Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing.

**BLACK**

CHAPTER TEN

"A 'Foolproof' Plan"

September, 1997

12 Grimmauld Place

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"So, let me get this straight." Regulus held a finger to his lips. He sat in the kitchen, the trio standing around him, contemplating the flood of information. "This woman was a terrible, hide-bound teacher who took over your school while Dumbledore ran off to do who knows what, employed your mortal enemy (who is apparently not Harry's mortal enemy any more) to act as some sort of student police and prevented you from learning or preparing for the inevitable war, all the while denying Voldemort's return?"

Hermione and Ron and Harry glanced at each other, nodding. "Yes."

"And when my idiot brother got captured by Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic, you eliminated her from the equation by sending her to the centaurs?"

Hermione's lips pinched together. "She deserved it. She made Harry use a Blood Quill, and she – "

Regulus jumped up and spun Hermione around, lifting her off her feet. "Bloody brilliant!" he shouted. "So, why is this important now?"

Harry, who had heretofore been alternating between mussing his hair making constipated expressions and pacing, saw fit to reenter the conversation. "Because she obviously has something to do with the Weasleys' imprisonment."

Hermione broke apart from Regulus, laying a hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, you have to remember, Sirius wasn't actually in the Department of Mysteries."

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. "And that is connected to my parents how?"

Hermione turned from Harry to Ron, her hair slapping Regulus in the face. "We have to remember, it could be a lure! They know Harry considers Mr. and Mrs. Weasley family, and that he dated Ginny. What if this is what they're waiting for? For us to run to the Ministry half-cocked, unprepared for their trap?"

"This is ridiculous!" Harry exploded. "Just – just – " With a frustrated sigh, he pivoted and stalked out of the room.

Ron, his mouth in a grim line as he glared at Hermione, followed.

With a groan, Hermione began to count to ten.

"Are – are you all right?" Regulus asked hesitantly. He wasn't entirely sure how spats such as these were generally handled when you weren't the object of Hermione's anger.

"Yes," she snapped. "I have to wait a minute before I go after him, though."

"A minute?"

"Well…more like a day…hopefully I can get to him before he does anything." Back tense, Hermione started walking toward the door.

"What's he going to do?" Regulus asked curiously. His head was still spinning from tales of magical swamps, Quidditch pitch fights, and centaurs.

"Something stupid," Hermione grumbled, grabbing her wand as she exited the room.

Regulus recalled the part of Hermione's story with the threstrals. And the Ministry of Magic, and…he shook his head. Yes, he would trust Hermione's judgement on this. She was probably right.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Clothes…underwear…socks…um, books?" Harry ran a hand through his hair as he glanced between the open bags on his dresser and the rest of his room. He had never packed, unless it were for school. And he was definitely drawing a blank on what else one should take with them while going on the run.

Hermione would know what he needed. Hell, Hermione was probably already packed, just in case. A contingency plan. But this exit was to be a secret from Hermione.

Hermione would insist they wait. Gather more information. Make a solid plan. All of that could take two days, possibly more. And that was time the Weasleys didn't have, that Draco didn't have. He ran his hand through his hair again, frustrated. As his gaze bounced around the room, it caught on a short black cord laying on the dresser.

His face twisted up in a pained grimace as he picked it up.

"Scared, Potter?"

Draco's liquid grey eyes stared at him with a silent dare as he leaned over the handle of his broom. Harry glanced away from his...companion's…eyes to view the Forbidden Forest rising up before them. They were already racing toward the trees at a speed that would get them killed during a Quidditch match.

"Please," Harry snorted. "I've been in there more times than you know."

Then, with a cheeky smirk, he yanked up on his broom handle and soared up into the sky, skimming above the trees.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. The two of them, both unable to sleep, getting out their brooms and sneaking out of the castle to fly. Always together, never alone. Harry couldn't remember a time when the insults were real, the animosity between them not faked…actually, he could. It was last year.

His gaze flicked to the side. Draco grinned at him, an uninhibited, open smile, the type he only wore in these silent moments when they flew. As if the other boy could read Harry's mind (which he probably could, Harry had never been a particularly good Occlumens), the smile slipped off of his face, replaced by an expression Harry knew well. Without saying anything, the two turned their brooms around and, low and fast, raced back to the school.

It was a dance they knew well. Privacy charms erected, Draco's cloak enveloping them both in its warmth. The Astronomy Tower was practically deserted, most nights…they just had to pay attention to when the firsties would be up studying the constellations. But on these nights, when the tower was all theirs…they could be themselves.

Harry and Draco were enemies. Most well-known for public altercations. And by the time they realized that the need each had for the other to notice them wasn't just about hatred, their hostile relationship was already entrenched within Hogwarts society.

So it was a secret. Something that was just…just their own.

Later that night, the pair sat on the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side. Harry was still sharing Draco's cloak.

As they gazed out across the grounds, the sun began to rise, dark clouds tinged with pale pink. Slowly, but steadily, the light grew brighter. Harry watched as Draco's features became more and more strained.

"Hey," he said, taking Draco's right hand in his own. "Are you okay?"

Draco flinched at his touch, attempting to hide his left arm behind his body. "I'm fine," he replied with a smile that was more of a grimace. "Always fine. Just perfect."

"You know if you weren't – you could tell me."

"Why, so you can throw more accusations at me?" Draco spat. "I didn't curse that Bell girl, Potter."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I didn't say you did."

"I was in detention."

"I know you were."

Draco's hand spasmed in Harry's. He swiped his other hand over his face. "Merlin," he muttered into his palm. "Why do you trust me?"

"You haven't given me any reason not to."

Draco's shoulders hunched. Turning his body, he let his head fall forward to rest on Harry's shoulder. "I don't deserve you," he mumbled.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe," he acknowledged. "Maybe I don't deserve you."

They sat like that for a few minutes. Then, Draco sighed. An answering sigh came from Harry as Draco slowly began to scoot away from him.

As the blond pulled away, a short length of black cord fell onto the stone between them. With the hand that was now freed, Harry picked it up.

"What's this?"

Draco stared at the cord with a strangled, contradictory expression on his face. "It's…it's nothing."

Harry nodded. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the string between two of his fingers. "Soft," he noticed.

Draco was still staring, but no longer at the cord. "You keep it."

Harry side-eyed his…friend. A crooked grin crept onto his face as he held the cord. "I will."

Harry was startled out of his reverie by the slam of his door against the wall. He whipped around, wand out and at the ready, only to relax when Ron was shoved into the room by an irate Hermione.

He quirked an eyebrow at his redheaded friend, who only spread his hands and mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Hermione. His only female friend was currently casting all sorts of wards on the room they were currently in…all stemming from the intent to silence whatever conversation she was planning on having.

"Hermione?" Harry asked hesitantly. He tensed as she turned around, spreading his arms slightly in an attempt to hide the half-filled bags he was packing behind him.

Hermione pinned him with a very unamused look as she stalked over, pushed him aside, and held up the first bag.

"Harry," she said, her voice dangerously quiet, "would you like to inform me as to why I found Ronald attempting to steal my Peruvian Darkness Powder?"

"Er – training exercise," Harry tried. "We wanted to – um – attempt to get through the entryway without awaking Walburga's portrait."

"And the tent?"

"What tent?"

Hermione gave him a look. Harry shifted and squirmed under her unrelenting gaze, before finally letting out all his breath in a whoosh of sound.

"Fine, fine, all right!" he shouted. "I was – we were – going to the Ministry."

Hermione's expression almost tore his heart out of his chest. Her face was flooded with hurt and betrayal, before she swept it all under the rug and glared at him impersonally.

"Without me?" Her voice froze all the air in the room.

Harry hunched his shoulders and hung his head. Ron physically took a step back, away from Harry. With his hands, he gestured as if to say: This one's all you, mate.

"Hermione," Harry started, then stopped. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You would've stopped me. You're going to stop me. And if you stop me, I might never see Dra – the Weasleys again. He might – they might – look, we don't know what'll happen to them! We know they captured the Weasleys, and if we wait too long – "

"Harry, who's they?" Harry's train of thought ground to a halt at Hermione's quiet question. All of the animosity in her had been drained by some mysterious force.

"What – what do you mean?" He stared at his friend with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "They – they…"

"The Ministry," Ron said from the corner of the room he had retreated to. "Death Eaters. Though, Merlin knows, they're probably all one and the same now."

Harry's eyes bounced rapidly back and forth between Hermione and Ron. "Yeah – so, we have to go and, and…"

"Draco's a Death Eater, Harry," Hermione said. She still had that eerily calm voice, and pitying look in her eye. "He's one of them."

"Yes, well, NOT BY CHOICE!" Harry bellowed. He turned around and slammed his hands on the bureau behind him, gripping the edges with white knuckles. "Not by choice. His father pushed him – he's scared, Hermione, so scared. We need to get him out! GIVE him a choice in all of this!"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look over Harry's head. Cautiously, Hermione stepped up behind him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry," she said hesitantly, "what if he's already made his choice?"

Harry's shoulders shook as he replied. "No," he refused. "No, he can't have made his choice yet if – if – Hermione, I'm going with or without you. Or Ron. I – I need to – "

"Harry, we need a plan, a solid plan – "

"I HAVE A PLAN!" Harry roared. "You have stores of polyjuice kept on hand, just in case, don't try to deny it Hermione because I know you do. Ministry employees are entering the Ministry through public toilets. I'll kidnap one of the many, steal their wand and polyjuice myself to look like that person. Then I'll flush myself in, and find Dra – find the Weasleys and break them out of there."

Hermione was shaking her head already. "It won't work, Harry, we need to – "

"WE CAN'T!" he interrupted her. "How long will it take to make a plan to suit your standards, Hermione, a day? Two? A week? We don't have that kind of time!"

Hermione had folded in on herself, listening to Harry talk. When he finished, he stood there, panting, waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to take charge, to work with him.

Squaring her shoulders, she met his eyes. "Fine," she said. "But you get to tell Regulus."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"This is a crazy idea. Stupid idea. Crazy, crazy stupidly stupid idea." Regulus shook his head at the three before him. "It won't work. Someone will get hurt. Maybe someone will die. Maybe they'll catch you, and all of you will die in particularly horrific ways, then Voldemort will rule the world."

When Harry's room had suddenly been cut off from his sense of Grimmauld Place, he had known something was wrong. He had just – foolishly, it seemed – assumed that Hermione would have come to him to inform him of the goings on. Given him a heads up. Included him. It appeared he was woefully, woefully wrong.

"That's only the worst-case scenario," Hermione said comfortingly, laying a hand on Regulus' arm. "It could go so smoothly, we'll be in and out without a fuss."

"Do you really believe that?" Regulus asked her, gazing into the soft brown of her eyes.

Her eyes shifted to the side as she responded. "Yes," she said. "I do."

"Then your naivete is worse than I thought." He pulled away from her. "You three are planning to break into one of the most heavily fortified places in the Dark Lord's regime, and abscond with not one, not two, but three prisoners, and a very high profile Death Eater who may or may not want to go with you! You truly believe you will be able to pull this off without a hitch, and be home before supper?"

"It's a solid plan, Regulus," Harry said. His green eyes were serious, for all he was nervously twisting a black cord in his hand. "Polyjuice ourselves in, Imperius a Death Eater to help us, find the Weasleys and Draco, then apparate out to Tottenham Court Road before coming back here."

Harry's eyes were bright and feverish. Regulus recognized that face. He had worn that face, so long ago. Despairing of Harry thinking or seeing clearly, he turned to Hermione.

"Hermione," he implored her, searching her face for any sign of understanding. "You must see – "

"Harry will go with or without me, Regulus," she told him softly. "If I go – at least I can do something, at least maybe he won't lose his head and get killed."

Regulus shifted a step closer to her. Harry and Ron were still shifting uncomfortably by the door. Regulus placed his hands on either side of her face and stared into her eyes. "Your fate will be worse than the boys if you get caught. Harry will be killed. Ron might be tortured a bit, but he'll definitely be killed. You? They might keep you around, just for shits and giggles."

"Regulus!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

"What?! I was a Death Eater, I know!" he yelled back. His mind conjured images of another lioness too foolhardy to listen to his warning. "You're just a body to them, Hermione! Not even human! Just another damn Mudblood, a pox upon the wizarding world - "

He had felt something crumbling inside of him as soon as this conversation began, this idiotic idea that would send them, send her, into danger. That feeling of being so out of control…he had only felt this way one other time in his life. After that word exited his lips, the cliff stopped crumbling, and gave way, just like that, and it felt like he was falling so fast into a bottomless pit.

"Hey! You don't talk to her that way – "

"You prat – "

"I'm sorry," Regulus said hoarsely before Ron or Harry got close enough to hit him. He stumbled and braced himself against the wall. "I'm sorry." He looked up at Hermione, grey eyes pleading.

Hermione refused to meet his eyes. She looked instead to Harry. Her shoulders were tense, hiked up around her ears. Regulus turned away.

"Well, we're going," Harry said awkwardly.

"I'm sure you are," Regulus said. "Just as I know I can't stop you. Here." He tossed Hermione her beaded bag. "I hope everything you need is in there, just in case something goes wrong."

Harry and Ron were out the door almost before he finished speaking. Hermione, however, hesitated just a moment. She still hadn't made eye contact with him. Shaking herself, she made to move past him and out the door. Just as she swung past, he grabbed her forearm to stop her. Startled, she whipped her head around to face him.

He held Hermione's gaze, grey eyes searching for something in the brown. "Be careful," he whispered.

She swallowed, tearing her eyes away from his. "As much as always," she responded quietly.

Then she was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Why Hermione hadn't known that this trip was going to go terribly horribly wrong, she had no idea.

Scratch that, she had known. It was a crazy, crazy stupidly stupid plan that was just like all the other plans Harry had ever made for their little group: too vague and too hopeful and too much relied on outside elements that they had no way of controlling or even knowing about.

It was glaringly obvious, now that she was a sitting duck inside the Ministry of Magic, that some research should have been done. A little surveillance, perhaps. It's what she would've done. What any sane, reasonable person would've done.

But she knew Harry. Harry, The Boy Who Thought With His Heart. Which was all well and good, of course, until thinking with his heart instead of his head put Hermione in a situation where she knew they needed more preparation, but she had to compromise with Harry's plan because she also knew that if she forced the preparation time, Harry would end up leaving two days early, alone, with a plan that would most likely get himself killed.

Hermione cringed into the shadows as yet another darkly robed Death Eater stalked down the hall Harry had 'stationed' her in, two levels above the dungeons. Two levels above where she needed to be: by the boys' side, making sure they didn't do anything stupid.

Her jaw worked and her hands were shaking in her effort to not dash out of her hiding place, where she was safe and poly juiced and alone, and rush to find the boys. She felt she had to be doing something, anything, to secure their escape or… or… Hermione didn't know, but she knew absolutely nothing could be worse than sitting here and waiting.

A shuffling of feet down the end of the hall had her once again tense and on edge. They were accompanied by a low, entreating voice, and the muffled click of kitten heels.

"…madam, please, the Dementors are lowering the morale of all of our employees. Seeing as they broke out of Azkaban to join…you know who… they're putting everyone on edge. Do you think, perhaps, you could convince them to…stay in the court room?"

"The people should rejoice that the ghastly creatures have been united to a common cause," a shrilly simpering voice replied. "I see no reason to keep the beasts in my primary workplace unless they are necessary to the proceedings."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her body tensed as the pair and their entourage drew closer. She knew that voice. Oh, she knew that voice too well.

The sound of people walking abruptly stopped just in front of her.

"Mafalda, what on earth are you doing here? You were supposed to meet me in my office an hour ago to sit in on the Minister's debriefing!"

Hermione was wrong. It could be worse than waiting. It was much, much worse.

She slowly looked up to face Dolores Umbridge.

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a/n: Review:) they motivate me

I did consider letting Grimmauld Place remain their safe haven...but then the Horcrux hunt may never have truly started :)

So, obviously this story is only based on canon, as Regulus is alive. It will continue to be loosely based on the Deathly Hallows - main events (such as Harry, Ron, and Hermione breaking into the Ministry and accidentally inviting Yaxley to Grimmauld Place) will be the same. However some small things will be changed as a direct result of Regulus being alive, such as instead of breaking into the Ministry for Slytherin's necklace, they break into the Ministry for the Weasleys (and Draco).

Happy Friday!