When Hermione came back from a late Saturday breakfast, the common room was empty except for Ron. His red hair was as disheveled as Harry's used to be, and his eyes were bleary from lack of sleep.

"Where's Harry?" she asked. The words came out sharp and spiteful, with more than a little jealousy behind them. Hermione was immediately ashamed. Sorrow and fear had kept her from sleeping; her emotions were showing before she saw them herself. "Sorry," she said, just as Ron said:

"Still in bed."

"I really am sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that."

Ron pushed a hand through his hair and looked about him as if he might find a large package labeled "The Answer" floating about somewhere.

"Ron?" Hermione asked gently. "What's wrong?"

"I spent last night talking to Harry."

He didn't seem able to continue beyond that. Hermione looked beyond his general exhaustion and saw the anxiety underlying it.

"And now you wonder," she suggested gently.

"Not because of what he said. He's so ... him. Or, at least, he's different, but no more than someone might be after all their remaining family was killed off, and--"

The portrait hole opened, and Lavender and Parvati climbed in.

"Can we go someplace private?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Of course," she answered. "Is it okay if Ginny comes?"

Ron nodded. "Probably best," he said wryly. "I wouldn't want people to think I'm moving in on Harry Potter's girlfriend. Witch Weekly will pick it up, and I'll be getting Howlers from middle-aged housewives all over Britain."

Hearing Ron use Harry's full name unsettled Hermione. "I'm not his girlfriend," she managed.

"Oh -- then you'll open the Howlers for me?"

"Oh -- " Hermione growled with exasperation -- "wait here!"

When she came back down with Ginny and the pictures, the latter safely stored in a crease-proof envelope, Ron was slumped against the wall. He straightened slowly as she and Ginny approached. They had just turned to open the portrait hole when a voice came from behind them.

"Hi! Wait up!"

Hermione felt an involuntary twitch jerk through her at the sound. Harry was already halfway towards them when she turned.

"Heading out?" It was innocently asked, and addressed primarily to Ron.

"Yeah ... I need to talk to the girls a bit, Harry." More than a trace of guilt came through in Ron's voice. "Meet you later?" he asked weakly.

Harry's face tightened with hurt, then anger. "So I'm not welcome."

"Harry ... look, mate, it's just...."

"It's just that you're bloody hypocrites, the both of you. If I go off on my own, that's a problem. If you go off together, that's just how it is. You won't ever tell me where you go or what you do either, will you?"

You started it! Hermione wanted to yell, but just the desire to attack showed that he was right. She had to remind herself that this was not Harry she was abandoning. She focused on his face. Harry had never had that faint sneer in his anger; he had more of a sullen look, or an indignant one, when he was furious.

"We're going for a walk by the lake," Ron said.

"Really?" The sneer became more pronounced, but also cooler. Harry stepped back. "With your sister, Ron? Kinky. Are you just sharing with her?"

Harry ducked Ron's first punch and danced back with a shout of harsh laughter. The ferocity and speed of Ron's second attack took him by surprise. They grappled for a moment, then Ron took him down with a sweep of his foot, straddled him, and began punching him. "Ron!" Harry yelled, trying to buck him off. He tried to block the blows, with limited success.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed. Ron ignored her. Ginny tried to haul him off. Hermione whipped out her wand. "Stupefy!" she shouted. Ron collapsed. Harry wriggled out from underneath him.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. The boy's face was red, his lip bleeding slightly, and one of his eyes was starting to swell. He nodded gingerly.

"I'll live. I deserved that, really." He smiled tentatively at Ginny. "Sorry, Ginny." He touched his lip tenderly. "Ow."

Ginny looked down. She didn't say anything. The Boy-Who-Looked-Like-Harry sucked a spot of blood from his lip and turned away.

"Go on, then," he said. "I'll go for a walk of my own."

Hermione waited until he was out of sight before reviving Ron.

"That arsehole!" he screamed.

Ginny giggled. Hermione thought she sounded a bit hysterical. "Good one, though," she said shakily. "I mean, he managed to insult all of us in one insinuation. That's talent."

"Let's go," said Hermione.

Harry took off his invisibility cloak just outside Snape's lab. He walked in, waved, and automatically locked and warded the door.

"Good morning," Severus said, without looking up from his cauldron. "I was wondering if I'd see you, today."

Harry came by and sat on a nearby stool. "I have a confession," he said.

"Confessions are the headmaster's department," Severus commented dryly, as he measured out beetle eyes. When Harry didn't respond, he looked up. After a moment of surprise, he frowned.

"And would this confession have anything to do with fighting in the hallways?"

"No," Harry said flatly, "we fought quite decently in the Gryffindor common room, and that's not it."

Severus looked away. Harry could see a trace of a smile at the edge of his mouth. "Is it true that the Gryffindor common room is red to hide all the blood?"

Harry snorted. "You know perfectly well that red only hides blood for a few minutes. We'd need to do it in brown, which would tarnish the heroic luster of our house."

Severus stopped adding components to stare at him. "In a bit of a mood, today?"

Harry, suddenly no longer amused, shrugged. Severus put out the fire under his cauldron. "Sitting won't hurt this. What is the confession, then?" He looked pointedly at Harry's bruised face. "You told young Weasley?"

"No, but I think I probably should."

"Explain."

Harry sighed. "Okay. My confession is that I have been insufficiently cautious."

Severus scowled. "And you think he suspects."

"They suspect something. I don't know if they have a what, yet, but they think my behavior is odd."

"Is it odd?"

"Perhaps a little. I didn't take great pains to hide leaving, at first, because last year, that wouldn't have bothered them. Apparently they've decided I need a closer eye kept on me this year, though, so they have noticed. Also, Ron saw me taking the potion, last night --- I had thought he was asleep."

Severus looked displeased. Harry squared his shoulders. "I could just tell them the truth. I'm sure I can trust them not to tell, whatever else they may do."

"You must be able to find a less revealing way to allay their suspicions."

"If I need to, I have a couple of ideas, but they're both difficult ... and embarrassing. Telling the truth would work better."

"Harry, no. I won't negotiate. You are not telling them anything until my plans are in place."

"They wouldn't endanger me."

"Perhaps," Severus sneered, his voice full of doubt. "Not intentionally, at any rate. But they have no such qualms about me, I am sure, and that Weasley boy is careless, and his emotions too readable, whether he tries to keep the secret or not."

Harry looked down at the floor. It was stained, here and there, by fire in some places, and unknown substances in others. One spot glittered slightly. Ron, he had to admit, would love to cause trouble for Snape, but he thought that loyalty to the Order would override that.

"I'll accept that about Ron's transparency, anyway. But they are suspicious, and they will eventually notice that whatever's up with me involves you. Ron is intuitive, Hermione is knowledgeable, and they are good at finding things out. They don't have me, this time, but Ginny seems to be working with them. If I'm not going to tell them the truth, I need a specific lie to pretend to hide from them, so they feel like they're getting somewhere when they nose around."

Severus considered this a moment, then nodded. "And?" he prompted.

"I've thought of two workable scenarios." Harry reddened, but continued. "I can pretend to be having an affair with you, as Remus suspected, or I can pretend to be dependent on something you are giving me. I'd find the second one less disturbing, and it would fit in well with the things that seem to make Ron nervous."

His father's face went through some weird contortions before settling on a bland expression. Harry couldn't decide if the intermediate phase had indicated disgust, amusement, or both.

"Of the two," he said smoothly, "I am uncertain which I would prefer to be thought of me, but the second would probably be safer, if my lord were to hear of it."

"It seems like the most plausible explanation, at this point, for the things they've noticed," Harry said. He tried not to think about the reference to Voldemort.

"And what, precisely, would this substance be?"

Harry smiled disarmingly. "I'd hoped you could help me with that. Remus said...." he trailed off.

Severus rested his forehead on his fingertips, hiding most of his face. After a few seconds, he peered up through his fingers. "Oh," he said.

"Well, I don't know much about that sort of thing in either the Muggle or wizarding worlds. What suits my behavior?"

The Potions master sighed and straightened on his stool. "What behavior are we attempting to match?"

"Er ... There have been three times I've disappeared on them -- four, if you count right now -- about three days apart. I expect I've been edgy before disappearing, and rather mellow when I've come back. I brought them treats from the kitchen, once -- no, I guess that was the next day."

"So you're not trying to relate this to the muscle relaxant?"

"Oh no. I already told Ron he could talk to Dumbledore about that, so he knows it's legitimate. But it made him nervous -- I think because of the bubble stuff. Last night he was my best mate. This morning, he was heading off with the girls, obviously to talk about me, and could barely manage a 'meet you later.'"

Snape surveyed the bruises again, but he did not ask about the fight. "Three days. That's a fairly long time, as such things go."

"That's what we have to work with."

"Huhn." Snape frowned. "There is ... something I made...." He laughed dryly. "It took Avery months to get over...."

"What is it?"

"I never named it, as it was not a successful experiment." Black eyes flickered as Severus scanned over to his cauldron and back to Harry. "It would be the perfect thing to make you vulnerable." He smiled predatorily. "Not only would you be almost completely useless for three or four hours, but for an hour beyond that, you would have no magic."

"What?!"

"That was what I wanted. I was trying to create something that would suppress magical abilities, so I could slip it to James and Black, preferably right before Transfiguration, and embarrass them. I came out with two formulas that worked, but both, unfortunately, had such severe emotional effects that it was evident both to the subject and to most witnesses that the subject was under the effects of something. Neither suited my purposes."

"And Avery?"

"Once I had determined the formula was unsuitable, I made the rest available. Most people were deterred by the magic loss, but Avery would sneak off every few days and get more from me. He was uncharacteristically pleasant on it, too. I might have made him more -- he certainly would have paid well -- but I was almost certain that long-term use would make him a Squib, and I was afraid his family would have me murdered, for that."

Harry stared. He found the idea of living permanently without magic surprisingly horrifying. "Well, that would be a hideously dumb thing for me to do!" he exclaimed. "For anyone, but me, especially!"

"I even told Avery that it would probably make him a Squib. It still didn't keep him from attacking me, when I refused to make it again. He would have killed me if Rookwood and Lestrange hadn't stepped in."

Harry remembered Avery as a name, as the Death Eater who collapsed at Voldemort's feet, begging for forgiveness for his lack of faith. He had been at the Department of Mysteries, also. Harry chuckled slightly. "Do you suppose he'd go for it, if you made it for him again? Send him a little -- 'hey, remember this?'"

Snape's eyes widened as his eyebrows rose. "You," he said, "are evil."

"Is that a compliment?" Harry teased.

"Child, I've been brooding over ways to sabotage potions, damage the effects, the longevity... and you just hand me that!" Snape grinned ferally. "And he's so agreeable on it, too. Let me find some old notes. Avery is going to spend the rest of his life in a charming fog."

"But wait!"

"Don't go all noble on me," Snape growled.

"Forget that -- what about my story? Will anyone recognize this stuff?"

"No, but that doesn't matter. You need an image in your head to keep your behavior consistent. This one will do. I just need to mix some up."

"Wait a minute -- you want me to actually take this?"

Severus was silent for a moment. He sighed. "I hate the idea -- but you should have it once. It is easier to be consistent to an experience than an imagining -- something I appreciate, as a spy." His frown curled into a sneer. "No more than once, understood? But I think it's no more likely to appeal to you than the Cruciatus Curse. I found it deadly dull, myself."

Ron was silent all the way to the lake. When they stopped by some rocks at the edge, he said:

"Well, that was stupid."

"Punching him?"

"After spending all yesterday getting close to him, again."

"Or maybe for the first time," Ginny put in. Ron shook his head.

"I don't think it's like that. He remembers everything. He thinks the right way, just more. But something did happen to him during the attack, and most of the ... the old crowd doesn't know. He told me that. Can I see the pictures?"

Ron examined the pictures silently, while Ginny went through her talk. Hermione watched his face drain of color as he looked. When he spoke again, his voice was higher than it should have been.

"All right. I agree the face is different."

"But?" Hermione asked wryly.

"But the person I spoke to last night was Harry." Ron cut off her attempt at argument. "No, listen! When Harry 'destroyed' Voldemort the first time, Voldemort didn't die, right? His body was destroyed, mostly, but just enough survived to keep his soul here, and intact. At least, that's how Harry explained it to me."

"But that's Voldemort!" Hermione returned, exasperated. "That's because he had protected himself from death with all sorts of Dark magic."

"But Harry's linked to Voldemort. And he has protections of his own. What if the same thing happened to him? Then, somehow, they got his spirit into another body?"

"That would be Dark Arts. And what about the person who was in the body?" Ginny protested.

Hermione found herself considering the idea. "Maybe he had a brain injury, or had been kissed by a Dementor." she said. She focused on Ron. "You said Harry told you something had happened to him during the attack. What?"

"He was very vague about it," Ron said. "I caught him taking a potion -- he'd thought I was asleep -- and asked him what it was. He said it was to deal with a side-effect of the wards coming down -- that he wasn't at the house, but the wards failing had still affected him. I think he thought I was afraid he shouldn't be taking this stuff, so he told me I could talk to Dumbledore, but not Pomfrey. He said Pomfrey doesn't know about it. Snape makes the potion for him directly, I guess, but he only knows because he needs to -- Dumbledore hasn't told the old crowd, he said, because it would be too much information 'on the wards, and on what happened to me.' That was when I decided I needed to see what you two had found."

"It was Ginny, really," Hermione said. She wondered what the potion did. "How often does he need this potion?"

"Every other day, he said," Ron answered.

"Can't be polyjuice, then. Not unless they've got something with a subtler effect that lasts longer." She frowned. "Can you get me a sample?"

"Probably. I'll try. Shall I go back now, and see if he's out?"

Ron went back to his and Harry's dormitory, while Hermione went to the library. She told Ron to meet her there. Ginny stayed outside; Hermione suspected she wanted to be alone.

At the library, Hermione pulled out her first selection of books, again. She had looked everywhere, over the last week, for all the likely spellings of "Mayland," and had worked her way further and further back in time, even looking for a bit in legends. She decided it was time to go back to the obvious books and try some less likely spellings.

She had just finished with the "lund" variations when Ron came in. He looked annoyed.

"Harry's got his drawer locked," he said. "Magically. I can't get in without the countercharm, and it may well let him know that someone tried."

Harry looked dubiously at the ingredients the Potions master was gathering for the "squib drug," as Harry had named it in his mind. It included Dementor's claws, and belladonna berries, among other things. Harry watched Severus measure out a tiny amount of some dark, thick syrup.

"What's that?"

"Glumbumble treacle."

"Avery liked this stuff?"

"De gustibus non disputandum est."

"What?"

"Roughly, 'taste bears no argument.'"

"Oh." Harry handed over a small spice grinder full of Chizpurfle fangs. "I honestly don't know how I'll manage to swallow this stuff. It's more disgusting than the Polyjuice Potion, and that had Goyle's hair in it."

Severus froze. His head slowly turned to stare at Harry. The motion reminded Harry of a bird of prey. "You stole Goyle's form?" he asked threateningly.

"It was a long time ago," Harry said hurriedly. The stare did not let up. "My second year. During the Chamber of Secrets thing. Ron and Hermione and I were convinced it was Malfoy, so Ron and I disguised ourselves as Crabbe and Goyle to pump him for information."

A flicker of amusement lessened Severus's disapproval. "And what did you learn?"

"That Malfoy wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, and that the Slytherin common room is creepy."

"Creepy?" Severus said frostily.

"Well, wondering if we'd be caught and killed probably had something to do with that."

"That can affect perceptions," Severus acknowledged.

"How close are you to ready with your plans?" Harry asked, hoping to turn the conversation from old offenses. "I'm just wondering how long I might need to string them along. It affects what I let them see."

"My plans vary. Some are nearly ready to implement, some nearly theoretical. I still hope to have spy devices, but Flitwick has yet to manage the improvements I hope for."

"Are you safe, for now?"

"I'm never safe," Snape said bitterly.

"But?"

"The Dark Lord's suspicions have moved to other targets, for the moment. The meeting place near Hogwarts disturbs me."

"Won't the closeness make them easier to spy on, though?"

"It could. Of course, that site may also be intentionally insecure. We may be meant to see what they do there." Severus lit the flame below the ready cauldron. "How are your Gryffindor friends?"

"Difficult."

"I had guessed that from the bruises."

Harry reddened. "I sort of deserved that."

"Oh?"

"I insinuated that Ron was sharing Hermione with his sister."

Severus coughed and broke into tight laughter.

"Well, he said they were going walking by the lake, and a lot of the time, people say that when they... um...."

"In my day, as well."

Harry hesitated. Quickly, he forced out the other recent problem. "And Hermione's said she's not my girlfriend."

Severus flinched. He looked at Harry uncertainly. "Had she been?"

"Not quite. We'd kissed...."

Severus relaxed. "Then she chose Weasley, I take it?"

"No ... it was because I won't tell her where I get off to. But she was still willing to be friends. Then I made things worse by saying 'the Dark Lord.'"

Severus looked uncertain what to think of this. "You attacked me for that, last year."

"I remember. Now, I apparently say it without noticing." Harry slouched down on his stool. "It scares me."

Several hours after lunch, Hermione still had not found any mention of her target, even with Ron's help. It reminded her of the search for Nicolas Flamel, their first year. While Ron was off fetching more books, Hermione became aware of the feeling of being watched. She looked up. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, was Draco Malfoy, smirking.

"Having fun?" he taunted.

"Well, I'm not doing schoolwork. What do you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy pushed off from the wall and took a step towards her. "Oh, I just saw your missing friend -- ex-friend, perhaps? -- and I wondered if you knew where he gets to, these days."

Hermione bit back a plea for information. Malfoy was unlikely to give her anything he knew she wanted, even information.

"No idea," she said, as if she didn't care.

"He was going into Professor Snape's lab," Draco told her. He looked delighted with this tidbit. "Not the classroom -- his private lab. And Snape was in there. I watched for an hour, and neither one came out. What do you think of that?"

"Honestly, Malfoy," said Hermione, through clenched teeth. "I think you know more than we do."

"Does the Boy-Who-Muddles-Through need some special lessons?" Malfoy drawled. "Or is it more personal than that? He's learned a bit of Dark Arts theory, at least, hasn't he?"

"Listen to me, Malfoy. I don't know."

Malfoy backed up a step and frowned. He studied her. "You'd like to, though, wouldn't you?" he asked coldly.

Hermione hesitated, then acknowledged with a nod.

"Well, how about a deal, Granger? Quid pro quo on information. I'll tell you what I see, if you provide me the same in return."

"If I find out anything about Harry, you are the last person I'd tell!"

A spark of interest lit his eyes, and she realized she had revealed more than she intended. He knew she was worried, now. His response, however, was careless and light. "The last, Granger? Really, you should be able to think of worse enemies."

"I won't bargain!"

"I will," Ron volunteered.

Malfoy looked as shocked as Hermione felt. They both looked over at the aisle through the stacks, where Ron, his face pale, was standing.

"You, Weasley? I thought Granger was the keeper of your occasional stray thought."

Ron's face contorted with anger, but he kept his voice level. "One type of information only -- I'll let you know when he's missing from Gryffindor, if you let me know if he shows up in the dungeons, and where."

Malfoy was over to Ron in two quick steps. He held out his hand. "Let's make it a deal, Weasley." Hermione watched Ron hesitate, then grasp the extended hand. They shook quickly. Ron surreptitiously rubbed his palm against the side of his robe afterwards, as if Malfoy's touch was dirty.

"Well, I'll be on my way," Malfoy drawled. "Owl me any time." He looked over at Hermione again. "Not schoolwork?"

"Ever heard the name 'Augustus Mayland?'"

Malfoy's eyes opened wide in shock. He stepped closer and looked down at her list of spellings. The smirk came back.

"Why would you want to know about him?"

"None of your business."

"Oh?" Malfoy looked disdainfully at her. "I can tell you about Maitland -- enough so you can find him in this library. What's in it for me?"

"Enough to find him?"

"And a bit more. Information you won't find here."

"What do you want?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "He's gone missing on you -- don't deny it; you gave that much away. Tell me which days, and I'll tell you about Maitland."

Hermione thought. She didn't see how this information could hurt Harry -- it was certainly far less dangerous to him than what Ron had promised -- but Malfoy wanted it, and that made her nervous. Malfoy shifted with exaggerated impatience.

"Well, Granger? I find your existence unpleasant, never mind your presence. Don't expect me to wait here while you dither."

"The first day," she said reluctantly, "Tuesday, that is, that Friday, this Tuesday ...."

"And now."

Hermione nodded. What have I done? She tried to conceal the panic at her small betrayal. Whathaveidone?

"Any others?"

"I'm not sure."

Malfoy nodded. "Good enough. Mr. Maitland was a friend of Father's. I never met him, to remember. He died when I was a baby. I remember Father saying he was in Harry's father's year at Hogwarts. They had hoped he would be able to persuade James Potter to support the Dark Lord."

"As if!" Ron said contemptuously. Malfoy stared back at him with evident disdain.

"The Potters were an old, wealthy, pureblooded family ... prior to Harry's mother. It was not unreasonable to expect their heir to have some measure of pride in his heritage."

"Perhaps he had sufficient pride in his heritage to not feel the need to put down everyone else," Hermione said sharply.

Malfoy sneered. "Perhaps he was enthralled by a scheming Mudblood beauty who tried to use him as her ticket to wizard society," he retorted.

"How dare you talk about Harry's mum like that!" Ron whispered furiously. "I'll tell him!"

"I merely said," Malfoy hissed, "that it is an equally valid view of what happened. I expect that Harry will understand that."