A/N: Wow. I've been buried by small business taxes and work has been brutal. I haven't abandoned this story. Sorry, but when given a choice between real life and FF, we both know which one has to come first.

On the upside, we raised $50 in food for the Lake City Animal Shelter! Woo! Way to go lovelies! While they were very grateful, they looked at me like I was mad when I explained where it came from. Lol. That's the power of FanFiction!

This is a bit short, but it's a big set up for next chapter which is in the works. As always, I love your reviews, my lovelies!

Love,

Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Thirty Three

"He who learns but does not think, is lost! He who thinks but does not learn is in great danger!"

-Confucius

Hermione groaned awake to find someone roughly shaking her shoulder. She blinked trying to clear the sleep from her gritty eyes. The light in the room was weak. Was it early morning? Reflexively her hand reached over to Draco. There was a cold spot in the sheets where her wizard had been last night. Annoyed and slightly confused, she rolled over. "Harry?" She scrubbed at her eyes with balled fists. She was running on too many nights of short sleep.

"'Mione, wake up. It's Malfoy." Cold dread shot through her. She frowned and stopped throwing the covers back. Harry looked sheepish. "He came down earlier to get something to eat. Ron and I were already up. And, well... you know Ron."

She had a sinking feeling she did know Ron, only too well. She let out a long suffering sigh and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "What happened?" She asked, resigned.

"We didn't know you hadn't told him. So, Ron... he might have said something about Malfoy being a muggle. He swears he didn't mean anything by it, it just... slipped out." Harry mumbled and shuffled his feet, staring at his shoes.

Frowning, she pushed past him to pull a robe over her rumpled clothes. "Where is he?" Her hair was wild with sleep, and she was still in yesterday's clothes. She shoved her feet into bed slippers and pinned her best friend with a harassed look.

"Out back. He's been waving his wand around in the rain for the last half an hour."

With another heavy sigh, Hermione tramped down the steps two at a time.

In the kitchen, Ron was staring out the window over the sink. When she marched in, he raised his hands in supplication and spoke before she had a chance, "Blimey, 'Mione! I didn't mean to..." She threw him a dark glare in reply, slamming out the back door without pausing to cast a charm or grab an umbrella.

It wasn't just raining, it was pouring. The shushing sound of rain drowned everything else out. Puddles gathered in the low spots of the flagstone walk. The branches of overgrown bushes grabbed at her robe and blocked her view as she followed the path to the back garden. Rounding a bend, the shrubs ended abruptly in tall weedy grass.

Ten meters away, his back to her, stood Draco. She stopped abruptly, her slippers already soaked through, and watched him unobserved. His hair was plastered to his face, his sodden clothes whipping in the summer storm. Draco waved his wand and though she couldn't hear him over the sound of the rain, she knew the wand movement: lumos. It was the very first spell they'd learned at Hogwarts.

No sparks or flicker of light emanated from his wand. Absolutely nothing happened.

Draco made a feral sound of frustration, balling his fists and sank to his knees. He cast his wand aside like it burned him. It skittered across the stones to disappear in the anemic weeds. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, then his chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders began to shake.

She crossed the space between them and gently knelt in the puddle beside him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her. He didn't resist. They knelt silently together in the pouring rain until no more tears came. She was soaked through to the skin and a chill had settled into her knees from the cold stones when he finally looked up at her.

His eyes were red-rimmed and his teeth chattered; he was the picture of abject misery. She smoothed back his hair and said softly, "Ron had no right to call you that."

"I'm a bloody muggle!" His voice broke as his face crumpled in grief.

"Hush! You are not a muggle. You've just been cursed. We'll find a way, Draco. I promise." It was a hell of a promise to make with as little progress as they'd made, she knew. But in this moment, he didn't need to know she'd been running herself and Bill ragged trying to find a cure. He didn't need to know that trying to share magic with him when he was unconscious hadn't worked. He didn't need to know they were running out of places to look. He didn't need any more hopelessness than he already had.

Discretely, she rooted around in the mud and grass for his wand. Finding it, she pocketed it and pulled Draco to his feet.

Ron's voice hollered to them over the rain. "Oi! Mum's gonna go mental if she catches you two standing in the rain like a pair of chickens!"

Hermione frowned when Ron's bellow failed to attract Draco's attention. "Com'on. Let's get inside." Putting her arms about his shoulders, Hermione steered him gently back into the house.

After helping Draco change into warm, dry clothes, she tucked him back into bed. As an apology, Ron brought up hot tea and only slightly burned toast. The tray sat across his lap untouched as Draco stared blankly at the opposite wall. When Draco didn't respond at all to the food, Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets, gave a few awkward mumbles and backed out of the room.

"Think I should get Snape?" Harry asked, watching as she fussed over Draco's blankets.

"No," she sighed without turning around. "I've got it from here." She laced Draco's cup with a mild sleeping potion. She cupped his cheek and murmured softly to him until he drank it.

"I'll just..." Harry said, clearly uncomfortable watching the moment between Draco and Hermione. "I'll check on Ron."

As Harry's steps receded downstairs, she pulled the tray from Draco's lap, her fingers brushing against a rolled up towel. Her brow creased. If it wasn't for that damn knife, none of this would have happened.

She settled him further into the bed, smoothing his hair back and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Get some rest. I'm going to get your magic back, Draco. I swear," she reassured him. She sat in the straight backed chair next to the bed, soothing her thumb over his knuckles. She would have thought he was almost catatonic with shock if it weren't for the death grip he had on her hand. A few minutes later, his grip eased and his eyes fluttered shut. The potion had pulled him under.

She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was high time Lucius Malfoy was dealt with. Her eyes fell back on the rolled up towel.

Twenty minutes later she stormed through the kitchen door and threw her ruck sack on the table, jarring the pieces of Ron and Harry's chess game. Her face was a thundercloud and her hair crackled with magic.

Harry exchanged a worried look with Ron.

"Bloody hell, Harry. She's gonna do it again," Ron said in a dramatic whisper as Hermione dumped the contents of her rucksack on the table and began roughly stuffing select items back in the bag. Ron and Harry abandoned their chess game and got to their feet.

"Where's Snape today?" She demanded, driving a pair of jeans in her rucksack with a furious shove.

."'Mione, what's going on?" Harry asked, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder like she was a skittish thestral. Ron fidgeted behind him.

"I said," she ground out, pausing from her packing only to glare at the wall opposite long enough to ask, "Where's Snape? Hogwarts? Spinner's End? Where?"

Hermione growled in frustration, pushing roughly past them. "Oh, never mind!" She grabbed a fistful of floo powder and flung it in the grate. The emerald green flames roared. "Professor Snape's private quarters, Hogwarts!" She dropped to one knee on the hearth and poked her head in the flames. "Snape! You're needed at headquarters now! Get your bony arse here right this minute!"

Harry hooked his arm through Hermione's elbow and pulled her to her feet. "Alright, slow down. What's going on?"

"She's gone mental!" Ron gaped and whispered to Harry

What was it about men grabbing her by the bloody elbow lately? Her mouth was a grim line of determination and she yanked her elbow free. "I'm going after Lucius Malfoy."

"Now?" Harry squeaked in disbelief.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shouldered her way past him back to her bag. "Of course now, Harry. We only have three days to the final battle."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Slytherin upstairs, would it?" Harry asked gently. Hermione paused in her hasty packing, but didn't reply. "Look, I know you're upset..."

"Upset? Upset?" She shrieked. "I am not upset!" She untied the strings on a cloth roll and unfurled it on the kitchen table. It was her disguise kit. Withdrawing a dose of Polyjuice potion, she perused her choices. Bellatrix was out, as was Narcissa. Frederick Nott, too. She ran her finger down the neatly labeled row, stopping on one of the final names.

The fireplace roared and the sour Potions Master charged through, eyes flashing as he thundered, "My bony arse!?" Hermione snapped her right arm in his direction and crumpled him with a forceful stupefy.

"Oh, Merlin! Not again! Snape's gonna kill us!" Ron gasped as the color drained from his face. "Do something, Harry!"

"Uh, Hermione... Hermione, can we talk about this?" Harry begged.

Hermione ignored them both. In moments, she had Snape bound tightly to a kitchen chair, stripped of his wand, petrified, searched and silenced. Sliding her mirrored sunglasses in place, she tapped the frame with her wand, casting the anti-summoning jinx. Harry pulled Ron directly behind the chair and back out of Snape's line of vision just as Hermione woke him from her spell.

"One question: where is Lucius Malfoy?" Hermione asked evenly – too evenly for someone who was tangling with a far superior wizard.

Snape's eyes glittered with malice as they homed in on Hermione's features. He smirked behind his silencing spell and said nothing.

Hermione dug through her beaded bag. She held up a vial of veritaserum. Snape's smirk grew to a half smile. She met his look with a smile of her own. "I'm afraid it won't be that easy." She chided and plunged her hand back in her bag. A rolled up sackcloth towel came out in her fist. She opened it teasingly slow on the table, letting Snape see Bellatrix's Muggle Maker. To his credit, his eyes didn't widen, but his gaze did flick between her and the knife several times. His smirk dropped.

Hermione pulled a face of mock revulsion, "I'd rather not. At least, not yet." She left the knife on the table and dug around in her bag again. She pulled out a clear glass jelly jar. It was empty. She gave a predatory smile. "Now this is more like it."

In reply, Snape raised one eyebrow. It was clearly a challenge.

It was Hermione's turn to smirk. She conjured a bluebell flame in the open jar and set it on the table closest to him. If she hadn't been watching him closely, she would have missed the slight widening of his eyes and the near invisible sheen of perspiration on his upper lip.

Behind him, Harry and Ron exchanged a puzzled glance.

Hermione leaned on the table, seemingly relaxed. "Now, Professor, I'm going to ask one more time. Where is Lucius Malfoy?"

"This is foolishness!" Snape said again a few minutes later. He was still strapped to the chair as a second Snape pulled the straps tight on Hermione's now packed bag. "The leader of the Order can't go charging off after a wizard like Lucius Malfoy. You. Will. Be. Killed."

"Indeed?" Sneered the other Snape, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

"He's right," piped in Harry. "'Mione, let me get a few more people. We'll go today. You have my word. Malfoy will be dead by nighfall."

"Not dead!" Snapped the Snape imposter. "Incapacitated."

"Whatever," said Harry, desperate to stop her.

Hermione/Snape whirled on him. "Not 'whatever', Harry. This is important!"

"What's important?" Fred and George asked together as they barged into the kitchen from upstairs.

"Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, Fred! There's two of them!" George looked between the Snape tied to the chair and the one fighting to get past Harry and Ron to the back door.

"Release me at once!" Barked the Snape tied to the chair.

"Should we, George?" Asked Fred, crossing his arms.

"I don't know, Fred." A brief scuffle by the back door drew their attention. The other Snape was trying to make a break for it.

George flicked his wand lazily, wrapping the other Snape in tight, black cords. The Snape at the back door teetered and fell to the floor in a muffled thump of wriggling wizard. "Who would ever guess we'd be asked to be the voice of reason?"

"Yeah," said Fred as he manhandled the other Snape into a chair and bound him tight. "What is the world coming to?"

Both Snapes glared at each other over the table.

Fred and George clapped their hands and said together, "Now, what's going on?"

An explosion of sound filled the kitchen as everyone started talking at once. Fred and George exchanged a look and flicked their wands, the room went silent. "Harry, little brother, how about you go first?" Asked an exasperated Fred.

So he did, explaining the whole sorry affair.

"So, that's it! 'Mione wants to go to Malfoy Manor ALONE," he glared at the second Snape as he sneered the word.

"Sorry, luv," said George, sitting on the edge of the table. "Harry's got a point."

Harry crossed his arms with a self satisfied huff, "Thank you."

"We're going with you," said Fred smoothly as he untied the real Professor Snape. "Right, George?"

"Absolutely right, Fred," nodded George.

Molly Weasley stepped out of the floo, saying, "Right about what?" It was enough to touch off the powder keg all over again.

After a steady hour long argument, Hermione, Fred, George, Ron and the real Snape headed for the edge of the wards. Harry seethed at the back door under a protective arm of Molly Weasley. Hermione and Ron came as themselves, albeit with their hands bound behind their backs and their faces bruised, cut and bleeding. Fred and George hid behind transfigured Death Eater robes and masks, towing them along as prisoners. Hermione's wand was slipped into a sheath in the rear waist band of her pants. The Muggle Maker sat snugly in her boot.

She didn't trust Professor Snape as far as she could throw him, but with Fred, George and Ron along, it was decided he had the best chance of them getting them inside. They'd be noticed, of course they would. The capture of both of Harry's best friends would be something the Death Eaters would crow about and Snape had warned them of the possibility of being tortured. He'd dosed them both with a light pain killer and, in Ron's case, a small bit of calming draught.

The look on Molly Weasley's face as three of her sons headed into the snake's den was heartbreaking and she couldn't wait until they were out of earshot before breaking down in wrenching sobs. The last thing Hermione saw as they apparated away was Harry letting Molly muffle her sobs in his shoulder.