Author's Notes: Yes, well, here's the next chapter. This is unbeta-ed, so please excuse any errors.
Enjoy!
Hermionepressed the muscles of her back up against the wall. Who would ever want to live in this place? The whole house seemed coated in dirt and dust. What little light available was swallowed immediately by the gloom.
12 Grimmauld Place was certainly uplifting, wasn't it?
She knew that the house had been the estate of the Black family, kin to the Malfoys. But the residences of the two families couldn't be more different. She tried to envision Narcissa even visiting a house like this. The poor woman would probably have a stroke immediately upon entering the front door.
They had arrived about a half an hour before. It was quite a sight for Hermione and Harry as they watched the unsuspecting Muggle homes on either side slide apart to reveal the house. She followed the other three in slowly, knowing that welcome would not be awaiting her inside.
She hadn't really seen anyone so far. She had done what she normally did and stuck to the corners and shadows, observing, but hopefully unobserved. Ginny had to drag her downstairs to the basement kitchen, where members of the Order had mustered to receive their orders.
It was Ginny who told her that she would be the one addressing those assembled. Mad-Eyed Moody, who had taken over as de facto leader after Dumbledore's death, had ordered it. He wanted intell, and he wanted it now. Hermione was the one who held the most information and had even formulated a rough strategy.
Ron had ignored her the entire time they had been at Headquarters. He had made sure to stay as far away from her as he could get.
Good, she thought, better for me.
But she couldn't deny that his distance hurt, bad.
She was supposed to go into the kitchen in a few minutes and tell them everything she knew. Well, maybe not everything, but close enough. The story of Daniel and the Lion's Den had never before been so real to her.
"Hey, are you ready?"
Her morose thoughts were interrupted as Ginny stuck her head through the open doorway.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Hermione replied, pushing off from the wall and squaring her shoulders. She took a deep breath, and walked in.
The kitchen was crowded, but a space had been made for her at the head of the table. She looked around at the group quickly before speaking, cataloging those she recognized from school and beyond. So many Gryffindors…so many red-heads. Ginny, Harry, and Charlie gave her smiles, which made her feel better. She refused to look at Ron.
"I'll pretend as though none of you know me and just start at the beginning. I must remind you, though, that time is short, so we must hurry. My name is Hermione Granger, I was born a Muggle, but attended Hogwarts as a member of Slytherin House from 1991 to 1998. Upon graduation I was recruited into the Dark Army and have since been in weapons development. For my own safety, I have also been researching ways to destroy Voldemort," she stopped there briefly to take a breath, and to allow those who had cringed at his name time to collect themselves.
"As many of you know, in 1981 a prophesy was recorded that specifically mentioned the fall of this dark wizard. By putting the pieces together and following the clues, I have deduced that Harry Potter is the only person on the face of the Earth that can destroy Voldemort. He was released from the hospital 3 weeks ago, and since then, I have been working with him daily on both physical training and magical education. He has developed quickly, and has shown himself to be a strong and powerful wizard.
"I would have liked to have more time to work with Harry, but unfortunately, time has run out. I was told two days ago that the Dark Army is massing forces. Their target is Hogwarts. Voldemort will be with them. The day has come for the Order of the Phoenix to act.
"This mission has one objective: to kill Voldemort. I have devised a three part plan to accomplish this goal. One, the greatest number of available agents must go to Hogwarts to protect the students and take out as many soldiers in the Dark Army as possible. Two, Harry must be taken as close as he can to Voldemort in order to kill him. In the meantime, I will go to Voldemort's lair in Whitby and destroy the remaining horcuxes. For those of you who don't know, a horcrux is an object in which the Dark Lord keeps bits of his soul to guarantee immortality.
"Questions?" she said this last bit practically as a joke, as she knew that she would be inundated before too long. She was rather surprised that she had been able to make it this far without interruption.
"How large is the Dark Army at present?" asked a red headed man, obviously a Weasley, older than Charlie, but not old enough to be the patriarch.
"At last count it was close to 2,000 witches, wizards, trolls, werewolves, and giants. He also has a contingent of dementors and has been known to associate with vampires, but neither of these groups have been particularly dependable when it comes time to launch a campaign."
"Two thousand?!"
"We've never taken on a force of that size."
"We are only 60 people…"
"Look," Hermione stated sharply, when the whining became thunderous, "No one is expecting you to make a frontal assault. A group of this size is most effective in guerilla warfare. It would be best if you could get to Hogwarts and take up position inside the castle. It's a castle, for Christ's sake! Those buildings were built with defense in mind. A few strategically placed agents could take out any number of enemies."
"But you said that Voldemort will be there, he's a powerful wizard, and will be adding his magic to the fray."
"Voldemort isn't going to be leading the charge. That's what he has underlings for. He's expecting them to do his dirty work and then he was walk in with no resistance and take the place over. He won't be expecting this."
"Why not?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know, because he thinks you all are weak and stupid? He'll expect that you will all go nobly marching into battle, wasting your lives by meeting death head on, like some ridiculous hero out of a story book. He won't be expecting someone who thinks like him to be giving you ideas about what to do."
"That brings up a good question," said a man that Hermione vaguely recognized as a Gryffindor from her year, "why are you here, advising us on how to go about this?"
"To save my own ass," Hermione replied baldly, the tension beginning to get to her.
"Why should we trust you?" said someone else from the back.
At this question, Hermione looked squarely at Ron. He met her gaze. She didn't turn from him as she said, "you shouldn't."
"She's not lying," Mad-Eyed said from his seat at the side of table, "she believes the information she has and that she's given us to be accurate."
"Why should we run out and get all worked up over something some Deatheater says?"
"Well, fine then, wait for the casualty lists to roll in," Hermione stated, getting more aggravated by the minute.
"I believe her," said Moody.
"So do I," agreed McGonagall, "this could be our chance to end this, once and for all."
One by one, the Old Guard of the Order stated their opinions, all agreeing with Hermione's view and plan. Eventually, some of the members of her age began to reply.
"This might actually work," said Neville.
"I'm in."
"Me too."
Hermione just stood there, amazed that they were actually believing her. Neville was right, this might actually work.
She couldn't help but notice, though, that Ron hadn't said a word.
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Ron pressed his fingertips into his temples for what had to be the millionth time, praying that his massive headache would dissipate. After the "meeting" with Hermione, he had retreated to the room that he had used as a bedroom whenever the Weasleys had been stationed at Headquarters. He was hoping that the quiet would help him relax.
It wasn't working.
"Ok, little brother," someone began, Charlie maybe? "you've got some explaining to do. Why are you dating a Deatheater?"
"Who said he was dating her?"
"Hey, wait a minute, that's not the girl who I saw him with two weeks ago. What happened to that Diana bird?" That had to be Fred.
"Why don't all of you relax?" this came from Neville. When did he enter the room?
"Neville, this is kind of a family thing, so if you don't mind…"
"Oh fuck you, Bill! That was uncalled for. I roomed with Ron for six years; how many of you can say the same thing? And I've known about this whole insanity from the beginning. He hasn't included any of you, now has he?"
"He's right, Bill. That was kind of a shitty thing to say…"
"Shut it, all of you," Ron couldn't take it anymore. His head was about to crack open. He opened his eyes to see all of his brothers, and Neville, staring down at him. "I don't have any explaining to do. She has a plan to kill the snakey bastard, end of story."
"Why is she living in your flat?"
"So I can keep an eye on her."
"Oh, you're doing more than 'keeping an eye on her.'"
"What the hell happened to your girlfriend?"
"She is my girlfriend," Ron snapped without thinking.
"And now we're getting somewhere."
"But she's not the girl I saw you with," Fred repeated.
"Yes she was; she was just glamoured for obvious reasons. Hermione Granger can't just walk down Diagon Alley without drawing a lot of suspicion."
"Glamoured…" Percy muttered in awe.
"Oh yeah, she's right powerful," Neville commented, "you should have seen her at school."
"Ron, why are you dating a Deatheater?" Bill asked, in his condescending older brother way.
"She's not a Deatheater. At least, she isn't on the front lines. Look, at this point it doesn't matter. She's here, she's given us a plan, let's just get on with it and finish this for Merlin's sake. Because personally, I can't take much more of this."
"What's the matter?" Neville asked quietly, sitting next to Ron while the brothers Weasley went back to discussing the situation amongst themselves.
"She's blocking me," Ron replied, turning tired eyes toward his friend.
"So? If she can handle waking Harry up and throwing glamours, occlumency must be a walk in the park."
"She never has before. In fact, she's made it a point to be as open as possible."
"She does seem a bit frayed," Neville nodded in agreement.
"What happened?" he continued, throwing a pitying look at his red-headed friend.
"I think we had a fight."
"What?"
"Yeah. I think it was pretty bad."
"You don't know?"
"Well, not really. Whenever I fought with Lavender, there were always tears and big dramatic scenes. Whenever I had little verbal sparring matches with Hermione previously, they were usually just heated and then over. But this…this was different. She just completely switched off, turning into ice."
"What happened?"
Ron was silent for a few moments. "I asked her if she slept with Malfoy."
"I take it that didn't go over well."
"It didn't. Then she asked me flat out if I trusted her or not."
"And you said you didn't."
"I didn't want to lie. And she keeps saying how I shouldn't trust her, blah, blah, blah…"
"Women are funny like that," Neville chuckled a bit, "and now she's blocking you."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for another few seconds.
"She does seem off her game a bit," Neville began.
"Well, the timing for this implosion could have been better. She needs to get it together," Ron massaged his temples again.
"Maybe you should talk to her."
"Can't; now's not the time. We've got work to do." He stood to leave.
"Whatever you say, mate." Neville followed him.
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Hermione flicked some sweat off her brow with her wand hand and turned her left wrist to peer at her watch. She had already been there for 45 minutes and still had another two horcruxes to go.
This was taking too fucking long.
"How's it going in here?" George Weasley asked, peeking his head into the vault.
"Very nearly done," she replied.
"Need any help?"
"Yeah, actually, now would be a good time. Would you please get the Hufflepuff cup out of that drawer in the back?"
"Sure." He moved past her, walking further into the vault.
The Order had insisted on sending a small cadre of operatives with her to Whitby. Hermione didn't mind; in fact, she was glad to have some eyes watching her back so that she would be free to do her work. Destroying horcruxes wasn't an easy thing.
She didn't even resent the fact that the real reason the agents were with her was because those in high places didn't trust the fact that this wasn't all a set up.
Well, at least someone in the organization had a brain.
Another thirty minutes had gone by and Hermione was left with only one object: her locket.
She hadn't given any real thought to having to destroy something that had been like an appendage for more than half her life. She removed it from her neck and held it in her hand. Already she felt naked, usually never having it off unless she was showering. A sense of loneliness and loss overtook her.
Her grandmother had given her this. It was her legacy. It had been her grandfather's.
But her grandfather was Voldemort.
Ugh!
How could her grandmother have ever loved such a man?
"He'll buy you a new one."
The noise startled her.
"What?"
"He'll buy you a new one," George repeated.
"Who'll buy me a new what?"
"Ron will buy you a new necklace."
"Somehow I doubt that very much."
"Well fine then," George genially plopped down beside her, "after all you've done to help us, if the great git wants to sulk about it, I'll buy you a new locket. I'll even put my picture inside so you can open it and think of me." He batted his eyes at her and the ridiculous action forced to laugh.
"Oh, well, no worries then," she couldn't help but reply.
Oddly, destroying the locket was easier than the others. Perhaps she was just more in practice at that point, or maybe she had more emotional energy attached to her motives about this object; she didn't know, nor did she care. Only five minutes later, she was done and sending the Order members off to Hogwarts.
"You sure you're going to be ok here by yourself?" George asked as he turned toward the portkey Hermione had created.
"I'm right behind you. I just need to set some charges and blow the rest of this place sky high."
"You'd better be."
"Hey, who's better than me at causing mayhem and destruction?" She was actually starting to like George.
"What a bloody shame you were sorted into Slytherin, Fred and I could have had a good old time turning you into our protégé."
"Oh trust me, I wasn't this much fun at school." She smiled as she watched George's body compress and disappear.
It took hardly any time at all to plant bombs throughout the lair and set their timers. She had been cautious and given herself five minutes, just in case. Now all she had to do…
"What are you doing here?"
Shite…was figure out what to do about Draco.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated, staring at her with a look that she couldn't place. She almost wanted to say he looked heartbroken.
"I could ask you the same question," she replied.
"You're supposed to be at Azkaban."
"Well, as you can see, I'm not."
"Why?"
She walked toward him and grabbed his arm, then began trying to pull him out of the lair with her. "There's no time to explain right now."
"Why?"
"Jesus, Draco, what are you, a broken record? Come on, let's go!" She continued to try to pull at him.
"Why are you blowing the place up?'
She remained silent, but kept eye contact.
"You've betrayed us."
"I did what I was taught to do."
"And what was that?"
"Save my own skin."
Now he finally approached her. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.
"What are you talking about? You had everything you could have ever wanted, and as soon as the war was over you would have had even more. Why would you throw all that away?"
"I never wanted to have to watch my back twenty-seven hours a day. I never wanted to be a pawn, Draco. I just wanted to live a nice, normal life."
"And you would have had one."
"Not the way things were going."
"Yes, I would have made sure of it."
"You don't have control over things like that."
"Yes, yes, I would have. We would have been happy. We could even have moved to Paris, like you wanted."
"How would we have been happy?"
"With our nice, normal life: a little house, a dog maybe, some kids…" he looked scared and lost.
"Draco," she took a steadying breath and couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes, this was it, "I don't want those things…"
"Yes you do, everyone does…" she put her hand over his mouth to stop him from interrupting again.
"Draco, I don't want those things…with you." There, she had said it. Why didn't she feel any better? He was starting to hyperventilate.
"What?" his voice was low now, cold.
"I love you so much," she continued, "but as a brother and a friend, not as a lover."
"No," he ground out between clenched teeth.
"Please, we need to leave. The bombs will be going off soon." She reached down to take his hand but he pulled it from her.
"No." She turned away from him then.
"Fine, stay here and incinerate."
Turning her back on him was a mistake. The next thing Hermione knew, she was approached the far wall at a sickening pace. Her body was thrown against it with a dull thud and she crumpled to the ground. She reached up to touch her lips and felt wet stickiness.
Brilliant, now she was bleeding.
"I thought you were above violence against women. It's petty and doesn't become you," she prodded, rolling on to her back and pushing herself off the ground.
"I didn't want to have to hurt you…"
"Oh please, don't cheapen this experience by lying," she took her dueling position, "don't worry, Draco, you are most definitely Lucius' son."
She had known him for a long time, lived with him for a long time. In many ways, she thought of him as she had the locket, a part of her, an extension…family. But all that time had yielded knowledge. And she knew exactly what buttons to push to put him in a ferocious rage.
Draco should have known better, but he always did let his emotions get the better of him. He should have realized what she was trying to do. She couldn't just kill him, she wasn't cold-blooded enough for that. But if they were fighting and something unfortunate happened to him, well she couldn't help that, now could she?
He smirked at her, thinking he had the upper hand. He was a man, after all, and a soldier. She was a lab rat. What did she know of dueling? This would be over quickly. He would just hex her enough to make her unconscious, take her back to the Manor, and figure out what to do with her there.
What he didn't realize was that Hermione was in the best shape of her life. While he had slowly been becoming more and more decadent, Hermione had spent the last month supervising and participating in Harry's physical and magical training.
Poor boy; he didn't stand a chance.
He started the fight, throwing weak curses at her which injured her pride instead of her body. That was the best he could do?
He became more creative as Hermione showed no mercy. There were many things he couldn't block or dodge, as they were new spells that she had been in the process of testing in the lab before she had left to liberate Harry.
Keeping an eye to the time, she allowed him to think that he was pushing her back, when in reality she was really maneuvering them toward the exit.
90 seconds to go…
She moved her head quickly to the side, barely missing a curse he threw at her. About time he started playing fair.
Finally, she turned and ran, hoping her would follow her. He did and kept throwing curses and hexes all the while. She had finally turned the last corner and could see the exit when something startled her into stopping.
"Hermione?" a voice called out.
She stopped to turn around and look for who was calling her. Her movement gave Draco the opportunity he need to hit her with another hex which threw her into another wall with more force than last time.
She heard the crunch of her body making contact and the sound of her groan. But then everything went dark, and she embraced the nothingness.