Chapter One
Alas, the winter was dreary, mounds of snow hid what used to be small gardens of flourishing flowers. The lake was either fatally cold, or frozen over, but not thick enough for ice skating or anything of the fun sort. Any movement in the white scenery was a mysterious figure bundled from head to toe in brown or black. The gloomy willows or tall pines laid under a thin layer of white frost, the cold season hung icicles on the roof of the nearby hut, and every breathing body on those grounds, besides the man of the hut, was crowded inside the massive castle, biding their time and waiting for the end of winter, for spring would come, flowers would bloom, and the lands would be roamable, once more.
Before the sun could rise on the far horizon, and wake the slumbering students inside the castle, a young woman with masses of curly light brown hair sat in her dormitory, lightly freckled and white skin glowing from the reflection of the purple and orange sky against the snow. A heavy book sat in her lap, small sock clad feet dangled over the side of her four-poster bed and a small frown of concentration settled over her soft but smart features. Her high intellectual forehead, small pointed nose and dark chestnut eyes set her apart from the other girls in a fairly decent way.
Licking her lips and gathering her hair into a bun as she read, she was unware of the owl perched at the closed window nearby. It wasn't until the pecking had become dangerously sharp and one of the girls in the dorm groaned for someone to "shut up", did she notice and run to the window. She lifted it, sending a frightfully cold wind, some snow and the owl into the room, then immediately shut it tightly. She subconsciously bundled herself up more in her robe and headed toward the bird that sat on her bed, looking up at her with big, round, amber eyes.
"If you have a message, show me already," she demanded, voice sharp in tone, but soft in pitch, adding to the enigma of her.
The owl obliged, holding out a small leg with a letter attached to it by string. She recognized the handwriting, but was curious, for it wasn't often that she received letters from this man.
She opened the note hesitantly, smoothing out the wrinkled surface before reading:
Hermione,
I am happy that you, Harry and Ron had made the last minute decision to attend Hogwarts, once more (though I know it was under your pressure, of course). I hope you would not mind sharing a cup of tea with me when I come to visit Hogwarts, for I know that Hogsmeade is no longer an option, and we may discuss a few important matters, mostly concerining Harry. Please, do not let the boys kinow about this, I just want your input. And, do not think you are being used to spy on your friends, because you're not, but the Order is interested in any progress made.
I will meet you in the Entrance Hall at 6 o'clock in the morning on the twenty-fourth of December. Once again, tell no one.
Have a pleasant winter break. I expect your reply.
Remus
Hermione fell back on her bed, almost flattening the owl, who managed to escape in time, letter grasped in her limp hand and eyes staring up at the cold ceiling.
Despite what he had said, she did feel like she was being asked to spy. And she knew it came from the best intentions, but Harry and Ron were grown men now, they didn't need Molly Weasley and the rest of the Order looking over their shoulders anymore.
And this... well, this only added to the already expanding girth on her shoulders, that weighed her down everyday as she walked to classes, studied and planned the next quest with Ron and Harry.
"Crookshanks," she called softly, her empty hand held out, waiting for the familiar lick of her beloved feline. When it came, she turned over with a groan, picked up the cat and placed him on her stomach, lightly stroking the orange fur.
"Crookshanks," she repeated, long fingers playing with the the cat's twitching ears, "do I keep it a secret?"
Crookshanks meowed obnoxiously, eyes roving over the room before landing on her.
"Hmm," Hermione sighed, raising her eyes back to the ceiling and thinking over what she would do.
It wasn't long until a shout came from below, waking the two other girls in the dornitory and causing the owl's flight out an open window before Hermione could send her reply. She groaned at the shouting that grew into a constant barking, rubbing her temple, grabbing her robe and heading out before she could be scolded by her roommates.
"Hermione!" Ron called again, with Harry beside him, as they stood at the foot of the staircase to the girls' dormitories.
"Yes, Ron?" Hermione groaned, exiting through one of the doors with a perturbed look on her face.
"Are you going with us to Hagrid's?" Harry asked, hands shyly in his pockets.
"Yes, let me just grab a sweater," Hermione replied before turning and heading back into the room. After much noice she emerged with a Weasley sweater on and a scarf. "Let's go."
The boys scrambled out of the portrait hole as she followed them seriously, busy wrapping her scarf around her neck. The chill of the season appeared to have made it through the cracks and holes in the stones that made up the castle, while some windows had been stupidly left open. The trio walked, huddled together, down many staircases until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they exited through the large mahogany doors.
A sudden rush of wind caught them as soon as they were outside, their feet crunching in the soft snow on the steps below them, and Hermione gave a startled shiver from the sudden freezing temperature.
"It's unbelievable out here," she said through chattering teeth, folding her arms across her chest, for once thankful for the mass of hair on her head.
"Probably below zero celsius," Harry muttered, zipping up his sweater (A/N: Muggle wear on the weekends, yes.).
"Let's go, guys. It isn't going to get any warmer," Ron replied, setting off throw the snow with Harry and Hermione right behind him.
The three were grateful for the fires Hagrid always had crackling in his hearth, and especially on the coldest day of the season as they all came burstring through his door, bringing some snow in with them.
"It's bloody freezing out there," Ron gasped, making his way immediately to the fire and taking off his gloves to warm his hands.
Hermione, who had forgotten gloves, grabbed his to put on as she went over to Hagrid to give him a friendly hug.
"Nice to see all o' yeh," he grunted, returning the embrace before going over to his cupboard and grabbing a few mugs. "'Ow about some tea?"
"Sounds great, Hagrid," Harry returned, smiling as he took a seat.
Hagrid appeared to have gotten better, he wasn't going to be the same happy half-giant they once knew, but he had made progress since Dumbledore's death. They had all made progress, and Hermione believed this had made Harry stronger, teaching him to be more independent, sense Dumbledore wasn't there anymore to come to his rescue.
"Yeah, tea sounds brilliant, Hagrid," Ron piped in from the fireplace.
Hermione nodded, as well.
"Great," Hagrid mumbled and began bustling about, pouring the water that had already been heated, and placing the tea bags in carefully.
"What have you been up to, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, stirring her tea and ignoring the loud clinking of her spoon against the inside of the cup.
"Just dealing with things, the usual," Hagrid said quietly, taking a sip from his own pre-prepared drink.
"What day is it?" Ron called from the hearth, interrupting Hagrid and Hermione's conversation, as he rubbed his hands together.
"Nearly Christmas," Hagrid grunted, returning to his cupboards and trying to look as if he was searching for something again.
Hermione frowned sadly at her friend, not hesitating to throw a dirty look in Ron's direction.
"Two more days," Harry agreed with a half-hearted grin.
Hermione, suddenly realizing that that meant she would have to meet with Lupin the very next day, did not notice that she was holding her mug a litte too tight, only until it was a little too late. She gasped when she heard a crack split the side.
"I'm so sorry, Hagrid!" she said immediately, before he could comprehend what she was apologizing for, and began murmuring to herself, attempting to remember a repair charm.
"Don' worry 'bout it, 'Mione," Hagrid assured her, taking the mug and setting it in the sink. "That was one o' the bad ones, they lose strength with'n months."
"I'm still very sorry," Hermione mumbled, glancing at the sink continuously, as Harry smiled sympathetically at her.
"Are you going to the Christmas feast, Hagrid?" Harry queried, trying to pay no attention to the large dog drooling lazily on his robes.
"I don' think so, Harry," Hagrid replied, taking his seat, once more, "it just ain't the same without Dumbledore."
Harry nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly. Then, as a second thought, he stood and stepped around the table next to Hagrid.
Surprising everybody in the room, he leaned over (though he didn't have to lean much) and embraced Hagrid like a boy would embrace his grieving father.
"I miss him, too, Hagrid," Harry said quietly, "but I know Dumbledore wouldn't want you feeling like this."
"Yeh're righ', Harry," Hagrid grunted as Harry pulled away, nodding to himself. "Thank yeh, it was nice of yeh all to visit, but I got some blast-ended skrewts to feed."
Hermione and Ron flinched, as if the dreaded creatures were in the small house, in an open crate nearby (though it wouldn't be surprising if they were).
"See you on Christmas then, Hagrid?" Harry asked as him, Ron and Hermione were stepping out.
"Yep," Hagrid said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the first smile the trio had seen in some time, and he followed them out, waving goodbye as they headed back up to the castle.
"That was really nice of you, Harry," Hermione murmured after they had entered through the doors and were walking up the steps to Gryffindor tower.
"I think we both sort of needed it," Harry returned quietly, and he smiled at both of his friends with relieved eyes.
Ron pat Harry on the back, smiling, as well.
"Well, I, for one, cannot wait until the big feast they'll have for us in two days," he said.
Hermione and Harry laughed at this, shaking their head at the tall, lean man who could hold way too much than natural.
"You know what? I think I'm going to head over to the Owlery, I have a letter to send," Hermione said all of a sudden.
"Do you have parchment and ink? Because I keep a small little storage of them in a secret place," Ron suggested, scratching the back of his neck modestly. "I mean, I usually forget little things like that."
"Thanks, Ron. Where is it?"
"Near the entrance, behind a loose stone. It'll be easy to find," Ron explained.
"Thanks, I'll see you guys in a bit," Hermione said, and headed back down the steps as they waved to her, before they continued up.
When Hermione reached the Owlery, it was warmer out and the sun was no longer hidden behind the gray clouds that had replaced blue skies of earlier months. She breathed in deeply, before exhaling softly as she entered, feeling better now that the weather had calmed her. Suddenly assaulted by the horrid smells of dead mice and bird feces, though, she ducked her head and plugged her nose as she attempted to find an owl that looked strong enough to endure the blizzards ahead.
"You will do," she murmured, stroking the head of a tan owl that hooted in approval of her touch. She looked around the Owlery, toward the entrance and saw what she was looking for. It was rtaher obvious that the brick was loose, but less obvious because no one could have suspected anything would be placed there. She dug out a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink, and began her reply to Remus Lupin:
Dear Professor Lupin (this was scribbled and crossed out, and instead she put) Remus,
I received your word early this morning. I did not tell Harry or Ron about the meeting, but I am replying to tell you that I can meet you where you have requested.
Hermione
She knew the letter was quite impersonal, but with the way she felt about how Lupin was allowing the adults to interfere with Harry's fine work, she couldn't write anything to him that suggested they were friends, she felt too betrayed.