked a direct question, watching as the thin man turned and slid into his own leather-backed seat. The wizard was at least 60 but the age he wore lined upon his face, in the skin haning limply from his pronounced cheek bones and hooded eyes, that age added an extra year for every pile of gold and every bought man.

Which amounted to a lot of extra years.

"Tell me, I know you're a sensible man, is the Granger girl a sincere threat to our cause, or are you merely incompetent?"

"Sit, if the devastation at St Mungo's shows anything-"

"-It shows the need for subtlety."

Emmanuel kept his mouth shut once more. One did not talk back to Teddy Burges.

"25 law enforcement officers dispatched from regular duty to haunt the home of war hero Harry Potter is not subtle."

"No sir. But it's the most efficient. I picked the men myself. They're yours through and through. Granger will be brought in by nightfall. If she can't leave the country, she's no longer a threat to us. We can convince her-"

"She's probably out of the country already."

"Sir, the men left four hours ago and-"

"-and they're currently trapped in Grimauld Place. Which rather makes the twelve men you deferred for St Mungo's this morning and the six men chasing up leads in Admin Services all for nought. Not to mention the two men directly beneath you who have now been transferred to Azkaban as I understand it?"

Emmanuel took in this new information with lightening speed and felt his stomach drop. He mouth opened of its own accord but he had no words to fill it with. The older man sighed and surveyed Emmanuel from somewhere beneath those hooded eyes.

"You're a smart lad. But you've no subtlety. And I need subtlety."

Emmanuel couldn't believe this was happening. No. They needed him.

"Sir, you're releasing the law in a matter of hours. You need-"

"I need men who don't presume they're cleverer than me. Which is why tomorrow morning you'll report to Law Enforcement. From now on you'll be reporting your every movement. In advance."

Emmanuel struggled to swallow down the bitter taste left in his mouth.

"And what will I be doing sir?"

"Dealing this our Granger problem. Wherever she goes, you find her, understand?"

Emmanuel didn't have to fake his determined nod, nor his resolute exit from the office. He'd find her all right. And when he did he wouldn't need forty-five men to deal with her either.


Hermione took the ink well gingerly, and then turned to Kingsley, waiting for his opinion.

"They'll piece it together, eventually." The man's eyes were shadowed, as though he were running through the various implications. "That you left from Fleur's house. That she has family in France."

"I rather think you overestimate your ministry." Fleur said haughtily, but Kingsley continued to look troubled.

"It's the best we have." Hermione tried not to let the desperation show in her voice, but it bled through all the same.

"You can't stay there for more than a few days." Kingsley finally relented. "Move to a city. Find a muggle place. Contact us as soon as you can."

The anxiety Hermione felt crawling through the room had crept up onto her skin, and seemed intent on drowning her. She could only nod, swallowing to keep her throat open and trying desperately to gather her strengths. She was a Gryffindor. She could speak French. She had a plan and now she had somewhere to go. It was going to be okay.

"Have you ever spelled a Portkey before? It will have to be you. Since it was already an authorised Portkey, there shouldn't be an alert, but just in case."

"I've read about them" Hermione recalled everything she'd poured over in the library on her return in her fourth year. She was confident she could translate the theory into practice.

After all, what use would being a know-it-all be otherwise?

"Set it for a minute from now."

Hermione nodded, then firmly gripped her wand in her hand. With her mind fiercely concentrating, the incantation came out as barely a whisper.

"Portus"

For a heart stopping moment the ink well remained perfectly still. There was no change evident. Then is pulsed an electric blue and Hermione understood.

She had one minute left. Looking around the room she tried to nod reassuringly to Kingsley, tried to express her thanks to Fluer and Bill. But before the thoughts of how to say Goodbye had half formed in her mind, Bill abruptly stood.

"The wards. Someone just apparated here."

Kingsley left her side without warning and Bill soon followed. Fleur looked torn between joining her husband, and protecting her unborn child. Hermione was struck with the force of her own heart as it beat savagely in her breast, counting out the seconds.

She was so close.

She didn't know whether to strain her ears for the sounds outside, or shut her mind from anything but the ink well now clutched in her sweaty hands.

Surely it had been a minute.

Surely there were only a few minutes left.

The sound of voices rang through the corridor and Hermione's head spun to take in the form of Kingsley striding towards her, two figures trailing behind him. As the Portkey tugged blue, Hermione recognised the shocking red hair of George, his face a mask of dismay and beside him-

No, it couldn't-

Before Hermione had time to take the scene in, to recognise the tall, dark wizard who couldn't possibly be there, the ink well wrenched her roughly from the room and hurled her by the navel into the spinning void of space.


A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed, and I hope it clarified some of the concerns you had re. Emmanuel. I always think rogue agents are scarier than those who are held accountable for their actions. Also: if you don't understand something or don't like parts of the story, please point them out to me and make your explanations clear. I am terribly hard to offend and I welcome constructive criticism wholeheartedly. Thank you all for you reviews on the last few chapters and sorry for the delay- this was chapter simply wasn't co-operating.