“Alright,” Hermione said. She and Ron bent over the parchment. “Let‘s read it at again first, to see if there‘s any pattern.”

 “D--” Hermione began. “That’s Draco, obviously,” she stated, and Ron nodded his agreement.

“I dictate this missive, In hopes you’ll agree, That these sentiments I send, Come directly from me.”

“Why can’t he write the letter himself?” Ron asked again. Hermione shook her head and continued.

“I require your assistance, Bring W&G if you must…”

“Weasley, Granger,” Ron stated.

“But I have one request, In which you must trust. I must insist that you not, Share this knowledge with P…”

“Potter, obviously,” Ron interjected.

“Or anyone else, Lest I not be set free.”

“Which means it could be a trap,” Ron said.

“Or,” Hermione said, “for some reason, he doesn’t want others to know he’s alive.”

“Your urgent arrival, Is needed, no swords, Use the following key, To get through the wards.”

“No swords?” Ron questioned.

“I think he just means that no force will be necessary. That the key to the wards will get us in.”

“If you believe this is me, Take this portkey and come, Brings lots of potions, And plenty of rum.”

“Why potions?” Ron asked. Hermione shook her head.

“For the stories I tell, Are grim at the best, But until you are here, I can’t tell you the rest.”

“That’s clear enough,” Hermione commented.

“Do make great haste, Come this night at eight, Much longer than that, And it may be too late.”

Well,” Ron said, “that sounds ominous. What happens if we don’t come tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione muttered, still studying the poem. “Let’s go through the key.”

“The name that P called me, to my great chagrin.”

“He must mean Harry,” Ron said.

“I assume so,” Hermione responded, “and Harry called him ‘Sev’.” Hermione pulled quill and parchment from her bag and wrote down SEV.

“The part that G of F/G lost, my accidental sin,” she went on.

“G for Granger again?” Ron asked.

“I don’t think so. This G is a part of F/G. And why the slash? Not initials then?” Hermione thought aloud.

“F and G…,” Ron repeated. “F and G… Fred and George!” Ron shouted. “And George lost his ear! Snape hexed it off. But he wasn’t aiming for George, he was aiming for a Death Eater. So it was an accident!”

 “Very good, Ron,” Hermione praised and wrote EAR next on the parchment.

“The voice in the matches in years one through three,” Hermione pondered. “Years one through three of what? The war? Hogwarts?”

“Matches…” Ron said. “I bet that refers to Quidditch.”

“So Hogwarts then,” Hermione reasoned. “But the voice…”

“The Quidditch commentator,” Ron said. “Lee Jordan!”

Hermione looked skeptical. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”

“Just write it down for now,” Ron instructed.

Hermione added LEE JORDAN below the other two entries.

“The first three in the name of the golden trio G…”

“That’s you,” Ron said.

“I guess so,” Hermione said, “since Professor Snape always called us the Golden Trio, and I am the only one with the letter G in my name.” Hermione raised the quill. “But the first three letters of my first name or last name?”

“Well,” Ron reasoned, “he only said FIRST three, so let’s try the first name.”

“Ok,” Hermione agreed, adding HER below the last entry before continuing. “And last but not least, the thing we three had, every night before sundown, you, me, and the lad.”

Hermione glanced up at Draco, who was sitting in front of a chair near the fireplace, his head in his hands. “He was writing this to you, Draco, so I assume he means you, him, and Harry?”

“I think so,” Draco conceded.

“And what did you have every night before sundown?”

“Tea,” Draco responded despondently. “We had tea.”

Obediently, Hermione wrote down TEA. Together, she and Ron studied the words.

“See any patterns?” Hermione asked.

“Well, all the words are three letters, except Lee Jordan. And, Snape uses the word ‘three’ a bunch in the key.”

Hermione looked back and counted. “Good catch, Ron.”

“So,” Ron says, picking up the quill, “I think we can cross off JORDAN,” he said, running a line the last name. “That leaves…”

SEV

EAR

LEE

HER

TEA

“Sev-ear-lee…” Ron sounded out. “Sev-ear-lee-her-tea…”

Hermione gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

Ron turned to her. “What?”

“SEVERELY HURT.” Hermione glanced to Draco for confirmation.

Draco got up from the chair and came back to the table. “That’s what I got, too,” he confirmed. “Which could explain why he dictated the letter, instead of writing it himself, why we must bring potions, and why we must come soon--why tomorrow could be too late.”

The three of them stared at each other in silence, matching grim expressions on their faces.

“I think we should bring Hannah,” Ron reiterated.

“But he said only us three,” Hermione protested.

“He also said he was severely hurt. If he’s too hurt to write, Hermione, he’s probably hurt in other ways. We might need her,” Ron insisted.

Draco cleared his throat. “I agree with Ron,” Draco stated. “If he is severely injured, we are going to need a healer, and we can trust Abbott. If it’s a trap, she’s another person who can stand with us.”

“Or fall with us,” Hermione reminded him.

“Weasley and I are Aurors,” Draco said. “And all of us fought in the war.”

“But what if… what if…” Hermione hesitated, chewing on her lip.

“What is it, Granger?” Draco asked impatiently.

“What if the trap isn’t for us?” Hermione said. “What if the trap is for Harry? I mean, think about it. If we go and are all captured or killed, Harry will have no one. Maybe it’s a way to get Harry alone.”

Ron looked at Hermione in horror.

Draco curled his hands into fists. “As much as I hate to admit it, you have a good point. We’ll need to either get Harry to a safe house, or we’ll need backup at the manor.”

Ron snorted. “You know he won’t leave the house.”

“And we have to be careful not to make him suspicious with us being gone and new people coming to visit,” Hermione added.

“I got it,” Ron said. “We’ll talk to Hannah and have her tell Harry that she and Calista are staying over at Ernie’s for the evening. They’ve done it before, and Ernie can watch Calista. And then I’ll tell my parents that you and I are busy at the Ministry and need to work late, and would they be willing to go over to the manor and have dinner with Harry because he’s been having a hard time of it lately.”

“That’s all well and good,” Hermione replied, “but what happens if something goes wrong and we don’t make it back, or get back really late?”

“We could have my mum dose Harry’s pumpkin juice with a sleeping draught,” Ron ventured.

“Which would put him at risk if there was an attack,” Draco muttered.

“Draco’s right,” Hermione said.

“Well,” Ron said, looking sideways at Hermione. “Malfoy and I are the Aurors. Maybe you should stay with Harry and let us take care of this. He did say that Malfoy could bring us if he must, but it didn’t sound like he wanted us to come.”

Hermione opened her mouth to object.

“I think you’re both right,” Draco said. “Harry has already lost too much. He would not survive if he lost all of us as well.” Draco stared at the other two, daring them to disagree. Neither did.

“I hate this,” Hermione whispered.

“But if it’s Snape,” Ron said. “We have to do this. We have to try.”

“I know,” Hermione murmured.

 “That’s settled then,” Draco declared. “Granger, you will stay and protect Harry. Can you do that without letting on that something is wrong?”

 Hermione nodded, sinking into a chair.

“And then there will be three of us,” Ron commented, “Hannah, me, and Draco. Just in case three is important.”

“I’ll talk to Hannah,” Hermione said. “I know she’ll be willing to help. Then I’ll spend the night at home with Harry and tell him you are working late, Ron.”

“Right,” Draco said. “Now, we need a strategy. Snape said tonight at 8. I think we should portkey in early and check everything over. If it looks safe, we could get in and out before anyone else arrives if it is a trap.”

“Do you think the portkey will even work if we go early?” Ron asked.

“It depends on the type of portkey, but it’s worth a try,” Draco responded.

“I don’t like the idea of you two, or three, going without backup,” Hermione stated.

“I don’t either, frankly,” Ron said, crossing his arms and rubbing his shoulders. “But, for whatever reason, Snape doesn’t want others to know. And who knows, maybe it was an inside job, someone from the Ministry. In which case, we’d be alerting them that Snape had escaped and where to find him.”

“And you have no idea where that portkey will take you. You could end up in a Death Eaters lair for all you know,” Hermione complained.

“True,” Draco said. “But he’d do it for me. I’m willing to take the risk.”

Ron grimaced and looked at Hermione. “You know what it would mean to Harry if we brought Snape back alive.” 

“I do,” she said quietly. “Do you really think it’s him?”

“It sounds like him,” Draco said.

“The question is, would he give up that information under torture?” Ron asked the room at large.

“I don’t think he would,” Hermione said. “If it meant putting Harry, or any of us, at risk, I think he’d let them kill him. Or, at the very least, give them a piece of false information so we’d know it was a trap.”

“I agree,” Draco said. “He’s a master strategist. He’d have found a way to slip in a hidden message if he thought it was a trap.”

“Into the fire then,” Ron said heartily.

Hermione put her head in her hands.

Hermione felt as though her insides were going to explode. She had sent her husband, and her friends, into battle without her, in the hopes that they’d all return safely with Severus Snape in tow. It was awful being left behind but, as Ron had reminded her, her role was probably the most important of all--keeping Harry safe and whole, no matter the outcome. It still didn’t make it any easier, though.

Hannah had readily agreed to help, and Ernie had taken Calista for the night. Arthur and Molly Weasley had joined them for dinner, upon Hermione’s invitation.

And now Harry and she sat in the library, reading quietly. It took everything in Hermione’s power not to fidget, or pace, or reveal any nervous habits. When a large spark shot up in the fireplace she jumped, then froze. She waited for Harry to notice, but if he did, he didn’t comment. Breathing deeply, she went back to her book, or pretended to, anyway.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Hermione lied. “I just don’t like it when Ron works late. It makes me nervous.”

Harry studied her. “He’s an Auror. He’s well trained. And he’s got a whole team to back him up. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re right,” Hermione said with a tight smile, thinking all the while that there was no backup team, there were no certainties in this at all. The only thing she had was the note, supposedly from Snape, hidden deep in her robes--the only thing they’d have to go on if Ron, Draco, and Hannah didn’t return.

 “I’m sorry he had to work on your first anniversary,” Harry said.

Hermione startled. Given all that had happened, she’d completely forgotten that it was their one-year anniversary. “It’s fine. Ron said he’ll make it up to me this weekend.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If they managed to bring Snape home, that would be the best anniversary gift in the world.