"Do you love Professor Snape?" Ron asked Lyrica. Hermione let out a gasp and Draco just snickered. Lyrica blushed.

"Boy, you wield your words like an axe!" declared King Henry. Ron's cheeks just flushed a deep crimson and he shrugged an apology.

Despite the fact that Ron's question had the subtlety of a lead Quaffle, the three expected an answer. Four, actually. The King also wanted to hear what Lyrica had to say.

Lyrica didn't expect to be caught off guard this way. She knew, at some point that the teenagers would be curious, she just didn't think they'd be so blunt. "It really isn't any of your affair what my feelings are for your professor," began Lyrica.

Draco coughed slightly. "If we were all at home in our time, then it wouldn't matter what you and Snape were up to... ow! Hermione!" He glowered as Hermione had just elbowed him in the ribs.

"Professor Arcahnum is right. It's none of our business." Hermione's tone was sharp and held a clear warning to both Ron and Draco to drop the subject.

"If you would allow me to finish what I was going to say?" Lyrica indicated that they all needed to sit down. She waited until they did so, and then continued. "If these were normal circumstances, then whatever feelings I may have for your professor would be none of your business. However, these aren't normal circumstances and my feelings for Professor Snape do affect you."

"We know you care about him," said Hermione quietly.

"That I do," agreed Lyrica. "But he also cares about you."

Ron snorted and shifted quickly to avoid Hermione's other elbow. "He's a slimy git that's only doing what he has to! He doesn't care at all."

Lyrica looked shocked and was about to rebuke the boy for his rudeness when their bossy companion intervened. "Ronald Weasley, you know that's not true! Professor Snape does care about all of us."

"He ought to give Gryffindor points then, and prove it," he muttered.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ron! This isn't about points or house rivalries. Professor Snape has never done anything to hurt us and if you recall an incident with the Whomping Willow last year..." Hermione glared pointedly at him, reminding him how Snape had interposed himself between the Golden Trio and a werewolf.

Ron's cheeks flamed to match his red hair. "I think I was kind of unconscious at that point, Hermione."

"Professor Snape kept you from bleeding to death, Ron. He saved all of us, that night, so don't you dare claim he doesn't care about us." Hermione crossed her arms and scowled. "Not to mention that he's been absolutely civil to us since we arrived here. How any of you believe he doesn't care is beyond me."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Miss Granger."

Snape looked down upon the four students. He has never felt he owed his students, anything. Aside from the shadow of Voldemort, his role was to teach them to survive on their own. Life, as he was continually learning, refused to be that simple. Part of what he did was an act to save his skin, and theirs, but he had to concede, that there was the possibility he acted too well. Pride be damned, he thought to himself. They are your responsibility, so treat them with the respect they deserve! He took a deep breath.

"It has come to my attention that there are some doubts about my desire to return to our time. Indeed, it seems that some of you," he eyed Harry for only a second, long enough for Harry to cringe, "believe that what I desire comes before your needs. Do you, in fact, believe that I have mislead any of you regarding my intentions?"

Harry felt a cold stone lodge in the pit of his stomach as Ron, Draco, and Hermione all stared at him. Hermione was shaking her head. Draco just glared. At least Ron's look was somewhat sympathetic. Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's and squeezed. She then addressed Snape.

"Professor Snape, we all have fears about going back to 1994. We feel obligated to our friends and family and to be certain they're safe. When you and..." she glanced over her shoulder at the Headmistress. "Well... I'm sorry, sir, but we couldn't help thinking that maybe you felt differently than we do."

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand back thankfully. He was never that diplomatic. Snape regarded them coolly before replying. After a long moment that was starting to cause the four to wonder if they just hadn't signed their own death certificates, Snape let out an exasperated sigh and to Harry's immense surprise, placed a reassuring hand upon the boy's shoulder.

"My responsibility is to each of you. It is my duty to keep searching for a way back home until we're certain there is no avenue left to us. I promise that should any of you ask... any of you... Come to me and I will listen, I will advise you when I can, and I will not lie to you. Ever."

Harry sat in his room, thinking. He was doing that a lot lately. It probably had to do with the fact that he'd been much more of a prat these days. He felt like he was losing it and he didn't know why. And, he'd cried on Snape's shoulder!

Yanking the pillow over his head, Harry tried to bury himself beneath the covers and the pillows. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to just stop... stop what? His thoughts asked him.

"I don't know!" his shout was muffled by the mattress that his face pressed into.

"Don't know what, mate?"

"Ron?" Harry lifted the pillow so his face was showing. "Uhm... just was talking to myself. What's up?"

"Snape's gone back to the library at Hogwarts. Hermione went with him."

Harry pulled the pillow over his head again. "I douf gare!" he mumbled.

Ron snatched the pillow from Harry's head. "I don't know what you said, but you're starting to annoy me, Harry, and I'm a really easy going bloke. C'mon."

Harry flipped over on his back. He decided not to pursue what Ron had just said. He knew he was annoying everyone. "C'mon where?"

"Exploring," Ron grinned.

"We've explored every inch of this house, Ron."

"Not the house. We're going to check out that path to Hogsmeade. If Snape and Hermione are going to be gone 'til this evening, maybe we can take ourselves to..."

"Potter! Get out of your simpering arse out of bed!" Draco appeared in the doorway putting on a heavy winter robe and gloves.

Harry scowled at Draco for a second and then slid out bed. It took him a few minutes to dig out his own winter robe, a hat and some gloves. Ron had gone to his room to get his own warm clothing and met them in the corridor. They were halfway down the grand staircase when King Henry came floating down through the ceiling.

"Going hunting?" he inquired.

"Just getting some fresh air, Your Majesty," said Draco with a small bow.

"Always good for you, even in the chill of autumn." The King drifted around them checking their clothing. "Only a few hours, boys." He floated through the far wall, and Ron pushed Draco and Harry across the entry and out the door.

It was snowing, but only lightly. The yards and gardens were covered in a thin veneer of snow, many of the dead flowers and bushes trying to keep themselves above the snowy carpet that would soon bury them in a few weeks.

Draco scooped up some snow from a stone bench as they traversed the long backyard and formed a loose snowball. He threw it accurately at Harry's head. Harry soon retaliated, but Ron got in the way and received a face full of snow. Scooping, dodging, and running, the snowball fight carried them laughing and shouting to the darkened path overgrown with a hazard of criss-crossing thorns. Using cutting spells, they easily cleared the path.

Even with the brambles more or less cleared, the path was still a treacherous place. There were stones, broken dead branches, and of course snow that obscured much of everything. Fifteen minutes onto the path, their games had vanished and they were working their way carefully along the path, going deeper into the woods.

It was at the point where the trees seemed to close in upon them, that they discovered they were no longer on the path toward Hogsmeade. The snow was coming down heavier and in big, fluffy flakes. Doubling back was little help as the snow had effectively obliterated their footprints.

An hour had passed and they were no nearer to finding the path. All three of them were dusted with snowflakes and were shivering.

"We're going to need a f-f-fire," observed Draco. "Let's gather some wood and get warmed up."

Harry nodded and Ron followed silently as they began to gather wood and to throw it into a pile. After a few minutes, Ron shouted, "I found a cave!"

Draco ran towards Ron and Harry soon followed. Ron had pulled aside some dead brambles to add to their stack of firewood, which revealed a small opening in the earth.
"Maybe we can go inside. Make our fire in there?" suggested Ron.

"Wait a second," Draco said warily. He was examining the area beyond the opening. Under the snow, it just looked like there were large boulders collected together, but the more Draco studied the boulders, the more he saw a pattern to them. Finally he spoke up, "I think this is a barrow."

"What's a b-b-barrow?" asked Harry shivering.

"A burial mound. They're all over the place. Some of them are sacred and some are evil. Some are just empty." Replied Draco.

"Evil?" whispered Ron. "Do you think someone might be buried in there?"

Draco nodded. "It's possible, but, there's another danger. In Merlin's time, they used to bury powerful wizards in barrows using bluestone. Bluestone is supposed to dampen a wizard's powers."

Harry shivered, but not from the cold. He leaned down and swept some of the snow off one of the stones. "How do you tell if this is bluestone?"

Draco stepped closer to Harry. "I don't know."

Ron stepped up next to Harry and brushed more snow off the stone. "I suppose... augh!"

The earth crumbled beneath all three boys and in a heap they fell down a long shaft until they landed in a pitch black hollow. Harry let out a pained yelp in the dark.

"Harry!" shouted Draco. "I heard something snap! Was that you?"

"My leg..." Harry was running his hand down his leg and as he felt a jagged protrusion, he realized it was bone, and he vomited. "Urgh... my leg... it's broken."

"Did you have to puke, Potter?" snapped Draco.

"Yeah, I did, you stupid git!"

"Lumos!" That was Ron's voice. His wand should have lit up, but it didn't. "Lumos! It's not working! I can't get a light on my wand."

Draco tried as well, but it didn't work. "Well, I think that answers the question of whether or not this is blue..."

"Yeeeeee augh!" Ron screamed, tripped over Harry's broken leg, making him scream and fall onto Draco.

"What's your problem, Weasel?" shouted Draco angrily.

"Bones! There's bones in here!" Ron realized Harry was whimpering. "Harry?"

"Will you watch where you move, you prat?" snarled Harry. The pain of his broken leg was making his stomach protest again. It took everything he had not to get sick again.

"Sorry about that, mate. How are you doing?" Ron tentatively waved his hands carefully until he connected with Harry's shoulder.

"I think I'm bleeding, too," Harry replied. "Malfoy?" He felt hands touching his back. "That you?"

"Yeah. Look, Potter, I know just a little first aid. I don't know how much I can do, but if you're bleeding, I need to check it and see if I can stop it."

"A tourniquet?" asked Harry. Draco's hands were moving lightly and gently down his leg.

"Uhm... yeah, I think that's what it's called. Oh Merlin..." Draco's fingers just rasped over the jagged piece of bone in Harry's leg. He swallowed uneasily as his own lunch threatened to land on the barrow floor. "Oh no... Harry, that feels like a lot of blood. We gotta tie this off. Ron, can you tear a strip, a long strip off your shirt?"

"Yeah... give me a sec," Ron untucked his shirt, and began tugging at the hem trying to tear it.

"Harry, give me your hand... yeah... good. Feel this, put pressure on it."

"Ow! Crap, that hurts!"

"Yeah, I know it does, but keep your hand there. Ron! I don't hear anything tear..." He heard cloth tearing and in a few seconds Ron was shoving the strip into Draco's face. "Watch it! Thanks. Harry, where's your wand?"

"My right sleeve."

"Ron, get his wand. I need to use it for tying." A few seconds later, Ron handed Draco Harry's wand.

Draco was quiet as he slipped the strip of cloth around Harry's leg just below his knee and above the broken bone. Twisting the cloth around Harry's wand, he was able to apply the makeshift tourniquet tightly.

"I'm cold," whispered Harry.

"So are we," replied Ron with little sympathy.

"We are, but he might be going into shock." Draco grabbed Harry's hand and curled his fingers around his wand. "Keep hold of that and if you feel sleepy, don't. Got that, Harry?"

"Sure. But, I'm still really cold."

"Ron, check that shaft we came down. It wasn't too long, maybe we can get back up that way." He heard Ron shuffle away. Draco touched Harry's arm. "Harry, I want to shift you so your back's against the wall, okay?" Harry nodded, but Draco didn't see it. "Harry?"

"Yeah, sorry. This is going to hurt?"

"Probably. Try to keep your weight off your leg. Just kind of scoot and shift. Slowly." Amidst grunts and cursing, Draco helped Harry turn around so he could lean his back against the wall. Draco settled himself next to Harry and put his outer robe over both of them. "Ron?"

A few minutes later, Harry and Draco heard movement beside them. It was Ron. "The shaft's all filled in. We could probably dig our way out with our hands. I'm going to see if that hole I found is accessible."

"Be careful, Ron."

"Will do, mate." Ron patted Harry's shoulder and with Draco's hands guiding him, he moved carefully around Harry and was soon traversing his way along the wall.

"We can't leave this tourniquet on forever, Malfoy," said Harry worriedly.

"We'll check it in a few minutes, Potter. I'm hoping the pressure stops the bleeding."

Ron walked slowly. The floor of the barrow was uneven and his feet kept stepping on things that crunched. The crunches were small and he hoped they were just rodent bones. He could hear Draco behind him encouraging Harry to keep talking. Ron was very worried. Without magic, they would freeze. Harry could lose his leg, or die.

This barrow, this burial place of some, possibly, evil wizard, gave Ron the creeps. He wanted to head back to Draco and Harry and wait for rescue, but it would be very unlikely that anyone could find them. He tripped suddenly and scraped his knees upon the floor. Picking himself up, he found the wall again and kept walking. To his dismay, he had apparently turned himself around because Draco's voice was closer to him then it had been a few minutes ago.

"Ron?" asked Harry. "Did you find that entrance?"

"No, sorry. I tripped and got myself turned round."

"Ron, sit on the other side of Harry for a bit. I'll go look for it in a few minutes." Draco stuck out his hand until he caught Ron's and then helped direct him to the other side of Harry. Harry let out a soft yelp as Ron's movement stirred his leg. Ron sat beside him and apologised.

"We'll keep you warm, Harry," Ron threw his outer robe over his friend and himself.

"Thanks, Ron. Draco?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Thanks for helping me."

Draco chuckled. "You're welcome, Harry. Now, keep talking. Tell me how you and Ron defeated that troll in first year."

Two hours passed and Harry was finding it difficult to stay awake. Draco had removed the tourniquet after about a half hour. The bleeding slowed down greatly, so Draco used strips of his and Ron's shirts to fashion a bandage. Draco had taken a turn to find the entrance, but he had no luck and had managed to trip over a sharp dip in the floor. His ankle was sprained, but thankfully not broken.

"Harry?" Draco's voice seemed far away. "Harry, come on, talk to us."

"I don't have anything to say," he spoke heavily.

Ron stirred next to him. "You really can't sleep, Harry."

"I can't feel my feet," he sighed.

Draco cursed. "We've got to find a way out of here."

"Dig." Harry's head dropped against Draco's shoulder.

"Dig," echoed Ron. "It's all we have left to try."

Draco pushed Harry carefully toward Ron. "I'll start." He rose to his feet, took off his robe, and draped it over Harry's legs and feet. Using his hands, gently against Harry, he made his way around to Ron and then to Ron's left side. A few more steps brought him to the shaft they'd fallen down. Using his gloved hands, he began to dig at the soft, but frozen earth. He stopped after what felt like hours and when the chill began to seep through his gloves to his fingers. Despite working up a sweat, he was getting chilled. He made his way back to Ron.

"Any progress, Draco?"

"Doesn't seem like it." He moved carefully to Harry's right side. "The dirt seems to fill up every handful I dig out."

"It has to stop at some point. Get warmed up," said Ron. "I'll do some digging now."

Draco put his arm around Harry and pulled him close. "I'm glad it's dark," whispered Harry.

"Why's that, Potter?"

"Nobody can take a photo of me in your arms." Harry laughed weakly.

"Ha ha, Potter. What are we going to talk about now?"

"I don't know. I think we've hit on everything unless you want me to tell you, again, how your dad freed Dobby."

"Nah, twice in one day's enough, Potter. Although, I'd really like to see a pensieved memory of Dobby blasting father." Harry shivered violently and Draco adjusted the robes. "I know, let's do some recitation. Your favourite subject, Potions."

"Do you know how many times Dumbledore has told me to trust Snape?" asked Harry.

Draco was curious and asked, "How many, Potter?"

"Probably at least ten times a day. He's just a bastard, though."

"Dumbledore is?" Draco smirked.

"No, Snape."

"You know he has to be. Snape can't afford to be nice to anyone, much less you, Potter. But, you've seen him here. He's not a bad man. Just from what you've told me here in this barrow, he's saved your life a lot. More times than I think he saved mine."

"He saved your life, Malfoy?"

"Those weekends I go to visit my family?" Draco felt Harry's head nod in the affirmative. "Well, my father would hurt me. Sometimes, he'd Crucio me. Snape would heal me when I came back."

Harry sighed heavily. "My uncle can't Crucio me, but he might as well."

"There were rumours your Muggle relatives didn't like you. So, that's true, then?"

"Yeah. Ron knows more of it than Hermione does. It makes her cry a lot, so I try not to talk about it around her. He's broken a lot of my bones, probably bruised every inch of skin I've got..." he trailed off, embarrassed at having opened himself up to the Slytherin.

"Potter, why does Dumbledore make you stay with those idiots?"

"Blood wards. Keeps out Death Eaters."

"Well, that's hardly any use if your uncle winds up beating you to death!" snorted Draco.

"Well... to be fair, I haven't really told him how bad it is."

"I know the feeling." Draco sighed and they both fell quiet for a few minutes. Ron was humming the Chudley Cannons theme song to himself as he dug away at the earth. "Recitation, Potter. Ready?"

"No."

"Good. Give me five roots used as base ingredients in healing potions."

Harry shifted slightly, winced at the pain in his leg, and began answering Draco's questions.

For the first time ever, Hermione was beginning to think she'd never want to see another book in her life. She shoved the one she'd been reading on portgates away from her and slapped her body against the back of her chair. Crossing her arms, she stared at the glossy black varnished table top. She and Snape were in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts, caught up in research.

"Problem, Miss Granger?" Snape was seated at the center of the table surrounded by books and notes.

"I'm ready to give up," she said stonily. Snape just put down his quill and looked up. His expression remained empty. "I've gone over my notes so many times that I've memorized them. I know more about portkeys, portgates, and portals... I know even more than I ever wanted to know. None of it is clicking, though."

"Clicking?" he asked curiously.

"Uhm... Muggle slang. None of it is making sense." She slumped over, crossed her arms on the table top and rested her chin on her forearm. "I miss my garden. I ought to be missing my parents, and I do, but I miss my stupid garden."

"Why do you miss your garden, Miss Granger?"

"Last summer, my mother found these seeds in an old antique trunk she bought at auction. She thought they might be too old to be planted, but I have a pretty good green thumb, so she gave them to me. It took some work, but they did sprout and grow. It was just a small patch of beautiful flowers, but this summer, the patch doubled in size. I dried some of it hoping to discover if they had any potential in potions."

"Really?" Snape was genuinely surprised. "You do have an affinity toward creative experimentation in Potions."

Hermione sat up and smiled. "I really do enjoy Potions, Professor."

"You have done well in my class. However, I don't know of any class that you aren't doing your best in."

"Broom riding and Divination," she chuckled.

"I can't speak for broom riding, but Divination is a waste of your talent. Have you given thought, yet, as to what study you might pursue after school?" he asked, his interest genuine.

"I have, but it's difficult to plan that far ahead when you're wondering whether or not you'll be alive for your future."

Snape didn't comment on that. There was no telling who might survive the war. He pushed the conversation back to a more pleasant area. "That aside, what do you think you might want for your future?"

"I'm very intrigued by the more complicated potions that require charms. I went to a career seminar at the Ministry last summer and I was particularly interested in the Potions Research & Development Department. According to their statistics, it's about every ten years that someone minimally qualified applies for a position. I'd definitely need my Masters in Potions."

"A Master in Charms would make you highly sought after in the developmental field. Of course, the Ministry would no doubt hire you, but in the private sector you could, conceivably, write your own ticket."

Hermione's cheeks flushed a rosily as she realised that her Potions professor felt she was capable of such a future.

"I'm very proficient in Charms and I'm certain I can attain mastery very quickly. Potions would be much harder. By the time I'm of age, there will only be four Masters offering apprenticeships."

"Who are they?"

"Master Horace Slughorn, Madam Li Wan Chi, Master Oren Creighton and Master Herve Peregorn."

Snape considered the people Hermione listed for a few minutes. "Slughorn has never taken a female apprentice and neither has Wan Chi. Creighton..." Snape glanced warningly at Hermione. "He's not to be trusted." Hermione wondered why, but by Snape's look she knew better than to ask. "Peregorn is good, if you want someone who goes by the book. The man is not an artist."

Hermione sighed glumly. "Well, that's not good."

"No, it is not. However, I believe that if this is a path you truly wish to pursue, then I shall help you in finding the best Potions Master to apprentice yourself to. We may have to seek outside Britain."

"Really? You'd help me find someone?"

Snape nodded solemnly before he pushed her book back towards her. Hermione dragged the book closer, flipped a page and began reading. Just before Snape picked up his quill again, she addressed him once more.

"Professor?" Hermione had been thinking a lot lately, and not about the research. Something else having to do with Snape was on her mind.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Her heart leapt up to her throat and mentally she tried to push it back down. He's not an ogre, her mind assured her, and he's not going to bite your head off. Taking a deep breath, she spoke, "About yesterday... uhm..." Her brain stupidly deserted her and she couldn't find the right words.

"Take a moment, Miss Granger."

"I... yes, sir." This time she took a few calming breaths and instead of launching into the long and drawn out speech that had been building up for the last few weeks, she stripped it all away to its simple elements. "Professor, would you stop calling us Miss and Mister?"

Snape's eyebrow rose to the fringe of hair over his brow. "An odd request. Why do you want me to do this?"

"Well, you keep going back and forth from our first names then to our... titles. It's confusing. I think that a lot of the tension... you know, especially between you and Harry... well, we're not really your students now. Sir." She stopped there before her tongue decided to trip her up. Hermione hoped she made sense.

It was Snape's turn to sigh. What Hermione requested made sense. The problem was, despite their situation, he was still viewing them as students. It was habit, but a bit of stubbornness as well. He did see that this could very well be just what was creating a wedge between himself and the four teenagers. It was possible that that was the very reason Harry kept pushing him into confrontations.

Snape knew, but was not willing to admit it, that their stay in this century would be longer than any of them expected. Each day it was looking as though it might be permanent and if the relentless bookworm herself was getting frustrated with the research then maybe...? No, not yet, he thought quietly.

"You do realise, Miss... Hermione, that it is difficult for me to shuffle off the mantle of 'teacher'."

"I know, sir, but I did tell you once before how much we do need you."

"But, not as your teacher," he finished the unspoken thought for her. Hermione just nodded. "In loco parentis." Snape mused. The girl was correct. His role as their teacher and their status as students had ended the night they found themselves in the year 1898. Unwilling to admit to himself what the children would need from him had caused him to persist in maintaining the teacher/student roles.

Draco was the only one of them who saw Snape in a different light. He was godfather to the boy since his birth. He had taken care of Draco after many beatings, had taught the boy defensive hexes and healing charms, and he had held the boy far too many times as he wept over his father's lack of love for him and his mother's fear for him.

Since their arrival, he had set rules, enforced those rules, fed them, and by now, comforted all of them. He was angry when all four of them had been stupid enough to play at night on their brooms in the cold and he was severe in their punishments. The minute Hermione had lost her breakfast with the first signs of the flu, all thought of enforcing those punishments went out the window. One by one, they each fell and for two days straight, as he brewed the Flu Relief Potion, he held their shivering bodies, cleaned their messes, cooled their foreheads, and spent the nights worrying about all of them.

In other words, he'd not just acted as a parent, but he had been a parent. His mistake had been in ignoring what he'd given them while they were sick and attempting to force them back into their student roles.

With a wave of his wand, Snape gathered all his notes together and shrank them. Another wave sent the books he and Hermione were studying back to their shelves. The girl looked at him questioningly.

"Hermione, I think we've gone as far as we can today. Why don't we go back home, pick up the boys, and see about an early dinner at the Three Broomsticks?"

"That would be nice, sir," she said, rather pleased to put the research behind her for today.

"Hermione, as we are no longer teacher and student, you may address me as Severus. If you'd like?"

She smiled shyly. "I suppose I can, but, is it all right if I forget now and then?"

"Of course."

They left the Hogwarts grounds and they apparated straight to Ashmere. Hermione left Snape's side and ran up to the front door, unlocked it, and went into the house. Snape was in no hurry and so he strolled in at his own pace and headed for the parlour. He would leave it to the exuberant girl to collect her co-horts for dinner.

Nearly a half hour later Hermione walked into the parlour, alone. "Si... uhm, Severus? They're not here."

Snape put down the book on Charms he was reading and frowned. "What do you mean, they're not here?"

"I can't find them anywhere. I looked in their rooms and their robes are gone, but I didn't see them outside."

"Damn," he muttered. "Your Majesty!"

A few minutes later, the ghost of King Henry VIII came through the fireplace. "You cawed, Sir Raven?"

Snape ignored the slight. "Have you seen the boys?"

"They left the house about an hour after you left for Hogwarts. I believe I saw them heading for the old path to Hogsmeade."

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" He cursed louder. "Hermione, get your gloves and coat. You're coming with me."

"Sir?" she asked worriedly.

"I may need your help with a locator spell. Hurry!"

Hermione spun out of the parlour and sprinted up the stairs to her room. A few minutes later, she was racing back down the stairs as she put on her gloves. Snape grasped Hermione's hand, yanked her to his side, and apparated to the edge of the woods.

"There's the path," Hermione pointed.

They hurried through the deepening snow toward the entrance to the path to Hogsmeade. "It's been cleared. Hermione, have you ever cast a locator spell?" She shook her head. "It's rather easy. However, our imprint on this time makes the spell difficult. I believe, if you and I cast the spell at the same time, we might make it work." He held out his wand. "Put your hand on mine and picture Harry, Ron, and Draco in your mind. Nod when you're ready."

"Ready," she said quietly.

"Say, 'point me' on three. One, two, three..." Together they said point me and they both felt the wand tugging them forward and onto the path. "Keep your hand on mine."

After twenty minutes of following the tug of the wand, it suddenly turned them sharply to the left and off the path. Without being told, Hermione took out her wand and cast a marking spell in the form of a small ball of blue flame. As they kept walking through the snow, she held tightly onto Snape's wand hand, and kept putting up markers everytime they changed direction.

The locator spell ended in a small clearing at the beginning of a mound of earth. Hermione let go of Snape's hand and he examined the area closely. Hermione kept studying the strange looking mound until she recognized what it might be.

"Severus! I think this is a barrow."

"I believe you're correct, Hermione." Snape walked back over to her and brushed away the snow until the stone beneath showed through. "Bluestone. The same stone used in the construction of Stonehenge. This is a burial mound for witches and wizards."

"The Headmistress's ancestors?"

"More than likely... Madam Arcahnum's family has owned this land for a very long time."

"You think they might be in there, si... Severus?"

"I found some displaced earth, possibly from a small cave in over on the right side. If they are, we're not going to be able to get them out with magic."

"Why not?"

"Bluestone dampens the magical core of a wizard. If they're in there, they can't perform magic. While we're near the stones, our magic may falter. I also won't be able to transfigure anything. Damn." He glared at the mound and then at the darkening sky above them. "Hermione, I want you to go back to the last marker. Build a good, strong fire. I'll apparate back to Ashmere and return with shovels, rope and some medical potions." He caught a brief look of trepidation on Hermione's face. She wasn't too sure about being left alone. Leaning down, he gripped her shoulder gently. "Don't worry, Hermione. I promise I'll return. You just work on that fire, all right?"

She nodded and then replied, "I will, Severus." Together they walked several yards back to the last marker where Snape apparated back to the house. Hermione began gathering twigs and brambles. She cleared away a wide, circular area of the snow, lined it with rocks that she hoped weren't leftovers from the barrow, and began building a fire. With a quick casting of Incendio, the twigs and brambles were soon burning hotly. Hermione kept busy by throwing on more twigs and any larger pieces of wood she found until the flames were burning tall and hot.

Hermione knew she ought to stay near the fire, but she wandered back to the barrow and began skirting it carefully. Just as she tripped over a tangle of dried up ivy, she caught herself on the edge of the small opening Ron had discovered. Hermione just barely kept herself from falling through.

"Harry! Ron! Draco! Are you in there?" she shouted into the dark hole.

"It's bloody useless!" snapped Ron as he felt his way back over to Harry. He sat down and draped his robe over himself and the injured boy.

"No good, Ron?" asked Harry wearily.

"Everytime I think I'm through, more dirt fills in everything I dug out. Drake? You awake?"

"Y-y-y-yeah, R-r-r-ron," said Draco through chattering teeth. "It's r-r-r-really getting c-c-c-cold down here. I don't think I c-c-c-can dig anym-m-more. T-t-tired."

"S'ok. Harry, you still with us?" Ron slipped a gloved hand over Harry's chest and felt the shallow breathing. It was worse that last time. "Harry?"

"Harry!" snapped Draco.

"Unh... please let me sleep, Uncle Vernon... please?" Draco pinched Harry's arm. "OW!"

"Don't go to sleep, Potter!" warned Draco. His voice was almost panicked.

"I'm tired," he whined. "My feet hurt."

"Stop bitching, you wanker," snarled Draco, "Or I'll draw blood next time I pinch you. We're all miserable!"

"Are you crying?" whispered Harry as he heard a tell-tale sniff.

"It's on purpose. Warms my face, you git," huffed Draco.

"That's smart..." Harry's voice was sincere. "I think my tears are frozen."

"Stop mentioning the cold," growled Ron as he leaned in against Harry's side.

Another hour crept on by and Draco had begun to shiver sporadically. His jaw was aching from trying to control the chattering of his teeth. Beside him, Harry shook non-stop from the cold. Leaning slightly, he placed his cheek against Harry's forehead but couldn't tell if it was his skin that was like ice, or the Gryffindor's. Draco figured that whatever heat that he and Ron had at the beginning of their adventure was clearly gone.

"Can't wake him," whispered Ron.

Draco stretched out his hand, touched what he thought might be Ron's shoulder, and the boy caught Draco's hand in his tightly.

"I think I heard..." Ron's voice faded softly.

"Shhh," hissed Draco, but without any sharpness.

"DRACO!"

The Sonorus enhanced voice sent a shock of adrenalin through Draco's system. "S-s-s-sev...!" His teeth chattered violently and he couldn't reply.

"HARRY!"

Harry did not hear his name.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

Ron groaned. "He used m-m-m-y full name! I'm n-n-n-not in trouble?"

Draco ignored Ron and tried to shout again. "S-s-s-sev...! He couldn't get enough volume. Taking a deep breath he forced every last bit of warmth and energy into one word. "Help!"

It took almost an hour to get the three boys out of the barrow. Snape had to fashion a very crude rope ladder and then he had to traverse through the dark almost to the end of the barrow to get the boys out. Ron was able to hobble with the aid of Snape supporting him. Just the man's warmth woke Ron enough that he was able to slowly climb up the rope. Hermione, who bustled him over to the roaring fire and wrapped a heavy wool blanket around him, met him outside the barrow.

Draco had held onto Harry for so long that he was almost frozen into that position. Without jarring Harry too much, Snape helped Draco slowly to his feet. Draco cried out as it felt like the soles of his feet were walking on sharp, broken pieces of glass. His pace was slow and crippling as Snape guided him to the rope. Draco bit down on his lip against the pain and just barely managed to climb up the rope. Hermione's warm kisses against his cheek made him smile and he leaned heavily against her as she directed him toward the fire.

Lastly was Harry. At first Snape was afraid the boy had succumbed to the cold, but there was a faint heartbeat. Knowing that Harry wouldn't feel any pain at this point, he hauled the not so terribly heavy child over his shoulder and made his way carefully up the rope ladder.