Hermione watched Harry ride out the front door. The door swung shut with a loud click. She stood completely still and listened to the fading sound of the bike accelerating away from the house. Inside it was quiet enough to hear the final dispirited hissing of the dying smoke bombs. She wondered idly why Harry was wearing riding boots and breeches.

With a rustle of robes Snape was beside her, his wand quivering slightly as he stared at her with barely contained fury. She felt the power radiating off him as he caught her eyes then she staggered as memories were drawn painfully from her. She stepped back and broke eye contact with a shriek of fury. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

Snape snarled. Obviously restraining himself from hexing her he lowered his wand and turned away. He paced away a few steps then turned back toward her, shoulders bunched with emotion. “What were you thinking, Granger,” he said silkily. “Did you really believe that Potter was better off out there than in here?”

Hermione cringed. “He looked terrified. I wanted to help him,” she stated firmly. She stared at his chin, not wanting to be legilimized again. The thought that Harry had endured that over and over made her nauseated. Reeling from the shock of seeing her friend’s terrified flight and from the violation of the spell she shifted backward and sunk down onto the sofa. She dropped her head into her hands and allowed the distress of what had happened roll over her. Shakily she repeated, “I just wanted to help him.” She looked at him accusingly. “You hurt him last night.”

“Bah!” Snape shouted. “This is unbelievable!” Snape grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

Molly stopped him with a shouted, “Severus! What are you doing?”

Snape snarled, “Damage control.” Still gripping her arm he propelled her out the front door and pulled her close by both forearms. The door slammed shut, blocking out Molly’s worried gaze. With his face inches from hers he ground out, “Are you aware of what is at stake here?”

She looked up at him in confusion.

“Obviously not.” He gave her a small shake of annoyance. “Think, girl! What makes one, undersized Gryffindor so important to this war?” At her continued look of bewilderment he hissed, “Must I spell it out for you?” He gripped her a little tighter and continued. “Fine. The prophesy that was lost at the Department of Mysteries wasn’t lost. The Headmaster showed it to me.” He paused and seemed to take her measure before continuing. “It says that our Mr. Potter is the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord. And now he is out there alone again with every dark wizard in Britain trying to kill him.”

Hermione stared up at Snape, her mind whirling as she processed what she had been told. As the information gelled in her mind her hands came up and pressed against her lips. “No,” she whispered.

“Oh yes, Miss Granger. What you observed last night was me preventing Mr. Potter from suffering permanent nerve damage from multiple exposures to the cruciartis curse.”

“Oh no,” she whispered again, her voice cracking.

“Yes. Now I must go and see if I can find him again before the Dark Lord does.” He stepped away from her and apparated. Hermione bit her lip to hold back a sob. Unsteadily she turned and went back inside the house.

“Hermione?”

Startled, she looked up. Ron had come down the stairs and stood before her with a worried expression. His hair still tousled from sleep he held his wand in front of him and looked around at the still smoky room. Molly had gone into the kitchen and they could hear her talking agitatedly into the fireplace. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Oh, Ron!” she said unevenly. Instinctively he sat on the couch and pulled her down beside him, clasping her cold hand in his warm one.

“What happened, Mione? Are you all right?” His worried expression only made her feel worse. Tears gathered in her eyes as she gripped his comforting hand. She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand and looked up at the ceiling defensively. Ron searched her face anxiously. “What is it?” he asked frantically.

Haltingly she described what she had witnessed the night before in the kitchen. Ron looked horrified, face stiff with shock. “That’s horrible,” Ron gasped. “We’ve got to go and see how he is.” He started to stand but she pulled him back down to the couch.

“That’s not all that happened, Ron,” she said nervously. She was really worried about how Ron would react to this next bit. His expression of concern bolstered her confidence and she continued. “Harry escaped from Snape this morning,” she said slowly, still trying to work out what had happened in her own mind. “I’m not sure exactly how,” she said quickly before Ron could interrupt her. “But he came running down the stairs, falling actually, as if a basilisk were after him.” Ron stared at her silently.

“He was being chased by Snape who was throwing hexes at him.” She swallowed, reliving the shock and fear of witnessing Harry’s flight. “Harry was dodging like crazy, you know how quick he is.” Ron smiled slightly at that. “Anyway, Snape finally clipped him with something and he went down.” Ron’s smile vanished, replaced with a grimace of sympathy. “Ron, you should have seen his expression, he was terrified. Then the twins apparated in.” Ron’s eyebrows shot up at this.

“The twins were here?” he breathed. “That explains the smoke, anyway.”

Hermione continued. “All I could think of was that I had to help Harry.” She looked beseechingly at Ron. He squeezed her hand again.

“Just tell me Hermione. I’ll understand, I swear.”

She took a breath and continued on the strength of that promise. She described Harry’s escape and her role in inciting the twins to help him. Her eyes already begging for his forgiveness, she finished by saying, “He unshrunk the bike, jumped on it, waved the door open and rode away.” Now she looked away, staring at the wall blankly. “He just rode away.”

Her eyes found Ron again as she continued. “Have you ever thought about the third task? Really thought about how it must have been for Harry?” Ron looked away and hunched his shoulders. He nodded shortly, his arms crossed across his chest tightly. Hermione continued, “I’ve thought about it, pictured it, more times than I want to recall. And I always wish,” her eyes found his, “that I could have been there to help him.” Ron nodded again. “When I saw him running, dodging hexes, it was like I was seeing the third task. I couldn’t help it, I had to help him.”

Ron moved closer to Hermione and reached out with one long arm. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly to his chest. Sobs shook her body as she pressed against him. He rubbed comforting circles on her back, waiting patiently for her to calm herself. As the sobs subsided she sat back slightly and said unsteadily. “There’s more, Ron.”

“Blimey, Hermione, what else could there be?”

She smiled slightly. “Language, Weasley,” she teased gently. Ron smiled, happy to see her regaining her composure. The smile was short lived, however. “Snape told me something just before he left.”

“Snape told you something? That git! Whatever he told you is probably a lie or at best a half truth. Don’t let him upset you, ‘Mione.”

“I don’t think this was a lie, Ron. It makes too much sense.” She sniffled a little and rubbed at her eyes. “It explains a lot,” she said and then trailed off.

Ron waited for a few moments but when she did not continue he said gently, “Earth to Hermione. How about filling us mere mortals in on the details?”

Hermione gave him a smirk, which was of course exactly what he had been trying to achieve. “He said that the prophesy wasn’t lost after all. Dumbledore knew the contents and he told Snape.” She looked at Ron with entreaty. “Harry is the only one with the power to kill Voldemort.” She ignored Ron’s involuntary shudder at the name. “And I helped him to run off again. Now he’s out there alone with every Death Eater in the country after him! Oh Ron, how could I have been so stupid?” Tears began to leak out again, making fresh tracks down her already reddened cheeks.

Ron sat silently, taking in this information. After a few moments he spoke. “Harry is the only one who can kill You-Know-Who? Our Harry?” Hermione nodded. Ron took a deep breath and then blew it out noisily while he stared straight ahead. “Wow.” Then he turned back to Hermione. “So how were you supposed to know this ahead of time and know not to help him escape?”

The silence following this statement stretched out for several seconds. Hermione sniffed. “I should have figured it out, Ron,” she said brokenly. “It’s as plain as a troll in the dungeon. I should have known.” Ron looked at her with a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

“Hermione.” She kept her head down. “Hermione,” he repeated. She finally looked up. “There’s no way you could have known.” He rubbed her shoulders. “Give yourself a break. You. Could. Not. Have. Known.” He threw his arm around her and gave her the comfort of his closeness.

After a few moments Hermione sniffed and spoke, her voice muffled in Ron’s pajamas. “We need to tell the order what we have figured out about Harry. Maybe it’ll help them find him before anything happens to him.” Ron nodded reluctantly.

“It seems like a bit of a betrayal, doesn’t it?” he said slowly. “I mean, it’s like we’re letting them in on Harry’s private stuff.”

“We’ve got to try to help, Ron,” Hermione said thickly. She pulled herself away from him and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to get my notes,” she said. Ron nodded again and headed for the kitchen.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry drove for hours, trying to put distance between him and the order. Not long after he started the skies opened up and it rained intermittently throughout the day. It was getting dark when he realized he was shivering and tiring badly. After the initial pain and shock had worn off he was able to use his left arm but as the hours passed it had gotten steadily worse. By the end of the day he was reduced to trying to synchronize the gears by listening to the engine instead of using the clutch. He sent a silent apology to Sirius for treating his bike poorly.

He pulled off the road and parked the bike. As he huddled next to it, trying to get some shelter from the rain, he wished fervently that he could return to the comfort of Sean’s loft. Feeling quite weak and shivery he nearly cried with relief when Hedwig landed on his shoulder. “Hedwig! How’d you find me?” He stroked her feathers softly with shaky fingers. “Things aren’t going so good right now, I don’t have any owl treats for you.” The owl affectionately nibbled on his earlobe. “You’re a good girl, Hedwig.” More nibbling. “What should I do? This is looking a little bleak.”

After one more nip the owl hopped down and then took to the air. Harry watched her flight, feeling deserted. “I guess no owl treats means no owl,” he muttered. Moving slowly, he pushed into the forest a few feet then settled down against a tree. Too tired to set up his tent he let his head rest against the trunk of a tree as he cradled his injured arm. He closed his eyes and tried to ride out the rising pain.

oOoOoOoOo

“You can’t be serious, Albus,” Snape said harshly. “Of all the people you have at your disposal, I am quite possibly the worst choice.” He stood abruptly and made a denying gesture with his hand, slicing it sharply through the air as if to cut himself off from the offending notion. Spending the day fruitlessly searching for the maddening whelp had done nothing to improve the potion master’s already foul disposition.

“Severus,” Albu intoned. “Calm yourself. We are merely suggesting that you try to do as Ms. Granger asked. You have to admit that you fit the profile most precisely.” The old wizard’s eyes twinkled and the barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I think it sounds like an excellent solution.” The smile fought with Dumbledore’s usual benign expression but only found an outlet in his madly sparkling eyes.

Snape snarled and whirled toward the door. “I have to deliver the wolfsbane potion to your tame werewolf,” he said abruptly. “Another of your rescue jobs, Albus.” He slammed the door behind him, cutting off any further comment. His boots rang satisfyingly against the floor as he made his way to his small laboratory. The flagon of potion leapt into his hand at his terse, “Accio potion,” and as soon as he had walked outside the wards on his lab he disapperated.

Reappearing at the walkway to Remus’ cottage he paused to think. The Granger girl had researched her topic well he had to admit. “As if the know-it-all had ever NOT researched something thoroughly,” he snorted. It made sense that Potter would be damaged by the treatment he had received from his obnoxious muggle relatives. It also made sense that the damage would be compounded by the tragic (here Severus snorted again) death of his godfather. It did not make sense to think that he, Snape, would be the ideal person to disabuse Potter of his feelings of worthlessness.

“Harry will believe it from you, Professor,” he said aloud in a mocking, singsong voice. “He knows you would never lie to spare his feelings.” He switched back to his normal tone. “Bah! Let one of his obnoxious fan club be the one to rescue Potter from the depths of despair,” he muttered as he strode to the front door of the cottage. The door opened as he neared and Remus stood in the opening, silhouetted by the light from inside. Snape involuntarily flinched at the sight of the werewolf and steeled himself harshly to show no further emotion.

“Severus,” Remus said softly. “I thought perhaps you had forgotten me.” The werewolf smiled shakily and stood aside to allow Snape to enter. As he walked slowly behind the debilitated wizard he was struck by how Remus’ lycantrophy truly handicapped him. The knowledge made him even more leery of being so close to the werewolf this near to the full moon. In a matter of hours the man in front of him would be transformed into a slathering beast, capable of unspeakable violence. Snape firmly suppressed his shiver of fear and followed Remus, a mask of distaste securely in place on his features.

“I do not forget,” Snape said scathingly.

They sat at the kitchen table and Remus said tiredly, “I’m well aware of that, Severus.”