A.N. Hello everyone. My position at my job has now ended and while it has afforded me more time to write, it has also lead to a lot of really intense anxiety and depression. This story means so much to me though, and however long it takes to update it, I promise all of you that I have not and will not abandon it. A big thanks to Rotehexe for staying on track with me, even when I don't talk to her for a month. Thank you all so much for your support, it really does mean the world to me.

Sirius's flat had taken over as headquarters for operation Murder Dolohov; a fact which Regulus was endlessly irritated about. It wasn't until Lucius finally arrived at half past seven that Sirius managed to stop pacing the length of the halls. They'd had to send a coin message with the address, which had proven to be somewhat tricky. Bloody unlucky that Remus was still recovering from the prior night's moon, as he normally controlled Sirius when he was in his moods.

"What do we know?" Lucius didn't bother to stop as he stepped through the floo, brushing the greenish soot from the shoulders of his robes. He glared at each option for sitting individually before pursing his aristocratic lips and turning up his nose.

Sirius's left eyebrow twitched as the already abnormally short fuse on his anger burnt away to nothing. He desperately tried to swallow his fury, closing his eyes and picturing Hermione, what she needed. Right now, she needed him.

"Its Dolohov. All we have is three letters, D O L, but I'm hard-pressed to think it could mean anything else." Sirius felt his skin crawl as the familiar longing for the wet heat of firewhiskey filled his veins. His sobriety hadn't been pressed by anyone, he'd done it on his own, but he'd done it for her. Even now as her eyes filled his vision every time he closed his own, he craved the numbness of the amber liquid's touch.

"Dolohov is a remarkable wizard, meant in a sense of full offence. Were his grandmother not a Malfoy by birth, I would never choose to interact with such a messy sycophant. He is neither powerful enough to be feared nor stupid enough to be ignored. He's been a rock in my shoe for long enough even before he developed his unhealthy obsession with Ms. Granger." His aristocratic upbringing was so obvious in the way he snubbed his nose at Dolohov that Sirius nearly snorted. Imagine one psychopath calling out another for their psychopathy.

Sirius's mind was once again drawn back to the situation at hand, and his nervous eyes flitted towards the ticking clock, whose tome seemed to grow louder with every second of silence.

Regulus shot up from the chaise that he'd been sitting on, wearing the mad grin that meant he'd had an idea. "Wait his grandmother was a Malfoy?" Lucius had barely acknowledged him with a nod before he was up and off towards the back of the flat. When he returned, he carried in his arms a worn leather tome with a detailed tree decorating its front.

"Hermione took this book from the library at Grimmauld. Said it might come in handy one day." Regulus laid the book on the table, opening to a mid-point page and flicking through until it landed on the Ms. "That woman plans for anything."

Sirius and Lucius both looked at the book and then at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation about which of the confused wizards would press Regulus to explain himself. He was brilliant, but his brilliance was often impossible to follow. Neither of them needed to say anything though, as Regulus rolled his eyes and clarified.

"Dolohov's grandmother, she was Ursina Malfoy correct?" Lucius nodded skeptically, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to make the connection. "The Dolohovs ran into some financial trouble a few decades back. They sold a lot of their excess, mother used to gossip about it insipidly with Liora Parkinson. But Ursina refused to let him sell her family's estate…her dowry." He grabbed the book, holding up the cover to showcase the glittering gold, embossed letters: A Collection of Pure-Blooded Estates.

It was like a light bulb had been finally screwed in and the light was shining as Malfoy and Sirius both caught up to Regulus's mind.

"My grandfather used to tell me about that summer home. He said that it was such a shame that his cousin Ursina wasn't using it. It's isolated and unplottable. If he was going to hold her, it would be the perfect place." Lucius grabbed the book off the table, carefully studying the list of properties.

"So we have a likely location, Snape is brewing us an antidote. What now?" That question hung in the air like a foul stench that refused to leave. Even if they had a location, it was unplottable. No one besides Dolohov was alive who'd ever seen it. It would be impossible to apparate or floo to. Lucius, however, seemed to be thinking as his brow furrowed.

"I'll talk to Dolohov. Antonin may be insane, but he's calculated. If I goad him enough he'll want to brag about his conquests. Perhaps I could trick him into taking me to her." Sirius and Regulus both stared at the man in shock. That was likely the most selfless thing the men had ever heard come from the mouth of a Malfoy.

"I can't let you do that Lucius. Narcissa is ready to pop and Hermione would skin me alive if we got in the way of you meeting your son." Lucius's eyes flared with emotion for a passing moment, seemingly moved by the thought of his son. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced by the indifferent smugness he always paraded around.

"Then what do you propose we do Black. Wander the countryside in hopes we run upon it? Ask Antonin in polite conversation if he happens to be keeping a muggleborn witch captive?" Sirius scowled at Lucius's condescension but said nothing. He was right, they were stuck.

"Well we have until Snape finishes that potion to come up with a plan. Lets think." Regulus waved his wand, summoning the chipped teapot that had been sitting on the counter in Sirius's kitchen. Following after the teapot was a mix-matched collection of teacups as well as the tea tin. Despite continuing to stick his nose up in the air about the whole situation, Lucius joined Sirius and Regulus in their afternoon tea. After all, they had a lot to think about.

Severus Snape was never one for group projects, or really people for that matter. He'd only ever really had one friend, and after he'd mucked that up, he lived a rather solitary life. Now hate, he was quite familiar with that feeling.

He hated James Potter, for having what he was too much of a coward to. For loving the woman he loved, for the crime of being a better man while he remained a bitter, unloving man. He had the potential, to grow, to be a better man, something that he'd long lost hope of. Hermione had told him that.

Lily and her son. He would die to protect them. Severus knew that if there was one truth in this world, it was that he loved Lily. While he wasn't paying attention though, someone else had forced their way into his heart.

Hermione Granger had been an unexpected variable, a missed calculation that had thrown his whole life off course. She came to him with her story of desperation and protection, and he turned his long, hooked nose down on her and walked away. Something in her eyes that day had stopped him from killing her though. There was something so familiar in the way she looked at him.

It reminded him of Lily, all those years ago. She hadn't been afraid of him or looked down on him. The way those green eyes shone his direction always made him feel like he could do anything, become anything. That light had been snuffed out of Severus when his friendship with Lily ended, or so he had thought.

When Trelawney had passed down her prophecy in Hogsmeade, Severus had run to his master, eager to provide him with information that would change the course of the war. However, when he found out that the Dark Lord meant to harm newly-pregnant Lily Potter, his heart had ceased to beat. That was until he remembered a bushy-haired witch who had promised him a better future.

Hunting down Hermione Granger had been more of a pain in the arse than he'd expected. Rumors had been circling for months about a mysterious young woman living in the old Dumbledore house in Godric's Hollow. It didn't take long for him to piece together just exactly who this woman was.

Ward magic was physically and magically exhausting, which is why Severus was shocked when he arrived at the home and sensed her enchantments. It had taken him the better part of a day to dismantle the wards, one by one.

When she'd arrived home, he'd been sitting in her bedroom. They'd struck a bargain, an agreement; they shared a goal you see. Lily Potter must live. It was simple, but profound. She had to. Severus could never make up for all the hurt he'd brought her, all the pain he'd caused, all the death, the destruction, but he could do this one thing. He could ensure that Lily Potter and her son lived.

Hermione had been that missing piece of the puzzle, the unknown variable in the calculation of his bloody calculus. She showed him that he could be better, and now Dolohov had her.

Beneath the cold, unfeeling mask he wore while working at the shop, his heart beat erratically with rage. Antonin Dolohov was a fool and an idiot, which was a dangerous combination to have during a war. Despite being mediocre with his intellect, he made up for it with his magical power. Stirring the antidote to the potion once more, Snape marveled at just how insane and twisted Dolohov was.

Not to say that Severus Snape was ever one to shy away from the Dark Arts; there was a fascinating curiosity he found in the practice. It was amazing, to see just how far magic could bring people – to the very depths of human morality. Yet he'd never truly expected to have to deal with the damaging effects personally.

The potion was ready about fifteen minutes before he was set to close the apothecary, the pearly sheen glossing off the dim lighting of the brewing station. It was a terrible job, a cover really to throw off the Ministry, but Severus couldn't help but be drawn to the potions and brews that had consumed so much of his life at Hogwarts. Being a potions master was the one thing he'd always excelled at, and it gave him a large degree of satisfaction to know that not even Perfect Potter was as good at potioning as him.

Thinking of James Potter drifted his thoughts back towards Sirius Black. The man was the root cause of so much of his suffering in school. Lily always used to tell him it was because Severus represented everything that Sirius should have been…everything Walburga had wanted him to be. That always niggled at the back of his mind, like a itch he just couldn't scratch. Sirius Black was perhaps the most Slytherin of them all, telling a lie so convincing that it became his truth.

It wasn't until his nails began to cut into his palm that Severus realized that he'd balled his hand into fists. The wooden, elaborate cuckoo clock on the wall, ticked away, counting down at an incomprehensibly slow pace towards close. There were ten minutes now, the vial of potion weighing his robes down from the inside pocket where it sat.

Despite not being called, his Dark Mark itched uncomfortably, almost like it could feel his betrayal. Lord Voldemort had never and would never know true love, and it was love that was playing such a large role in his downfall. Lucius loved his wife; he loved his son (despite his birth still looming over the horizon). Regulus, for all his screwed-up priorities, loved his brother and loved his elf. Worst of all, for all of them was a love for Hermione.

It wasn't romantic love for Snape the way it had been for the brothers Black and even he suspected, Remus. There was something warm in her eyes, that made him feel the inclusive and unconditional emotion that a young Lily Evans had once provided him. Hermione Granger knew. She knew everything awful that he had done, that he would one day do, and yet she put her trust in him. Bitterness and anger had filled his heart for so long, that he feared he would never escape its darkness.

Even when Hermione had offered her hand, had given him the knowledge that he could do the right thing, he had turned his nose up to her. He'd walked away from her once, and he would never do it again.

Severus breathed a small sigh of aggravation and relief finally free from the obligations of this narrative that he had created for himself. Being a Death Eater was like hiding in smoke, in constant fear that a strong breeze would come by and reveal him. Helping Hermione, being a part of her band of misfits, meant that not only was he being hunted from outside the smoke, but also from within it.

Voldemort would not bat an eye if it was discovered that Snape was undermining him. He would be dead before the charges could finish being read, but so would Lucius, Hermione, Lily…It was a strange feeling for him, to stare into the world with a care of others. He'd felt so alone, for so long. Lily had been the first to invite him into her world, out of the shadows. But like the scared child he had been, he held onto her too tight; afraid that like all the others in his life, she would find someone better to occupy her time.

The air was warm as Severus walked down the dimly lit streets of Diagon, ignoring the beautiful sight of streetlamps being lit. Lamps began to provide a glow to the cobblestone as he strutted past, focusing on nothing but the hefty beat of his heart sounding in his ears and the impossible phantom weight of the vial he carried. When he did finally arrive to the Leaky Cauldron to floo home like he did every evening at 8:00, Severus made sure to loudly announce the name of his home.

When he reappeared in the parlor of his home, he spent not time dallying, immediately redirecting with a new handful of powder to the address Black had sent earlier in the day. He could've walked from his work, but it was important to not draw attention. The Dark Lord's paranoia would've activated had he not gone straight home. Severus couldn't prove that he was being watched, but the hair on the back of his neck rose every time he left work.

The flat was actually much nicer than he expected when he arrived, barring the fact that Sirius looked as if he was about to throw a cup of tea at Lucius' head.

"I know you know everything you poncey bastard, but for every moment you spend rolling your eyes at me, Hermione is suffering." Sirius's neck vein was popping out, which normally would've brought Snape great joy, but now was not the time.

"I see your strategy is to act like children. Not uncommon for you Black, but I must admit I am disappointed in you Malfoy." Lucius simply sneered at the admonishment, turning away from his colleague. As close as Snape and Lucius had grown over the past few years, Severus had very little tolerance for the man's moods.

"Is it ready?" Sirius asked, refusing to rise to the bait. There was a fierceness and singular focus in his eyes that Snape had never seen. The witty quip he'd prepared died in the back of his throat, replaced with a genuine answer.

"Yes." Regulus offered Snape a cup of tea, and despite his nature, he titled his head in a brief nod and joined them.

"What seems to be the plan?" Snape brought the cup to his lips, quirking up one eyebrow as he shifted his eyes from Regulus to Lucius and finally to Sirius.

"We don't have one." Regulus replied, feeling the tension between Lucius and Sirius rise once again.

"We can't be involved Severus." Lucius interjected, seemingly continuing the argument that had been going when Snape arrived. "Regulus made a good point. Dolohov can't know I was involved; I will not risk my life before the birth of my son. If we want the girl safe, and we are unwilling to kill Antonin, then neither Snape nor I can go with you. Honestly, Regulus shouldn't risk it either."

"Then I do it alone!" Sirius's voice was so loud it echoed off the walls. He stood with such power and speed that he sent the chair he'd been sitting in several feet backwards. Rage, fear, and love warred behind his eyes and for the first time, Snape knew that they had something in common…someone they loved that they would die for.

"Dolohov is an idiot. Malicious yes but can be easily goaded. Lucius you may be unable to involve yourself due to your impending child, but I have no such luxury. And on the subject, have quite skilled experience with memory charms. We can thank the Dark Lord for honing this particular skill while I was in his service." Snape stood from his seat, walking over to where the chair Sirius had been sitting in had fallen and picked it up. "I neither fear Dolohov nor death. There are far worse fates…far worse fates that cannot be stopped unless we save Granger."

"Snape…" Sirius began, his voice breathy as he seemed to be seeing Severus in a new light for the first time.

"There's no time. Dolohov is a creature of habit, and if we're to find him, we need to move."

Antonin Dolohov was indeed a creature of habit. Just like clockwork, at precisely 8:30 pm, he arrived at a pub in Knockturn called the Wyvern's Wing. If one were to describe the inside of this establishment, sleazy wouldn't be too far off. The bar itself was always cleaned, but with a residue of years of spilt drinks and blood laying on top. Floorboards creaked as they stepped on them, alerting the rather unpleasant collection of characters to a new arrival.

The plan had become very simple. Snape would get Dolohov drunk and trick him into revealing where Hermione was being kept, and then Snape would send the address via coin and Sirius would join him. Then it was just a matter of getting Dolohov out of the way.

"Snape?" Dolohov's gruff voice greeted, a note of surprise filling the timbre as a notorious loner came to sit near him. "I've never seen you here before. Figured you were too busy with your nose skimming the clouds to lower yourself to our level."

Antonin's breath already stank of liquor, and Snape took all his strength to swallow the revulsion he felt to sneer at the man. "I find myself tonight in need of both alcohol and company."

Gesturing to the barman, Snape ordered a shot of firewhiskey. Of course, it would have no effect on him, as he'd swallowed a sobering potion just before. No alcohol he consumed for the next hour and a half would affect him.

"What brings you to company and drink? Can't possibly be a woman." It was an underhanded comment, but Snape elected to focus on the prior question.

"I find myself incredibly vexed by a problem I cannot resolve." Body language could be a very powerful tool if utilized correctly. The quickening of Dolohov's breath and the way he leant in meant that Snape was hooking him, now it was time to reel him in.

"Oh? And what great problem vexes such a man as yourself?" Snape smiled internally, validating what he already knew, Dolohov was an idiot.

"There's a mudblood who came in the shop the other day. I was going to pay her a special visit, but when I tried to find her, she was nowhere to be found. Its been so long since I've felt the life leave someone unworthy of magic." Snape chuckled darkly, turning his vacant expression towards Dolohov. "Don't suppose you know this Granger bint. I'd love nothing more than to break out some of my grandmother's old, dark spells and have a good time."

Swallowing down the amber liquid in his glass cooled his throat, and he licked its sweetness off his lips as he watched carefully Dolohov's reaction. The Russian had a scar on the left side of his bottom lip, which split when he smiled.

"Granger eh….and if I have?"

"Liar." Sirius goaded, bored with how predictable he was.

"I am not a liar." Dolohov looked around briefly, before leaning in even further towards Severus. "You can't find her because I've got her locked up. I'm the same as you. Useless mudblood like that has no business being in the world. First noticed her at the Malfoy's you know, tricked poor Reggie into taking her as his date. Good thing he's dead because he'd kill himself if he knew that bint lied to him."

Words flowed easier and easier for Dolohov, as Snape bought a bottle of firewhiskey and kept pouring. Dolohov told him everything, as long as he smiled, praised him, agreed with him…but then it was time for the real work.

"I'm jealous I have to admit." Snape began, watching carefully as the bleary eyed man swallowed down another shot.

"Do you…" Dolohov paused for a moment to burp. "I could take you with me you know. Got to use this nice spell. Stupid bitch is trapped in an endless nightmare. You could do anything to her right now and no one would be any the wiser."

A ball of rage filled Snape's stomach as he realized what Dolohov was talking about. Motivated more than ever, he smiled wickedly to mimic the psychopath in front of him.

"You'd really do that? I've never known you to be a sharer." It was like manipulating a child, watching Dolohov rise to the occasion. If there was one thing this demented narcissist loved more than violence, it was people owing him.

"Well you scratch my back; I scratch yours right. Let's just say you'll owe me a favor. Nothing off the table." Dolohov shot back one more drink, realizing that they'd emptied the bottle.

"Alright, deal." Snape took his own shot, once again feeling the numbness of the potion rather than the taste of the whiskey.

"Let's go see my pet then." Dolohov instructed, stumbling away from the bar towards the floo. No one paid them any mind, the benefit of this establishment. No one said anything, no one noticed anything, and come tomorrow no one, even Dolohov would even remember that Snape was there at all. "Here's the address, unplotted and all that."

"Yes…lets." Snape agreed, taking the parchment in his hand and memorizing the address before tossing it into the flames. It only took him a moment after Dolohov disappeared in the green flames to send the address through the coins. With a deep breath and determination he couldn't quite measure, Snape too stepped through the flames.