[A/N: Ughh. Sorry if this is subpar, however, I think I am going to vomit at any minute and my head is pounding. Thanks to Lindsey, of course, for aiding me in my dress shopping quest (a mission from God, I'll have you know) and to Mandy for putting up with my horrid driving. Ink, Emma, UHPUC, AliciaII, Leelee, Onee-san, you rock!]

Ron opened a rather dusty volume and launched into a coughing fit.

"Crusading about aimlessly is not going to help anyone," Hermione said from several shelves over. "It's best we narrow this down as much as we can now."

"You never hear about the brainy, intelligent hero," Harry continued.

"Our swashbuckling star strode into the silent section, slicing through the souls of the sweet sylphs," Ron said, grinning. "It's got a ring to it, don't you think?"

"I've always appreciated alliteration," Hermione put in.

"Don't quit your day job," Harry said sourly. "Speaking of your day job, any more brilliant flashes other than a cold, dark dungeon?"

"I'm sorry to report that most people to not consciously think of their address, and certainly no one does it for long enough for me to pick up on it." Nearly instantaneously, Ron had turned peevish. "And I'm not a human compass. Or a damn trick pony, either."

'"No one suggested you were," Hermione soothed. It did little good to ease Ron's boiling blood. Stuck amongst stacks of tomes was not how he had pictured his honeymoon.

Not that I should be resentful. It isn't Ginny's falt she was kidnapped. Ron picked up another volume and dusted off the cover. Your Herb Garden. He placed it back on the shelf. "'Mione, have you eaten today?"

She looked up from an encyclopaedia. "Um... a muffin, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, that might have been yesterday," she allowed, adding brightly, "but I'm taking my prenatal vitamins."

"Vitamins," he said in disgust, "are expensive urine." He fished a chocolate frog from his bag and handed it to her.

"Breakfast of champions," she said wryly.

"It's something, at least," he said, firing a disapproving glare. "Eat."

"Yes, dear," she said, unwrapping it and resuming reading her text.

The Ministry's library was extensive, even more so than that of Hogwarts, which was no simple feat. It was complete with every thing imaginable, the dream of a researcher- in an extraordinarily boring way. But it could take years for one to find something, and time wasn't something they had. He sighed and began sliding his fingers along the ledge. Ron's hand passed over a book with green bindings and his knees buckled. He frowned, and ran it back over, the effect being the same.

With one hand, he grasped the edge of the shelf, and with the other, he grabbed the book. "I think I've found something," he said, unsteady.

He pulled the book out slowly, carefully. He heaved a sigh of relief when it cleared the shelf. See? Absolutely nothing to worry about.

And then he passed out.

"That's a filthy lie," her warden said mildly. "I read the gossip sheets, too, Weasley. 'Potter and Weasley both absent from their respective team's practices today; close friend hints of reunion and is confident of its permanence.'"

A dull blush rose on her cheeks. "Well, that's different. I at least told the Captain that I would be gone those times."

"'Their captains deny word from the two,'" he quoted blithely.

"What, do you keep a stack of tabloids there in case you get bored?" she demanded, irritably blowing hair from her eyes.

"I got to be research boy for a year," Malfoy said. "I know more about Potter than anyone needs to."

"Eye color?"

He gave her a oh, puh-lease look. "Green."

"Birthday."

"July 31st, thank you."

"Name of his favorite pillow," she said with a bit of a grin. Harry had told her this only after a long foot-tickling session.

Draco's lips curved in a mocking smile as he replied, "Jackie."

"Damn, you're good," she said in admiration. "But I can't imagine that being the information fetcher was much fun."

"Certainly less frivolous than your Quidditch playing."

"You're just jealous," she said primly. "I get paid for doing something I love. And that's not counting endorsements. Do you know how much I get for saying, 'Gee, there's nothing like Phyllis's Plum Pudding'?"

"One hundred and fifty thousand galleons annually," he said.

"It was a rhetorical question," she snapped. "I'm just saying. I followed my dreams, my life turned out great."

"You followed your boyfriend's dreams."

"Better than letting my father decide for me."

His voice rose to dangerous levels. "Are you implying that mine did?"

"I very much doubt you spent your childhood saying, 'I can't wait to be a Death Eater.'"

"Do you understand the concept of responsibility? Duty?" Draco's eyes smoldered. "This is what Malfoys do. What we've always done."

"Attempting to overthrow the powers of good. What a marvelous father-son bonding activity." She rubbed at her chains. "Tell me, did you ever consider anything else?"

"Considering anything else would else would be foolish and a waste of my time."

"So, your father forced you."

"No," he said calmly. "I had a choice to not comply. But I don't particularly like dying."

"As messed up as my family is, they've never threatened me with death. Seriously, that is."

"How charming," he drawled.

I could rip that drawling tongue of his right out, she thought. And feed it to Ron's dumb owl.

"Hmm?" Hermione said absently. One of her hands rested on Ron's still forehead and the other held the book that had overwhelmed him.

"You know," Harry said. "Being married to this specimen of horrid health. Constantly fainting, puking, whatnot."

"While I am obviously concerned about him, I do not find his problems irritating." She shot him a look. "And I would think you, as his best friend, would not be such a dick."

As if nothing had happened, she turned the page in the book and tousled Ron's hair.

"Hermione, I think you just called me a dick."

"I might have done," she responded, not sounding the least bit contrite. "Sorry about the substandardness of the insult. I would have added more adjectives, but I am a trifle absorbed by this passage."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Something strange is going on."

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry turned around to see George standing by the window, grinning like an idiot. What is with Weasleys and their idiotic happiness? he thought in exasperation. "Where's Fred?"

"In that tree," George said, gesturing at an oak that stood outside the building.

"Oomph!"

George peered out the window. "Well, now he's on the ground."

"I gathered," Harry said.

"We're rather put out with you, you know," he said glibly. "McGonagall sends us a note about the situation, and while we're hurt you couldn't think to post us yourself, we're even more hurt that you didn't ask us to come along."

"No offense, George," Hermione said, "but I don't see how fake wands and exploding candy would aid us in recovering your sister."

"Stress relief," he said promptly. He narrowed his eyes. "What were you and Ron doing in Wales?"

"They were getting hitched," Harry informed him.

Fred suddenly Apparated, looking slightly sheepish. "I haven't climbed a tree in a long time, you know? It sounded like fun. Hell, it was fun until I fell." He winced and rubbed his back. "I hope I didn't break anything. Humpty Dumpty and all that."

"Fred," his twin admonished, "we're chewing them out, remember?"

"You weren't doing a particularly good job of it," Harry said crossly. "Could you two stop clowning around? We're trying to work here."

Hermione kept reading.

Ron's eyes flew open and he jumped. "Günter?"

Hermione's German cousin bared his teeth in a disturbingly feral manner. "Ah, sehr gut. I was wondering when you were going to start listening to me."

"Tell me you're not really here," he said plaintively. "I don't think I can deal with you on top of everything else."

"How about the bottom, then?" Günter suggested, then placed his hands up in the air. "Spass- A joke, a joke. No, I'm not really here. But what you seek is on page 452, if you'd like to know."

"Thanks, I think," he said. "Could I wake up, now?"

"O-K," the German said cheerfully.

"You alright?" Hermione asked. She brushed the back of her hand on his forehead.

"Page 452," he said.

She blinked.

"Just humor me."

As she rifled through the book, he scooted next to her and gazed over her shoulder, pressing his lips periodically to her neck. "Have I mentioned that I love you today?"

"No, but it was rather nice of you to do so," she said, with only a bit of a blush.

A discreet clearing of the throat from Harry reminded him that they were not alone. Harry was looking like he was trying very hard to keep his eyes buried in a book, but his brothers- when had they gotten here?- were staring, unabashed.

"They just got married," George said in a stage whisper to Fred.

"Do you mind?" Ron said petulantly.

"Not at all," Fred assured him, and kept staring.

"Ah, here it is," said Hermione. She skimmed over the page and handed it to Ron. "It doesn't make sense to me at all."

Ron traced the page with his hand and let his index finger settle on a caption below a picture.

Jadedge Manor, a former residence of Hogwarts cofounder Salazar Slytherin, was used in the nineteenth century as a prison and a meeting place for graduates of the House of Slytherin; known for boisterous festivites. Today, it no longer serves as a penitentiary but retains the honor of hosting the annual alumni party in October.

"That's where they're keeping her," he said. "I know it."

"It sounds like a frathouse," Fred said critically.

"Can I come?" George asked eagerly.

"No," Ron and Harry said in unison.

"It's September now," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Could there be something planned for the party?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Ron grimly. "Think about it. Slytherin alumni? It's practically a Death Eater convention."

"Where is this place?" asked Harry.

"Surrey."

"Surrey it is, then," Harry announced, and shoved his stack of books on the racks.

A rather nice bathtub, if one wanted to be honest about it, with bubble bath and warm water and everything. It was rather like the one she had been rudely stolen from in the first place.

"What is this about?" she demanded. Malfoy stood, back against the only door in the room.

"The Master is coming soon," he said, "and he doesn't like grubby little wenches."

She found this explanation highly unsatisfactory, but it was probably all she was going to receive at this time. The warmth felt incredibly good after days of her cold, dark, smelly cell.

"Did you undress me?" she asked, reaching for soap.

"Yes. You sleep like the dead."

"Harry says that, too," she mused. "I suppose I should be thanking you for the bath."

"Orders," Malfoy said stiffly.

"Orders," she mimicked. "The Master this, the master that. You've become such a pansy."

"And you've become repetitive," he retorted. "Wash yourself up and be done with it- or do you need help?"

"No, thank you." She lathered her hair vigorously and dunked her head underwater.

Water droplets were dewy on her eyelashes. "You know, it would be excellent if you could get me out of here. Defy your father and that stupid Master of yours. Reclaim your dignity and manhood."

"I wasn't aware my manhood was missing." But he seemed to be tired of the loaded comments. "Here's your towel, and some fresh clothes."

She accepted them with good grace. "Could you turn your back?"

"I've already seen you naked."

"So you don't need to see me naked again," she said reasonably.

He sighed, folded his arms, and faced the door.

"Did you ring your mother earlier?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "At the hotel. She was pleased to hear the news."

"Even about the baby?"

"Ah, well, that," she said, coughing. "Shocked, but eventually pleased."

"That's good," he said with relief.

"But I wouldn't be near my father or my brother with blunt objects around for a good two years if I were you."

Ron swallowed.

As an afterthought, she added, "My father wants to carve your heart out with a paring knife and feed it to the dog."

"Do you even have a dog?"

"He said he was going to buy one for the occasion."

Ron's face turned a sickly green.

"Ah, young love," Fred said brightly, popping into the compartment.

"I thought we told you to stay away," Harry said.

"I think you did, too," George said. "But I think we ignored you. We are older, after all."

"We're going to be uncles, eh?" Fred said with interest. "Tres exciting."

"I'm just thinking of mini Weasley sweaters," George said. "I wonder if Mum can fit that much ugly in a smaller version."

"That would be a task," Harry agreed.

"Do you think your mother will teach me how to knit?" Hermione wondered.

Ron gave her a strange look. "Yeah, I guess, if you wanted."

"I think it would be nice," she said wistfully.

"Hormones," George said knowingly.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and fetch us some food?" Ron said irritably.

"I do not fetch things," George said haughtily.

"I'll give you some spending money."

"Oh. In that case, sure."

The train bumped and jolted along.

"Harry, you doing okay?" Hermione asked gently.

"I'm worried about her," he admitted.

"She'll be fine," Ron said. "She's strong. She can protect herself."

"I know," he said. "But I still worry."

Ron brought his arm around Hermione and placed his hand on her stomach. The world was changing all around them, the landscape speeding by, with barely a glimpse of what was there before it had gone.

I hope it slows down soon, he thought. Once and awhile, I'd like to stop and smell the roses.

When they got Ginny back, everything was going to be okay. He'd buy a nice house in Aberdeen, maybe. Somewhere near to Hogwarts so that Hermione could come home each night. Several bedrooms so that the kids wouldn't have to share. He could get them a nice white fence, and a yard. A large herb garden. And, of course, a nice little sheepdog.

His face paled, remembering her father.

Strike the dog.