The move from Privet Drive had been planned about a hundred times over, each tiny detail ingrained into her mind. She was still terrified though. It wasn't just because moving Harry was a generally daunting task; Hermione knew there would be Death Eaters waiting for them. She knew how dangerous it was going to be, and she knew Severus would be there.
It was hard to decide what was worse; not telling the others that they would be heading straight into an attack, or knowing that Severus would be in an incredibly perilous position in trying to maintain his cover, whilst being attacked by her own friends.
Seeing Harry almost made her cry. There he was, messy haired, green eyed, exactly the same little boy she'd met years ago, and yet a whole different person. Harry was so important, to her, to Ron, to the whole wizarding world. And he was about to be in mortal danger, and she wasn't going to tell him.
It hurt.
She remained silent as they bustled into the house, chattering and laughing. What if someone died tonight? They were about to be ambushed. And she knew.
*"The one thing we've got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight."* Said Moody, and Hermione's stomach clenched guiltily.
Right.
She pushed everything from her mind. This had to be done. She had to be prepared.
Harry's potion may have looked nicer than the ones she'd seen previously, but it didn't taste it. It was a strange experience, becoming taller, having short hair and bad eyesight, but what was weirder by far was the awareness of having something decidedly different between her legs. Hermione fought the urge to laugh.
And then they were heading into the back garden, and she was being helped onto an invisible flying horse by the Prime Ministers body guard, and life felt strange. A fresh surge of nerves took hold of her; this was it then. Would they all make it to the Burrow?
*"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One ... two . THREE."*
There was a horrible lurching sensation, and then they were moving into the night sky. She caught a fleeting glance of the real Harry in Hagrid's ridiculous side car and then … they were everywhere.
They were just … everywhere.
And it was as if the next few seconds stretched on for hours. Hermione looked around the wall of black hooded figures desperately for Severus. It was like a strange form of torture; being so near him, wanting to see him, whilst simultaneously wishing he was a hundred miles away, and being terrified of giving something away if she found his obsidian eyes. It seemed as if time was suspended as she took in each Death Eater.
And then someone screamed, and time caught up with them, there were flashes of green, another scream, and the Thestral burst through the circle.
5 Death Eaters followed them.
Hermione turned around, noting with relief that all of their hoods were still up, and hoping against hope that meant that Severus was elsewhere. Their attackers took advantage of her momentary pause and a flash of green missed her by a hair. Then she was shooting hexes and jinxes from her wand faster than she knew possible, one hand still hanging onto Kingsley. The Death Eaters were aiming for him, and for a moment she was thankful for the survival instincts that must have kicked in as the terrified beast flew erratically across the sky.
One of her spells hit a Death Eater square in the chest and he fell from his broom, lost in the darkness. Not one of the remaining Death Eaters stopped to help him.
There were more flashes, red and green and purple.
Then Kingsley hit another, and he fell too, but one of the remaining Death Eaters dropped out of sight to help, she aimed a curse at him which seemed to hit, two remained, and she felt a split seconds relief … but then she caught sight of him.
Voldemort.
Flying.
And she just … stopped.
No spells came from her wand.
No sound came from her lips.
She just sat there and stared at him.
Pale skin.
Red eyes.
Slitted nose.
He raised his wand, a manic smile on his face, and Hermione knew that it was the end.
She shut her eyes and thought of Severus.
But nothing happened.
He was gone.
"Kingsley?"
"I don't know. Just hold on."
It seemed a long flight after that, the cold air, the twinkling stars, the darkness of the sky. Expecting to be attacked at every second, every noise, every movement amplified by fear, but being … alone.
And then they were in the safe house, just in time to get the Portkey to the Burrow.
And there was the real Harry running to greet them. He'd made it. Thank God Harry had made it.
*"The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us!" Kingsley shouted.
"'Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him,'" said Lupin calmly.
Kingsley turned his wand on Harry, but Lupin said, "It's him, I've checked!"
"All right, all right!" said Kingsley, stowing his wand back beneath his cloak, "But somebody betrayed us! They knew, they knew it was tonight!"
Her stomach twisted.
"So it seems," replied Lupin, "but apparently they did not realize that there would be seven Harrys."
"Small comfort!" snarled Kingsley. "Who else is back?"
"Only Harry, Hagrid, George, and me."
Hermione stifled a little moan behind her hand.
George lost an ear.
"Snape lost his hood during the chase. Sectumsempra was always a specialty of his'. I wish I could say I'd paid him back in kind, but it was all I could do to keep George on the broom after he was injured, he was losing so much blood."
Silence fell between the four of them as they looked up at the sky. There was no sign of movement; the stars stared back, unblinking, indifferent, unobscured by flying friends. Where was Ron? Where were Fred and Mr. Weasley? Where were Bill, Fleur, Tonks, Moody, and Mundungus?*
Something had happened and Severus had cursed off George's ear. Bloody hell. But it sounded like he'd made it…
Hagrid called for Harry, they both went inside, and Hermione snuck off to the bathroom.
She wanted to see Severus so much it felt like a wound. The journey had been hideous, and it must have surely been worse for him … and he'd hurt George. She knew he'd feel terrible about that, it was true he'd never been fond of any of the students, but he'd never hurt any of them either, and she had a feeling that permanently disfiguring a teenage boy would affect him greatly. But she knew it was incredibly doubtful he would be able to access his pocket watch. Sighing, she sent him a message.
'I'm safe and at the Burrow. Harry's safe too, some of the others aren't back yet, I'll let you know when I get the chance. You cursed off George's ear, but he'll be fine, please don't feel badly about it, I know you would have been trying to help.
I hope you're safe. Please let me know when you are, I can't stop thinking about you. I hope you don't get punished for Harry getting away. Take care. I – I miss you.'
She pushed away her tears and poked her head into the lounge, noting with relief that George was conscious and Mr Weasley and Fred were back, before resuming her place staring at the stars with Lupin and Hagrid.
It could have been a hundred years that passed, it could have been seconds. She thought of Ron and his freckles and smiles, she thought of Tonks and her bubblegum hair, she thought of Moody and his rough laugh and scarred face, and Bill and Fleur and even Mundungus. They all needed to get back safely.
*And then a broom materialized directly above them and streaked toward the ground.
"It's them!" screamed Hermione.
Tonks landed in a long skid that sent earth and pebbles everywhere.
"Remus!" Tonks cried as she staggered off the broom into Lupin's arms. His face was set and white. He seemed unable to speak, Ron tripped dazedly toward Harry and Hermione.
"You're okay," he mumbled, before she flew at him and hugged him tightly.
"Ron was great," said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom - "
"You did?" said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck.
"Always the tone of surprise," he said a little grumpily, breaking free. "Are we the last back?"
"No," said Ginny, "we're still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron -"
She ran back inside.*
After that time seemed to move very slowly, Kingsley left for Downing Street, and still there was no Fleur, no Bill, no Mundungus, no Moody and no warmth from her mirror.
*"Mad-Eye's dead."*
It felt like someone had hit her in the stomach with a cricket bat. How could Moody be dead? He was a survivor. Of all people … he just couldn't be dead.
It seemed a long time later that they all went silently back inside, all aware that there was no point in waiting any longer.
It was stupid really, but when everyone held up their glasses and made a toast to 'Mad-Eye', the first thing Hermione felt was a slight exasperation that no one had ever noticed that he didn't like being called that. No one would refer to Harry as 'Scarhead'. The Auror's name was Alastor Moody. A hot, volatile sort of grief rose unbidden in her chest. War. Deaths. She'd studied the first and second World Wars in her muggle primary school, she remembered being horrified by all the fighting, all the suffering, never imagining for one moment that she would one day be intimately involved in a war herself. She thought of Cedric, of Sirius, of Dumbledore, and now of Moody. How many more were to die before this was over?
It was very late at night that she finally felt her mirror grow warm.
'Can you talk?'
She crept out into the back garden, her heart pounding, and found herself a sheltered spot, littering the air around her with privacy charms.
With trembling fingers she opened the mirror, enlarged it, whispered the password, and spoke his name into the night.
It was seconds before his face appeared where her reflection had been.
"Hermione."
He looked exhausted, older, concerned.
"Severus, are you okay?"
"I – yes. Are you?"
"Yes. He didn't punish you?"
"No." His face twisted. "Is George -"
"George is fine," she interrupted, "he's made more ear-related jokes than I even knew existed."
"It – it was an accident, Yaxley had his wand pointed directly at Lupin's back, I was aiming for his hand but something happened and I … I missed and I hit… And I didn't know who it was, and there was blood everywhere and I-"
He stopped talking abruptly and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hermione wished she could reach through the mirror and touch his troubled face.
"You were trying to help Severus." She said firmly. "You were trying to save someone's life."
He didn't respond, his eyes still closed.
"Look at me." She demanded, and his eyes snapped up to hers. "George is alive, which is more than can be said for Moody. You were trying to help. Don't over think this. George is alive, Harry is alive, I am alive and you are alive. That's what we need to focus on. I was so worried about you Severus, I didn't know where you were, or if you were okay-"
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed angrily against it, looking into Severus' sallow face and promising herself she would tell him she loved him if they … when they saw each other in person again.
"I'm so glad you're okay." She whispered.
"I – I was so worried for you." He whispered back, averting his eyes. "There were so many of us, and so few of you and I … I didn't know where you were, or if…" A dull flush erupted on his cheeks and he stopped talking.
"How angry is he?" She asked, knowing there was no need to state who "he" was.
"Very." Answered Severus, a slight shiver running over him. "But it is not directed at me."
"Thank God."
His lips twitched upwards slightly.
"I am surprised to hear about Moody. Is everyone else -?"
"Everyone else is fine." She reassured him. "I know you won't grieve for him, Severus, but he is a loss to the Order."
Severus nodded.
"What do you know about myself and Moody?" He asked suddenly, his face set and his black eyes boring into hers.
"I -" Hermione felt herself blush. "I know he was in charge of interrogations leading to trial after the first war … and I know you … were … acquitted…"
"Know-it-all." He sneered, and for some reason it made her laugh, and it felt good to laugh.
His face was softer when she looked back at him, and she smiled.
"Yes." She agreed. "I hope he wasn't too harsh on you."
"He was … determined, ruthless." Severus answered. "But it was Azkaban that was…"
"Did you have to stay there long?"
"It was only a week." He answered quietly, his face dark. "But it felt like a lot longer."
"I imagine you have worse memories than most to be tortured with."
He sent her a piercingly look, but rather than make her apprehensive as it once would have done, it just made her heart ache.
"You know Severus," she said thoughtfully, "when this is all over I think we should go on holiday."
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then all at once his eyes widened, his mouth turned upwards and he started laughing.
And it was wonderful.
She wasn't entirely sure what he was laughing at, but seeing him so unguarded, so happy, it was a beautiful thing to witness.
"I'm sure there are very few people who would suggest a holiday to a Death Eater who's just cursed off a friend's ear in the middle of a major war Hermione."
She chuckled.
"I just meant that we should create some good memories." She told him smiling.
"Yes." He answered, a small smile playing around his mouth. "I have never been on holiday."
"Well that's something to look forward to then." She answered, forcing her brain to stop telling her that the likelihood of them both surviving were slim.
There was a sad look in Severus' eyes.
"Tell me when you leave." He said seriously.
"I will. Stay safe."
"You too."
"And if there's anything you want to tell me, or if you just want to … to talk… Please contact me. I'll always want to hear from you Severus."
There was suddenly something shy in his eyes then.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Goodbye."
"Bye."
He sent her one last desperate look, and then he was gone.
And she still hadn't told him she loved him. It was stupid really, either of them could die at any time, but she wanted to tell him in person. She wanted to touch him when she said it, watch his reaction, his body language, she wanted to kiss him afterwards and feel his body against hers… A lone tear fell down her cheek as she headed inside.
This was going to be harder than she'd thought.
Moody's death hung over the house. So did Harry's guilt.
Mrs Weasley's attempts to keep the three of them apart were jarringly successful. It was nearly impossible to discuss anything in between cleaning, washing, decorating and de-gnoming. The three of them had barely had a chance to speak since they'd first arrived.
The days seemed to go by quite slowly, they still had no sort of a plan, but she felt restless, as if they should be doing something, going somewhere. And she missed Severus. It was stupid really, but she just missed him. There had been no word from him since their last conversation and Hermione wasn't sure whether she should contact him again. She wanted to very much, but she didn't really have anything to tell him, and she didn't want to become a nuisance to him.
It was pure exasperation that finally made her send him a message, hidden in the chicken shed.
'I think there's a chance Mrs Weasley is under the Imperius Curse and trying to murder us all with laundry. Miss you.'
She remained seated, a particularly fat hen on her lap, not expecting an immediate reply, and forcing herself not to feel nervous, but it was only a few minutes later that his words appeared across her mirror.
'Mrs Weasley would be a terrifying woman if she ever succumbed to Dark magic.'
She laughed delightedly, but quickly forced herself to stop, worried her make-shift sanctuary would be discovered.
'She's terrifying at times anyway. Are you okay?'
'Indeed. I'm well enough, yourself?'
'Fine thanks.'
'I must go. Be safe.'
She ran her finger the last two words, a glowing feeling in her stomach, before they faded away.
'You too.'
She sent, then stored away her mirror, and walked slowly back inside.
Harry's Birthday meal was lovely, until *a streak of light that came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it resolved itself into a bright silver weasel, which stood on its hind legs and spoke with Mr Weasley's voice.
"Minister of Magic coming with me."
The Patronus dissolved into thin air, leaving Fleur's family peering in astonishment at the place where it had vanished.
"The Minister - but why - ? I don't understand?"
But there was no time to discuss the matter; a second later, Mr Weasley had appeared out of thin air at the gate, accompanied by Rufus Scrimgeour, instantly recognizable by his mane of grizzled hair.*
The whole meeting with him was exceptionally uncomfortable.
She, Harry and Ron squeezed onto the sofa.
*"I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."
"Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?" Said Harry.
"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, before Scrimgeour could answer. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!" she said, and her voice trembled slightly.
"I had every right," said Scrimgeour dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power the confiscate the contents of a will-"
"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artefacts," she said, "and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"
"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.
"No, I'm not," she retorted. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"
Ron laughed.
"Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?" asked Scrimgeour.
"Me? Not - not really... It was always Harry who..."
Scrimgeour looked as though he had heard exactly what he had expected, and wanted, to hear. He swooped like a bird of prey upon Ron's answer.
"If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. Why do you think you were singled out?"
"I ... dunno," said Ron. "I ... when I say we weren't close ... I mean, I think he liked me..."
"You're being modest, Ron," said Hermione. "Dumbledore was very fond of you."
This was stretching the truth to breaking point; Ron and Dumbledore had never been alone together, and direct contact between them had been negligible. However, Scrimgeour did not seem to be listening. He put his hand inside his cloak and drew out a drawstring pouch, from it, he removed a scroll of parchment which he unrolled and read aloud.
"'The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore'... Yes, here we are... 'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'"
Scrimgeour leaned forward and passed the Deluminator to Ron, who took it and turned it over in the fingers looking stunned.
"That is a valuable object," said Scrimgeour, watching Ron. "Why would he have left you and item so rare?"
Ron shook his head, looking bewildered.
"'To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'"
She took it from Scrimgeour without a word. She held the book in her lap and gazed at it.
"Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.
"He ... he knew I liked books," She said in a thick voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.
"But why that particular book?"
"I don't know. He must have thought I'd enjoy it."
Scrimgeour turned back to the will.
"'To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'"
"Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?" asked Scrimgeour.
"No idea," said Harry. "For the reasons you just read out, I suppose ... to remind me what you can get if you ... persevere and whatever it was."
"You think this a mere symbolic keepsake, then?"
"I suppose so," said Harry. "What else could it be?"
"I'm asking the questions," said Scrimgeour, "A Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"
"Because Snitches have flesh memories," she answered automatically.
"Correct," said Scrimgeour. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch" - he held up the tiny golden ball - "will remember your touch, Potter."
Hermione had no idea how to stop Harry from touching that snitch in front of the Minister, but she was sure she needed to.
"Take it," said Scrimgeour quietly.
Harry held out his hand, and Scrimgeour leaned forward again and place the Snitch, slowly and deliberately, into Harry's palm.
Nothing happened. As Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, its tired wings fluttered and were still. They to gaze avidly at the now partially concealed ball, as if still hoping it might transform in some way.
"That was dramatic," said Harry coolly.
"That's all, then, is it?" asked Hermione, making to raise herself off the sofa, simultaneously experiencing relief and disappointment.
"Not quite," said Scrimgeour, who looked bad tempered now. "Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter."
"What is it?" asked Harry.
"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," he said.
"So where is it?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"That sword was not Dumbledore's to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs -"
"It belongs to Harry!" she said hotly. "It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat-"
"According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor," said Scrimgeour. "That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided. Why do you think-?"
"-Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?" said Harry. "Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall."
"This is not a joke, Potter!" growled Scrimgeour. "Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Interesting theory," said Harry. "Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So this is what you've been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a Snitch? People are dying - I was nearly one of them Voldemort chased me across three counties, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there's no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!"*
It was strange when Harry did things like that. He was suddenly an adult, and not only an adult but an eloquent adult, who demanded respect and attention. When she saw him like that, her chest would fill up with admiration, and hope, hope that he just might win. Where had the time gone?
Harry's party broke up quite quickly after that, all members alarmed by the unannounced visit, all confused and unsettled. That was exactly how she felt about Dumbledore's gifts; they made no sense. What was she supposed to do with a book of children's stories, what was Ron supposed to do with a glorified off switch, and what on earth did 'I open at the close' mean?
Hermione wasn't entirely sure why, but seeing Victor Krum at the wedding just felt wonderful. He reminded her of a simpler time, it was silly really, but back when she'd first become friendly with him, she'd thought things were very complicated, but compared to her life now…
Witnessing a wizarding marriage was fascinating, the whole thing was so beautiful, the golden balloons, the flowers. There was something so potent about having something as uplifting as a wedding in such dark times, the ceremony made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, the way Bill and Fleur looked at each other made tears form in her eyes. It was good to be the presence of love. It was nice to forget about everything for a while as well, there was just laughter and music and dancing.
And then her mirror, safely concealed in her bra, grew warm. And she knew it was something bad. Instinctively she looked for Harry.
*"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."*
Everything went weird after that. There were mutterings, screams, the crack of people disapparating; that was when she realised the defences around the Burrow were down.
*"Ron!" She cried. "Ron, where are you?"*
Her and Harry threw themselves into the panicking crowd. Masked figures were appearing everywhere, part of her wondered if Severus was amongst them, but she knew she needed to get the boys away from here.
And then Ron finally caught up to them, he grabbed her arm and she twisted them into darkness.
Her first thought was getting them changed and finding somewhere safe to do their planning. The warmth of her mirror was a heavy awareness against her skin, but she knew that whatever Severus had sent, it would have to wait for now.
*"I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order."
"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Ron.
"I've been practicing and I think so," said Hermione.
"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already.
The two workmen that had entered the dingy café suddenly moved. Ron, a few seconds late in realizing what was going on, lunged across the table, pushing her sideways onto her bench. The force of the Death Eaters' spells shattered the tiled wall where Ron's head had just been, as Harry yelled, "Stupefy!"
The great blond Death Eater was hit in the face by a jet of red light: he slumped sideways, unconscious. His companion, unable to see who had cast the spell, fired another at Ron: shining black ropes flew from his wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot - the waitress screamed and ran for the door - Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied up Ron, but the spell missed, rebounded on the window, and hit the waitress, who collapsed in front of the door.
"Expulso!" bellowed the Death Eater, and the table behind which Harry was standing blew up: The force of the explosion slammed him into the wall and he felt his wand leave his hand as the Cloak slipped off him.
"Petrificus Totalus!" she screamed, and the Death Eater fell forward like a statue to land with a crunching thud on the mess of broken china, table, and coffee. Hermione crawled out from underneath the bench, shaking bits of glass ashtray out of her hair and trembling all over.
Grimmauld Place seemed like a good idea after that. How on earth had the Death Eater managed to find them?! It was stupid really, but after two ambushes out of nowhere, being back in the forgotten headquarters left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She knew there was nothing to fear from Severus, but … Perhaps it didn't help that her mind kept conjuring memories of the last time she was here, and what a wonderful time it had been, especially compared to now. Half of her kept expecting him to come stalking through the door, black robes billowing behind him. The thought made her long for his presence.
Hermione excused herself to the bathroom at the first possible opportunity; she needed to see Severus' message, and she needed to warn him not to come here, Harry's anger was … frightening. The last thing she needed was a confrontation between those two.
'Hermione the Ministry has fallen, wherever you are you need to leave. NOW.'
A bitter smile formed on her face.
'It's okay, we got away safely, we're at Grimmauld Place, so don't come here.'
His reply came very quickly, and she wondered if he'd been waiting.
'Oh thank … when you didn't reply … I-'
She smiled at his message.
'I'm sorry, there wasn't a good time to get away from the boys, and then we were attacked… Do you know how they found us?'
'You were attacked? How?'
She could almost see the crease between his brows forming, the lines around his eyes tightening.
'Two of them found us in a muggle café. I have no idea how they knew.'
'I don't know either, I will try to find out. Are you well?'
'Yes I'm fine. Are you?
'I… Yes.'
'Tell me the truth.'
'I… Malfoy Manor is not … pleasant. The Dark Lord is angry.'
'With you?'
'No. But the effects of his anger are … far reaching.'
'I'm sorry Severus, is there anything I can do?'
'Of course not.'
She could visualise the impatient expression on his face as he responded to her words, the deepening of the lines around his mouth.
'Please tell me if there is.'
"Very well.'
There was a pause, Hermione could barely imagine what it would be like to be living in a house containing a furious Voldemort, but nothing her mind conjured was anything less than hideous.
'When will you leave Grimmauld Place?'
'I don't know, not until we've sorted ourselves out, it may take a while.'
'Let me know when you leave.'
'Of course. I wish I could see you Severus.'
'And I, you, but it is not possible.'
'I know … I just wish …' She stopped herself. 'I just wish a thousand things.'
There was a significant pause.
'As do I.'
Another pause.
'Hermione … you know I will be always grateful that … you're…'
She smiled, tears in her eyes, knowing how hard he was trying.
'Thank you.' She sent back, saving him the necessity of continuing. 'I feel the same.
I'd better go, I'm in the toilet, stay safe, take care.'
'You too Hermione, look after yourself.'
She shrunk her mirror and stowed it in a pocket, making her way back downstairs with a heavy heart.
Waking up the next morning and finding Harry absent was terrifying, but then he showed her the letter from his Mother, with one sheet missing, and a torn photo of him as a baby zooming around the room. Something in her stomach went cold. Severus had been the one to search Grimmauld Place. Did it mean that he was the one who took part of Lily's letter, and ripped the photo in two? Did the other half contain an image of Lily? She tried not to read too much into it, but … if Severus had taken those things … it felt like … a betrayal. It shouldn't have felt like that … but it did. He'd searched the house after they'd … he'd still been thinking about Lily… But of course he'd still have thought of her if he'd found a letter from her, a photo too, it was only natural. And perhaps the last part of the letter had been lost, and perhaps the photo had already been torn… Or maybe he just didn't have any photos of her… It didn't mean he cared about her –Hermione- any less. It just…
*"R.A.B. I think I've found him."
With a gasp, Hermione was brought firmly back to the present.
"In your mum's letter? But I didn't see -"
Harry shook his head, pointing at a sign.
"Sirius's brother?" she whispered.
"He was a Death Eater," said Harry. "Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave - so they killed him."
"That fits!" she gasped. "If he was a Death Eater he had access to Voldemort, and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down!"*
They were kept busy after that, first by the manual search of the room, then by the chilling realisation that they'd actually thrown one of Voldemort's Horcruxes away, then by everything that happened with Kreacher.
That was one story she wasn't likely to forget in a hurry.
The hours, and then the days stretched on as they waited for the house elf's return. She received no word from Severus, and had no idea what to say to him now. She wasn't angry, she was more annoyed with her own reaction to what had happened than anything else, but … she just felt … uncomfortable. She'd never really faced his love for Lily, she'd just pushed it aside into a distant part of her brain and ignored it. And of course it didn't change anything, it was just something she needed to deal with, get used to. It didn't mean he cared about her any less, and she'd known what she was getting herself into… It just … she just wished he cared about her … as much as she cared about him.
The ominous arrival of Death Eaters hovering on the street outside did little to improve the mood, and Lupin's arrival only dragged things down further. Harry was too angry, he went too far, but there was something about the whole thing that made Hermione feel a little sick. She knew Lupin loved Tonks, but he was ashamed of what she'd become because of him; an outcast. So he was planning to abandon her, and his unborn child, to assist them. He thought he was doing this for her own good. It just reminded her of something Severus would do, he was determined he was worthless as well. Why did men never just ask women how she felt? Hermione was sure Tonks didn't give a flying fuck about what anyone else thought, she loved Lupin, and that was that. Hermione felt the same about Severus. Besides, the damage was already done, and Tonks would be happy as long as she had Lupin, if he left, she'd be an outcast, and alone. Why did there have to be so much recrimination, so much doubt?
Love is love.
The silence in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place was tense and hollow after Lupin's departure.
Then with a crack and a flurry of limbs, Kreacher returned with Mundungus.
*"I was selling in Diagon Alley and she come up to me and asks if I've got a license for trading in magical artifacts. Bleedin' snoop. She was gonna fine me, but she took a fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and let me off that time, and to fink meself lucky."
"Who was this woman?" asked Harry.
"I dunno, some Ministry hag."
Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled.
"Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head."
He frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad."*
Her stomach dropped.
Dolores Umbridge.
The heat became more noticeable as August wore on, the grass brittle, and the Death Eaters that loitered outside the house became more noticeable to muggles, standing out as they did in their heavy black robes.
A few days before the first of September, Hermione's mirror grew warm. It was easy to make an excuse about books and planning, and slip away into an upstairs room, warding the door behind her.
'I conducted the first staff meeting today. How is your preparation going?'
The deliberate and forced lightness in his message tore at her heart. He hadn't told her he was back at Hogwarts, he hadn't told her he would be facing the staff … but it appeared that afterwards, he needed to talk to her. It must have been bad. And yet he still didn't feel able to just ask.
The boys were busy downstairs.
'Can you talk?' She sent, a heavy nervousness forming tightly in her stomach.
And then his face appeared before her.
His hair was longer, still unkempt and greasy looking, but a little more wild. His face was thinner, the lines around his eyes deeper, the crease between his brows more pronounced.
And she was desperately pleased to see him.
"Hi." She said, cursing herself for the blush flaring on her cheeks.
"Hermione."
There was a few moments silence.
"So how was it?"
His face was a little too impassive.
"How was what?"
"Severus are you shielding?"
"I … not … not fully no." His face was tense.
"Take them down, your shields."
"No." There was defiance in his face.
"Why?"
"I … I don't … I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't owe you anything! Insufferable girl."
"Severus -" she began, but he interrupted her.
"- this is pointless. I have work to be doing." He made a movement to sever the connection.
"Stop it!" She shouted, then hastily cast a Muffliato at the bedroom door. "Stop it. You're shielding because you've had a hellish time with the staff, I want to you talk to me about it. Properly. For God's sake Severus I am literally the only person in the entire world you can speak to these things about! Don't shut me out and especially don't be an arse about it."
He looked at her in silence for a while, his brows together, his mouth a hard line. Then he nodded, and something heavy seemed to seep into his body, his shoulder slumping forwards, his hair swinging over his face and hiding his expression from her.
"Tell me." She prompted gently.
"They hate me." He said flatly. "I do not blame them, of course, but … it was … difficult … to appear, not only indifferent to their hate, but also amused by their opposition. There are two Death Eaters working with me here, and they will be reporting back to the Dark Lord, there is no room for any error. McGonagall…" He trailed off.
"Was she horrible?" She asked him gently, reminding herself that if she did not know what had truly transpired with Severus, she would be applauding the thought of her Head of House fighting him in whatever way she could, as it was she was just angry.
"Not … openly." He replied quietly. "But … she was kind to me at times when I was a boy … and she was less resistant when I returned as a teacher … and now…"
"If she knew Severus, if she knew, she would treat you differently."
"I still murdered one of her oldest friends."
"You didn't murder anyone." She said fiercely. "And when she does eventually find out … well… I'd be very worried if I was Dumbledore's portrait."
That brought a weak chuckle out of him, and he finally raised his head, meeting her eyes hesitantly. His sadness was a palpable thing, even through a mirror.
"The first time was always going to be the worst." She said softly. "It won't be as bad next time."
"Perhaps." He murmured, his voice a low rumble. "But … Hermione … if I don't survive the war-"
She went to interrupt him, but he gave her a look and she stopped.
"- I don't want you to … to feel as if you must clear my name … it won't matter … and I-I don't wish to be a burden to you, when I'm gone. It wouldn't be worth the aggravation. Trying to prove what really happened-"
"Severus." She said, tears stinging in her eyes. "Please, please don't speak to me like this. I can't – you dying…" two fat tears fell from her eyes and trailed hotly down her cheek. Severus watched their progression as if mesmerised. She took a deep breath. "I cannot bear the thought of you … not … not surviving. It's not that I don't appreciate what you're saying, although of course I'd clear your name, but…" She cleared her throat. "Let's just change the subject, okay?"
He nodded, looking entirely bewildered by her reaction to what he'd said, and a bitter smile formed on her lips, knowing that he still didn't understand just how much she cared for him.
"Is the start of term still September 1st?" She asked, the forced brightness of her own tone made her inwardly wince.
"Yes." He answered, then after a pause "I'm not looking forward to it."
"No, I bet you're not. Once the first day is over though, it might be less … horrible."
"That is doubtful."
"However bad it gets Severus, on the first day, and afterwards … I'll be thinking about you. I know that's probably not much of a comfort but, I just want you to know. You're never far from my mind."
There was something desperate and fragile in his sallow face as he looked at her then.
"I … thank you. I miss you very much." He said quietly, his eyes averted and a dull flush on his cheeks. "I … thank you ... Hermione."
"I miss you too." She replied, angry to find tears pooling in her eyes once again.
She heard a knocking from his end.
"I must go." He said, instantly drawing himself back up, his face once again, impassive. "Stay safe."
"You too." She answered, feeling a stab of guilt at their risky plans for infiltrating the Ministry. "Let me know how it goes on the 1st."
And then he was gone.
It was true that when the 1st came around, Severus was on her mind almost every second. She kept looking at the time and trying to work out what he was doing, not daring to contact him and give him yet another thing to deal with. It didn't help when Harry returned with a newspaper informing them of Severus' appointment as headmaster and the boys' response to it. She spent most of the day trying to distract herself by pouring over the notes they'd made about the Ministry employees.
*"Dad said everyone from Magical Maintenance wears navy blue robes."
"But you never told us that!"*
She had told Severus that she would stay safe, and their plans were anything but. She knew that what they were going to do was entirely necessary, but it still felt … worrisome. She wanted to make sure they were as safe as they possibly could be, given the circumstances.
*"If we're going to get into the Ministry and not give ourselves away when they're bound to be on the lookout for intruders, every little detail matters! We've been over and over this, I mean, what's the point of all these reconnaissance trips if you aren't even bothering to tell us - "
"Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing - "
"You do realize, don't you, that there's probably no more dangerous place in the whole world for us to be right now than the Ministry of- "
"I think we should do it tomorrow," said Harry.*
And of course, he was right. Despite what her and Ron said, Hermione knew deep down that they would never be wholly prepared for what they needed to do, and really, tomorrow was as good as any other day.
They spent the rest of the day pouring over and finalising their plans, going to bed very late. There was a heavy sort of anxiety in her stomach. And her mirror had remained cold all day.
'How are you?' She sent, when she first entered the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was after she'd finished cleaning her teeth that he responded.
'Alive.'
Her heart twisted.
'Well I'm very grateful for that.'
There was a pause where she stared silently at her mirror, holding her breath.
'You are the only one.'
A jolt of pain went through her. She wished she could speak to him, go to him, but she knew it was impossible. She'd been planning on telling him what they were going to do … but … with a bit of luck they'd be in an out of the Ministry in a few hours. She didn't want to add to his suffering.
'I'm sorry you're having such a horrible time. I wish I could help.'
'I wish … a thousand things.' He sent back, and she smiled bitterly at his echoing her own words.
'As do I.' She sent. 'I have to go. I'm sorry. I thought about you so much today Severus. At least you've made it through the first day. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.'
'Thank you.'
'Take care of yourself Severus.'
'You too. Stay safe.'
A stab of guilt shot through her again at his words but she quickly supressed it. There were bigger things to deal with.
Happy New Year everyone! I know this chapter is a little patchy with much less Snermione action than in the last few chapters but I'm sure you're all aware that it's necessary ;) We're sort of nearing the beginning of the end so try to make the most of it for now - I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself when this story is finished.
I have some very important exams this month so I expect this will be the last chapter I upload for while - it might not be, but I really need to spend as much of my time revising as I possibly can - plus I have a new laptop and I'm much slower at typing. It's infuriating.
So stay tuned, and be patient, there will be more chapters at some point I just can't promise when. Thank you all so much for reading, have a wonderful new year :)
*Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K Rowling
Empiregrrl - The smut will have to be a bit lighter for a time with them being apart, glad you've enjoyed it though, it's been so much fun to write! Thanks for reviewing
Guest - Thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy it, thanks for reviewing