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I'm at my house with Ron and Neville. We should be safe here for a bit anyway though B Lestrange probably knows I inherited it. Snape (still not convinced about him, don't look at me like that I can feel it from here) tipped us off so we left the wedding early. Had my bag packed as promised. They all carried on - pretty brave knowing the DEs would turn up. Apparated to somewhere else on the way in case we were being tracked - had a spot of bother with some DEs but sorted it out. We obliviated them but I'm not sure it worked. One of them was Dolohov. Exhausted, but safe. Everyone at the Burrow too, they say. Loads to tell you tomorrow - wish the Floos weren't being watched. I hate writing it all down, it takes ages. See you around, Granger. P S I'm really glad you invented this parchment thing.
Me too. I'm glad you're safe, Harry Potter. Theo says you've got more lives than a cat - he'd better be right.
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She finds Daphne crying in the drawing room a few days later. The blonde girl is in the middle of arranging flowers in a silver vase with heavy, twisted feet. Alstroemeria and sun-drenched pink roses and something else Hermione doesn't recognise.
"Daph, what's wrong?" she asks, taking her basket and scissors from her and putting them down on the table.
"You'll think it's stupid." Daphne's cobalt eyes are glimmering with the tears that are falling off her long, dark lashes. She is, Hermione thinks, almost impossibly lovely. She's a summer-coloured girl with her ripe-wheat hair and her peaches-and-cream skin. Nothing bad has ever gone wrong in her life, in so far as Hermione knows. She's certainly never really seen her sad before, not once in the six years she's known her.
"I won't think it's silly."
"Tori wrote me a letter and -" Daphne sniffs, "oh no, it is so silly. People are having a such horrible time."
"Just tell me!"
"Tinctures for Titillating Witches has been shut down," Daphne says mournfully. "I told you it was stupid."
Hermione is bereft of speech for a moment, because in the grand scheme of things it is silly, so she gives the other girl a hug instead.
"I won't be beautiful any more," the blonde girl sobs. "And my mother will be disappointed and Theo won't want me and -"
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione says firmly, trying not to laugh. "You know those things only enhance stuff. You're still going to be ridiculously pretty. Besides - you can probably make your own at this point. You know more about it than anyone I've ever met and you got an Outstanding in Potions and Charms last year didn't you?"
"Make my own," Daphne echoes thoughtfully, her tears vanishing. "Well I could try, I suppose. I'd never thought of that."
"Why was it shut down?"
The blue eyes glimmer sorrowfully again. "The owner is a Muggleborn."
"How horrible," Hermione murmurs sincerely, but not one to pass up such a gift of an opportunity. "I do hope they're all all right. What a very strange decision from our new leaders to stop such important and innocent work."
"Well it is horrible," Daphne says determinedly. "And very unnecessary."
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Hermione R.A.B. is Regulus Black! Finally something to go on… Kreacher - my elf, remember? - is very reluctantly helping us. We think we've got a lead.
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"Do you think they've guessed anything?" she asks Theo a few days later. Blaise is helping Daphne cut roses, heady with scent, for the hall, while Hermione and Theo drink white wine and watch them. It's late afternoon and the shadows are just beginning to lengthen, the world at its loveliest and glimmering with gold possibility.
"I'm not sure about Blaise," he admits. His skin has turned golden too in the light and his dark curls have grown out. It suits him. She's never seen him so relaxed. "He'd already perfected that mask long before we ever met him."
Hermione murmurs her agreement and pours out more wine with a flick of her wand.
"And Daphne's a gardener," Theo says. "She just wants to make the world beautiful. This war is going to be decidedly unbeautiful. I'm going to wait and see. But you know Granger, I won't let anything happen to her."
Hermione thinks about the way Daphne has already brought warmth and beauty into Theodore Nott's loveless and gloomy house. The way Daphne was kind to her, before anyone else.
"Neither will I," she agrees.
Harry hasn't written in days, other than to say the house is being watched but they don't seem to be able to get in so clearly Snape hasn't given up the secret and that he's following the lead over the locket, will let her know if it's successful, and to please keep researching methods of destruction. She knows he's trying to focus on his mission. She admires him for it. She desperately wishes she knew he was alright. She smiles and laughs and swims and works in the library trying to find a way to destroy Horcruxes.
The Daily Prophet comes one day with a huge photograph of Harry Potter on the front. The headline emblazoned across it reads, WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. Hermione reads it carefully. A muggleborn registry is announced in the same copy. She burns it, and goes to her room and cries silently.
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Saw the news about the registry. Are you safe?
Looks like it. Theo says my paperwork has been in order for two years, thanks to Narcissa Malfoy. A very odd person to whom I must be grateful. You looked very handsome on the Prophet cover. Don't let fame get to your head.
Oh yeah, very funny. I'm glad you are. I'm sorry you have to hide like this, but it's probably better than going on the run right?
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One morning, later in August than usual, and half-way through a breakfast argument about whether Arithmancy should be offered at a younger age, their owls arrive from Hogwarts. Hermione opens hers and catches her breath with the shining badge falls out. Head Girl. She hadn't even been sure she was going to get an owl at all. Despite what she told Harry, they've been scanning the papers every day since the registry was announced, looking for any mention of her name.
"Well," Zabini murmurs, "that's an interesting statement from our new Headmaster."
"Very interesting," Theo concurs, holding up his matching one. " Well. I have to say it's nice to be finally recognised for all my many charms and qualities."
"Oh, Theo," Daphne says. "How wonderful."
"I wonder," Hermione says grimly, staring at hers. She thinks it's a message from Snape, telling her it's safe to come back. His appointment hasn't been formally announced, but it's already common knowledge. Hermione thinks safe is a very relative term and prominence during war-time is its own particular danger.
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Neville's on at me about my scar - not letting LV in I mean. But I should use that connection right? It seems like a stupid advantage to give up and anwyay I couldn't get the hang of Occlumency at all. He's trying to find a wandmaker - I knew something funny had happened with my wand and his.
Are you sure? You're a very powerful wizard, Harry. You keep talking about what your wand did… but what if you made it happen? Why are you so determined not to take responsibility for your own power?
I know what happened, and so does Voldemort.
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"I brought you some tea," Daphne says, carrying a tray and looking a bit anxious as she comes into the library. "Congratulations. I'm so proud of you, Hermione."
Hermione uncurls herself from the window seat and joins Daphne at the circular table in the centre. Daphne sits down and the teapot rises, pouring out two perfectly brewed cups.
The room isn't huge, but it's Hermione's favourite in the manor. The walls are lined with books from floor to ceiling, only making space for the fireplace, two long sash windows facing south and west, and a cabinet of curiosities. She's locked the most horrible ornaments away in the attic but there are still strange and interesting things on it.
"It's going to be weird, going back," Daphne says after a moment. "It's like the outside world intruding, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Hermione agrees, thoughtfully, though the outside world has been extremely intrusive for her even in this refuge.
"That night… it sounds horrible," Daphne shivers. "You saw some of it didn't you? You got trapped in the library."
"And had to fight my way out," Hermione confirms. This is the story she and Theo have come up with, in case any of the Death Eaters ever see her and recognise her. She doubts it, but it's possible. Every eventuality.
Daphne blows gently on her tea and they sit in silence for a while, thinking about what that year is going to be like.
"I wish we could just stay here," Daphne says. "It feels so safe."
"I think," Hermione says, "that I couldn't. I think we'll be needed at the castle."
"That's what Theo said," Daphne replies, smiling sadly. "But I'm not brave like you two."
"Has Theo talked to you about…" Hermione hesitates, loathe to be intrusive.
"About his father?" Daphne fills in the blank, her voice low. "Only a little bit."
The two girls look at each other and Hermione wonders if she should just say it.
"I'm glad he's dead," is what she settles on. As a test.
"Me too," Daphne confesses. "I only met him once or twice when we were little you know but none of us liked him. Theo was different then, too. He was so quiet all the time after his mother died."
Hermione has seen this for herself. Theo has been a much faster Occlumens study than she was, but even his better memories are sad and lonely. She's seen a little of the cruelty his father inflicted. But that's not her story and is not what she was wondering, so she leaves it.
"You make him very happy," is all she says instead. Daphne glows in response.
"I've known him all my life," she says. "I never thought- but then last year… it changed. He's wonderful isn't he?"
"Yes," Hermione agrees, honestly. "I think so too."
"My mother's not that pleased," Daphne adds. "But because you're here she doesn't mind me staying. Blaise too. But she was pleased when I said I didn't think he was going to follow in his father's footsteps."
The Greengrasses don't like to get their hands dirty, Hermione knows. They wouldn't want a Death Eater for their darling daughter. They'd probably take one over a Muggleborn, though. She's amused at being cast in the role of respectable chaperone though. She wonders what the Greengrasses would think if they realised that Theo Nott was heading down quite a different path entirely.
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Professor Snape is headmaster now, she writes to Harry. He promised Dumbledore he'd do his best to keep the students safe. None of us are particularly pleased to be going back of course, but it shouldn't be any worse than anywhere else and it's mandatory now anyway so we don't have a choice. She doesn't tell him about the Death Eaters appointed to the staff or that she's been made Head Girl. She has promised to make his burden lighter. And she has Theo, clever fox that he is, to lean on.
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The four of them go together to London to buy their new textbooks. It's a thoroughly depressing expedition though without particular incident. Already several familiar shops are closed. People's mouths are pinched. Propaganda is everywhere.
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I suppose he might do, is Harry's doubtful response. We're still watching the Ministry, which is pretty boring to be honest. But on the bright side Kreacher's cheered right up since we gave him the useless locket so we're being well fed at least.
This makes Hermione smile so much that Zabini, who is sitting across from where she appears to be diligently working on some Ancient Runes preparation, gives her an odd, penetrating look.
"I just translated a very funny rhyme," she tells him, "about a goose and a fox."
He rolls his eyes at her and goes back to the letter he's writing to his mother.
Why don't one of you sneak in under the cloak and get her address? It'll be easier than catching her there if she's using the Floo like you say. Not that I don't have every faith in whatever plan you're concocting but that is almost the most dangerous place you could be.
Hermione is not sure she has every faith in Weasley and Longbottom as companions, but they've scraped through six years of it together so she has to hope their luck holds. She doesn't have much of a choice.
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On the last night they have a party. It's not really a party, because it's just the four of them, but they decorate the terrace where they eat, and dress up in robes and set the gramophone going. The elves serve them a feast. They drink the best wine they can find in the cellar. They dance, determined to hold off everything that they can sense and fear coming for one last warm summer evening.
"I'm glad my father's dead," Theo says, as they sway together. "This is the best summer I've ever had."
She gives him a little squeeze. "Thank you for giving us all a refuge."
"Merlin's tits no need to get soft on me, Granger."
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Short and sweet - at least three people said "the calm before the storm" about the July chapter, please never doubt my ability to romanticise a summer holiday in the country for longer than anyone wanted. Alternative chapter title: the calm before the storm part two. Anyway I hope you're all reading this somewhere sun-drenched and with wine.