Chapter Two: Hermione, Interrupted
Within two months of Harry having lost, the whole of the Wizarding World had been turned upside down. People who had once admantly been against Voldemort pleged allegience to save their families, and those who still refused would go "missing", only to have their bodies found months later in mass graves.
The Order of the Phoenix was in disarray, everyone in hiding and terrified that they would be found. They all had good reason to be worried by this, as a majority of the Order had already been found and killed. Molly Weasley's hair was turning steadily whiter from the stress and horror as her kids were picked off one by one. Remus had been found dead in his flat, apparently having killed himself out of despair.
By the time Hermione was at full term with her baby, the Order had dwindled down to seven members- Herself, Ron, Molly, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Fred, and Ginny. Well, nobody was certain about Ginny, as she was still missing. To keep Molly calm Ginny was still counted, but nobody actually thought she was still alive.
The Order was lucky, however. Whole family trees had been wiped out in a very systematic way that reminded Hermione strongly of Hitler's reign during the second great Muggle war. The major difference, she realized, was that Voldemort had been very open from the start, never even trying to make the Wizarding World believe he had good intentions—instead he had come out and said that every Muggleborn and Squib were to come to him immediately to be killed, or else be hunted like the animals they were.
When that proclamation, "Proclamation Purity" as it was called, came out Hermione had been terrified. Voldemort wanted her dead because she was in the order to begin with—now he had a very legal reason to kill her. Ron, worried for his wife and unborn child, had put her into a muggle flat that would make it harder for Voldemort to locate her from. The only real downside was that Ron couldn't visit her very often, else he could be followed. She was in a constant state of panic with every creak of the floorboards outside her door, and felt certain that she would soon be sporting hair to rival Mrs. Weasley's.
Hermione had just settled herself in for yet another lonely night late in December when there was a nock on the door. She froze. Nobody was due to visit her for another night yet and nobody would be foolish enough to make a surprise visit in times like these. With a heart swollen nearly as much as her stomach, she made her way slowly to the door.
"Come now, Weasley, you know better than to keep a guest waiting." came a very smooth voice from just beyond the door.
Hermione began to shake. This is it, she though, I'm going to die...just like everybody else.
A voice in the back of her head protested. She couldn't die. She had a baby to think of...she'd just have to find another way out of the flat. Quietly as she could, she moved towards the window, and looked out. She was on the tenth floor...the fall would surely kill her and her child. The choice, it seemed, was between dying at Voldemort's hand or dying by her own. With one last glance towards the door, she jumped.
Ron Weasley was sitting miserably on a worn sofa. Some Christmas Eve, he thought. Here he was, sitting around doing nothing, while all around him friends and family were dying. His thoughts strayed to his wife, all alone with a baby in her belly. He allowed himself a smile. It's amazing that in a time like this new life could still happen.
Still, new life meant another life that had to be protected, and he had no idea how he was going to do it. True, this kid would not be able to be legally executed, as it would be a half-blood, but Ron didn't put it past Voldemort to pass new laws saying that the kids of traitors were traitors themselves. His happiness brought from thinking of being a father forgotten, a frown appeared on his too-young face. Was this the life he was condemned to? One of hiding and fighting, always with his head turned to see behind him? Who would cover his front? For a moment he seriously considered plucking his own eye out to get a fake one like Moody has. That way, he imagined, he could see everything.
Maybe seeing everything wouldn't be such a good idea though. So much was going on, see all of the deaths behind him might distract him from seeing was what ahead—his unborn child's life, for example. Determined to keep his mind occupied so thoughts of Hermione all alone would not bother him, he thought back to Harry's last letter. What had Harry meant by "When I come back, I shall tell you where she is hiding"? It didn't make any sense to Ron...Harry wasn't hiding anybody. Chewing his lips, Ron decided to turn instead to a different letter, one from Mad-Eye.
Ronald–
In case this is intercepted, I need to be very frank. HE is looking for something, so you need to be very aware of what items of Harry's you are in possession of. Keep an inventory. Make a list. Do something. We don't know what HE's after yet, but you can bet it's important. When I know more, I'll tell you.
Assume the worst,
M.
Ron was perplexed. He had all of Harry's things, yes, but nothing looked important to him. Aside from a jumble of letters written in code, everything was pretty average. One last time Ron went through Harry's trunk. He had taken Moody's advice and kept a list, but still nothing was sticking out.
Socks
Pants
Shirts
Sneakoscope
Letters (coded and otherwise)
Photo album
Invisibility cloak
The Map
Books
Underwear with his name on it
Order papers
Of all of that the thing that would interest Voldemort most would be the papers, but he knew most all of it by now. No surprises with them. Ron growled...he hated loose ends. During his Auror he had become a stickler for details, and whatever Voldemort wanted would surely prove to be a huge detail. With a growl, he gave up. It was late, and he wanted to be well rested for Hermione tomorrow. Within a moment, he was almost asleep.
Hermione screamed as the wind whipped around her. Who knew that jumping out of a window would mess up your hair this badly? She closed her eyes and willed herself to pass out...she didn't want to see the ground rushing at her face. As her head collided with somebody's potted plant on the seventh floor, she got her wish.
