Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

PS I'm not J. K. Rowling, so I don't own anything :(

Chapter 14: Preparations

April-June 1996

Hog's Head Inn

Remus returned to her the morning after the full moon. Deep scratches stripped his face, and he was ashen. Probably from blood loss. He stood, shifting abashedly and looking ready to expire on his feet. Exhaustion stooped his shoulders, and Hermione wordlessly ushered him inside her small, rented room.

He moved with a limp, shuffling his feet and wincing as he moved, but he held up a hand to stop her when she moved to tend his wounds as she had in the past.

Swallowing, she went to rummage on her desk for the tin of salve she always kept on hand for him, and extended it out to him when she located it. He gave a single nod, and pocketed it before pressing his hand to his side. Judging from his ragged breaths, he had at least one broken rib. Aside from that, he offered no other greeting.

Just how bad were the fights he was forced to endure to be part of the pack? And how often was he expected to participate? Hermione knew from her work that killing was often involved too - for food and resources as well as rank. They'd yet to discuss anything he'd been through since his circumstances changed with the new pack.

He didn't meet her eye as he said, "I'm sorry about the other day."

"Me too, though I don't really understand what happened," Hermione stated, crossing her arms protectively. There was something going on with Remus that she didn't understand. They'd been apart too much lately, and even as they stood in the same room, she could feel him pushing her away. "Does it have to do with the pack?"

"The pack... " he said wearily. "Merlin, I… it's..."

"Remus, talk to me. Please," Hermione begged, not understanding why he was shutting her out.

"Why are you trying to be friends with him?" he asked, abruptly changing topics, distrust a curtain shading his eyes. "Don't you understand how dangerous he is?"

"Because I see what you somehow can't," Hermione said tersely, not particularly wishing to discuss Severus Snape when they clearly had bigger issues.

"Do you know what Harry saw?" he asked hoarsely, ducking his head and shifting unconsciously away from her.

"I've seen the memory too," she admitted, comprehension dawning on her.

"You have?" Remus asked, sounding tortured. Distress marred his face, twisting it into harsh lines and ridges.

"Yes," Hermione repeated, sympathy seizing her heart in an iron grip.

"None of us made a particularly good showing that day," he said dryly, laughing harshly. It was a bitter, angry rasp that made Hermione wince when it knocked into her, rougher and sharper than she'd have thought possible.

"No. And I've a feeling that there were many other instances just like it," she acknowledged, figuring it'd be best to fully address the issue rather than skirt around it.

"I'm so ashamed," he admitted frankly, stepping back to lean dejectedly against the wall.

Hermione didn't point out that he hadn't been the instigator. His lack of interference made him just as culpable, and he knew it. He watched it happen. Watched as his friends publicly humiliated and bullied someone. Watched them taking pleasure in it. And he didn't speak up against the injustice. Hermione had seen the statistics of teen suicides. Many, perhaps even most, of them were a result of people being victimized by their peers. Cruelty, even passive cruelty, had disastrous consequences.

She also didn't try to absolve him. It wasn't her place. She loved him despite his past. Loved the man it had helped shaped him into becoming. A fact he was more than aware of. He'd have to find a way to make peace with his past on his own terms if he ever had any hope of moving forward.

"You weren't alone, and you're not the same person anymore," she stated simply when he finally looked at her.

"And when you look at me…"

"I see the man I love - even when he's a right git," she announced, offering a wry grin, and hoping humor would lift him from the hole he'd sunk into.

"I want you to be careful around Severus. That day… I remember it. He has no fondness for Muggle-borns," Remus said sadly, confusion and suspicion weaving tendrils around him, planting seeds of distrust that would grow in the coming year with the events soon to take place. "He still doesn't - not for any in connection with me."

"He doesn't really feel that way," Hermione said flatly, the future playing out in her mind. This, right here, was part of why it was so easy for everyone to believe the worst about Severus. He hid his true nature too well. "That was said in the heat of the moment because he was embarrassed. He was a rash teenage boy. He didn't truly mean it," she insisted, knowing it was a lost cause. Remus was already shaking his head.

"You can't really believe that. You weren't even there! You haven't known him long enough," he said quickly, frustrated that she'd argue this point. It was as though he couldn't believe she didn't trust him. "You didn't hear -" but he broke off the last without finishing, and his look was positively tortured.

"I know more than you do on this subject," she said, reminding him of the advantages of her position.

"What could you possibly know that could change the facts?" he asked skeptically.

"I'm sorry, Remus. This is not my secret to share," Hermione moaned, letting her head fall back as she sighed. The first time he actually wished to discuss what she knew of the future, and she couldn't.

It was so frustrating having her hands so thoroughly tied!

But she couldn't betray Severus's trust. He didn't want anyone to know the truth of his feelings for Lily. Particularly not one of his childhood tormentors. And they clearly never suspected the truth. So many others had used Severus and taken advantage of him. Hermione couldn't do that to him as well. Even if she knew she could trust Remus not to use or share anything she revealed. She still couldn't tell him.

"Secret?" Remus asked slowly, rolling the word around in his mouth, a sampling of an intriguing and complex wine, before he released it. He studied her intently, almost predatorily.

There were so many secrets between them. So much she wasn't at liberty to discuss, or he refused to hear. Weren't partners supposed to speak openly with one another? Had her limitations doomed them from the outset?

Would it be fair to confess everything and force him to shoulder the burden with her? He'd never asked to be part of it. If anything, he'd been deliberately careful not to learn more than necessary so as to avoid that fate. The few times she'd tried to share without warning him that she was, he'd subtly steered the conversation in a different direction or warned her not to say more.

And of course there was the issue that if she did tell him everything - how would that impact and alter the decisions he made? Could it lead to him taking fewer precautions, falsely believing a situation safe, only to end up dead as a result? Would that change things for the worse? And how much didn't she know about because she'd been at Hogwarts and not in the Order? It was all so frustratingly, infuriatingly complicated!

Then there was Teddy. When they'd gotten together, it seemed like they had forever to figure out what to do about him, but the clock was rapidly ticking down, and Remus was still refusing to discuss his son.

"Speaking of secrets," Hermione began, determined to at least try and broach the subject. It wasn't as if this conversation could deteriorate much further. And she'd really rather talk this through with him than approach Tonks, but she might have to go to the other witch if Remus was going to continue being stubborn. Maybe he'd listen to her instead. "Don't you think it's time we discuss your son?"

"No. Actually, no. I don't want to talk about it… him," Remus said forcefully. "You were right before. We shouldn't discuss what you know of the future at all."

"We can't put it off forever," Hermione said gently.

From the expression that flickered over Remus's face, it looked like he was considering doing that very thing.

"Now isn't the time. I have to get back. I just didn't want to leave things strained between us," Remus said, laughing hollowly as he watched her, a continuously widening gulf between them.

Ironic. Because now, as she watched him limp as he made for the door to leave, she felt even more unsettled.

"Remus," she called, making him pause on the threshold. Evidence of his injuries was a slap in the face. A wake-up call regarding the dangers he faced on a daily basis. "Come back to me," she whispered, a plea dredged up from the marrow of her bones, the base of her soul.

"Always," he replied, casting her a look so tender and full of love that she knew, no matter what obstacles they faced, or the difficulty involved, they could overcome them.

"Macnair and Travers are in the outskirts of Salisbury," Severus said once he'd ducked into her upstairs room at the Hog's Head Inn at the start of June. Agitation and stress made his tone more waspish than normal.

She'd been going over her memories again. Severus had loaned her Dumbledore's Pensieve again, and she'd painstakingly gone over her memories of the day leading up to the Battle in the Department of Mysteries as well as the battle itself - at least the part she was conscious to take part in. The rest she had recountings from the others to use to piece a timeline together. She'd laid it all out, every single minute as she came up with a feasible plan to try and save Sirius.

At least as much as she could. It was aggravating and alarming to learn the Pensieve had limits. The memories, when viewed, were only as clear as the person's actual recollection of the event. Hermione's memory of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, an event she'd painstakingly prevented herself from dwelling on, was blurry and distorted. She'd not known she'd have need of it later. Entire chunks were altogether missing as a result. Then, of course, there was the small fact that her memory went blank halfway through the night.

The task had kept her occupied since her fight with Remus. There was nothing that could currently be done about that, but she could do something to prepare for what was to come.

"The ferry accident in Portsmouth?" Hermione asked, moving to look through the stack of papers she still sorted through each day.

"Giants," Severus confirmed, watching her scan the article again.

The Death Eaters had taken pains to cover up the incident. Far more than she'd suspected. It truly had appeared to be a horrible Muggle tragedy, and one occurring purely by accident. If he'd not come by, Hermione would have written the event off as unrelated.

Giants. Wonderful. Hermione may have worked diligently to see they received the rights they were due, but that didn't mean she didn't possess a healthy fear of them. Her first meeting with Grawp, then later, seeing them in action during the final battle, had forever cemented her phobia.

"Thank you," she said absently, going to the dresser to begin packing her things. "Can you return Albus's Pensieve to his office for me? I won't need it again until this summer."

Mad-Eye was staying in the room next door, though he was currently patrolling the town. He'd be fine handling things on his own. Nothing had happened near the castle.

It was far more important that they track the giants, and see where they were hiding. In just a few weeks, they'd be causing mayhem all over Britain. There would be no possibility of preventing anything or helping innocent Muggles if they didn't follow this lead now.

"You're not planning to go alone, are you? Have you forgotten you aren't in charge here?" Severus drawled, raising an imperious brow at her, and crossing his arms. His stance made him look imposing as he towered over her, but he was easy enough to ignore.

"You brought this information to me, didn't you?" she stated, continuing to gather her few possessions and toss them haphazardly into the bag she'd gotten to replace the old lavender beaded purse she'd carried around during the first war. This one was a steely blue leather clutch that fit just as nicely in her sock as the last one, except this time she didn't have to worry about the beads scratching her thanks to the smooth surface.

"Because you were closest! Without Dumbledore, I can't share this with anyone else in the Order - unless you're suggesting I go to Grimmauld Place and have a chat with Black," Severus argued, seeming to just realize she was truly planning to act on the intel he'd provided.

What else had he expected her to do with it? Sit back and watch like a great, daft lump? There was a reason they had him spying - so they could use what he learned!

It wasn't like he could send a Patronus to some other Order member either. Not when it was a very telling doe. Only Dumbledore knew about that, and Hermione knew Severus took pains to keep it that way.

Of course, he could have gone to Moody with the information, but that would have meant dealing with a series of suspicious questions. The ex-Auror would never truly trust Severus, he was too well informed of the man's sins.

So instead, he'd come to her - knowing she'd take his information seriously.

"That sounds like a marvelous idea just now," she snapped, disliking how little faith he had in her ability to look after herself.

It wasn't as though she planned to engage them in battle, just keep track of them for now. And she'd kept Harry, Ron, and herself alive for months when they'd been on the run. This would hardly be different at all.

"It would be unwise and… reckless to venture there alone," Severus said cautiously, recognizing the thin ice he'd ventured onto - smart man - though he was no less determined to talk her out of her planned course of action.

Hermione felt like she was channeling Harry. He'd always been so adamant that it all fell to him. That no one else could do it. Always so self-reliant. Never trusting others when he could do it himself. Right then, she understood him a little bit better than she had before. Perhaps it was that last year they spent together hunting Horcruxes that changed her opinion. And how his connection with Voldemort gave him extra insight - an advantage he couldn't ignore. Her history gave her the same thing.

Right now, she knew someone needed to step up, and she was both available and willing. Why let someone else take the risk when she could just as easily?

"There's no one else," Hermione explained, pausing to stare Severus down. He was frowning at her, but he didn't argue, knowing it was the unfortunate truth. "I'll contact Kingsley if I run into trouble," she promised, hoping to satisfy his concern. She truly was touched that he cared enough to worry about her.

"Not Lupin?" he asked, catching the significance of her statement.

"He's busy wrestling with pack hierarchy," she muttered, assuming that was why he'd not visited her specifically in the last two months, apart from the two stiff encounters.

They were fighting a war, each with their own missions. Hermione understood that. Understood that they didn't have the luxury of putting their desires before what was asked of them. Perhaps if she reminded herself of that often enough, his absence would sting a bit less.

But right then, it didn't make it any easier for her to sleep at night. Not when she and Remus really needed some uninterrupted time together to hash things out. And when she needed him to chase her nightmares away.

"The two of you are still quarreling, I take it," Severus stated, referencing the interaction he'd witnessed.

"We aren't quarreling - not exactly, anyways," Hermione grumbled, not really wishing to discuss the matter with him. He was the source of some of their current conflict, though Hermione sensed he wasn't at the root of it.

"But?" Severus prodded, doing a remarkably good impression of a normal friend right then. It was enough to have Hermione opening up, despite her initial reluctance.

"I'm not sure he trusts my judgement just now, and there are things about the future he seems unwilling to confront," she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she toyed with her purse. "I'm not really sure what to do."

"Talk to him. Do not leave things unsaid," Severus advised, voice thick with years of suppressed emotion. "Regrets are far worse than a difficult discussion."

"Easier said than done," she sighed. "How much is too much, and when precisely am I supposed to have this conversation when we're always miles apart these days?"

"I thought you were supposed to be clever. Marietta Edgecomb certainly benefited from that determined little brain of yours. Do you really mean to tell me you can't figure out a way to stay in contact with the man you profess to love? Or is this simply a convenient excuse to be rid of the beast?"

A charmed bit of parchment. Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? She was already writing letters to him. And she knew Remus was going to spend the next year infiltrating the remaining three packs, so it wasn't as though they would be free to be together anytime soon. And they certainly couldn't continue as they were.

"Severus, you're a genius!" Hermione gasped, ignoring his traditional insult as charms flew through her head as she rapidly flipped through her mental lexicon of spells, discarding some in favor of others, and plotting how best to ward and create the necessary item. It would take some time, but eventually, it would help them tremendously.

"I'm aware," he said drolly, smirking at the compliment.

"So modest," she quipped, standing again. As much as she wanted to dive straight in, and selfishly worry about the status of her relationship, there was work to be done first.

"Hermione, be careful. Do not engage with them directly," Severus warned, sensing she was still determined to go.

Impulsively, Hermione threw her arms around Severus in a fierce hug. He stiffened noticeable, making no attempt to return the impromptu embrace. She fought back a grin as she released her stranglehold on the rattled man.

"That was entirely unnecessary," he said briskly, straightening his robes to mask his discomfort at the unexpected display of affection.

"I promise I'll only scout the area, see if I can get a handle on what they're planning," Hermione vowed, bending to shove her purse in her sock, and giving the room a cursory once over. She'd leave a note under Mad-Eye's door to tell him where she'd gone if she couldn't find him quickly enough. "I wish I could remember!" she gripped, hating that so much time had passed, and that her memory of events wasn't as accurate as she wished it to be.

Not to mention, she was kicking herself for not reading The Second Wizarding War, A Thorough and Complete History. Harry swore it was uncannily accurate, the author knowing far more than he or she should, and reporting events in a way that was the opposite of Rita Skeeter. But the wounds had been too fresh for Hermione, and she'd never gotten around to actually reading it. The book had been written by H. G. John, but she'd never heard of the person.

Oh.

The name suddenly registered. Remus was publishing under the name R. L. John to avoid people recognizing the actual author. But that would mean…

Had she written the book? Was this yet further proof that she'd always been meant to come back? And was the name a clue that they were -

"Do not mess with time," Severus ordered, grabbing her arm to stall her progress towards the door, and sending her thoughts scattering, so many loosed marbles bouncing and rolling across the aged wooden floor.

"You know I already have," she said quietly, wondering again at the realization she'd just made. Girlish desire filled her. An idealist's hope, unusual for one so ordinarily practical.

"Foolish twit," he accused, shaking his head, but not trying again to stop her from leaving.

Tutshill

The last few weeks had been a grueling process to remain unseen while following the horde of giants. There were eight - eight - full-blooded giants. A rather alarming sight. There had only been three remaining by the time the Battle of Hogwarts occurred. Five of the rare and endangered beings would cease to exist before the war was through. Hermione regretted the loss, for all the brutal beings terrified her.

In addition, there were three Death Eaters accompanying them. The third, Dolohov, joined the group a week after she'd begun tailing them. Hermione despised the man for the scared, trembling state he reduced her too each time she caught sight of him.

For the most part, they were slowly heading northwest, avoiding towns. It was during her third week following them that they settled in at Mendip Hills. Hermione couldn't help but notice the proximity of their location, just on the outskirts of the wizarding community of Tutshill - home to all of the Bones family and the Travers family.

If Hermione didn't already know they wished to go undetected, she'd be shocked at the group's ability to show such restraint. Even when the giants fought amongst themselves, the Death Eaters took precautions to keep Muggles from discovering them.

Without Severus's warning, Voldemort would have been poised to strike a heavy blow against them. As it was, the most Hermione could do was warn where the attacks would begin at.

At least she'd been able to save a Muggle family that was camping a few nights earlier. She'd stumbled upon the little group when searching for a place to hide when the giants had begun fighting with one another. The event had rapidly turned violent with droplets of blood falling like ruby rain. Hermione had modified the family's memories to make them believe a badger had gotten into their tent and torn it up, then sent them on their way as quickly as possible.

She'd been lucky. Not ten minutes after the taillights of their car had vanished, the giants trampled over the remains of their campsite.

Two nights later, Hermione risked getting close enough to the Death Eaters' campfire and using Extendable Ears to eavesdrop on their conversation. It was her last chance to learn anything useful. In order to successfully initiate her plan to save Sirius, she had just over four hours before she needed to be inside the Ministry.

"I think we're being followed," Macnair said, glancing around. Hermione swallowed back the instinctive fear that encircled her throat, threatening to constrict it. The Ministry's dangerous beasts' executioner looked undeniably paranoid - despite his thick neck and biceps the size of tree trunks. But even his enormous strength was puny when compared to a giant's.

"You've been saying that every day for a week now," Travers dismissed boldly with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He had the look of Sirius, diminished good looked, sallow sick, and lank hair. Azkaban was not kind to its confined inmates.

"Because I think we are! Don't you feel it? That sensation of being watched - it's enough to make my skin crawl," Macnair insisted, sneering at the other man.

"This land has been in my family for generations. Centuries of Purebloods have lived here. It's just the potency of our magic that a weakling like you can't handle," Travers bragged, puffing out his chest importantly. It was a gesture Hermione had watched Percy Weasley do countless times.

"I've handled far worse than the likes of you or your precious family," Macnair growled, lips pulled back to display his yellowed and broken teeth.

The worst part was, he probably had. Because for every six misunderstood or malined creatures like Buckbeak, there was one that truly was rabid and dangerous that needed put down. Several that Hagrid himself had tried to make friends with over the years. It didn't mean Macnair needed to enjoy doing it so much though. Hermione's lips thinned at the thought, disgust with the abysmal man leaving her with the sensation that she needed a scalding hot shower and a thorough cleansing.

"Coward," Travers goaded, laughing mockingly at his companion.

"There's a reason I didn't end up in Azkaban," Macnair taunted.

The insult hit its mark, and Travers looked at him more seriously, asking, "How sure are you? Do you really think anyone in the Order is smart enough to find us?"

"Are you willing to risk his wrath if you're wrong?" Macnair fired back meaningfully.

"If they know what we're up to, the Dark Lord must be informed at once," Travers stated, pinning a look on Macnair, as though nominating him to be the bearer of such unwelcome tidings.

Hearing that was enough for Hermione to know she needed to get out of there - immediately. She'd heard more than enough. Particularly with the timing of events. They'd somehow detected her, and their warning, apparently, may have been the signal Voldemort needed to decide to trick Harry.

She inched back, attempting to put a bit more distance between them before she Disapparated so they wouldn't hear when she left. The voices got quieter the further away she got, until she could only barely make them out.

A twig snapped, cracking loudly in the otherwise still night and silence abruptly descended.