Severus knew he needed the moment of surprise on his side. He thought, briefly, as he stepped along the road, the collar of his leather jacket pulled up and his face down, that it would have been worse to have his memory taken instead of his magic. This way, well, he had a can of pepper-spray in his pocket, found in the cellar and not thrown out and it still seemed to work and he could, if there was the slightest indication of a wand drawn, the slightest indication that Aideen was there, use it. Without hesitation. Not that he expected to see any direct clue that Aideen was there but he had learned to read body language and people said a lot of things with pepper-spray in their eyes and ropes around their bodies, tied to something.

He wasn't rushing into this like some Gryffindor. He would talk to her, calmly. He probably, officially, shouldn't even know Aideen was missing. He could say he had been touring all day long and had talked to some people and had apologised to the majority of people and he would take a look around. If she started on him, the pepper-spray would come out but only then.

He straightened his back as he arrived in front of the semi-detached and he took a deep breath before he rang the doorbell. A typical Muggle semi-detached. Nothing special. So normal. Well, it would be.

There were footsteps inside and — crying. Severus frowned, then remembered. Of course. The pup. He had forgotten about that.

A young woman opened the door swiftly and he could just see her wand disappearing in her pocket before she looked up at him — she was even smaller than Granger — the child on her arm. He was now about — eighteen months? Around that anyway.

"'ello?" she asked in a French accent, dimples showing as she smiled at him. The child cried violently, his hair probably forcedly kept one colour. There was a shimmering over something else in the corner, laying there as if thrown there but he couldn't focus on it yet. But, for all intents and purposes, he realised now that he wasn't a Muggle. He was a Squib. Not that it mattered usually — but he could see a badly cast Disillusionment Charm.

"Hello," Severus said, forcing a smile on his face as well. "Mrs Tonks?"

The girl shook her head. "I'm her au-pair from France and I'm watching little Teddy," she smiled and stroked the crying boy's back. "Can I do something for you?"

He wished he hadn't worn the leather jacket — but at the same time, maybe, maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe it was just the right thing to wear. "Do you have a little time? I would like to tell you about a way to benefit in life."

The girl, she couldn't be older than seventeen, probably straight out of Beauxbaton, stared at him. It had worked. "Sorry, sir?"

The shimmering of the Disillusionment Charm weakened. It was a bag. It looked like...oh but she wouldn't be so stupid as to just throw Aideen's bag in her own hall. There would be plenty of those bags around. But the Disillusionment Charm. It was all a bit strange. He didn't know the girl either, not a face he remembered and he had a rather good memory when it came to people. Definitely not Fleur Delacour's sister. That girl had dark hair and was shorter and stockier. But the boy stopped crying and looked at him curiously.

"There is a way for you to better your life. Has anyone talked to you about Jesus before?" he replied, "Jesus can help you with your life and with his way, not only this life will be wonderful but the next as well."

The girl looked at him rather curiously, then her smile broadened. "Je ne comprends pas," she mumbled — thinking probably he didn't understand basic French, "Mme Tonks n'est pas ici et est à sa vieille maison de famille. Et elle ne veut pas que je parle à un étranger," she smiled and banged the door in his face.

Severus frowned, then walked away briskly, allowing himself a small smile. That girl obviously seriously considered him a Jehova's witness. One of the nasty kind who came ringing and talking randomly to people. And she considered him stupid enough to not understand that bit of French she had mumbled. That bag — and the fact that Andromeda Tonks was not in but ...sa vieille maison de famille. Grimmauld Place? No, that couldn't be it. Was there...

He would have to get home and hope that that French babysitter wouldn't tell her immediately what he looked like. Even if he had plastered his hair to his head and even if he did not wear any kind of Wizarding clothes. Even if he wasn't pale anymore.

And only because he didn't know of any other Black-family home other than Grimmauld Place didn't mean he couldn't find out. He would just have to...well" target="_blank">to...well, trust.

It was just as well that she had left Mrs Callaghan's house late and returned back to Manchester early again. She hadn't even caught a glimpse of Ron and had, once more, only left a note. Draco had probably not slept at all and neither had Mrs Callaghan. She hadn't slept much either, worried about her friend and, while she was hesitant to admit, worried about Snape as well. He had, it had looked that way at least, stormed off like a Gryffindor, without a plan, and without the backup of any kind of magic. It was insane and she knew, even if it would have cost her her head, that she should have followed him. He was probably in danger, or whoever he thought was behind this, had caught him as well.

And so, after her apparition, she didn't ring Mrs Callaghan's doorbell, but Snape's. And she rang a long time. She kept her finger on the buzzer and rang. And rang. She only stopped when she heard footsteps inside and barely a second later, the door was pulled open viciously and Snape glared at her, his hair hanging in his eyes and his feet in socks and in jeans and a t-shirt.

"What happened?" she asked immediately and looked up at him. She had to put her head almost entirely back, resting it almost on her the back of her neck to see in his face if she stood that close. He looked a little pale and there were dark circles around his eyes even if they were nothing compared to those he had sported when she had seen him at Hogwarts. Stubble on his face. "Didn't you sleep?"

He rolled his eyes and opened his door. "Come in, Granger," he said suddenly and even though she was utterly surprised by this, her feet carried her inside and he closed the door with a click.

"Did you..." she bit her lip and rushed after him as he strode into the living room.

"Did I what?" he asked, sitting on a chair at a table, a map of Britain in front of him.

"It was Andromeda Tonks, right?" she blurted out, unable to contain herself any longer.

He arched his eyebrows, leant over the map on his elbows and looked at her inquisitively. "May I ask how you reached that conclusion?"

Hermione blushed under his obvious scrutiny. "Erm, well, you see..."

"Take a seat and we don't have forever," he snapped pointing at a chair opposite him. She nodded and sat down quickly.

"Well?" he asked.

"You looked kind of strange when I mentioned Salvatore Scabior and then the dots sort of connected in my head, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I don't know what, erm, you did to make her hate you but it was clear with the two Malfoys. I mean the way I see it," she took a deep breath, "they brought shame to the, well, family name. In inverted commas. And they brought nothing but bad luck over her sister. That would make sense. I mean, the way I've seen it, family is important and even if Andromeda and Narcissa were sort of estranged, she would still want to take revenge, in a way. And she's lost a lot. And it was all connected to her family. I mean Bellatrix. Besides, the wand would connect to her more easily if she was the sister," she ran out of steam by then and only looked at him, then as he seemed to size her up again, her eyes were drawn to the map.

"Yes," he only said.

"Yes?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"So you think it's was her too?"

He took a deep, almost growling breath, then said, "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Granger. Do I have to repeat everything?" he snarled, glaring at her.

"No, sorry," she shook her head. "I'm just...you know, surprised that you'd tell me. Did you go to see her? Did she...are you sure? I mean how do you know? I was just speculating and — you really think so to?"

"Do you know of any other family homes of the Blacks apart from Grimmauld Place?" he interrupted her, not answering her questions.

She knew her mouth was hanging open and she knew she must have looked quite a sight staring stunned like that. But it really shouldn't have made him chuckle evilly and that he did. Her look of surprise then, naturally, only grew.

"Close your mouth, Granger. Do you?"

"What do you know?" she asked when she found her voice again. "Do you think Aideen is there?"

"As far as I know she hasn't returned, has she?"

"How do you know...I mean, I'm confused."

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, another lock falling into his eyes again, obscuring her view of him but he seemed to just look at her. After a full minute or more, he took another deep breath and after a sigh, he began to speak, softly and slowly, as if she was too dimwitted to understand if he spoke too quickly. "I am telling you this because I believe that Aideen is important to you," he raised his hand when she had already opened her mouth to interrupt and she stopped herself immediately. "I doubt you have told Potter where you are and what you do. And if it isn't the case, you will leave now and I will not continue speaking." She remained where she was, didn't move a muscle and waited for him to continue. Why he was telling her this now, why he seemed to begin to trust her, she didn't know. "Good. You should know that I have ways of destroying you without magic. Do not forget that, Granger."

She nodded and remained, for once, silent. She wanted him to trust her, to include her in his plans, wanted to help him get Aideen back, get her out from wherever he thought she was.

"Good. Now I need to know whether you know of any ancestral homes of the Black family. Or, if you do not, I'm sure there will be a book in the library at Grimmauld Place or any documents which will..."

"There is one," she couldn't help to say.

"Then get it and I will tell you the rest."

She stared at him open-mouthed again and didn't know what to say exactly.

"Granger! Go, the sooner you get it, the sooner you will get information."

She nodded, impressed by how he was acting and, waiting only for the nod he was quick to give, she apparated back home, back to Grimmauld Place and, carefully listening whether the boys were up, whether there was any kind of chatter, she tore up to the library. She couldn't hear a thing but then again, it was only six thirty in the morning and they would probably sleep in. There was a thick book she remembered from her perusals, full of handwritten documents about property, about everything, houses, mansions, jewellery, money, even house elves. It was all in the one heavy book and she grabbed it, tucked it tightly under her arm and apparated straight to Spinner's End again. She wasn't so impolite as to apparate straight back into the house but on the doorstep and she only had to knock once before the door opened once more.

"And?" he asked, his eyebrows arched.

Hermione panted and held the book out to him but snatched it back when he wanted to take hold of it. "Only if you tell me how you know."

Rolling his eyes, he nodded and in a swift move, had taken the book from her, leaving her standing in the hall and rushing into the living room, probably back to the map.

"Mr Snape!" she cried, outraged. "We had a bargain."

"Never made bargains with Slytherins," she heard him mumbling but this time, she wasn't to be turned away and instead, followed him, putting her hands on the book he had lain on the table.

"Granger," he groaned. "Let me get on with it or do you want to risk Aideen's life?"

"I want to help," she said forcefully. "And I can help. You know that I can help."

"Sit," he snapped. "Do not talk, do try to be quiet for once in your life."

She huffed but sat down, trying to read what he was reading upside down, trying to make light of all this.

He wasn't sure how much to tell her or if to tell her anything at all. She had brought him what he needed, he, together with that idiotic French babysitter who had hopefully not described him too closely, handed him Aideen's location, or where he suspected her to be on a silver platter. He didn't need Granger's backup but he could see, despite everything, that she did want to help. It was clear and she had, almost with no hesitation, brought him the Black family estate recordings. He would only have to mark those that were still left, those that hadn't been sold, those that were uninhabited. It shouldn't be too many, and he would be able to...well, it would be simpler to have access to recent records and he couldn't get his hands on. And if he...no, that was magic. He would beat them all without magic. He would prove that it could be done without magic. Even magical means of transportation and he wouldn't sink so low as to ask her for a side-along apparition. But in the end, she had obeyed almost immediately. And she wouldn't have brought him that book if she didn't think he would trust her. She had made the basic mistake of any non-Slytherin but she was young, she could learn. And if he didn't give her anything in return, she would rather turn to Potter — but that she could still do if he failed, if it wasn't Andromeda Tonks. She had thought of her on her own.

He looked at her once more, raised his eyebrows when he noticed her trying to read the handwriting in the heavy tome and her eyes seemed a little crossed.

"Her babysitter gave that bit of information away," he said quietly, amused by how her eyes snapped up to his immediately.

"You went to her house?" she asked voicelessly.

"Do you think I was on an outing?"

"No, I just...she has a wand!"

"And I have two hands and brain between my ears," he hissed.

"Yes, but she..."

"Granger, if you think I cannot handle a half-baked witch such as Andromeda Tonks who is not even able to cast an Avada herself, you're very much mistaken and you can leave this second."

Annoying woman. Did obviously think she was better than him, did obviously believe that all witches and wizards were better than him with his magic taken. He was still superior to most of them, even if he only had a can of pepper-spray and a rope, or, if worst came to worst, his two hands.

"No, I mean, but you...you must have had a plan."

He actually snorted at that. Couldn't hold back and only looked at her again. "What do you think?" he asked asked mockingly.