Chapter Four: Unexpected Changes
Kirkwall, Orkney Islands
Thursday, August 31, 2000
Hermione awoke feeling refreshed for the first time in months. After having solved the problem of a lack of tents, cots, blankets and pillows, the entire group put their heads – and magic – together and transfigured some new equipment to house and care for the new members of their family. It had taken two days in between all of the other chores (extra food preparations, changing the main tent to accommodate all eighteen of them at a sit-down meal, filling everyone in on what they'd been up to in the intervening months since Dobby had died and all communications with the Romanian cell had ended, assigning tasks, keeping watch, etc.), but Hermione finally had her tent all to herself once more. Bliss!
Unfortunately, her good mood was abruptly sapped away by Fay, who'd been nudging her shoulder gently. "Captain," the beautiful brunette whispered. "Wake up, there's a problem."
Instantly, Hermione's eyes snapped open and she sat up. Fay put a shushing hand over her mouth and indicated that she needed to follow her outside. Changing into her day clothes and tying her hair back into a ponytail, Hermione followed the Sex-Witch towards the beach. There, she found Astoria Greengrass kneeling behind some driftwood, puking her guts out.
"She's been doing it for the last three days," Fay told her. "I've been keeping an eye on her. She looked really pale when she got back into camp on Sunday night." Dunbar turned a serious eye on Hermione. "Captain, I don't think this is flu or food poisoning."
Hermione's mind went blank for a moment. Then what Dunbar said hit her like a hammer between the eyes.
"She's got all the signs of being pregnant," Fay pursued her observations relentlessly. "She gets sick easily over certain smells, she gets tired easily, she's vomiting, and she's fainted once all ready - thankfully in the tent she and I share, so no one else saw."
I will not assume anything, Hermione promised herself, feeling eels slide around in her stomach, threatening to make her as ill as Greengrass. I will not.
She knelt by Astoria, holding the younger girl's honey-blonde hair – which had grown out down her back in the intervening months since she'd been gone - in case she needed to vomit again. Fortunately, it seemed that her retching had stopped. Unfortunately, her hysterical tears began. She grabbed onto Hermione, sobbing as if her whole world was crumbling. Which it was. If she was definitely pregnant, Astoria would have to leave the camp for a safer cell. The one in Britain was the hottest zone, and there was no way Greengrass would be able to weather out a pregnancy with them.
"Astoria," she murmured, trying to sound as motherly and comforting as possible. "I need to know the truth. Are you pregnant?" When the girl nodded her head miserably, Hermione felt her own world decay around her. "Who's… the father?"
The younger witch didn't say anything for the longest time; just laid into Hermione's breast like a long, lost child, crying. When her tears were done, she sniffled and finally revealed all. "It's different being a wolf," she began, almost dreamily, sounding a lot like Luna Lovegood in that moment. "Their communication is beautiful. You can't hide anything from yourself or other wolves. You are all aware of each other in a way you'd never have imagined before. Every sense open, every movement meaningful."
Hermione's heart began to break wide open, knowing what Astoria was leading up to. Don't tell me this. I don't want to know anymore. She held it together only by the merest thread, knowing that if she broke down now, she might not recover.
"When you change back into your own skin, you can feel the emptiness," Greengrass continued. "It's because humans don't have a pack. We live alone in our heads." She inhaled sharply as if talking about it was somehow painful, but on the exhale, she continued her round-about narrative. "The need to be together… it was impossible to ignore. I couldn't stop wanting him. He's an alpha."
Hermione's teeth clanked together stiffly. Shut up... Just, please, say no more!
"When we realized what was happening, we tried to stay away from each other. He even left for several days, but…" She let out a choked sob. "He knew he couldn't leave me behind. We were pack. And I wouldn't have known what to do without him, either. We had to finally stop traveling as wolves because it became too intense. We transfigured our faces and hair and traveled normally instead. We told all of the checkpoint guards that we were married, and they monitored us as we moved around. Everything is watched by the Death Eaters and their collaborators on the continent!" She pulled out of Hermione's arms, rubbing the back of her hand against her nose. "We were staying all the time in those tiny hotel rooms together, and were forced to keep up our cover story by pretending we really were married and in love. And after knowing each other so intimately in our heads as wolves, it just happened."
I want to die, Hermione agonized.
"You and Malfoy," she forced herself to state the obvious, her voice as dead and flat as her soul had suddenly become. "You had sex."
Astoria nodded. "I'm so sorry," she apologized achingly, putting her arms around herself protectively. "I know how you feel about him, Captain. I'm so, so sorry!"
At this, Hermione's head snapped to attention. "What?" The horror in her voice at having her greatest secret found out made the truth all the more evident.
"It's rather obvious, Hermione," Fay admitted, using her given name for the first time since she'd joined the group early last year. "But only to those who know what they're looking at."
She swallowed, scared as hell, angry as hell, confused as hell all of the sudden.
Focus.
First things first, what to do about Astoria?
"How long ago?" she asked, almost afraid to know.
"The beginning of July," Astoria admitted.
Two months. Damn it. The girl was too far into the pregnancy to do anything now, even were they, by some miracle, able to find someone to sell them a potion that would undo the damage in time. That meant there was only one choice left now. "You can't stay with us, Astoria," Hermione laid the bad news out honestly. "The Apparitions we do to constantly stay ahead of the enemy would kill the baby, and maybe even you. You're going to have to America. The war hasn't spilled over there yet. You'll be safe if you can make it to the cell in California."
Astoria began bawling again and she hung her head, hiding her face behind her hands in shame and embarrassment and fear. Hermione's mind was too preoccupied to give Greengrass the sympathetic attention she required, however, as she was consumed suddenly with the priority of getting Astoria to safety. Instead, Fay nursed the crying girl in her place, hugging her petite roommate and cooing soft words to her, while Hermione poured over the facts, hunting out the plan…
To their fortune, the United States of America didn't have an issue with Death Eaters and their fascist cronies directly rearranging its citizens' lives. Early in the war, their Muggle President had made a fat deal with the Devil of Death (Lord Mort's nickname) to pay in goods and services to avoid having detrimental outside interference in their government (the alternative was global nuclear fallout, which Lord Mort was smart enough not to tangle with, for all his power). Hence the shipments coming into Britain and Europe to keep the shelves of their stores stocked up were a form of tribute paid by the Yanks for their continued, relative freedoms (other concessions included mandatory registration and tracking of all wizards and witches in country, career "reorientation" so American citizens would only perform jobs necessary to keep their infrastructure in place and to further the supply of the country's bribe to Lord Mort, and a permanent ban on their First Amendment Rights to Free Speech insofar as it concerned any negative commentary on the Death Eaters and their leader). Despite its repressive concessions, many witches and wizards had willingly fled to "The New World" once the war had broken out, seeking solace from combat. The remaining living Weasleys (Charlie the exception, as he'd stayed in Europe to fight) ran a cell out of San Francisco to smuggle refugees in and fly them under the radar so they could avoid government detection. They helped wizards and witches establish new identities, get health care, and educated them in integrating into Muggle society so they wouldn't be found out. She'd heard they'd even established their own smaller version of Diagon Alley, called The Golden Faire, out of Chinatown's back passages with the help of some enterprising Triad Mafioso.
It was truly the safest place in the world right now for their kind, and in the hands of her one-time red-headed family, she knew Astoria and her baby – Malfoy's child - would be cared and looked out for.
The first problem to tackle would be mode of travel. Because Greengrass couldn't Apparate, and sitting on a broom all the way across the Atlantic Ocean was impractical and dangerous, she would have to travel by boat to either New York or Boston, the only two piers on the North American continent that were allowed to traffic ships coming from and going to Europe. The trip would take at least ten to fourteen days, depending upon the speed of the craft. From there, she could take a coast-to-coast train or bus ride (as domestic flight airplanes were too heavily monitored in America to risk). That would tack on an additional three to seven days, depending again upon stops and speed. In all, Astoria could be safely in Arthur and Molly Weasley's hands within three to four weeks.
The second problem was a little more painful for Hermione to consider. Astoria would need an escort, and it would have to be someone capable, tough and magically-skilled. She sighed, thinking of several candidates from her team right off the bat, and not liking having to give any of them up. She intended on offering the volunteer who took Astoria to her destination the chance to stay permanently in America, so the likelihood of that person returning was pretty much zilch. Two capable fighters would be taken off the lines for good, and in the current situation, that was bound to hurt their movement, even with Snape's new recruits.
"I don't want anyone else to know," Astoria begged, grabbing onto Hermione's sleeves and knocking her out of her deliberation. "Please don't tell them. I don't want Malfoy's reputation to be ruined by this. It was my fault."
Fay snorted. "It takes two to Tango, honey," she drawled cynically.
Astoria insistently shook her head. "I purposefully changed into a wolf in the bathroom because I wanted to feel that connection to pack just one last time. It was like a drug. I needed it. Malfoy could feel the shift when it happened, and he was pulled to me. When I changed back… that's when it happened." She was crying again. "So, you see, I did it. He hadn't wanted to, but I forced it. He tried to stay away from me, to fight against the attraction. He tried really hard, Hermione. I swear to you, he did. And after, he had such regret that we hardly said anything else to each other the entire way to Tulcea." Her tears poured in rivulets down her cheeks, staining them with salt. "It was such a mistake. I regret it now, too."
The more Greengrass said, the deeper the knife slid in, but at least Hermione knew what had happened now; it was what she had cautioned Malfoy about before he'd left – that staying in the form of the wolf for too long could become too dangerous for them both. She'd read stories about wizards and witches who had lost themselves to the animal construct they'd adopted, never to return as human. Apparently, shy, innocent, naïve Astoria Greengrass had almost succumbed fully to the carnal allure of her transfigured beast. It was a good thing that her human-established moral understanding of right and wrong was as strong as it was; her guilt kept her from staying in wolf form permanently. If she'd been a little less principled, she probably would have been lost to them for good.
With a plan firmly decided upon, Hermione vowed to see Astoria out of camp and whisked away from the danger of their situation no matter the cost. The girl deserved a chance to raise her baby away from the horrors they faced, and possibly in America, Malfoy's little girl or boy could live a relatively happy life after all. "I'll make the arrangements immediately," she informed her charges. "And I'll ask for volunteers to go with you. When you get out to San Francisco, you'll be safe."
"Are you going to tell him?" Greengrass asked timidly.
Hermione considered it. "Are you?"
Astoria looked out over the vast, dark ocean nearby, silently contemplating her predicament. Finally, she shook her head. "I will before I leave. For now, let him and everyone else think I've fallen ill with a sickness that can only be cured overseas. Can you make something up for me?"
Such deceit did not sit well with Hermione. But the decision to inform the group of the girl's delicate condition wasn't hers, so she would abide by Astoria's wishes. "Fine, but you tell Malfoy before you get on that boat or I will. He has a right to know that he'll have a son or daughter out there waiting for him. It might even given him a reason to fight harder to stay alive." She threw out that last bit to keep Greengrass from chickening out.
The petite blonde winced and swallowed in anxiety. "I promise to tell him."
Hermione looked at her and felt another stab of jealousy, which she quickly tamped down. "Fay, help get her back to the tent and cover up the evidence here. You," she pointed to Astoria, "continue to eat correctly and sleep when you need to. You're off rotation from this point on. I want you healthy by the time you hit the ship, so that child in your belly will have a good head start in the world."
At that, she turned on her heel, kicking a little bit of sand up against the back of her leg, and made her way up to the main tent to start calling everyone together.
Today had started off with one hell of a cock-up. She wasn't looking forward to the next part at all.
X~~~~~X
She stood at the end of the long table in the main tent and leaned her palms down flat against the cool, dark wooden surface, looking out at the expectant faces around her. Astoria was tucked safely away in the tent she shared with Fay, sleeping, but Dunbar would report back to the girl what was said at this meeting. In that way, the three women stayed on the same page until Astoria was ready to come clean to Malfoy.
"We have a problem," she began seriously, launching right in without preamble. "One of our number is gravely ill. She needs to go to America immediately for a special medical operation. Her disease is potentially life-threatening, and there's no known wizarding cure for it. But I know of Muggle medicine that can help."
It was a vague cover story, but held the absolute truth as its core premise. After all, Astoria was ill in a way, being pregnant in the middle of a world war was hazardous to one's health, and there certainly wasn't a cure for being knocked-up. Further, if the girl decided to terminate her pregnancy once she reached America, only Muggle clinics could provide her with this assistance, as the wizarding world did not have a means for abortive services aside from potions that could only be taken only during the first month after conception (and those potions were nigh impossible to procure anyway; further, brewing them from scratch took months, and it was too late for Astoria to benefit from them anyway).
She looked from face to face, trying to gauge the reaction all around to the bomb she'd just dropped in their laps. Her own team became grave when they noted Astoria's absence, and she knew they understood about whom she was referring. She took a deep breath and plunged on. "This teammate needs to leave within the next two weeks, and she needs an escort to take her by sea over the Atlantic, then across the United States to California. It's a one-way ticket for anyone who goes, because you'd need to stay with your charge to assure she got the correct treatments from her doctors. I'm asking for volunteers. So, speak up now or forever hold your peace."
For a few seconds, no one said anything, but then, Charlie Weasley spoke up. "I'll go. My family's all out there anyway – what's left of 'em."
Silence greeted Charlie's enlistment, but now that the first person had boldly stepped forward, Hermione knew there would be others of interest. "Anyone else?" she asked, her eyes meeting every single person at that table one at a time. "Take this seriously, people. If you harbor any desire whatsoever to get the hell out, this is your chance - maybe your only one." The implication was clear: either you bow out gracefully for a noble cause now or you stay until you're either dead or Lord Mort is defeated. It was a one-time offer.
Hesitantly, Jason Swann, Philip Cadwallader and one of the Romanian women – the blonde, Relia Toia - raised their hands. She nodded, no judgment in her gaze.
"Okay then. Snape, Malfoy and I will meet to discuss who goes, and let you know our answer in a few days," she informed the group. "Breakfast is in an hour. You're free until then. Thank you." With that, she dismissed them and some of them began getting up in twos and threes and left the tent talking quietly together, while still others stayed at the table to converse in hushed tones.
Hermione turned to Adrian Pucey to discuss the day's menu. He'd acquired a helper for the cooking detail – the second of the two Romanian women, Anica Mainu, who seemed to enjoy cooking almost as much as Adrian (that she was an adorable, heart-shaped faced young lady with a plump backside and a slim waist probably didn't escape her teammate's notice, either). After signing off on his breakfast, lunch and dinner plans, she met with Snape and Malfoy quickly to tell them that she would join them after the noontime meal in a private conference to discuss the escort issue. With a curt apology and the excuse of having a slight headache – which she actually did - she took off for her tent.
Securing only the fabric ties on the door flaps, she slipped her shoes off and lay back on her cot, closing her eyes. The blessed silence was wonderful for the short amount of time it lasted. A few minutes into her private meditation, someone untied the tent's bindings and stepped inside unsolicited. "I'm not feeling all that well right now," she grumpily told the interloper. "Can this wait?"
"Do you have need of anything?"
Instead of being annoyed, she unwittingly found herself smiling. If there was one thing Hermione could count on, it was that she could not be mad or upset at Viktor Krum for very long, if at all, because his simplicity, straightforwardness and kindness were extremely charming traits. "No, thank you, Viktor. My head hurts right now and I'd like to just lie here and rest for a bit."
There was a pause, and she could feel her former boyfriend shift from foot to foot. He was probably considering whether to leave her or stay and watch over her. Viktor was nothing if not obvious about his feelings and motivations. "Come, sit up," he eventually bade, kneeling gently at the edge of her cot on the floor. "I teach you Bulgarian recipe for cure of aching head."
She sniggered in amusement and sat up reluctantly. "Okay, what's the trick?"
He slid behind her on his knees, leaned her neck forward so that it lolled on her shoulders, and began pressing and rubbing in slow circles around the pressure points on the back of her head. Within seconds, the throbbing in her temples lessened. "Ooooh, neat," she genuinely smiled, enjoying the tender ministrations.
Viktor was quiet as he worked on her with those strong, big hands of his, and for a fleeting moment, she remembered what it was like for them to twirl her with expertise around a dance floor, and later, how they'd cupped her cheeks as he leaned in, tasting her with his sensual mouth. Viktor Krum had been many important things for Hermione over the years: her very first snog (the night of the dance in Fourth Year, after he'd calmed her crying over Ron's treatment, they'd kissed for well over an hour before he'd escorted her back to her Common Room), and the summer between Fifth and Sixth Years when she'd gone to Bulgaria to visit him, he'd taught her the pleasures of being touched all over naked, and even having a man bury his mouth between her thighs. The only thing she hadn't given him was her virginity, which she now, all these years later, deeply regretted - especially since the man who had eventually stolen her first sexual interlude was a despicable, egocentric, traitorous Death Eater, and he'd done so violently, brutally, and cruelly for his own amusement. Giving herself to Viktor first would have been nice, she sighed with regret.
"You have tense again," Viktor informed her with a tsk. "Relax, my Mii-o-nee. Jost feel." An instant later, all thought fled her mind when her former beau shifted the pressure of his hands slightly, rubbing with the heels of his palms now against her neck bones directly. She moaned in delight. Ah, this was Heaven! "I have missed you," he confessed in a low voice that caused the blood in Hermione to start speeding up crazily. "I keep all your letters until Dark Wizards come and burn my home. I never forget you."
The sexual tension between them was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife, but Hermione did not reply, her mind, body and heart a riot of feelings that were too confused at the moment for her to make any rational sense of them.
"Do you think we could - how to say? - begin again?" he asked, tenderly, a slight catch to his tone.
She opened her mouth to reply, but at that exact moment, Malfoy walked in, uninvited. She looked up, and his eyes passed from her to Viktor and back, taking in the compromising and somewhat intimate position they were situated in. The steely grey depths were unfathomable, as Malfoy's mask of indifference firmly slid into place. Had he heard their conversation just before entering?
"We need to talk," he stated firmly.
Hermione was decidedly furious with him. No matter the protests of Malfoy's manipulated involvement in impregnating Astoria, the fact was he'd taken advantage of the girl while on mission. He should have had better restraint, especially given the strength of his advanced mental discipline (he had become one of the most powerful Occlumens and Legilimens on the planet, according to Snape, who had locked horns with Lord Mort once with both arts and come out, luckily, alive and with a solid idea as to the Dark Lord's cerebral capabilities). That everyone knew Astoria had never had a boyfriend before only made the entire situation somehow worse, as it guaranteed she'd been a virgin. Malfoy had taken that special gift from the girl without love or care, and now Greengrass was in a bind that was both irrevocable and lifelong in its responsibility as a result.
"Later," she icily told him, and their gazes locked. He knew then that she knew his secret, and he physically blanched, even though his features remained firmly composed. "I'm busy at the moment."
His jaw ticked at that, and he looked over at Viktor once more. "Sorry to disturb you," he coldly replied and walked out, the tent flaps fluttering as he briskly passed through them.
Viktor was quiet, as patient as always, but she knew he'd observed the chill between her and her leader with a sharp insight. His hands, however, had continued to massage her despite any misgivings he might have felt with Malfoy around. She wasn't sure if that was some sort of male need to 'mark his territory' or if Viktor had simply wanted to continue to help ease her headache. Maybe he'd noted her tension and had been trying to keep her calm so she didn't give in to a desire for violence. Who knew?
She sighed and slumped back against Viktor's strong chest, world-weary all of the sudden. His arms came around her automatically, embracing her with warmth and true affection and she didn't fight him, actually enjoyed it. He tilted his head so he laid his cheek against the back of her shoulder-length curly hair (she'd been trying to grow it back out after the conversation she'd had with Malfoy about her hair length so many months ago) and she enjoyed the tender moment – an occurrence much too scarce in her life now.
"This is all so overwhelming. And things have changed so much," she finally replied to his earlier offer. "I've changed, Viktor. I'm not sure I'm still the person you once knew. I'm not sure you'd like who I've had to become."
In response, he pressed a small kiss into her hairline. "You vill always be special girl to me, no matter vhat things happened."
Something about his tone… Did he know about what McLaggen had done to her? She felt shame burn her to the very center of her being, despite reminding herself again that she'd been the victim of violence and had done nothing wrong that day. "Give me time to think about it, please," she requested simply, needing to sort through the unexpected situation. She felt too raw right at the moment to make a good decision.
Viktor boldly pressed his lips against her cheek, and she felt her blood flush to the spot in a wave of warmth. "I vait for you," he whispered, and then released her gently, stood and left her tent without another word. Hermione let out a sigh of frustration, and threw herself back against the pillow once more. Her headache was gone, but now a different set of aches were taking its place – one in the center of her chest, the other in the center of her feminine core.
Godric's rod, but life was confusing! Just last week, she'd been pining away for Malfoy, and now she was wounded by the very sight of him. To top it off, Viktor Krum had come back into her life, and he clearly wanted her, and to be honest, the offer was a little bit tempting. How could things get so totally flipped around in just a few short days?
Story of my life, she cynically sighed, then stood up to go find Clearwater. There were duties to assign and work to be done and food to consume before she met with Snape and him again.
X~~~~~X
She didn't see Viktor again until after dinner, as he'd taken his team out to work with Penelope, Blaise and Willem on trading spell secrets in an effort to get everyone's skill levels and abilities (including weaknesses, not just strengths) mapped out. Knowing your team's individual capabilities, as well as who could be counted on not to panic and screw up was the top priority for any successful squad. She did, however, spend forty minutes in a private conversation in Malfoy's tent with the blond and her former professor regarding that morning's favorite new topic, and by the end of it, her headache had returned.
"They all go," she insisted, rubbing her index finger and thumb over the bridge of her nose to ward off the pain stabbing the middle of her forehead. "Everyone who volunteered outright is telling us they don't want to be here anymore. If they stay, they'll become a liability and maybe even a danger to the team. No one screws up worse than a person who's lost the will to fight. And you both know that a person like that tends to take others down with them when they crash. Not to mention the danger they represent to morale."
"I was informed that Swann is a competent hex caster and never wavers in the face of danger," Snape argued back. "And Cadwallader is a poisons expert. I could train him up over the next few months for the infiltration operation I proposed earlier. Both are too valuable to let go long-term. "
"He's right, Granger," Malfoy stated matter-of-factly, his face still carefully neutral. "Send Toia and Weasley, but keep the other two back. Bradley needs help holding the front line."
She sighed. "Fine, then Swann stays - against my better judgment. But we've already talked about your proposed strategy, Severus. You're not sending Philip undercover into Dark Wizard Central," she stated angrily. "Going into The Fortress is suicide."
"Staying on this island is as well, Miss Granger," Snape snidely reminded her. "Are you suggesting that we should all escape while we can, then, just to stay safe?"
"Quit with the Slytherin mind games," she growled back. "I'm not biting. My people aren't pawns on a chess board that you can throw away as you see fit so you can exact revenge. Cadwallader wants to leave the fight, so we should let him go."
Snape looked at her coolly, collectedly and Hermione felt her flesh creep under that black gaze. "That young man could kill dozens of Death Eaters – maybe even Lord Mort himself - with the right potion dropped into food and drink," he pointedly and calmly countered.
Hermione gritted her teeth, seeing the logic in the argument, but still torn up by the thought of sacrificing anyone on pure speculation and chance. "Let it be Philip's choice then," she defied. "We should present him with your plan – including the risks - and ask him if he's willing. If he says no, we let him go to America with the others, no further pressure or questions asked." She leaned forward in her chair, emphasizing her next words. "That's my non-negotiable compromise on the subject, Severus. Take it or bugger off."
Snape looked over at Malfoy, and the two shared a silent communique before her former professor turned back to her with a nod in agreement. The pact made between them, Hermione felt her stomach riot, churning over the lunch she'd consumed earlier.
X~~~~~X
After presenting Philip with Severus' plan, and divulging the fact that the mission would most likely be a suicide run, they waited for the young man to give them his answer, each of the team leaders on edge for completely different, but interrelated, reasons.
"I'll do it," Cadwallader accepted with very little hesitation, his voice firm.
Hermione was floored. "Why?" she asked. "Why throw your life away like this?"
His tired, brown eyes looked at her with determination. "That bastard killed my parents and my sisters. I never thought I'd get a shot at him. It's why I volunteered this afternoon to go to America. But now… I want this chance."
Inside, Hermione felt a little bit of her soul die. She was going to do it. She was going to send Philip Cadwallader to his death. Now she understood what Malfoy had felt every time he'd had to make a decision of his magnitude.
"Okay, then," she muttered, her voice cracking slightly. "You'll be working with Snape for the next few weeks exclusively for training you up in Occlumency and Potions. You're off nightly watch duty starting now, but I expect you to continue to do your share for clean-up, set-up and take-down as usual."
Philip nodded, and with a vigorous 'good night' to his three senior staff members, he quickly left Malfoy's tent. Immediately, tears wavered in Hermione's eyes and she turned to leave, looking to escape the crushing grief in her heart by fleeing back to the solitude of her tent. Snape's voice behind her halted her hand as it rose to push the fabric flap aside.
"I will give him all of the knowledge I possess. Perhaps it will be enough."
She let out a sad huff. "Shut up. Just… shut it."
Hurrying back to her cot, she threw herself down into a seated position on the floor, burying her face in her hands. Great gasping sobs were torn from her and for once, Hermione wished that the burden of leadership belonged to someone else.
Strong arms encircled her unexpectedly, and a familiar man's scent invaded her nose. Viktor didn't say anything to her; he didn't have to. He must have seen her cross over to her tent, upset, and come to investigate. He was always watching her, it seemed. She flung her arms around his shoulders, desperate to be comforted, and held on as she cried against the broad, strong chest. Viktor rocked her back and forth gently, and then lay her down on her cot, pulled the covers up over them both, and let her drift off to sleep in his arms after her tears had finally run their course.
TO BE CONTINUED…