JK Rowling and whatever other appropriate affiliates obviously own the rights to Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I own nothing but the inserted original characters/plot concepts. I make no money on this. This is simply a FAN based work.
I would like to give a huge shoutout to the wonderful betas that agreed to help me comb through past chapters to catch all the pesky lingering errors that I can no longer see: Amelia_Davies_Writes, GalaxyNightangale – thank you, your fresh eyes see more than mine.
And thank you to Greca for agreeing to read and beta my new stuff. Your help is greatly appreciated.
Chapter Seventeen
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked in disbelief as she stared at Harry with wide eyes. The sword was heavy in her shaking arms and her chest felt as if someone had split it open like a watermelon. Her eyes hurt, her body ached from oxygen deprivation, her head was pounding, and she was still cold from being in an ice pond.
"I want you to destroy it," Harry repeated as he looked at her intently. His face was earnest if not slightly pleading. "I think you should do it, not only because it just tried to kill you but also because I think it's important that you do it. You got the sword out of the pond – it needs to be you; I know it does."
He truly does think I should do it, Hermione thought as she took a breath and winced at the pain coursing through her body.
She'd just been hit with the equivalent to a muggle defibrillator across the chest and the lingering pain was awful, especially when she breathed too deeply. Which was difficult not to do since she was so bloody exhausted. The tingling sensation in her arms and fingers was distracting and somewhat excruciating – a lingering side effect doubled in intensity by her time spent exposed under ice water. She suspected the sensation would linger for a day, possibly two, until her body healed from having her heart restarted magically but she tried to ignore it when she gripped the hilt of the sword more tightly.
"Harry," she said slowly as she twisted the sword around between her hands. "I don't know if I can – I – I'm so exhausted, Harry. I'm not sure that I have it in me."
While her words were true and reason enough not to destroy the locket, she neglected to bring up the fact that she did not want to – that the idea of killing a Horcrux made her stomach roll over with nausea while her heart pounded. After seeing the effects that the locket had on people while they wore it, she did not want to think about what it would do if she tried to kill it. It had nearly strangled her to death only moments ago when she made contact with a weapon capable of banishing it, so she was terrified of what might happen if she actually tried to hit the locket with it.
"You can do it," Harry smiled gently before he dug into her purse that he'd still been holding and summoned out a small bottle of calming draught and pepperup potion. "Take these first, they'll help – but you should do this, Hermione. I know you're exhausted, I know you just want to go to bed – and you bloody well deserve to – I just – I can't explain it, I just know it needs to be you."
Hermione accepted the two bottles from Harry and drained each of them slowly. The warmth from the pepperup potion hit her quickly and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the tension in her chest start to dissipate. Harry knew that she was exhausted, so if he was pushing for her to do this then she knew it was both important to him and required. Harry had always seemed to have some sort of connection to Voldemort and the Horcruxes, so she tended to trust his judgement on them when he made a request.
She felt the warmth from the pepperup potion flow down to her toes and she allowed her shoulders to drop as the calming draught started to take effect. Harry wouldn't ask me to do this unless he felt that I had to, she thought and she relaxed her tense back muscles. She took a deep breath and then forced her eyes open.
"Alright fine," she said quietly, now beginning to feel the effects of the calming draught on her nerves. "Let's get this done and get out of here."
Harry nodded firmly before turning back to face the locket and preparing to open it. Hermione instinctively raised the sword up to waist height, preparing herself to strike the object. She bit down the pain in her shoulders and chest, trying to steady her hands as they trembled under the weight of the blade. If not for the calming draught, her heart would be pounding right now. Hermione was no doctor, but she knew that allowing her heart to race out of control after it had only just been restarted was definitely not medically recommended.
In fact, it would probably be frowned upon, she thought as she held her stance.
"Make sure to stab it quickly," Harry said as his hands held the locket poised to open and he looked over his shoulder at her. His jaw was tight with concern and she knew that he was nervous for her. "Whatever is in here will attack – the Tom Riddle in the diary tried to kill me in the Chamber of Secrets, and this thing has already gone after you once – so don't hesitate. Are you ready?"
Hermione nodded once firmly. The quiet of the forest was ringing in her ears and making her hands tremble further. She felt light-headed and sore but she forced her bloodshot eyes to focus on the golden locket in Harry's hands. Her heart, while still controlled, began to beat more quickly in her chest as she heard Harry speaking in parseltongue – then the locket popped open with a click to reveal a handsome eye. It must have been Tom Riddle's from before it turned red and haunted.
Hermione raised the sword to strike, taking a step forward to close the distance so she could drop it down in one clean strike – but she froze as black grotesque bubbles started to pour from the locket and a terrifying voice echoed around them and shook her to her very soul. A shiver ran down her spine, and terror hit her core as she heard the words the locket spoke echoing through the cold air.
I have seen your dreams, Hermione Granger, it hissed and she felt the urge to vomit. And I have seen your fears. All you desire will not come to pass – what you dread will be your truth. A mudblood, so desperate to belong – discarded by her own disgusting muggle-kind yet unwelcomed by the magical. You don't belong anywhere.
An abomination!
So desperate to prove herself, to show her worth. Pathetic! So eager to prove that you deserve your magic. But you don't – and you know that you don't. You've failed, just like how you were always going to fail!
The disgusting black bubbles poured out more quickly and began to take shape, Hermione's eyes widened with fear as she saw the twisted and disturbing figures of her parents standing before her.
Your parents are lost, the voice was cruel and cutting. She could feel it beneath her skin, rippling in her chest and creeping up the base of her neck. You weren't able to save them – I've taken them.
YOU'VE FAILED!
The voice cackled in madness, echoing around the forest, surrounding her, suffocating her as she heard the desperate voices of her parents' pleas for help. Her heart filled with dread as she saw her parents' anguished expressions of pain and hatred.
How could you leave us Hermione! You left us! You betrayed our trust, you failed us!
The voices continued and became intermingled with screams of terror as more voices joined in. She heard Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, Ginny and countless others as they bore into her mind asking her why she had failed, telling her that she had betrayed their trust as they called her mudblood. They told her that she didn't belong – that she never had and that she did not deserve her magic. They screamed that she wasn't worthy and that she never had been.
She could feel her mind being consumed.
Her breath came in quick short rasps as her heart thudded at an alarming rate. She was overwhelmed with doubt and her worst fears – her vision blurred as the disgusting black goo morphed into Harry. He was on his knees, gasping for breath as the voices continued to chant behind her – calling out her every flaw. It screamed her every mistake and played to every insecurity she had buried deep within herself. Then, there was a gaping hole in Harry's chest and his eyes were glassy as they stared up at her in desperation.
Hermione, the form of Harry choked out as the figure clutched the bloody gaping hole at its chest. You've failed, you've failed, you've failed me.
Her blood ran cold as her chest constricted in agony and her heart raced further. Her mind was lost to the chanting that surrounded the forest, the edges of her vision faded as she watched Harry die before her over and over again. She had failed him, and he had died because of her.
Hermione gasped for breath. It felt like her chest was going to explode in agony. She couldn't take this anymore, she couldn't watch, she couldn't listen, she couldn't move – then a warm, strong and desperate voice filled her ears, cutting through the death and coldness of the locket that had surrounded her.
"HERMIONE! KILL IT!" Harry screamed. The real Harry, not the disgusting and disfigured form before her. "KILL IT NOW! YOU CAN DO THIS!"
His voice seemed to clear her mind and Hermione clenched her jaw as her hands tightened around the hilt of the sword. She forced herself to focus on the real Harry's voice which continued to call to her and she forced the repulsive chanting of the bodiless voices echoing from the locket out of her head. She ripped her eyes from the locket to look at Harry who was half laying on the ground fighting to hold the locket steady as the black goo poured out of it, he was looking up at her determinedly. He was very much alive. He was fierce, bright, strong and looking at her with so much emotion it made her soul ache and her mouth open as she forced air into her unbreathing lungs in a deep and painful cry.
She rounded on the locket, her hair wild as it blew in the wind that had picked up around them. Her bloodshot eyes burned as she stared down at the disgusting trinket and her heart thudded as her nerves turned to stone.
"You won't win!" she snarled at the locket with raw, unrestrained rage. She forced her legs to move the last step toward it. It felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each as she slid them forward across the ice and fought against the sheer force of the locket. "It's over! You can't defeat us–"
She felt a strong push against her body by some unseen force as the chanting voices grew louder and the words 'Dirty USELESS Mudblood' began to scream in her ears. She gritted her teeth and raised the sword.
"FUCK YOU!" she screamed as she swung the sword up violently and then brought it crashing down in one hard motion that used every fiber of her being.
The sword cut through the black goo figures and made contact with the locket. She felt a ripple in the air as the voices were silenced and a bright red flash cut across her vision as a loud crack erupted. Hermione fell back as a wave of energy dispelled from the locket, the sword was still gripped tightly in her hands as she slid several feet back on the ice.
When she finally stopped sliding she raised herself up on her elbows to look at the locket – it was cracked, motionless and split into three pieces. Harry had jumped out of the way of her swing and was laying in the snow to the right of the rock and eyeing the locket as nervously as she was. Then he looked over to her and their eyes locked. Harry pulled himself to his feet so quickly she almost didn't see the motions. He ran across the ice, his feet slipping and sliding until he reached her and fell to his knees beside her – grabbing her arms to pull her up into a sitting position and clutching her to his chest.
"Hermione," he breathed, his face buried into her wild and curly hair as he clutched her tightly. "Hermione you were incredible – incredible – are you okay?"
He pulled away from her and began running his hands over her body looking for injury and tracing the lines of her face.
"Yes," she said somewhat weakly as she dropped the sword and grabbed both sides of face. "Harry, I'm okay."
Harry was looking at her so intensely it made her poor weak heart flutter. She leaned into him when he bent his head to kiss her fiercely. They sat on the cold ice, Harry's hand tangled in her hair and his arm wrapped tightly around her as his lips traced over hers desperately – like he was afraid if he stopped, she would disappear. Finally, they parted, and she leaned her forehead against his gently, chest heaving as she breathed in the cold air.
"Let's get out of here, Harry. Please?" she asked as she shivered against him. She wanted to bury the remains of that cursed locket somewhere deep within her purse until they were able to truly dispose of it. But mostly, she wanted to go somewhere safe, to crawl back into Harry's bunk and be wrapped in his warm arms and held tightly against his chest. She could feel her body beginning to fail her as the adrenaline started to leave her system. There wasn't enough calming draught in the world to stop the gentle twitch of her arm or the ragged breathing that escaped her lungs. She needed to rest before she passed out.
"Absolutely," Harry whispered in her hair.
Harry stood quickly and gathered the remains of the locket and picked up the sword, storing them both efficiently in her purse before he came to kneel beside her once again. Hermione had remained sitting rather limply on the ice while she watched Harry collect everything up. A small part of her thought about helping, she felt guilty that she remained sprawled on the ground while Harry gathered everything up – but her exhausted body was simply not letting her do anything else. She wasn't sure that she would be able to stand on her own at this point, so, she remained in her dishevelled state until Harry returned.
"I knew you could do it," Harry said softly as he grabbed her hand tightly and wrapped his arm firmly around her waist.
Hermione smiled against him, closing her eyes as exhaustion overtook her. She sighed in relief when she felt the familiar tug behind her navel from his apparition and she knew that they were safe. They had the sword, they had destroyed a Horcrux, and she had Harry.
We'll be okay, she thought as the world distorted around them.
-x-x-
They landed near the south of England, along the western shoreline. Harry cast several detection spells to ensure that they were safe before he left Hermione sitting in the snow, gave her their jar of blue flames to hold and proceeded to set up the tent. Once the tent was erected, Harry helped Hermione inside. She winced as all the muscles in her body screamed at her movement and she knew that she would not be attempting any exercise the following day. She was going to sleep in and she was going to take it easy.
Harry left Hermione to shower, knowing that the warm water would help to ease her strained muscles and warm her up. Then he left the tent to go set the alarms, detections and wards.
Hermione groaned in pleasure and pain as the hot water sprayed at her back. It felt like a thousand little needles poking at her freezing skin, but she could feel her muscles loosening up from the heat. She dropped her head against the shower wall and shivered when the last remains of cold, which had been settled deep within her bones, finally left her body. She forced her arms to move, washing over her skin and detangling the mess of hair that hung from her head.
Her movements were slow, and her eyes remained heavily hooded. Once she was thoroughly clean and warm, she wandlessly turned off the shower and put on the thickest fuzziest socks she had, a warm long-sleeved sweater and plaid pajama pants. Harry was still out setting wards as she climbed into his bunk and she knew that he was probably setting extras tonight, as he was likely planning to come to bed too as they both desperately needed the rest.
She had just rolled onto her back and pulled up the covers when Harry walked through the door. She turned her head to look at him, his hair was dishevelled from the wind and his cheeks tinted pink from the cold. He immediately walked over to her, kissing her head quickly before murmuring softly that he was going to go take a shower to warm up.
She tried to stay awake for him – to wait for him to come join her in bed so they could curl into each other's arms. But the ache across her chest was heavy and her limbs felt like they had been weighted down with lead. Her eyes wouldn't allow her to stay awake any longer and she dozed off listening to the calming sound of water flowing. She stirred slightly when she felt the bed move beside her and she registered the feeling of Harry's strong arm wrapping across her chest as he rolled on his side to curl against her body. His fresh clean scent enveloped her thoughts and then she drifted off completely.
-x-x-
True to her word, Hermione slept in the next day and so did Harry. Neither one of them were able to pull themselves from bed until well after 10:30 am, which was late considering their usual 7 am wake up time. Thankfully, Hermione didn't have any dreams or nightmares about being trapped underwater or being strangled to death, though she knew that was likely only due to the calming draught that Harry had given her. The nightmares would come later… and she wasn't looking forward to it.
When she did wake, she laid quietly in Harry's arms, enjoying the calm and warmth until her stomach growled. Then she forced herself to slip from bed and make them both breakfast. Harry woke a few minutes later to the smell of toast and eggs, and he groggily came to join her at the table after throwing on the kettle for tea.
They both agreed to take the day off from training and spend the day relaxing. In Harry's words: 'sometimes, you need to stop and celebrate the things you've accomplished – to allow yourself a moment to enjoy your victory, no matter how small'. And they had just had a victory.
For the first time in months they now had a weapon capable of destroying Horcruxes, which made the task of locating them somehow seem less daunting. Having the sword in their possession was reassuring and it made her feel like the last few months weren't a total waste of time.
At lunchtime, they broke out the last cakes that Hermione had in her purse and ate them with tea. They packaged the remains of the Horcrux into a small box to store deep within the depths of Hermione's purse with plans to properly dispose of the pieces later, and then they grinned in triumph at each other when they unceremoniously lowered the box to the bottom of her bag. The remainder of the day was spent examining the sword of Gryffindor, lounging around the tent, napping, and reading while curled up next to each other on the loveseat. Harry let his arm drape lazily over Hermione's shoulders while she leaned back into his chest, they both covered up with a blanket to keep warm and she continued her reading on potions brewing in unconventional locations.
It was the most comfortable and relaxing day that they had had since… well, since before Dumbledore died.
During dinner, Hermione and Harry discussed going to visit Xenophilius Lovegood to ask him about the necklace he wore to the wedding to see if he knew anything about it being Grindelwald's symbol. They both agreed that they would need to go as it was the only logical next step to the puzzle that Dumbledore had left for them – the only question on the table was, when to go. They were both extremely hesitant to leave any time soon. If the last few months had taught them anything it was that despite being prepared, they never seemed to be prepared enough. No matter how strong they became or how much they seemed to grow, somehow life just kept demanding more from them, and it always asked them to complete things that were just out of their reach. There had simply been far too many close calls to allow themselves to jump into anything else without first trying to be more prepared.
Especially now¸ Hermione thought, as she watched Harry clean up the table and bring the dishes to the kitchen. She watched his lean shoulders move as he cleaned the plates and stacked them back in the cupboards. She wasn't able to stop a small blush from forming on her cheeks as she watched his strong body move about with ease.
She had only just managed to come to terms with her feelings for Harry and to allow herself to admit that she cared for him. She was not willing to put him at risk or threaten the new relationship that they had just started but being reckless or stupid. They had to become more. This war was dangerous, violent, and would take everything from them if they didn't take it seriously. They needed to double down on their efforts and be prepared so anything.
After dinner, Hermione reviewed her potion supplies and found that they were low. They needed more blood replenisher, more salve, more dittany, more calming draught, more pepperup and more of just about every single thing she had prepared and collected for their journey. And they needed to get their hands on some antivenom for Nagini. Given what had happened in Godric's Hollow, they needed to be ready in case they ran into her again. That snake would kill them both if it had the chance and they wouldn't last more than a few minutes without the antivenom if they were bitten.
Hermione remembered what had happened to Mr. Weasley when he was bitten in the Department of Mysteries – his wounds wouldn't close by magic or by stitches until the venom was disabled. The dittany they had poured over the bites might as well have been water as it did absolutely nothing to help, and the stitches they attempted to use to close the wound dissolved almost instantly. As a result, he kept bleeding out and required blood replenishing potion every hour until they had discovered the antivenom.
Mr. Weasley had been at St. Mungo's at the time though, and so they had resources, materials, potions and ample blood replenishers to treat him and keep him alive. But those were things that they didn't have while in the middle of nowhere hunting Horcruxes. She would never be able to brew enough blood replenisher or afford to buy enough to keep them alive if they got bit.
They needed the antivenom, there was no other way around it.
During their evening tea Hermione gave Harry a rundown on their potion situation and he agreed with her recommendation that they should not knowingly approach the Lovegood's or anyone else for that matter until their potion and healing supplies had been properly restocked. With that settled, Hermione revised their daily schedule to include potion brewing and ingredients harvesting – which in and of itself would be a dangerous feat. Some materials they would be able to gather on their own from forests and various locations around England, while others would need to be purchased from an apothecary or stolen – and Hermione frowned at the thought.
It was after their discussion on potions and towards the end of their evening tea that Harry decided to bring up occlumency once more. He felt awkward bringing it up, because of all the self-shame and regret that he had attached to the subject – but he forced himself to do it anyway. He knew Hermione would understand, he knew that she was probably worried about it too and he knew that he would never get better unless he dealt with the issue directly.
She didn't lecture him when he finally told her what had truly happened in fifth year with Snape, the memories that he had seen and why his lessons had come to a screeching halt. She didn't get angry with him when he admitted that he had blown off the self-practice and homework that Snape had assigned him or that he hadn't taken it seriously enough at the time. Instead, she held his hand, squeezed it tight and agreed that they would add even more practice to their already adjusted routine.
Over the next week, Hermione and Harry set their plan into motion. Each day they got up with purpose, completed their exercises, duelled, practiced casting wandless and wordless spells, gathered nearby potion ingredients, studied healing spells, and meditated and practiced occlumency at every spare chance they got. He found himself doing it in the shower or practicing it while he cooked, and he got in the habit of quieting his mind and emotions as he sat outside in the cold during his night watches.
Outside of their joint routine tasks, Harry took the lead on researching and experimenting with ways to make their shield charm more resistant to physical blows while Hermione took the lead on replacing their potion stock, preparing for brewing and managing their supplies. She made a list of all the potion ingredients they would need, brewing durations so they could time their movements with the completion of potions, and she began setting up a brewing station inside the tent.
It took Hermione two days to finish reading her book on brewing potions in unorthodox places, learn the spells required to seal the work area and drawing up plans for how to set-up the station within the tent such that each item wouldn't need to be packed away individually when they moved. She was able to figure out how to charm the cauldrons and workbench area with a sticking charm and encase the entire space in an explosion proof shield that would prevent any mishaps from spreading through the tent. By cutting a small hole in the fabric within the new potion lab she was also able to vent the workspace to remove any scents or fumes from the potions.
Then, by using a stasis spell listed in the book, she determined that she should be able to freeze any brewing potions in place if they needed to pack up quickly. She had no intention of ever packing up the tent while something was brewing but it was good to know that she could do it if she had to do it – and that she could do it without burning down everything inside the tent. Harry also seemed to be pleased with this knowledge when she presented her plans to him to get his input. It was comforting to know that they wouldn't be waking up in a burning tent because cauldrons simmering through the night had caught the tent on fire.
Once they had both agreed on the plans she spent the remainder of the week setting up the potion station.
She transfigured Ron's bunk into a workbench and one of the kitchen chairs into a stool. Neither Hermione nor Harry talked about the fact that she had just, for all intents and purposes, removed Ron's bed and therefore his place from the tent. And while it remained unspoken, they both knew that neither one of them was expecting him to return. So, they decided to ignore the implications of 'cutting' him from the tent and how it physically represented them cutting him from their lives. Instead, they both just continued with their practicing and research, focusing on their task.
By the end of the week, Hermione had the workbench and cauldrons set-up, the vent stack working and all the protective charms in place. Her comprehensive list of the potion ingredients that they had and the ones that they still needed was now cross-referenced with their map of England and she had identified the locations they needed to go to get everything.
With only the small amount of dittany that she had left stored in her supplies, she would only be able to make two small batches of blood replenishing potion and one small batch of essence of dittany for wound use. Normally, this would be a decent amount for her personal usage, but given how the last few months had gone she was nervous that it wouldn't be enough if things were to escalate into a full-fledged war. She wanted to have at least a dozen blood replenishing potions, three bottles of dittany and several more bottles of calming draught and pepperup potion – so they needed to find a way to get their hands on more dittany, somehow.
The problem was that dittany was both rare and expensive, and she highly doubted that they would stumble upon it randomly in a forest somewhere. So this meant that they needed to go to an apothecary to purchase some. Otherwise, most of the other ingredients she needed could be collected free of charge by apparating around the countryside.
In the meantime, while they gathered ingredients, Hermione planned to brew what she could. Thankfully, Hermione had packed the crocodile hearts that she had purchased on sale in Diagon Alley in her potion kit. At the time, Harry and Ron had stared at her like she was crazy for getting excited and bounding into the apothecary which was selling the hearts. Her exact words at the time had been, 'can you believe this guys! Look at these ridiculously cheap prices!'
She had never intended to brew during their hunt, but now thanks to her constant need to be prepared she would be able to make several new batches of calming draught to keep on hand. She was also able to start a single new batch of pepperup potion. The item that was left completely blank on her list was Nagini's antivenom – for which she had no idea where to start.
Despite her vast knowledge on potions for someone her age and her extensive efforts researching, Hermione felt incredibly under-informed and completely out of her comfort zone when it came to antivenoms. They were usually rare and complex, so most potions masters stayed away from them. Some antivenoms didn't even require a potion – some were just a single herb or a combination of plants that occurred naturally that you could pick from the ground and use immediately. Others were bizarrely complicated potions that required a sample of the venom and a sample of the victim's blood to create the neutralizer. Then there were others that had to be prepared in advance while a few had to be prepared after the victim was bleeding. There were documented cases of antivenoms being as simple as a dandelion leaf, while others ranged to potions that took 3 months to prepare and had a shelf life of only 24 hours.
What made matters worse, was that Nagini was not a normal snake that was being controlled by Voldemort. So, it wasn't like Hermione could just bust into a muggle hospital and get the antivenom for Vipera Berus or a Copperhead for Merlin's sake. Nagini was clearly a magical creature of some sort. And while Hermione could not confirm it, she had her suspicions that Nagini was either a cursed Russell's Viper based on her appearance or, the more likely option, she was a Maledictus – someone permanently turned into a beast due to a blood curse. She doubted anyone would know for certain, save for Voldemort himself, and she wasn't about to try and ask or figure that one out.
The only thing that kept her panic and anxiety at bay was knowing that Mr. Weasley had beaten the venom before. He had found the antivenom, used it and was alive and well – proving that the cure worked. The only thing she needed to do was either break into St. Mungo's and see if they had any antivenom on hand that they could borrow, or she needed to find Arthur Weasley and speak with him to get the antivenom recipe. Either way, the process would be risky. It was possible that St. Mungo's was being watched by Voldemort or that it was already being run by him. While locating Mr. Weasley would be relatively easier than breaking into St. Mungo's, it would put the man and his family and possibly even the remaining members of the Order at risk.
Based on the updates that they were getting from Phineas, which were few and far between, it was clear that whatever was left of the Order of the Phoenix was being kept top secret and that the members were operating in the shadows. They were trying to fight the war quietly without drawing attention to themselves because they simply didn't have the numbers to compete with Voldemort directly. At this point, the Ministry was all but taken over and their secrecy would be critical to their overall success. If they pushed too much too soon or did anything too dramatic, Voldemort and his followers would bring the war to their doorstep before the Order was ready for it – and since no one else knew about the Horcruxes, the results would be devastating.
Voldemort couldn't be killed, not until the Horcruxes were gone. So, she and Harry needed to keep the war at bay for as long as possible to avoid unnecessary loss of life while they tried to locate and destroy the final remaining Horcruxes.
Hermione worked hard over the next few weeks, training with Harry and brewing the potions that she could with the ingredients that she had on hand and with what they could collect from their apparating trips around the countryside. Each time a potion was completed she felt a tiny thread of her anxiety fall away and a small comfort surge in her chest. Having these potions was like having a lifeline and she would create as many lifelines as she could because she would not let them fail.
If she had to brew all night, creep into the deepest and darkest crevices of the forest to get an ingredient they needed or wrestle a salamander out of a skunk's mouth, as she had in Surrey – she would. She would push herself to the edge if that's what it took to ensure that Harry was safe and that their mission was a success. Skunk smell or no, Hermione was on a mission and she would not let anything stop her.
So, as she brewed and collected ingredients she thought, and as she thought, she planned. There was no doubt in her mind that going to St. Mungo's was out of the question. It was simply too dangerous, and they had no connections there to help them get into the secure facility. One high profile break-in was enough for her lifetime – they didn't need to add a second. While their adventure at the Ministry had been successful, it had also gone somewhat poorly and cost them time, energy, resources and Ron. She also had no doubt in her mind that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were being watched closely so they couldn't just apparate to the Burrow. She refused to put them in danger no matter how irritated she may have been with their idiot son.
She still loved Molly and Arthur dearly – and she did not want to hurt them.
Thus, there was only one solution. They needed to come up with a plan to get in contact with Mr. Weasley privately, without it being noticed by anyone – not even Molly. They also needed a way for him to be able to communicate back to them so he could give them the antivenom recipe, but it needed to be discrete. Going to the Ministry to see him would be suicide, going to the Burrow would be dangerous for the family, owls were too obvious and were being monitored, the Floo network was out of the question and a Patronus could be intercepted or dispelled. They either needed to intercept him somewhere or find another way to contact him, and it had been the topic of discussion over the last few evenings without much progression.
That night, the air was quiet. She stirred the cauldron of the last batch of blood replenishing potion she was able to make until she got more dittany. Harry was outside completing some additional wandless magic practice, trying to use up the last few moments of sunlight that they had left before the early darkness of winter set in. She knew that he would make dinner while she finished up the potion, he always made dinner when she was brewing.
Hermione looked down at the workbench as her hand turned the stir stick by muscle memory, allowing her mind to run blank as she practiced her occlumency and her eyes skimmed over the different tools and remaining chopped bits that were covering the surface. Her eyes slowed when they skimmed over her research notebook which was filled with jotted notes, diagrams and plans, and they halted completely when they noticed the small round silver ink cap that rested on the open page.
Her eyes widened and her heart leapt as the idea hit her.
Of course! Hermione thought as she quickly finished stirring the potion while her mind raced a mile a minute to formulate her new plan. The answer is obvious! I can't believe that I didn't think of it right away.
She grinned to herself, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning two clean bottles and stoppers from her purse. She began to pour the potion into the bottles, using her magic to steady the flow and conserve each drop of the replenishing potion for future use. She glanced at the tent door as the wind outside picked up and the tent around her fluttered. She couldn't stop the smile on her lips from growing wider as Harry walked into the tent covered in snow but grinning widely at her. It looked like he'd had a good night as well. She beamed at him, calling him over to their new potion lab, excited to tell Harry exactly how they were going to communicate with Mr. Weasley.