Hermione felt strangely numb. She sat silently at the Gryffindor table with an untouched plate of food in front of her while those around her indulged in a hefty bounty and lighthearted conversation. They shouted. They laughed. They chewed much too loudly. They were completely oblivious to the tension building in Hermione as she sat stoically brooding.

Her eyes went back and forth from the open doors of the Great Hall to the faculty table where all but one seat was filled. She couldn't even take comfort in Severus Snape's conspicuous absence because of the implications of it. Where was he? Where was Ginny?

Ron and Harry had been relieved to hear that Hermione had 'found' Ginny up in the dorms. With envy she'd watched their shoulders sag and the smiles return to their faces. She'd tried to act normally herself, tried to shift her gaze to something other than Ginny's seat at the table currently occupied by Luna. But how could she act normally when she hadn't found Ginny and had blatantly lied to her friends? How many lies could she tell in such a short time?

She winced and rubbed her face. Her thoughts were spiraling again, but that was to be expected given the circumstance.

She'd lied to her friends, but what choice did she have? After searching campus from end to end and asking everyone they passed about her whereabouts, Harry and Ron had been ready to go to Dumbledore about it. She'd felt cornered. She'd felt threatened. She'd allowed herself to panic, and warm, buttery lies flowed freely and easily, a good news she wished she could deliver truthfully. Of course Ginny was up in her room fine and dandy! Why wouldn't she be? And how convenient was it that she'd already eaten and didn't need to come to dinner with them?

It took effort on Hermione's part not to slam her head on the table and avoid pacing back and forth erratically. She seemed to be digging herself deeper and deeper into this inescapable hole, a hole filled with her transgressions against the people she cared about. It was suffocating!

And what was her motivation? Who was she trying to protect by lying about Ginny? It certainly wasn't Ginny, so who was it? Snape? If he did have Ginny, the result could only be trouble for him. If Ginny got hurt, and if Snape got into trouble, it was completely her fault. Even knowing this, Hermione feared she was only thinking of herself and the trouble she would get into.

Loud laughter at the Slytherin table briefly distracted her from her languishing. The Slytherins were a brutish lot, a quality they seemed to wholeheartedly embrace. Crabbe and Goyle were facing the Gryffindor table with their shirts lifted, exposing a disgusting mess of hair and gut, and they cupped the flabby skin at their chests jiggling it around mocking sensuality.

Those at Hermione's table and others looked away and grunted their distaste.

"What's the matter? You sluts like being naked don't you?"

"We quite enjoyed the show last night, ladies!"

Hermione couldn't tell who was speaking over the laughter from the other tables. Even some from her own table suppressed big, stupid grins. If Ginny saw the look on Ron's face, she'd smack him.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?" Luna whispered, oblivious to the outright bullying from the other tables. Her eyes were glued to Hermione as she read the expression on her face. Why on earth had she sat across from Luna? She knew Luna was the most perceptive one at the table, and apparently she actually paid attention to those around her.

"Fine." Hermione forced a small smile, her eyes flickering between Luna and the Slytherin table. She would've expected Draco Malfoy to be at the center of the taunts and discourse, but he was nowhere to be seen. That struck her as odd. She looked back at Luna, who seemed to be waiting for more from her. "I'm fine, really. Just not that hungry. That's all."

Luna nodded once and set her attention back to her plate. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me. I understand." She said around a mouthful of potatoes.

Hermione spared her only a moment's thought before her eyes flicked back up to the faculty table, and she met Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. She'd felt him staring without realizing it. Startled, she averted her eyes to her plate, but she could still feel his stare.

A smart girl would use the opportunity to approach the man and ask for a private meeting. A moral girl would have no choice but to unburden her conscience at the feet of a wizard who maybe could fix her mistakes. If she would just tell Dumbledore what she'd done and hand over the reigns to a much more capable person, at least he would protect her and protect Ginny. This part of the nightmare would be over, even if another part began.

She peeked back up at him through her long lashes knowing fully well that she looked suspicious. She couldn't broadcast her guilt more evidently if she stood up and held a sign. Dumbledore wasn't looking at her. He was talking to Professor McGonagall, but the corner of his eye twitched in her direction for the briefest second.

She felt as though she'd turned to stone inside.

Tell him. Tell him everything.

Oh how she wanted to, but she could't! Something stopped her, something inexplicable. Ginny's words echoed in her mind.

You cannot tell Dumbledore anything. You absolutely cannot.

Her muscles twitched with the urge to get up and march to the faculty table, but she was rooted to her spot solidly. She feared she'd be stuck there until her will gave out.

Go! Just go tell him!

Hermione pushed her plate back and stood abruptly, capturing the attention of her friends.

"I'm going to head back. I've got a lot of studying to catch up on." She said and left the table without waiting for a response.

Ginny's bedroom was empty when Hermione cracked the door and peeked in. Most everyone was still at dinner, but they'd be making their way back to the tower soon. Time was of the essence. She passed the other beds and headed straight for Ginny's little corner of the room nearest the window.

She'd gone missing, and while Hermione's worst suspicions centered around Snape, it was possible she'd gone somewhere on her own. Ginny had been acting different lately, and it took her disappearing to raise Hermione's alarm bells about it. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, but if Ginny had gone somewhere, if something had happened to her, searching her room for clues seemed like a good place to start.

She hesitated at the foot of her crisply made bed for only a moment. She'd never known Ginny to be tidy, but her living space was immaculate, not a thing out of place. Aside from her aversion to sullying the nearly perfectly arranged space, she didn't relish the idea of violating her friend in this way.

But the pressure to find Ginny was overbearing, and she didn't have time for reexamining her diminishing code of ethics. She started with the stack of books on her nightstand, shaking the textbooks open for loose notes. Finding nothing but partially finished essays for class, she replaced the books and pulled out the three drawers, all clothes. She rifled through them and found nothing out of the ordinary.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed to find a sparklingly dust-free floor and nothing else. She sat up and ran her hands across the edge of the lumpy mattress before tucking them underneath and digging. Nothing. She shook the pillows, slipping a hand inside the pillowcases. Nothing. She checked underneath and behind the nightstand. Nothing. She lifted the knitted oval rug beside the bed. Nothing.

Finally, when she was sure she'd inspected every possible corner and crevice, she checked the obvious place to put potential clues, Ginny's magic trunk. She suspected if Ginny had left any sort of evidence of her whereabouts around her room, she'd be too smart to leave it there. Sure enough, after taking every magical item she owned out and carefully looking them over, she found her search fruitless.

Hermione sighed in frustration. It's what she'd expected, but she was back to having no plan for finding Ginny. She grabbed at her head digging her fingernails into her scalp. Dreadful thoughts of never finding her forced their way into her mind, but she couldn't break down yet. She owed it to Ginny to keep trying and trying harder. She couldn't give into despair when her friend could be in trouble.

She racked her brain for a new plan, feeling increasingly more anxious as she thought. An answer that she hadn't fully formed loomed in the back of her mind, but she shoved it back before it could panic her further. No, there had to be another way...

She glanced up at the window, the setting sun coloring the room a rusty orange. She heard voices drifting up from the common room as students were returning from dinner. She was running out of time to get out without raising suspicion.

She was on her feet dumping the objects back into the trunk and securing it when she heard a loud creak where she'd stepped. She looked down at the rug on which she stood and leaned her weight forward until she heard the wood protest again. Kicking the rug out of her way, she examined the old scuffed wood. Nothing looked amiss, but now that she was fully focused on one wood panel, she felt the slightest buzz of magic, like a distant, slow heartbeat.

She heard footsteps on the stairs heading her direction, and she reached for her wand, flicking the door closed and locked wordlessly. Hopefully no one would try to get in. She wasn't sure how she would explain being locked in a room that wasn't hers, and she didn't care.

She knelt next to the panel and reached for it. The hiss of burning flesh, a barely concealed cry, and singed fingertips lead her to once again withdraw her wand. The ward around the spot was powerful. It was evident that whoever placed it had something to hide, and Hermione's heart leapt in anticipation.

"Protero Exponentia!" She whispered and sent gold sparks into the wood. The ward dispersed in a visible smoky ring around her but did not dissipate. She tried the spell again more forcefully, but the ring only drew closer to her. Everywhere the smoke touched her skin tingled and burned unpleasantly but bearably. Surely she had seconds until the ward returned entirely and impenetrably.

She dug her fingernails into the edge of the panel, grimacing at the white hot pain of burning skin.

"Argh!" She gasped as the pain became too much, and she jerked her hands back. The edge of the panel had budged just enough for her to get a firm grip, and with resolve, she bunched her robes over her fingers and wrenched the stubborn piece up and out of the way. She smiled with triumph, but the smoke was wrapping around her, penetrating her open orifices and filling her lungs.

She coughed violently to expel it, swatting the burning ward away to no avail. She had to get away from there before she burned from the inside out.

Covering her face, she peered over the hole in the floor. There were a few overstuffed stationery envelopes and a little violet velvet drawstring bag. She reached in, scooped up the items, and crawled toward the back wall as far from the hole as she could get in the small space. The smoke drew closer and closer to the hole until it seeped back into the wood.

Hermione sighed in relief and immediately assessed her finds. The velvet bag caught her eye first, so she pulled the strings and reached inside, pulling out three glass vials of bright blue liquid. It was thin, watery, and left a slimy looking residue on the glass. She puzzled over the familiar looking potion until she recognized it. Birth control potion.

Hermione remembered catching Madame Pomfrey handing it out discreetly to girls in the hospital wing. Wizard society wasn't as progressive as muggle society. Such matters were not spoken about (or condoned) openly at Hogwarts, but of course the practical needs of students came first to the medically-minded witch.

But what would Ginny need with such things, and why did she feel the need to conceal it with harsh wards? Hermione looked down at the vials in her lap, leaning closer to be sure she'd seen it right. One wasn't the same shade of blue as the other two. In fact, it was green tinged, and chunkier than the other two. That one wasn't birth control potion... had she tried making one herself and failed? But why would she have done that? Why did she have it in the first place?

Hermione grabbed the first envelope and pulled out folded crinkled pieces of parchment of various lengths. She unfolded the first one she grabbed and was immediately struck by how beautiful the handwriting was. It was written in shimmery gold ink, and with its perfect curves, strokes, and flourishes, it was obvious the writer had a steady hand. The little crumpled note could be hung in a museum with other artwork. The line work was so intricate that it took a moment for her to make out the words.

To My Love,

I find myself unable to sleep with you on my mind. You tell me that you think of me more than I could ever think of you. I have serious doubts. You are my every thought. Everything I do, I do with you at the center. The word worship comes to mind, but even that does not cover how I feel about you. I am in awe of your dedication and of your ability to conquer obstacles that would bring men twice your age to their knees. You are strong. Strong enough for the both of us.

Your Most Devoted

Hermione gripped the paper tightly, absorbing every word. Ginny was hiding love letters? Staring at the beautiful markings made the corners of her lips turn upward. Harry could never have written this beautifully to Ginny even if he had a mind to. She'd checked over enough of his essays to know his handwriting was chicken scratch. So Ginny had some other lover that she told no one about?

Hermione's smug little smile melted away as she realized where her thoughts were. Her best friend was missing, and she was congratulating herself for maybe still having a chance to be with Harry? What was wrong with her?

With a rough shake of her head, she folded the note and grabbed the next one.

Dearest Ginny,

I know that when last we spoke, I was unkind to you. Please know that the words I said could not be further from the truth. You know how much I adore you, and I would not expect you to question it. I continue to draw strength from you even when you tell me you feel weak. My love and loyalty remains with you always.

She flipped through the stack quickly, searching for a signature, an identity to pin to this mystery lover, but they seemed to be intentionally left to the imagination. Hermione found it odd that Ginny would go to such trouble to hide love letters. What could possibly be the harm in someone reading them? Why did Ginny feel she couldn't tell her about it?

Hermione looked at the velvet bag with the potion vials and frowned. She hadn't been the most forthcoming with her own romantic conquests, so she couldn't in all fairness expect Ginny to be.

She pulled notes from the second and third envelopes, having no more patience for being orderly. She heard feet running through the hallway past the room, but she didn't allow it to distract her.

My Darling,

It's been too long since we've had a proper meeting. You're starving me. The anticipation of getting you alone, feasting on your body, and making you cum while you scream my name -

Hermione stopped reading and folded that particular note an extra time. She shouldn't be reading these things. They were so personal! Was reading them and disrupting Ginny's privacy really going to help her find the girl? She really shouldn't...

She peeked at the next few notes warily.

To the Light of My Life,

We need to meet. There is still thinking to be done, and your opinion means a great deal to me, but I urge you to reconsider. Now is not the time for an admission. The only way I can be with you now is in secret, as much as that pains us both. Let us talk about it before you make a decision. I'll be waiting for you at the foot of the steps in the dungeons.

The next few were simple requests to meet - some with unmentionable descriptions of what would be 'done' to Ginny when the two met. She opened the last one, both relieved and disappointed that she'd finished the pile. The gnawing feeling she'd shut down earlier had her shaking as she held the parchment.

My Lovely Girl,

I fear we may have to find a different meeting place. The walls of this school have eyes, and we are drawing unwanted attention. I feel as though the atmosphere is closing in around us. Do you feel it too? Meet me tonight at the north end of the dungeons, and do not forget to bring what we spoke about. I have got a surprise for you, so do not keep me waiting.

Yours Forever

Hermione folded the paper and returned the pile to their envelopes, trying to avoid her thoughts, but she couldn't avoid them forever. The idea had occurred to her earlier, however distantly, and she'd shut it out dismayed by the mere thought. Reading Ginny's letters only solidified the idea into something she must do.

She knew very well that she, Ron, and Harry hadn't searched the entire campus for Ginny.

If Snape had Ginny, she could be locked away in the dungeons somewhere screaming for help with no one to hear her. No one knew about Snape's 'affliction' except Hermione. No one would suspect him of any wrongdoing except Hermione. And now there was the possibility that an unknown lover had her down in the dungeons, of her own free will or otherwise. Either way, Hermione had to know. She had to find her, and if she wasn't going to go to Dumbledore...

She was going to have to go down into the dungeons herself and look for her.

Snape sat at his desk, leaning casually in his seat and chewing lightly on the skin of his index finger in thought. His mind was the clearest it had been in the last 36 hours thanks to several consecutive doses of clarity potion. He was sure to pay for it later in the form of nasty side effects, but for the moment, he was taking advantage of his relative clarity. He needed to fulfill Dumbledore's request in a timely fashion, and he'd put it off long enough already.

He sat across from Draco Malfoy, the boy's demeanor obstinate and snide.

"I don't know what you're expecting to gain from questioning me. I haven't done anything." Draco sat calmly back in his seat, maintaining a perfect pokerface. Snape set his deep, contemplative eyes firmly on him.

"Perhaps I'll restate my objective. I know what you're up to, and I'm seeking an admission. You're either going to give it to me or suffer the consequences." It was a tactic he often employed with students, though it usually only worked with the more skittish. Draco had never been one to cower to his intimidation.

All it served to do was bring a tight, smug smile to his face. "What are you going to do, professor?" His lip raised over his teeth a bit as he said the word. "Give me detention? Go ahead." Draco folded his arms, waiting for his challenge to be met. Snape watched him for anything that would give his occupation away.

As his black eyes held the boy's light gray ones, He pushed his consciousness forward and felt at the edges of Draco's shifty thoughts. The moment he'd felt the tinge of unease radiating from his mental state, the connection dropped like water spilling from a cup. Snape combed through the residual wisps of stolen thought hoping to find what he was looking for, but it slipped through his grasp without an answer.

Draco's calm facade melted away as he glared with hatred at Snape. "Bet you regret suggesting I learn Occlumency now." He said. "But, of course, I didn't do it because you suggested it. I'm probably better at it than you are by now." He shrugged as though his skill was nothing to be noticed.

Snape kept his face carefully expressionless, his eyes roaming over the boy. His arms were covered by his school robes, but the frayed edge of a bandage peeked through the hole of his left sleeve.

"Your arm should be fully healed by now. Is it not?" Snape said rubbing his own forearm where the dark mark was etched permanently into his skin.

Draco tensed the slightest bit, but it did not escape Snape's notice.

"We aren't talking about that."

"If it's not healing properly-"

"I don't need your help!"

"I wasn't going to offer it." Snape reached forward and gripped Draco's wrist before he could stop him. He tried to yank it back, but Snape's grip was iron-tight and disrupting the sensitive flesh of his wound. Snape pushed the sleeve of Draco's robe up and exposed the old, soiled bandage. Peeling it back slowly, his nose wrinkled at the smell of infection. The diseased skin was an angry pink color, crusted, and swollen around the edges of the inked mark.

"Let go of me!" Draco shouted but remained motionless. His face was a sickly green, and he blinked a few times to steady himself.

"I was going to say if the mark isn't healing properly, it's usually a sign that the recipient of the mark is..." Snape narrowed his eyes at the squeamish boy. "Not entirely loyal to the cause."

"Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know that if the Dark Lord gets a whiff of that, you'll experience a humbling at his unforgiving hands."

A heavy silence passed between them. Draco was starting to lose his hold on himself. Snape glimpsed his deep emotional toil with unease.

"Why don't you tell me whatever it is you've gotten yourself into, and I will help you."

Draco scoffed and found the strength to reclaim his arm. "Do you think I'm stupid? You whisper everything right into the Dark Lord's ear! Go on and tell him my mark isn't healed. I know you can't wait." He turned his nose up haughtily. "You were always jealous of my father. Maybe throwing his son under the bus will bring you some sick pleasure."

Snape inhaled slowly, suppressing his anger in favor of calm rationality. "You know very well that I bear no ill will toward you or your family. What is said between us stays between us. You have my word. Now, tell me, what exactly is it that you have to hide from the Dark Lord?"

Draco's face was hard and wrinkled with dislike as he looked at Snape, but even so, he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He crossed his leg over the other, shifted, tried the other side, and then finally stood restlessly.

"You were there right beside him when he told me what I had to do!"

"Yes, that was before he realized that you were too great an asset to risk with a fruitless mission." Said Snape. He didn't mention the fact that Draco was a tool to bend Lucius to Voldemort's will. "Surely you're not still after Dumbledore." Snape said with slightly raised eyebrows.

"No. He gave me an ultimatum."

Snape was quiet as his thoughts raced. Dumbledore must not know as much as Snape had suspected he did about Draco Malfoy's activities. By the light way he'd spoken about it, it seemed the old wizard suspected silly teenage antics. The possibility of more nefarious happenings unbeknownst to the most powerful wizard in the castle increased his apprehension.

"Are you going to ask me what the ultimatum is, or are you just going to stare at me all night?" Draco asked, his tone biting.

Snape continued to stare unaffected.

"Think about it. Besides Dumbledore's death, what does the Dark Lord want more than anything?" Draco's tone was disrespectful as though he was talking to an imbecile, but Snape didn't take notice, still trying to penetrate his Occlumency defenses.

As he took in the boy's words, his eyes sharpened with realization. "You're going after Potter. But you must know that your attempts will fail. The boy is under constant surveillance. Dumbledore himself watches him on a nearly hourly basis."

"I know, but I have a plan."

"No plan is going to work-"

"I KNOW!" Draco growled. "I know it's a long shot, but what choice do I have? He's got my family. You don't understand! I have a future, people that care about me, people depending on me. None of this makes any difference to you!" He spit furiously.

Snape ignored the jab and continued his grab for information. "What is your plan? Maybe I can be of assistance-"

"You can't help me! Weren't you listening? Nobody can help me!" Tears of shame brimmed and twinkled in his eyes. He closed them and whirled around on his heels heading for the door.

"Get back here! We aren't finished!" Snape's protests fell on deaf ears as Draco flung the door to his office open and bounded around the corner.

"Wait!" He grabbed the first healing potion he spotted along his shelves and ran for the door. "At least take this for your arm!" He called, but Draco's strides didn't slow as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

Snape thought about following after him and forcing him back to his office, but he didn't see the benefit. The boy was in no state to speak to him or anyone else about his troubles. He'd have to ambush him in the common room later in the week and get him alone to finish their discussion. Until then, he'd have to speak to Dumbledore about it. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Draco Malfoy was in quite the conundrum, one that didn't seem to have a positive solution. Regardless, he couldn't stand by while the boy attempted to abduct Harry Potter, no matter how unlikely his chances of success were. He had a sour feeling that Dumbledore would have him on the case and back in Voldemort's congress before he was due.

As he turned, a dreadfully familiar sensation took him off guard. The sweet smell of Hermione Granger hit him hard before he even saw her peeking out from behind a column next to him. Her wide brown eyes met his, and all thoughts of Lord Voldemort, Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy slipped his mind. There was nothing and no one else in the world except for the bushy-haired girl before him and his fiery desire for her.

He stilled, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"You might as well come out, Miss Granger." He said in a deep, commanding tone. He turned to face her, set fiery, molten black eyes on her, and gestured toward the open door with a graceful wave of his arm. "In my office. Please."