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Chapter Three
It was almost midnight by the time Hermione had managed to escape Scabior's increasingly nasty tirade. Honestly, like she didn't already know what a bitch this hunt was going to be. She didn't need the Snatcher listing every single thing that could go wrong. When she'd left the Burrow, Scabior had been trying to get out of the deal. Issuing threats, and when they didn't work, insults. She'd left Kingsley to deal with his hissy fit. She'd had more than enough for one day. And tomorrow wouldn't be any easier. They'd have to tell the Order that Bella and Peter had survived. Try and convince them that using Scabior to hunt them was their only option, and all without them finding out that the deal had already been done. And Scabior was already free.
Merlin, it made her head ache just thinking about it. For the first time in weeks she was actually glad to see Grimmauld Place.
There was no one about when she entered the musty smelling safe house. Not that she expected there to be. Harry was bed bound, Ginny might as well be because she was constantly at his side. Ron and the rest of the Weasley's would be sleeping and McGonagall would be back at Hogwarts overseeing the rebuilding. And poor Remus would be sitting beside Tonks' grave. As he'd done it every night since her death.
Hermione sighed into the darkness and made her way carefully up the stairs. Treading lightly so as not to wake the portrait of Walburga Black. The bigoted witch screeching abuse at her was the last thing she wanted to hear right now. Although it would top off a spectacularly crap day. In the end she made it past without a hitch, and headed up to the next floor. Tip toeing all the way.
It was when she was passing George's door that she stopped. He was weeping. A quiet broken sound that wrapped her heart in sadness. For the briefest of seconds she considered ignoring him. Leaving him for someone else to deal with. But couldn't bring herself to make her feet move. Nobody should have to cry alone.
She quietly entered the room, standing for a moment on the threshold to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. The small window above the bed allowed a tiny sliver of moonlight to enter the room. Gilding the furniture and sheets. George was on his side, back facing her, sobbing into a scrunched up pillow.
Biting her lip to prevent her own tears from escaping, Hermione closed the door and crept towards the bed. Dodging the discarded clothes piled on the floor like rubbish. As soon as her knees hit the mattress she slid her cloak off and lowered herself onto the bed next to him. When her fingers touched his waist, he stilled, body turning to stone beneath her hand.
She curled herself around his lanky frame as best she could, frowning when she inhaled the scent of fire whisky. Faint but unmistakable. It wasn't the first time she'd smelt it on him. Was he using it to cope with his grief? She could hardly blame him. The death of Fred had almost undone him. He hadn't left his room for the first two weeks but he'd been doing better lately. They'd all thought he was coming back to them. Obviously he was not. She didn't even want to think about what he'd do when he found out Bellatrix had survived. Even though the crazy bitch hadn't killed Fred herself, she had distracted him whilst another Death Eater had fired the killing curse.
She pressed her forehead against the back of his head. "It's okay George, you don't have to pretend with me," she whispered into the damp skin of his neck.
George shuddered, desperately grabbing her arm before bursting into a fresh round of sobs. Hermione whispered nonsense words to him whilst he cried, her heart breaking every time he whimpered Fred's name. It was a very long time before he finally began to quieten down. Less shuddering, more of a stuttering kind of rock.
"I miss him Granger," he whispered.
"I do too," she answered, reaching down to pull a blanket over them. "But Fred isn't gone George. He can never be gone whilst we still remember him here." She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beat against her skin.
That's how they both fell asleep, George on his side, Hermione pressed to his back, hand splayed across his chest.
She woke the next morning before George and spent a few minutes laying there, staring at the back of his head. How the hell was it possible for anyone to have hair that bright? It was like a newly minted penny had been melted on top of his head. Hermione tilted her neck until the soft strands tickled her nose and chin. At one time in her life she would have given almost anything for silky, shiny hair like that.
Well, not anything. She wouldn't give up her intelligence for example, but maybe she would have give up a couple of her favourite books. She could always have bought them back again at a later date anyway. Sighing, she carefully removed herself from George and the bed. He didn't even stir when she got her feet tangled in her cloak and stumbled into the bedside table, knocking a glass of water onto the ground.
Cursing under her breath she reached down for the now empty glass and placed it back on the table, then retrieved her crumpled cloak and folded it neatly over her arm. She gave George a quick look, this time seeing more by the hazy sunlight, and noted his gaunt face and dark circles before quietly leaving the room.
The first thing she did was take a shower, a long hot shower that trickled more than sprayed. The second was to tame her hair into a messy bun and dress in faded jeans, pale yellow shirt and grey jumper. Third on her list was to sit on her bed and try not to think about what a nightmare the Order meeting was going to be.
Maybe she could skip it. Take Scabior and start the hunt, let Kingsley deal with the fallout. Her head was shaking even as she thought it. She was a Gryffindor and Gryffindor's were not cowards. She could do this. She just didn't want to.
Deciding that if she sat there any longer fretting she'd make herself sick, Hermione got up and went downstairs and into the kitchen. Molly was there, steadily filling the table with breakfast. Pancakes, toast, eggs, bacon, sausage and porridge covered the surface.
"Hermione dear, come sit, eat," Molly said wiping her hands on a tea towel.
"This looks great Mrs Weasley," she said collecting a plate and taking a couple of pieces of toast. Sitting down she smeared strawberry jam on top and poured herself some apple juice. She ate quietly, watching Molly bustle about the kitchen from the corner of her eye. The poor woman was barely hanging on, she was so tightly strung that the slightest tap would make her snap.
"Are you okay Mrs Weasley?" Hermione asked softly as Molly began making tea and coffee.
Molly blinked at her and reached forward to touch calloused fingertips to her cheek. "I will be dear."
Hermione smiled sadly and nodded her head. Now probably wasn't the best time to mention that she thought George was using alcohol as a crutch. Molly would take it as a personal criticism and it would somehow all turn out to be Hermione's fault.
"Now then, would you take a plate up to Ginny for me? I can barely get the poor girl to leave Harry's side," Molly said, filling a plate with food.
Hermione finished her toast and juice whilst Molly continued to make up a tray for Ginny. It was starting to resemble the leaning tower of Pisa. As soon as it looked like it was about to topple Hermione grabbed the tray before Molly could think twice and pile on some more. When the Weasley matriarch turned her back to pick up some more toast, probably to shore up the sides so she could add more eggs on top, Hermione backed out of the room, almost tripping over Kreacther in her haste.
"Filthy, dirty Mudblood, tainting the Mistresses house." He tugged on a tattered ear and gave Hermione a disgusted glare.
"Oh, hush," Hermione muttered, turning her back on the bigoted elf and heading upstairs. She had to go really slowly because the food wobbled with every step she took.
She didn't even have to search for Ginny because she knew the youngest Weasley would be in Harry's room. When she got to door, she used her foot to gently tap the heavy wood. A couple of seconds later the door swung open and Ginny's pale face came into view.
"Hey Ginny. Your Mum sent me." Hermione lifted the loaded tray slightly in explanation.
Seeing the mountain of food Ginny rolled her eyes and took the tray from Hermione. "Come in."
Hermione entered the room, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the various healing potions Harry was being given. She followed Ginny to the centre of the room and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.
Harry was asleep, as he often was these days. He looked so different sleeping and without his glasses. Less tense, more relaxed. She reached forward to take his hand. Their skin was almost the same colour. Too pale to be healthy. Fine blue veins stood out starkly from the almost white flesh. She let her finger trace them as she watched his eyes twitch back and forth beneath his lids. Dreaming. She hoped he was having a good one.
"How is he?" She asked Ginny, not able to move her gaze from his still face.
Ginny shifted, placing the tray beside Harry and taking a seat opposite her. "He's good. Still tired and he's as weak as a kitten, but I think he's getting a little stronger every day.
Hermione nodded. "And are you okay?" She asked switching her gaze to Ginny.
The pretty redhead smiled bitterly. "I'm alive."
"Yes. Alive," Hermione said wondering if she would be when she started the hunt for Bellatrix. She watched Ginny watch Harry. Seeing the love the young Weasley had for Harry made Hermione feel an odd kind of longing. What would it be like to have someone look at you like that? Would it ever happen to her?
She sighed. It didn't matter anyway. Finding Bella and Peter was what mattered. And if the hunt was ever going to happen, then she would need people on her side.
"Ginny?" Hermione asked watching as she scooped some eggs into her mouth.
"Mmm?"
"You know none of this will be over until all of the Death Eaters have been caught."
Ginny dropped her fork and gave Hermione a half hearted glare. "I know that!" She brushed a hand along Harry's forehead. "He isn't strong enough to finish this Hermione."
"I'm not asking him to." Her whiskey brown eyes settled on her best friend. "He's done more than enough, but we can't all sit around and wait for the Death Eaters to re-group and plan."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Hermione swallowed, "we hunt them down."
Ginny looked at her like she'd just grown another head. "Hermione..."
"I'm serious Ginny, we can't wait for them to strike first."
"So we hunt them?"
Hermione avoided Ginny's eyes. "Yes."
"Why aren't you looking at me?" Ginny snapped, "How are we going to hunt them Hermione."
The bushy haired witch flicked her gaze back at Ginny. "We could use a Snatcher."
Ginny's eyebrows almost reached her hairline, "you can't be serious."
Hermione snorted, "has there ever been a time when I wasn't?"
Ginny smiled wryly, "nope, but this is crazy. The Order will never agree."
"Kingsley agrees."
"So you plan to have him convince the others?"
Hermione shrugged. "Sort of."
"Death Eaters can't be trusted, Mione," Ginny said shaking her head and causing her hair to cascade around her shoulders.
"I know that, but maybe one can be magically shackled and forced to take an unbreakable vow."
Ginny tilted her head and studied her intently. So intently that Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to look anywhere but at the gleaming strands of Ginny's hair. It was a tiny bit darker than George's but lighter than Ron's. Still it was the only bright spot in the room.
"Merlin!" Ginny jumped to her feet and circled the bed until she stood over Hermione. "You already did it! Are you mad?" She reached down to grab Hermione's arm, then pulled her to her feet. "Who!?" She hissed venomously.
Hermione yanked her arm free. How on earth did someone so tiny have so much strength? It must be all that Quidditch. "Yes Ginny, it's already done." She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath and when she returned her gaze to Ginny she was ready. "We chose Scabior." She took a step back as she spoke.
"Scabior?" Ginny hissed furiously. "The Scabior that captured you, Harry and Ron and took you to Malfoy Manor to be tortured? That Scabior?!"
"Yes."
"Hermione..."
"Bellatrix is alive." Hermione interrupted before the red head could explode. Ginny seemed to deflate before her eyes.
"That's impossible, she died. Everyone said she did! Her body is in the Ministry's vaults!"
"No. She escaped, with Pettigrew."
"Pettigrew?"
"He isn't dead either." Hermione reached for Ginny's hand, "we have to find them, even if it means using Scabior to do it."
Ginny inhaled and turned her gaze to Harry. Her features softened as she stared at him. A long few silent minutes passed and then she said, "you're right. This needs to be over."
"Thanks Ginny." Hermione said wrapping the youngest Weasley in a fierce embrace. "Now eat your breakfast."
Ginny snorted and pushed Hermione away and returned to her chair beside Harry. "You need me to support you during the meeting don't you?"
"God, yeah." Hermione answered nodding her head frantically.
Ginny laughed, "okay."
They spent the rest of the morning quietly chatting, Hermione explaining how Bella and Peter had survived, then switching topics to nothing in particular. Not the past. Not Hogwarts and definitely not the war.
Full explanation for Bella and Peter surviving in the next Chapter. As always leave me your thoughts :)