Wow, this chapter and the next have been a bloody whirlwind of events! I hope I'm keeping everything straight and easy to follow!
Thanks, Beta-love!
Extra content at thebuescherproject.
0=0=0=0=0=0
In the dining room, with the mid-morning light stretching long across the table, Nymphadora Tonks, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger poured over the documents spread around them.
"I want Charlie," Ron requested, pulling his brother's file towards his chest.
Hermione shook her head. "Riddle has been known to employ dark creatures. I need him to be working on research with the intelligence that I hopefully will be getting from Nott and Malfoy."
Slightly disgruntled, Ron slid the file to her. "Fine, but I get Malfoy Jr."
"Fine," Hermione granted. "What do we think about Lovegood."
Tonks snorted, "She's either going to be a prodigy or a total flop. I say we should let her go to the range and we'll find out soon enough."
"My father is going to want to be armed," Ron warned. "Anything muggle..."
Hermione glanced down at the sheet in front of her. "Take him, but don't be afraid to cut."
"Ginny's a fighter, correct?" Tonks questioned.
Sighing, Hermione replied, "I know she wants to be, but other than Narcissa, who can we rely upon to patch up the wounded?"
"I can talk to Padma and see if she's willing to be taught," offered Ron casually.
Hermione smiled, "Want your girlfriend out of the line of fire?"
"I do," he replied with total seriousness. "And if we make it past this, she's going to be my wife."
Shell-shocked, Hermione's jaw dropped and her hand poised ready over her paper but did not mark. She cleared her throat. "Patil on medic crew."
After a strange bit of silence in which Tonks looked at the floor, Hermione stared at Ron, and Ron turned beet red, Dr. Atwell poked his head into the dining room.
"Sorry to disturb, but Commander, could I have you in the basement, please?" he asked, his manner not giving anything away.
Hermione nodded. "Divvy up the rest and I'll approve them when I'm done."
Tonks and Ron said that they would, and Hermione followed the doctor (dressed in some of Malfoy's spare clothes, which were Severus' spare clothes) through the kitchen and down into the cellar.
He hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob, then he dropped it, turning to square himself with Hermione. "Listen, I know you know these people better than I ever could. I think I need to be completely honest."
"Go on," Hermione nodded, waving silencing spells around their perimeter.
Dr. Atwell cleared his throat, "Lavender is badly damaged. If this war is coming to a head within the next six months like Draco told me it would, it would be best to get her out and to an institution."
"Is it really that bad?" Hermione whispered, chewing her lip pensively.
Nodding, he continued. "She's experiencing flashbacks with a high degree of occurrence and is displaying most or all of the conventional Post Traumatic markers."
"What about Remus?"
"With some anti-depressant medication and therapy, he should be recovered, but you must watch him very closely," explained Dr. Atwell.
"And his continued infatuation with Lavender Brown?" Hermione sneered.
Dr. Atwell crossed his arms over his chest, "It is a very natural response to the torture they suffered. It is typical for two survivors to reach to each other."
"She's historically highly vindictive and manipulative, does that factor into your assessment?"
"Lavender is clinging to the only pillar of stability she possesses," Atwell informed.
Hermione considered, "Unfortunately that pillar is going to have to be taken from her, as she's a hazard to my unit and the object of her affection is needed."
"I believe that Lavender relies on Remus to a serious degree. To a lesser extent, Remus looks to her for validation that the events that occurred are forgiven- namely, his rape of her."
"Regardless, Lavender will be sent away and Remus will get his arse together. What about Kingsley?" pressed Hermione.
Smiling for the first time, Dr. Atwell concluded, "He's made of tough stuff, that Kingsley. He informed me that he's been involved in law enforcement for the past ten years and that one weeks' captivity was something they trained him on- in a practical sense."
"They keep people in cages for a week at the MLE?" Hermione gasped, her hand over her heart.
Dr. Atwell shook his head, "Apparently, he was kept in a completely dark room with complete sensory deprivation for two weeks as part of his training."
"Holy fuck," Hermione goggled. "I had no idea."
He laughed, "So, I would recommend Kingsley be put on an anti-depressant for a few months and then weaned off. But other than that, I'd pronounce him fit for combat in the next few weeks."
"Thank you, Doctor. You have been invaluable," Hermione thanked. "Might I see my troops now?"
Dr. Atwell moved aside to open the door for her, "You may. Try not to agitate them too much, would you?"
Smirking, Hermione slipped through the door to where the three survivors were gathered around the coffee table, Kingsley and Lupin playing chess, Lavender painting her toe nails a vivid blue at Remus' feet. "Kingsley, could I have you for a moment? In the next room?"
He smiled, rising to his feet lithely and extending his hand to Remus, "You were beating me very badly."
They went back through the door, and Hermione gestured for Kingsley to sit in the kitchen chair by the door while she plopped down on the steps. "Dr. Atwell has given you the clear to come back to every day life. So you think that you are ready to be back in the fray?"
Kingsley nodded solemnly, "It will take much more than a few werewolves to keep me away, Commander."
After a few long moments passed, after which, Hermione returned Kingsley's nod slowly. "I expect that should you have any adverse reactions that you will inform me and then consult with Dr. Atwell." Embracing Kingsley tightly, Hermione buried her face in his borrowed shirt. "I'm terribly pleased you're all right."
Smiling brilliantly, flashing a row of white, even teeth, Kingsley replied, "As I've said, it takes much more to keep me away."
"Well, try to make sure it doesn't happen again," Hermione sniffed, holding the taller man at arm's length. "Go find Neville and ask him to drive you and Lupin to a store and get some clothes. He'll have the Gringott's card. I'll be done with Lupin soon and you can go."
With a pat to Hermione's shoulder which nearly collapsed her with his strength, Kingsley made his way up the stairs, turning back to smile radiantly at Hermione.
Hoping that the next conversation would go just as well, but knowing that it wouldn't, Hermione steeled her nerves, put on her Commander hat and got ready to verbally eviscerate her soldiers.
She opened the door and asked them to give her their attention before sitting down in the third arm chair and folding her hands neatly in her lap.
"First and foremost, I must ask you to remember," Hermione began quietly, looking them both in the eye in turns, "that I am your commander. If you lie to me, I will know."
Remus opened his mouth and gaped, but could not speak.
"And if you try to tell me that you're not fucking her, I will end you. Understand?" Hermione seethed, her voice low and cutting.
He closed his mouth, exchanging a look with Lavender before swallowing his words and staying quiet.
"Thank you," continued Hermione. "These are your orders: cease and desist all physical contact. You are to meet multiple times a day with Dr. Atwell for Post Traumatic Stress Counseling. You are going to be separated."
Lavender scoffed, looking at her former roommate and not her commander, "You can't tell us what to do with our personal lives."
Remus looked away, his body language telling Hermione everything she needed to know. Her voice became low and furious, "You want to fucking bet?" Standing, she towered over the seated Lavender, her back to Remus, "As your commanding officer, I can tell you when to eat, when to sleep and when to take a shite, do you understand me?"
Defiantly looking into Hermione's dark eyes Lavender shot back, "You're nothing but a know it all, ponced up little bitch playing leader, you know that?"
Without standing, Hermione directed to Remus quietly, "I suggest that you go get Dr. Atwell. Now."
Remus scrambled for the door, "I'll be right back."
"I'm not done with you, Lupin, so you damn well better be," Hermione's gaze did not leave Lavender's for a single second. She continued, "I hope you know what I can do to you, Brown."
She did not reply.
"I understand what you went through was difficult and awful and trying. I get that. But what I do not get is your dogged refusal to stand down."
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Lavender replied, "What does it matter that we're having sex?"
"It matters when his wife is my second in command. You mess with Nymphadora Tonks, you mess with me," seethed Hermione, sitting back down. "So what I'm going to do with you is very simple. Dr. Atwell is going to take you with him, back to the hospital, and you will be committed for the duration of this war."
"You can't-"
"Oh, I promise you, Brown, I can."
For the first time, Lavender seemed to loose some of her bravado and begin to visibly shake in her seat.
"At the end of the war, you will receive a wand. Until that time," explained Hermione calmly, taking the wand she had given to Lavender only days previously from beside her on the coffee table and slipped it into her pocket, "you are a muggle. If you talk to anyone about anything magical, I will personally see to your punishment."
The door opened, sliding over the thick carpet. Hermione did not look up.
"Dr. Atwell, I appreciate everything that you are doing for us," the commander said, "She is ready for transport."
"No!" cried Lavender, looking around frantically
Hermione returned, "I can bind you if you like."
"I've just been a hostage! Please!" Lavender begged, clawing at the arm of her chair. "I'm emotionally damaged!"
"I believe that," replied Hermione calmly, "the events that you suffered on North Rona were catastrophic and life-changing and debilitating. What they did not do was make you into an opportunist, and violate the unspoken trust between troops and shattering the life of my Colonel. You are sleeping with a married man- even in the most desperate situations, you know better. Once you're safe, you are just idiotic. I believe I've made it perfectly clear that you are sworn to secrecy on the topic of your little love affair with Lupin. If this gets out, you'll have it far, far worse than Marietta Edgecomb."
"What are you going to do with him?"
Hermione smiled, "As a soldier with battle and diplomatic experience, he will be treated here and will be reintegrated back into the unit. But make no mistake, Brown, he will have severe repercussions. Dr. Atwell?"
"Come on," he whispered, putting his arms around Lavender and gently pulling her up with him. "Are you hungry? We can get something to eat on the way. Have you ever had a Big Mac?"
As they left, Hermione slumped against one of the three queen sized beds and closed her eyes. Remus was next. Fuck.
He knocked on the open door, "You wanted to see me, Commander?" he asked respectfully.
"I see you're going to make this easy on me. I thank you," Hermione replied, opening her eyes and standing up. "You have been sworn to secrecy. You are not to tell anyone about what happened between you and Brown after you arrived here. Your wife has been informed that you were forced to violate Brown on North Rona and that is all she will know until the conclusion of this war. What you did on Rona was an acceptable part of this war and I understand, Lupin. I do. But a continuation of that affair once you were transported to safety was a severe breach of the laws of trust between soldiers. You have a wife- you are a husband and you'd damn well better start acting like it. If not, I have no choice but to render you useless for the duration of the combat. I hope I have been clear."
Lupin nodded, his face pale and devoid of emotion.
"You will be staying here, under observation. You will be given the rank of Fourth Lieutenant," she droned. "And if you step a single toe out of line again, so help me god, you'll be on the business end of a castration hex."
Nodding, Lupin turned a very unbecoming shade of chartreuse and gulped painfully.
"Report to Lieutenant Longbottom immediately. He will be taking you and Captain Shacklebolt to procure some clothing," instructed Hermione. "Longbottom is your commanding officer."
Knowing that there was nothing more to say, she simply turned and walked out the door, up the stairs and to the kitchen where she poured herself a liberal dose of whiskey into a tea cup and downed it before taking a long drink of water from the faucet.
"Very polite, Granger," Malfoy drawled from the counter.
Hermione started, "Jesus, Captain. Didn't see you there."
"I'm hurt," he mocked. "I'm sure you want to see what I have come up with."
She brightened, "Yes!"
"Well, there isn't anything. Yet," he wheedled. "But I'm sure I would work better in an environment where there are not so many distractions. Like, say, in your private study."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "If you wanted to get into my bed, Captain, you just had to ask."
He made a face.
"Fine," she relented. "Don't touch anything with your gross pureblood hands, though."
Thanking her, Malfoy gathered up his materials and strode into her room like he owned it, closing the door with a snap.
Hermione shook her head. Oh, God, I need a nap. No, no. Firearm lists from Ron. Retrieve them. Good, they finished. Molly on the firearm team? Really?
She leafed through the papers as she walked into her room, toeing closed the door. Slashing and scribbling on the lists, they worked together for the better part of three hours, Hermione alternating, after finishing the master list, between dozing and reading a trashy novel and questioning Draco on his progress.
They sat in near silence, the quiet stretching between them like sagging power lines over a great distance. Draco sat on the floor, the diary open in front of him, his only sound being the rustle of the turning pages. Hermione reclined on her bed, idly watching him scan the indecipherable words.
"Have you-" Hermione questioned tentatively.
Draco shook his head. "Not yet."
"Do you-"
"I'll tell you when I know," a touch of irritation crept into Draco's voice. Hermione had to hand it to him: his patience was immense.
The clock hands moved another two hours, from two to four in the afternoon before a genuine smile broke across Malfoy's face.
"What is it?" cried Hermione, sliding off the bed and to the floor, her knees scraping roughly on the carpet.
Malfoy kept nodding, reaching blindly up to Hermione's desk for a spare bit of paper and a pencil. Scribbling furiously as his grey eyes darted from the journal to his paper, the rough form of a tiara began.
Hermione's heart began to race and her mouth became dry. Could it be- oh my god.
"I've seen this."