The day after the full moon, Hermione walked Remus to the Headmaster's office. His hand felt good in hers, but everything else was off. He'd been distant, and she didn't know if it was because of her mission, or because of her training for the mission, or because of his mum. She didn't ask.
She felt a flicker of a touch against her Occlumency shields, and reflexively scanned the halls for Regulus. Sure enough, there he was, coming around the corner in front of them, Narcissa at his side. His expression was perfectly blank, but she knew it was him. He'd been in her head enough that she recognized him now, just as she would Albus.
She felt Remus stiffen beside her as he noticed Regulus too, and she squeezed his hand, supporting, warning, pleading. A low growl sounded in his throat, and his eyes flashed, but otherwise, Regulus and Narcissa passed without incident, without acknowledgement.
They reached the gargoyle in silence, and stopped. Hermione shifted awkwardly.
"I don't really know what to say," she said.
Remus' face was… less than a mask. It was empty. Completely empty. "Let's just… not say anything," he said, releasing her hand. He kissed her perfunctorily, then, with only the briefest of glances backward, gave the gargoyle the password, and disappeared up the twisting staircase.
February eased into March. Too fast. Too soon. There was still so much to do. Everyone would leave for the Easter holidays on the 18th. That was less than three weeks away. Hermione and Regulus were still practicing every evening, and the shaking never quite left Hermione's fingers anymore. The trembling never left her limbs. The pain never left her body.
Another night, another "practice" session. Hermione was laying on the floor, her entire body wracked with pain. Regulus casually withdrew from the attack on her mind and vanished her vomit from the floor. Routine. Perfunctory. She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and pulled herself to her feet. She was getting better and better at working through the pain. At pushing through it. At keeping her head in the aftermath of the curse.
She easily kept Regulus from her mind.
"You're doing well, New Girl," he said, almost reluctantly. "Colour me impressed."
Hermione grinned weakly, trying to have enough levity for the both of them. "And here I thought that time I coloured you pink was more than enough."
He threw a casual hex her way, which she managed to deflect, despite the quavering of her legs, and the fatigue in her limbs.
"Alright," he said, and despite the casual tone, she knew too well the swirl of emotion that quavered beneath it. He rarely let it out. But she could see how it ate at him. "You ready to get back to work? I have an essay I need to get to tonight."
Hermione sighed and steeled herself. "Go."
And he did.
The evening of Sunday the 12th of March, Hermione slipped out the portrait door on her way to meet Regulus, and promptly collided with someone.
"Oh, sorry!" she said, looking up at the person she'd crashed into.
It was Remus.
Her heart froze, then began pounding in her chest. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. "Remus. I didn't… I didn't realize you were coming home tonight." She hadn't heard from him once since he'd left. And not for lack of trying.
Guilt flickered across his face. "I know. I… I should have written to let you know. I just…" He trailed off. "Thanks for the birthday gift. It was really… I really appreciated it." His eyes flicked around them, like they were desperate to see anything but her.
Hermione's heart plummeted. "You don't want to do this anymore, do you?" she asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.
Remus' expression of guilt deepened. His gaze flicked to hers. Then away. He opened his mouth. Then shut it. And she could feel her heart breaking, tearing into pieces. She took a deep steadying breath, as if she could hold all the pieces together if only she breathed deeply enough.
And she waited. Waited for him to confirm, or deny, or deflect, or anything. But all he did was stare at the floor guiltily.
"Alright then," she said, as stoic as she could. "I… I have to go anyway. I'll see you around, Remus." She turned and started down the hall.
"Hermione, wait!"
She stopped, but didn't turn around. She didn't want to share her hurt with him. Not now. Not in this awful moment as everything inside her tore into pieces. She wanted to hide. To curl up somewhere and cry until her tears ran out.
"Hermione. I'm sorry. It's just… it's a lot, you know?" His voice wavered, pleaded for her to understand. "You're a lot. I just… I love you, I do. So much. But… I don't know how to deal with this all. Not all at once. Not now. I… I don't know."
Her pain twisted into anger, but she bit back the biting remark she wanted to throw at him. "I understand," she said to the corridor in front of her, still not turning around, and not really sure she actually understood at all.
She heard him make a choked sound, like a stifled sob that shot straight through her heart. A part of her wanted to turn around and hug him. To tell him it was okay. That she would wait. That they could talk this through. That she wasn't mad. That he didn't need to feel guilty for doing what was best for him. To make him feel better. And she squashed every single one of those instincts down, and headed off down the hall. She had other, simpler tortures to endure tonight.
The next week passed in a blur. Everyone she knew offered to hex Remus (and she was reasonably certain that at least one or two of them had); she finally caved and brewed her own pain potion so she'd be capable of functioning; and she spent every night in agony with Regulus. Still no one but Remus knew that's what they were up to. Thank Merlin. For all that she couldn't bear to look at Remus, she was grateful for this, for his silence.
Then suddenly, the Easter hols had arrived. Hermione walked her friends out to the carriages to say goodbye.
"I can't go, Hermione," Lily said, halting abruptly before the carriages. "I just can't!"
"I'm with her, princess," Sirius said in a low voice. "We should be here. Just in case."
"In case what?" Hermione asked with just a trace of exasperation. She cast a silent muffliato. "If something goes wrong, there's nothing you would be able to do. We're talking about Tom Riddle. Not a ragtag group of Death Eaters." She drew in a deep breath, forcing her own anxiety down. She had to be brave for them. Help them feel okay.
"I just… I can't sit at home, wondering if you're okay, worrying." Lily's green eyes were agonized, but softened slightly as James slipped a comforting arm around her, his own gaze filled with worry. Her heart warmed at the sight.
"She's right," he said solemnly. "This is crazy, Mione."
Hermione glanced to where Remus sat, already ensconced in a carriage, then back to her friends. "I'm not going in alone," she said firmly. "The Order will have my back if something goes sideways. I'll let you know what day I'm due to go as soon as it's settled. And you all have your Galleons, yeah?" She looked around at her friends, who nodded reluctantly. "So I'll let you know when I'm out safe. Okay?" She forced a smile onto her face. "Besides, Lily, you have to go home - how else will you introduce your fiancé to your parents this week?"
Lily and James both flushed with a pleasure that took the edge off their worry. Just barely.
Hermione hugged each of them and then prodded and pushed them (verbally and physically) onto the carriage. All except Sirius, who stood his ground. "I don't like this, Mya," he said darkly. "My parents alone are a big enough threat to you. Never mind Voldemort." He hesitated. "I know you trust my brother, and I know the Headmaster is looking out for you… but you've said yourself that he's willing to make generous sacrifices for the greater good. Just…" he ran his hand through his hair. "Don't be one of them, okay? Promise me."
Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek and tousled his hair. She wished she could tell him how scared she was, pull comfort from him, waver… just for a second. But she couldn't. "I'll be okay, Sirius. Really." And logically, she knew it was true. The likelihood of her dying was slim to none. And if she could convince Tom Riddle she didn't know anything, she'd also remove the target from her back. "We've made this as safe as we can."
He responded with a frown, and a fierce hug, then slipped into the carriage without making eye contact.
Hermione really hoped that wasn't going to be their final exchange. He would never forgive her.
That evening Hermione met with Regulus in the Room of Requirement as usual. She shut the door behind her, already prepared for the surprise onslaught he'd thrown at her the night before. This time there was nothing. Not even a Legilimency attack.
She cocked an eyebrow.
"My parents wrote this morning. They will be away on the 20th for a solstice event. This afternoon, the Dark Lord sent word that he will be waiting."
A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, but she kept her reaction private. "Day after tomorrow," she said quietly.
Regulus nodded.
She met his gaze, something that he'd allowed only rarely over the last month or so. "Am I ready, Reg? Do you think I can do this?"
He stared at her for a long, silent moment, his eyes empty of emotion, before looking away. "I wouldn't take you if I didn't know you could." He moved to a couch and took a seat. "We won't practice tonight. Get your strength back up."
"Oh, okay." She stayed awkwardly by the door, uncertain whether she should leave or stay.
Regulus' gaze burned into the fire. "Will you be able to get off the pain potions, when this is over?"
Hermione drifted a little closer. "Yes," she said firmly. "I've been careful. I'll be okay."
He shifted so she could sit, and she did. She was still for a moment, letting the weight of it all settle onto her. Then she reached out and took his hand in hers. Gripping it like a lifeline. And together, they sat in silence, both staring into the fire, lost in thought until the early hours of the morning.
Hermione slept most of the next day, her body gratefully soaking up whatever nourishing rest she could give it. And somehow she still slept through the following night. Apparently she was more exhausted than she'd realized.
She woke up at her normal time the morning of the 20th and set her Galleon to let her friends know she was headed to Grimmauld today. She'd told Albus the day before, but hadn't wanted to let her friends spend too long worrying. They'd forgive her later.
Nervous energy buzzed through her body as she pulled on her jogging gear, cast a warming charm, and headed outside to the Quidditch pitch. The mid-March air was still cold and crisp. Every movement was excruciating, but she was learning to deal with it. She wasn't going to take any pain potion today. It made her head feel foggy, floaty, dissociated… and she needed all her wits for her date with Tom Riddle.
Instead, she imagined that every step she took was pushing her fears and her nervousness out of her body, and into the earth. She imagined that every beat of her heart pulsed confidence and courage through her body. She imagined that every breath she took was an inhale of clarity and calm.
By the time she headed inside for breakfast, she had a small appetite—the most she could hope for these days—, and at least a surface level of peace. Today she was going to face down Voldemort, keep their spy and her friend safe, hopefully get the target off her back, and… with a little luck… secure the location of the next Horcrux.
She wished she was the sort of person who prayed.
She ate breakfast in the Great Hall with Gideon and Fabian, who were a fabulous distraction. Especially as they'd been taking bets on the twins' birth date, and she'd somewhat smugly laid a few Galleons on it being April 1.
Then she met Regulus in the Entrance Hall. He didn't ask if she was ready, like one of her teammates might. He didn't joke or smile like one of her Gryffindor friends might. He just nodded at her as she arrived.
"You could pretend to be more excited, you know," Hermione said with a frown. "We're supposed to be friends with fun, outside-the-school plans for the day."
Regulus frowned back, a familiar iciness in his eyes. "I have hated every moment we have spent together for the last two months, Hermione. Every. Moment. And none of them compares to this one. I have no interest in your levity today."
Hermione sighed. "I miss when we were friends," she said softly.
There was a pause. "As do I," he said finally, in a voice so quiet she almost didn't believe he'd said anything.
They walked through the grounds in silence. Until they stalled at the gates to Hogsmeade.
"Hermione—"
"New Girl."
Regulus looked at her appraisingly.
"You call me New Girl when we're friends. When you like me. When being around me isn't a chore. When you say my real name, you always sound like someone's died."
Regulus rolled his eyes. "New Girl, then." Hermione noticed he couldn't say it without a slight quirk of his lips, and it eased a little of the fear that was beginning to accumulate in her throat. "When we get to Grimmauld, my family should be gone, but the Dark Lord will be waiting. There will be no reprieve. No turning back. If you wish to change your mind, this is your one and only chance." There was a look in his eyes that was begging her to, even though the rest of his face was stoic.
Hermione unabashedly laced her fingers through his. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "You have the Galleon," she reminded him. "If things go wrong, all you have to do is hold it in your hand, and the Order will come. This is going to be okay, Reg. We can do this."
He jerked his hand out of hers, his face blank. "Let's go then." Hermione followed him as he strode through the gates, where he halted abruptly, gripped her by the arm, and swirled her away in side-along apparition.
Hermione's stomach heaved as they reappeared in the park near the Black family home, and she ran for a nearby bush where she immediately threw up her breakfast. She knew everyone on her team (the only one being granted the identity of their spy), hidden in various places nearby, had likely seen, and she tried not to be embarrassed. Auspicious start, Belanger, she grumbled to herself. She cast a quick cleaning charm, and another to rinse her mouth. Get your shit together. She swiped any emotion from her face and turned back to where Regulus was waiting.
He cocked a teasing eyebrow, and Hermione wasn't sure whether it was pulled from him unwillingly, or if it was an act.
"Well if someone hadn't apparated so abruptly…" she retorted.
He smirked. "Amateur."
Definitely acting. She deflated slightly, but only on the inside.
"Well, Miss Belanger. Shall we?" he said in perfect pureblood form, right down to the extension of his arm. "Your library awaits."
Hermione forced an eager expression onto her face and slipped her hand onto his forearm. "Yes, let's!"
Her heart pounded. Fear gripped her entire being. She was about to come face-to-face with Tom freaking Riddle. With Voldemort. There was no sense in calling him Tom in this moment. Tom was the barman at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was her drunk uncle who made inappropriate jokes at Christmas supper. Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort.
Kreacher greeted them at the door, the picture of loving, ingratiating servant. Hermione only passively noticed the way Regulus spoke to his house elf, as though he were another person - someone worthy of respect and kindness. It wasn't enough to warm her icy heart.
And that was when she realized what a mess she was. "Um, Regulus, do you mind if I use the loo?"
His gaze told her he knew. That he could see the terror gripping her. That it was written in her every movement. He frowned. "Of course. This way."
Hermione followed him, acting like she didn't already know the way, then slipped through the door and latched it behind her. She took a deep breath, then forced herself to face the mirror.
"Alright, Hermione," she whispered. "This is it. You are going to get your shit together. You are the world's most Slytherin Gryffindor. You can pull this off. You can do this. Just another mission. Just another day. Your team has your back. You've got your back. You have trained for this moment. And this is the least-lethal mission you've ever gone on. Get. Your. Shit. Together." She imagined Alastor growling at her hesitation. Imagined the twins teasing and prodding her. Imagined Emmeline gripping her shoulder in solidarity. "Tom Riddle is just a man. Tom Riddle is just. a. man."
She took another deep, steadying breath, visualizing the strength of her lioness living inside her. She felt the pressure of her wands against her leg, against the inside of her right forearm. Felt the weight of an emergency portkey hanging around her neck.
"I've got this."
She flushed, ran the taps for a moment, then forced her body into a relaxed posture and strode back out into the hall. "Thanks," she said, her tone easy and natural. "I guess that apparition trip really didn't agree with me."
"No problem, New Girl," Regulus replied. "You're feeling better now?"
Hermione smiled at him, a hint of ferocity in the expression. "I am."
