As we've had Mac's thoughts - here are Hermione's. (Hopefully it will explain a few things)

Enjoy -Kitty

Chapter Thirteen

Harry and Hermione reappeared in their shared bedroom, thankful they could get away before an awkward situation arose. Hermione was so lost within her thoughts that she forgot about the box that had been placed into her hands just before leaving - she was too busy wondering about the evening itself. Hermione hadn't been particularly surprised when she'd seen Danny outside the library - he'd been quite reluctant to leave that morning and she'd had to remind him that his partner wasn't the only one that had to think things through - but she had been surprised when Detective Taylor had appeared, and seemed relaxed enough to be... Hermione wasn't certain, but she thought he'd seemed pleased to see her again. He was confusing to her. By all rights, he should hate her and yet he was treating her with respect and kindness.

Harry waited until Hermione seemed to come back to the present a little before he asked her.

"What was the box Detective Taylor gave you?"

This snapped Hermione out of her thoughts and she looked down at the box, turning it over to read the lid.

"It's a phone." She told him, a mixture of confusion and surprise in her voice.

"A mobile?" Harry asked coming over to her to see. "It makes sense I suppose, this way they can contact you whenever they want, or you can talk to them."

"But why would he do that?" She was still confused. If it had come from Danny there would be no question in her mind about it, but Taylor had no reason to want to contact her. At least that she could see.

"Maybe he's decided to agree to the Tri-bond." Harry suggested, trying to keep his voice nonchalant and hide the hope he felt in his heart at the possibility. Though a look in Hermione's eyes showed her apprehension at the idea, so much so that Harry pulled her into his arms and held her as she returned the embrace with equal force.

"It's going to be alright Mione. I won't let anyone hurt you. It'll be okay." Harry murmured reassurances as they held each other and desperately tried to ignore how his heart broke at the feel of moisture on his neck as she allowed a few tears to escape. Eventually Hermione pulled back, avoiding looking at Harry as she swiped at her face with her hands. Harry knew she wouldn't want to discuss what just happened so gave her a distraction.

"Do you know how to use one of those?" He asked nodding towards the phone. Hermione gave him a grateful smile before picking up the box and sitting at the small table with it as Harry took the other seat.

"Yes, my parents each had one, and Daddy insisted I always took his with me whenever I went out during the holidays." She replied as she opened the box and removed the various pieces. "They're fairly simple really, or at least Dad's was." She found and unwrapped the battery pack, then located and separated the sim card from the plastic it was attached to. She placed the sim and then the battery on the phone before closing the back. "Now it just needs to be charged." She finished, and Harry pre-empted her by unravelling the cord for the charger and plugging it into the socket he found in the wall behind the table. Harry picked up the charging phone to examine it - he didn't think this phone was a simple one like Hermione thought - while she read through the instruction booklet.

"How do you know what the number is?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. Dad's always used to flash the number up when it was turned on, try that. But it goes quickly so you'll need a pen and paper ready." She told him, fishing through her bag for the items and handing them to Harry who then turned on the phone and scribbled down the number that appeared on the screen. Hermione took out the tiny folder holding her research and enlarged it, placing it on the table for her to go through later, but right now she wanted a peaceful place to think.

"I think I'll go have my bath." She told Harry.

"Do you want your other potions this evening?" He asked, putting down the phone with some reluctance.

"No, we did them last evening so it'll be alright. Finish playing with the phone." She gave a chuckle as he eagerly picked up the phone once more and started pressing buttons.

Hermione collected her night clothes on her way to the bathroom closing the door firmly behind her. She started the taps and poured her three potions under the hot flow and watched as the water took on the familiar murky purple colour of the combination. The concoction didn't smell that bad really, it was just a little too clinical for her tastes - which was understandable really given the particular healing potions she was using - so she'd taken to adding vanilla essence at the last moment to fragrance the water, as this was the only ingredient that wouldn't interfere with the diverse components of the various potions. The hotel provided a water-proof radio and she tuned this to an all music station as she waited for the steam to rise and cover the bathroom mirror before stopping the taps and undressing.

As she lay getting accustomed to the heat of the water she allowed her mind to wander, and examine the events of the last few days - the last few months really - something she hadn't truly allowed herself to do. She wondered why her life had to be so complicated now - she'd fought beside her friends for freedom from tyranny, and was it really too much to ask for a moment of peace and perhaps some semblance of childhood before having to deal with the world once more. Apparently it was. In all honesty, Hermione didn't want to get married, not now anyway. She'd been quite... content... to do as everyone expected of her and marry Ron in a few years - once he'd matured into the fine man she knew he was capable of becoming. But that would have been sometime in the future, when she had her career established, not when she was eighteen. But no-one was asking her opinion. They all assumed that she was willing to give up any semblance of her own life, in order to save her life. She couldn't get anyone to see that, at this point, she wasn't sure she wanted to be saved. Each night was spent in torture, with the risk of dying from her injuries if she were left alone, and she hated the fact that someone had to share the experience - especially when that person was Harry all the time. Honestly, what kind of life did everyone think they were preserving? Do they all really think that she enjoys the nightly torments?

Hermione sighed. She knew Harry was trying to hide how much he hoped she would accept this marriage, but she was tired. So terribly tired. 'He really does expect too much of me sometimes,' she thought. It wasn't as if she had much (or any) experience with dating - one date to the Yule Ball with Viktor (which Ron had ruined for her) with one kiss afterwards, and then that supposed 'date' with McLaggen who had then apparently been dared to kiss her by some 5th year Hufflepuff so he'd spent the whole party trying. And then there was Ron. The boy everyone was convinced she fancied, and fancied her, because of all their arguing - she never really believed that was a valid basis of a relationship, but then it wasn't as if anyone else were trying for her affections. And he did have the potential to be a good wizard and a fine man when he grew up. She thought he'd been showing signs of his maturing during the hunt at times when he would be nice to her and actually pay attention to what she was saying, at least until she'd found the book amongst his clothes one time when she was doing their laundry. He needed a book to tell him to be nice to her. Wasn't that just grand!! Then they discovered the Contract. Harry had been right earlier - in all their years of their friendship he'd never been a bigger prat to her than that day. Frankly she'd never thought she'd ever hear such words spoken to her, and certainly not from someone she considered her friend! So much so that she doubted she would ever trust his friendship again - even if he did apologise like Harry wanted. Hermione stopped to think for a moment. 'Has he ever apologised to me?' she thought to herself, trying to remember. First year, when he'd made her cry? Third year, when he'd blamed her for the loss of the precious Firebolt, or for losing his rat? Fourth year, when he'd called her a traitor for accepting a date with Viktor, and for standing by Harry when Ron didn't? Fifth year, when she was trying to stop Harry walking them all into a trap? Hermione couldn't think of one situation where Ron had actually said 'sorry' to her - he just said 'alright' and expected it to be. And people really expected them to have a happy marriage?

In truth, she'd been almost happy to find that the man she was Bonded to was already in a relationship - it meant she could finally find peace. But no, the couple decided to be noble and face her, claiming to be willing to marry her because they couldn't let her die. What was this, Victorian England? No-one married out of duty anymore! They seemed to expect her to simply accept the marriage and be thankful that they were saving her. Well, at least her luck with men was holding - one man loved her because of a spell, and the other would try to out of a sense of duty. Hermione knew she loved Danny Messer - didn't even care if it is only because of a spell - and not just because he was handsome (which was undeniable) but because he had a sense of civic duty (shown by serving in the police force), he was smart (they don't promote idiots to the rank of detective), and he was willing to accept her for who she was. But his partner, Mac Taylor was something of a mystery to her, one she couldn't understand. He was handsome, though in a different way to Danny, not as rugged or as noticeable, and his face was slightly softened by his age in sharp contrast to Danny's chiselled lines. But it was his eyes that ensnared her. There was a deep intensity within them, together with a certainty and sense of knowledge that she found reassuring and intriguing at the same time. He'd seemed sincere when he'd said he willing to try and accept her, but she still couldn't understand why he would. She was no-one to him - except the other woman. Great. She was exactly what that Skeeter cow claimed she was all those years ago - a harlot with two men. She didn't want this. She just wanted a little time to herself, a bit of peace. A bit of normalcy in her life after everything they'd been through. Was that really too much to ask for?

Hermione sunk further into the bath, allowing the potioned water to rise up to her chin, covering the slight scars on her neck so they could receive treatment too. Normal. She was lying in her nightly bath full of healing potions in an effort to rehydrate and heal her skin and lessen the damage of the burns, boils and other injuries inflicted on her over ten months ago. A routine she now had to perform every night for the rest of her life, just as she is forced to relive the very injuries every night. 'I'm never going to be normal, am I' she thought to herself. So much effort, just to keep her alive. Now two complete strangers wanted to keep her alive too. 'This isn't living, it's barely surviving' yet no-one else seemed to think that way - they were only concerned with her being around, regardless of what it was doing to her. She'd told Detective Taylor that she had no wish to die, but she wasn't sure how much longer that would hold true. How much could one person be expected to suffer before being given a reprieve? They couldn't work out what was done to her, so there was no way of finding a cure. Did Harry and everyone think she would just spontaneously get better? That the nightmares would just fade away? How was that supposed to happen? She adored Harry, and with her parents gone he was the only family she had now, and if, as she suspected, something had happened to distance him from the Weasleys, then she was his only family too. Hermione really didn't want to leave Harry alone, without someone who truly loved him just for being Harry and not The-Boy-Who-Lived, but how much longer did he expect her to be able to exist like this? They'd both been ecstatic when the Dreamless potion had worked that first night, and then crushed when it turned out that it was actually only good for just the one night, and Hermione couldn't help but feel that his optimism that morning would be crushed just as before. She didn't allow herself any hope - she couldn't. She knew that the disappointment would rid her of her strength, and she needed her strength to get through her nights.

That was the other problem. Trying to keep her distance from Danny, and respect his current relationship with the person he really loved, was taking strength away from her when she needed it all to get through the night, especially as all she wanted to do was to fall into his arms and let him take the world away. And she knew he could. He could chase away the monsters of her nightmares, chase away all the bad of the world with his arms and his lips. Hermione hit the water in frustration. She couldn't think like that - he wasn't hers to have. Danny had already chosen Mac Taylor, and he deserved to have the person he really loved. Though a small voice in her head admitted that Danny was probably right - Mac Taylor did seem the type of person she could easily admire, and fall for. But it wasn't appropriate. 'Isn't it?' that same small voice asked. 'You told them both to accept that you were a witch, and in the wizarding world it is not only possible, but very acceptable to marry both men, there's even a specific Marriage Ceremony.' That was true - she'd spent her morning going over the details of the Ceremony and the rituals involved - but Hermione was still a Muggle at heart, as much as she loved being a witch, and had been raised to believe that marriage was between two people - not three. And Danny and Mac were raised the same way, with the same belief despite claiming to be open-minded about this. It wasn't that she was unwilling to be open-minded. She just didn't know how the situation would work, particularly between the three in question, and she didn't like not knowing. And now the situation scarred her even more. The thought of marrying one man had been daunting enough, and now they were talking about her marrying two. At eighteen. She didn't want to get married yet. She wanted to be able to have a career established first, then get married to someone she loved. Not forced into some arranged marriage straight out of school.

"Aggghhh." Another hit to the water. She was thinking in circles, and getting nowhere.

Hermione rose a little out of the water and was shocked at how cold the air was on her wet skin. As her mind registered this fact the rest of her body informed her that the water was just as cold as the air in the bathroom, making her shiver. She hadn't realised how long she'd lain there thinking, and was surprised Harry hadn't started banging on the door to check on her yet. He probably realised she needed to think things through - he was always good like that. But thinking would only get her so far. If the two men were serious in their assertion that they couldn't simply let her die, then the three of them would have to sit down at some point and talk about the situation properly. 'Well, at least I don't have to face either of them again tonight' she thought, getting out of the bath and drying herself off. She was actually grateful that she and Harry had had a reason to leave abruptly, and without an escort. She still hadn't figured out what she thought, or how she felt, about the Tri-Bond, and therefore appreciated the peace their absence allowed to get her thoughts together.

xxxx