Hello, all of you.
It's a been a hellishly busy week. I'm exhausted, thank goodness it's Friday. I have my English IOC (for you fellow IBers) on Monday and I'm freaked.
Not a great response for the last chapter... even my normal reviewers. You people okay?
Oh well. Here's the next chapter, a good long one. Enjoy.
Chapter 23
The first good night's sleep Hermione had slept in weeks was interrupted with the fiery searing heat of her watch burning into her skin.
She muffled a hiss of pain in her pillow then tapped it hurriedly.
Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. The Dark Lord calls. My antivenin is the green bottle, nightstand. One turn only.
Wakefulness came with sickening clarity. Nagini was a magical snake, with unheard of longevity. Severus had described more than once the way her venom prevented clotting and healing. He told he that he had a precious amount of antivenin that he had made from stolen samples of her venom.
That he was telling her to use it on Arthur Weasley meant that the worst had come to pass.
As she was leaving the girl's dorm, Minerva McGonagall was racing up the stairs in a tartan dressing gown with her spectacles lopsided on her bony nose. Her nostrils flared- she could sense Hermione. Hermione was good, but she wasn't that good yet. She quickly revealed herself.
"It's me," she said, in quiet, quick tones. "Severus let me know he said-"
"Arthur's been attacked," Minerva said, nodding. "Potter- he's seen it all."
The mind connection. Damn. It's worse than Severus and I thought. "I'm going back in time," Hermione said, checking her watch. "Severus brewed antivenin. Where should I go?"
The old Scottish woman's face looked terribly lined in the dim light. "Headquarters, to call the alarm, and get the antivenin to St. Mungo's. I'll send a Patronus and let Dumbledore know to Floo the hospital."
She nodded, and their eyes met. The urgency stilled, and then exploded again. She spelled herself invisible once more, and the Deputy Headmistress continued on her way to the dorms.
Hermione flew through the castle on silenced feet, unable to see her own form. Her breath made puffs of visible air in the cold of the dungeons, but there was no one about to notice it. In moments she arrived at Severus' door.
Never before had she been so thankful that he had not only given her a password of her own, but that she had taken the time to enter unaccompanied by him. Sneaking into his rooms so many times before stripped her of the nervousness of doing it for the first time.
The scan of her palm, her hushed whisper, and then she was through the wall and into the false chambers. A fumble for the key at her neck, three turns, and she was in Severus' real chambers for the first time in months. His teaching robes were thrown over the back of a chair. The air smelled like him and like his tea. There was a half empty cup on his desk. The door to his bedroom was wide open.
There was no time to be hesitant. She would get the antivenin and turn back.
The rest of Severus' quarters were hardly luxurious, and his bedroom was no different. There was a large bed in the center, a chest of drawers, and a door that seemed to lead to a bathroom. There was a thick rug on the stone floor, very good quality, and all the furniture was ornately carved. But there was no excess displayed; just good quality.
Hermione immediately found the nightstand, opening the top drawer and searching through the mess, cataloging what she saw.
A bound black book.
A quill and ink.
And a green vial. The antivenin- she hastily shoved it into her robes.
The race to beat time was on. She wove through the room quickly, then flat out ran in the hallways to find the secret entrances and exits Severus had showed her the night they had gone to see their spy network. The grounds were freezing cold that time of night; a spiral of smoke rose from Hagrid's cabin, and the dim light from his windows as the only light on the moonless and cloudy night. The snow crunched under her feet, and to her horror Hermione realized she was leaving clear footprints that showed the way to the exit.
With a muttered curse she conjured a wind to muss the snow behind her. There was nothing to do for it- she couldn't levitate. But... she could charm herself feather-light. That way her footprints would leave less of an impression on the snow, and with the fat flakes that were falling and melting in her hair, they would vanish within the hour.
Feather-light she could run faster, too. The freezing air and the sharp pinpricks of the snowflakes she was running into stung her skin. She had foolishly left her cloak. She hadn't been thinking about venturing into the snow, she had been thinking about Severus. At least it was one less thing to weigh her down.
The gate was farther away than she had thought. It was with frozen and clumsy fingers that she unlatched it and left the Hogwarts wards. She hid behind a tree and spun back one hour.
It was just as cold at two in the morning as it had been at three. It didn't matter though- she closed her eyes and spun on one foot, Apparating away.
One tight squeeze, forcing herself through space the way she normally forced herself through time. The tunnel spat her out at an alley across from Grimmauld Place. She walked purposefully toward the space between number 11 and number 13. Number 12 Grimmauld Place materialized, pushing aside the other two. She ran up the steps and pounded at the door.
A half-awake Remus opened the door, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Who's there?" He was dressed for sleep in a loose nightshirt hastily tucked into unbuttoned pants.
Hermione stepped around him and shed her Disillusionment. "It's me, Remus." She shivered, even in the blanketing warmth of the house.
The werewolf sighed. "What was your boggart when I gave you your third year examinations?"
"Harry Potter dead on the floor," Hermione answered easily. "How did I beat you that day it was six against one in training?"
Remus smiled ruefully. "You made Nymphadora trip into Severus and then fall onto me."
She grinned. "Good. Now, we have an emergency."
A half-naked Sirius stumbled down the stairs. "Moony- is something-" His eyes widened when he saw Hermione. "What are you doing here? Is Harry-"
"Harry's fine," Hermione said, interrupting. "Arthur Weasley's going to be attacked in about five minutes- there's nothing we can do now, but I have the antivenin."
"Antivenin?" Remus asked. "Um- a snake?" He sighed and pressed at his temples.
Hermione nodded. "The Dark Lord's snake, Nagini." Her eyes flicked to Sirius' attractive (if rather scrawny) torso. "You might want to put something on, Sirius. Harry and the Weasleys are probably going to get sent here."
"How do you know?" Sirius obviously wanted to believe her, but was guarded against perking up. "Did something say something?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "I made the security protocols for Harry's safety with Severus for just about anything that could go wrong," Hermione replied tartly. "Arthur Weasley getting attacked by a giant snake wasn't specifically on that list, but it falls under close friend or family member being attacked. He'll come here. I've got to go to St. Mungo's and get them the antivenin, and then go get Molly."
Sirius nodded, leaning against the rail of the staircase. "Do you needed someone to go to the Burrow?" he asked. He was eager to leave the house, Hermione noted, but Dumbledore had explicitly forbidden it.
"You needed to stay here and wait for Harry," Hermione ordered. "And Molly can't know until after it's happened. I'm off. Can someone alert Dumbledore?"
Remus nodded, heading off into the kitchen where the Floo was located.
Hermione bit her lip, momentarily unwilling to leave the warmth of the house. "I'm off then," she said.
"Thank you," Sirius said suddenly. "Will you be coming later, Hermione? Stay for Christmas?"
She had been planning on it anyway, since she needed to say near Harry, but it was nice to hear the invitation. "Yeah," she replied. "Thanks."
Sirius smiled at her, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Best go, then," he said. "I'll see you soon enough."
The Headmaster's office was thankfully warm. Hermione felt the throbbing in her head, up in her sinuses and pounding in her temples. The weariness was pressing at the backs of her eyes, and her legs hurt. She was getting sick; she had been hovering on the edge of illness for the past two days (four for her) and now it was sure thing. Scratchy throat, raspy voice, aching muscles. There was no getting out of it now.
It was the warmth that had Hermione focusing on her discomfort. It was either that or the soft whuffling of the Dumbledore's silver machines, and the later would send her to sleep.
She was saved from that by Dumbledore reentering the room. "Hermione," he said, a fraction of coolness in his voice.
The struggle to get her eyes open took just a moment, but it was long enough for the look of disapproval on Dumbledore's face to deepen. "Yes?"
He sat and folded his hands into his usual steeple. "We have much to discuss and not much time."
"Then we'd best get started," Hermione replied, a bit sick of the old man's games. "What is it?"
He didn't as much glare at her as look at her disapprovingly. "You disobeyed your orders twice in one night."
She was too tired to care. She lifted one eyebrow, meeting the Headmaster's eyes. "Which ones?"
"You allowed Harry Potter to start a relationship with Miss Chang and you left Harry unprotected in the castle while you ran about with the antivenin!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Both of which you knew you were not permitted to do!"
Hermione glared right back. "I had no control over what happened with Harry and Cho. Usually I turn back after I go to bed and follow Harry leaving the D.A. meeting and tonight I wasn't able to because I was busy helping save Arthur Weasley's life!"
"That was not your place!" roared Dumbledore. "Your place is at Harry Potter's side!"
Hermione stood, unafraid to shout back. "He needed the antivenin and I was the only one who knew where it was! Severus gave me orders I thought had come from you!
The Headmaster made a visible attempt to calm himself. "And what exactly did Severus say?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice.
However weary and resultingly brash Hermione was, she knew that an angry Dumbledore was not the best person to antagonize. She sat back down. "He said, 'Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. The Dark Lord calls. My antivenin is the green bottle, nightstand. One turn only.' Those were his words exactly."
Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "So you could have gotten the antivenin, turned back, and given it to me in my office without ever leaving the school."
That it was completely true made Hermione's stomach sink. That was probably exactly what Severus had wanted her to do. "I-"
"Instead you left the school in the middle of the night, leaving Harry unprotected. Then you went to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, alerted Sirius Black before you alerted me personally, and then you proceeded to go to St. Mungo's and make contact with the only member of the Order who is also a Healer, not only possibly exposing yourself but exposing her. Now she knows that you must have a Time Device of some sort or the gift of prophecy to know that a man was attacked and have a cure prepared moments before he was brought in! Should her tongue wag-"
"I swore her to secrecy," Hermione interrupted, guilt churning in her belly. "I didn't want to put her at risk."
Dumbledore's eyes were blue ice. "Unfortunately, Miss Granger, you already have. Should Lord Voldemort come to power again, the Ministry will be turned inside out, Hogwarts will be turned on her head, but St. Mungo's will remain the same. That one Healer is vital, and you have jeopardized her and her family, not to mention the entirety of Wizarding England by leaving her only hope unguarded in a hostile castle!"
Her head was throbbing. "I understand, sir," Hermione said, bowing her head and placing it in her hands. The blackness was comforting. She wanted nothing more now than Severus.
"You have failed us tonight, Miss Granger," said the Headmaster coldly.
She wanted to scream, to give a million excuses, to make him takes those piercing eyes off of her. "I- I know. I'll- I'll make sure they don't stay together. Harry and Cho. They'll be apart by Valentine's Day."
"Sooner, if you can, Miss Granger," replied Dumbledore. The harshness faded somewhat from his visage. "Now. Severus has not yet returned and I do not know in what state he will be when he does return. Since you know his movements best and are, for lack of a better term, his handler, you will wait for him and report back to me when he returns."
Hermione stood, willing herself not to waver in front of the powerful wizard. "Of course."
"I will make arraignments for you to be transported to Number 12 Grimmauld Place this afternoon," the Headmaster continued. "When you are there, do not leave Harry's side for a moment."
She decided to wait outside the gate, rather than inside the castle. What Dumbledore had said worried her- perhaps the Dark Lord was angrier with Severus than she had originally thought. The cold air would keep her awake, alert.
He goes there every week and nearly always comes back unscathed.
Severus knows what he's doing.
But the Dark Lord is an unpredictable bastard.
Severus knows what he is doing.
What if they dump him here like they did at Spinner's End?
The night that was slowly giving its throne to day was dusky rather than deep. The sky had begun to lighten imperceptibly, the stars were fading, their paltry light blending into the haze of the sky. The snow had stopped.
She hid herself in the shadow the trees that lined the Hogwarts grounds. She would wait for her spy.
Her lonely, lovely spy with dark eyes and a dark soul and a dark heart. Her Severus, who made her heart ache and her belly twist and her mind race. He meant so much to her, but at the moment it felt like he was breaking away from her and all that was holding them together- the bonds that had been so strong a month ago- had thinned to gossamer threads, only visible when the wind moved them and the sunlight shined the right way. And right now, there was hardly ever sunlight.
In the dark of the cold of the night, Hermione could almost disbelieve her own existence, trapped in the unholy space between dusk and dawn, the grey chill that seeped into marrow and turned her flesh into a mottled numbness.
It was nearing breakfast time when a soft crack rebounded through the biting air, depositing a long thin shape that Hermione recognized as Severus. He swayed, then began to stalk determinedly to the hidden gate. She stood, on legs that felt frozen, to stumble after him.
There were flecks of blood on the snow where he had been standing. The snow was still colorless with the lack of morning light, the struggling sun obscured by the clouds, making the dark drops into a contradiction of color. There was a scattering, rounded bulbs that were nearly drops, colorless but in a different way than the snow, in a dark absorbing manner that glittered menacingly.
Severus was still making his way to the gate. She followed him, her legs still unsteady under her. "Severus-" she called, her voice tripping over itself as her feet did the same, She tumbled ungracefully into the snow, her numb legs twisting upon themselves and sprawling out.
Her concentration failed, and the spell that had kept her hidden and sapped her energy disappeared. The dark shape that was Severus whirled, wand slashing down on her before he recognized her prone form. The silence froze the moment, the cold froze Hermione, and Severus' spell tore through her. Her legs snapped together, her body was bound to the ground, and her air was cut off by a band pressing against her throat.
Dull, apathetic grey eyes met hers and then lit with emotion; they were the last thing Hermione saw before the heavy darkness smothered her.
Warmth.
Warmth and a heartbeat, the scent of herbs and books and potions, a rocking motion that told a dazed Hermione that she was being carried somewhere.
The sensation was wonderfully familiar, so comforting that for a moment Hermione could not remember why it also made her to achingly sad.
She kept her eyes closed, afraid that if she opened them the illusion would dissipate and she would be left alone in a cold bed or in a cold forest rather than strong arms and a warm body close to hers.
The temperature around her changed, warming, making her cold extremities sting. The arms dipped her, and then she met a cold sofa. He was gentle as he lowered her head, and in her drowsy state Hermione couldn't help but smile.
"Are you waking up then?" his voice asked tightly.
Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open anyway. "Yes," she slurred. "You 'kay?"
"I am fine," snarled Severus. "You, however, were dangerously close to losing several fingers and toes." As he was speaking, a fire roared to life in the fireplace and Hermione noted the sensation of long fingers tugging her boots off.
She blinked at him. "But-" Long fingers plucked off her socks.
"But nothing," he spat. "What possessed you to wait for me?"
Anger flared, and she pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him. "Dumbledore ordered me to," she said coldly.
The wall that had been in front of his face hardened. "To get my report?"
"Exactly." Even as her words were harsh and his were stony, the hands rubbing life back into her feet didn't pause.
Glittering dangerously, his eyes flicked away from her. "Then I shall give it. The Dark Lord sent his snake, Nagini, to the Department of Mysteries because he had heard from my own mouth that a valuable Order member would be guarding the prophecy. The snake found the man easily, and was able to attack him even easier because he was sleeping. The snake ripped out-"
"I know that already," Hermione snapped. "Harry saw it all." Pain from her frozen feet made her want to cringe, but she bit the inside of her cheek and kept her expression neutral.
His mouth tightened in a sign Hermione recognized as annoyance. "I knew that already," he said sarcastically. "That was the main reason the Dark Lord kept me so long tonight." He glared at her, and raised an expectant eyebrow. "May I continue or did the Boy Wonder also inhabit the Dark Lord's mind during the meeting?"
"As soon as he was awake the vision stopped," said Hermione.
Severus sneered, telling her silently that he was well aware that her response was admitting defeat. "He called me to his side before he even sent out the snake. It was a test of my loyalty."
Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "Why would he need to test your loyalty?"
"Because he has finalized his most audacious plan yet," sighed Severus. "He's planning to break ten people out of Azkaban."
"Ten?" Hermione breathed, bringing one hand up to rub at her temples. "Merlin. I'm assuming the Lestranges?"
"You'd assume correctly," Severus said, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "But tonight was about attacking a prominent Order member and assuring my loyalty. He had to be absolutely sure before telling me about his plan for Azkaban."
Hermione nodded, wincing absentmindedly. Her mind was no longer on concentrating to keep the pain out of her face. Now she was more concerned with the implications of what Severus was telling her. "But what about what did happen tonight? Arthur's going to live, he had the antivenin. Won't he see your hand in that?"
Severus nostrils flared. "He probably will suspect me," he admitted. "But that can't be helped. Arthur Weasley dying was not an option. And I was at his side the entire night- he might think that Dumbledore ordered me to prepare antivenin and used what I had created."
Fear was curling icy tendrils around Hermione's heart. "Will he punish you?"
"Most assuredly," drawled Severus. "Concerned for my safety now?"
She had to close her eyes as tears threatened. "Always, Severus." She felt, rather than saw, him freeze, the hands on her feet pausing.
"You're warm now," he said abruptly. "Cast a warming charm on your hands and feet." He stood, and in three swift strides was in the kitchen area, and hidden from her sight. Clanking soon reached her ears, and the sound of a lid being opened and leaves rustled. Tea. He was making her tea. She had missed the taste of his own personal blend, the one he made for himself alone.
Warming spells were easy work, simple enough for a third year. She was still shivering, though, and a cup of tea would do wonders on warming her stomach. It wouldn't do anything for her fear though. That would stay with her, as would the guilt.
When he returned with two mugs, Severus' face was impassive. But Hermione had not lost her ability to see even the tiniest quirks in the lines around his eyes and the way he held his shoulders straight. He was bothered, bothered by something.
"Even if Dumbledore hadn't ordered me to wait for you, I would have," she said quietly.
He glared at her. "Then you are still a greater fool than I would have thought. You could have frozen to death."
She glared right back. "And if you had been hurt? And if they had just left you outside the gates?"
"I would have called you through the watches," countered Severus. "As I did this summer!"
A broken laugh caught in her throat. "Would you have?" she asked bitterly.
When she looked up, his eyes were waiting for her, silvery dark and swirling with a mix of anger and shame and sadness. Never before had she had such an urge to take his head and cradle it to her breast, to kiss the top of his head, to use her hands and take all his hurt away. Without breaking contact, he reached out, offering her the mug.
She took it with trembling hands, brushing his fingers with hers. Something flared behind the grey, something that demanded an answer from her own eyes.
"Of course I would have," Severus whispered. His lips were nearly still; the words fell like secrets from his mouth. All was implicit in his voice, his trust and his fear and his defiance.
It was too much for her to bear. Hermione looked away. "Apparently I'll be spending Christmas at Headquarters. Will you be there?"
"No," Severus said, shaking his head once. Strands of dark hair fell across his face. "I'll be spending the holidays at Spinner's End. The Dark Lord is planning some holiday festivities to celebrate the winter solstice. There might be a revel."
She swallowed hard, sipping at the hot tea to calm herself. "Keep me informed," she said, voice cracking a bit. "Let me know what's going on."
A terse nod was her answer. They sat in silence, their only anchors the cups of tea in their hands. He's like a magnet, Hermione thought, her head buzzing still. He's pulling me closer and closer to him. I'm never going to be able to stay away from him.
She sniffed helplessly, feeling the weight of her cold (or whatever it was that was weakening her marrow and making her nose run) took hold. The noise echoed embarrassingly in the small room.
"Are you getting sick?" Severus asked sharply.
Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "I think I might be," admitted the woman. "And I did myself no favors tonight. I was going to go to Madam Pomfrey in the morning."
A frown crossed his face. "It almost sounds like you have no personal connection to a Potions Master of the highest caliber."
The corners of her mouth wanted nothing more than to flick up into a smile, but a thread of doubt held them still. "I wasn't sure if I was still on speaking terms with the aforementioned Potions Master of the highest caliber," she quipped.
She did not know what, exactly, she had been expecting, but his response was a long sigh. "I was trying to protect you. Protect us."
"And I told you I didn't care," Hermione murmured.
"It's too dangerous now not to care," replied Severus wearily. "It's always been too dangerous."
She smiled sadly at him. "I'm a Gryffindor. I live for danger."
"And Slytherins avoid it with every bone in their body," Severus said, eyes relaxing into a semblance of what she remembered. "I have a potion to help you." He set his tea down, unfolding his long legs and disappearing into the depths of his rooms.
Moments later, before Hermione could fully process everything he had told her, he reappeared with a flask. He uncorked it with slender, delicate fingers, in deft movements that made Hermione's belly clench as the sensory memory of those strong fingers winding in her hair tugged at her scalp. She wordlessly took the flask from him, tilting her head back and swallowing the vile brew in two quick gulps.
Vile was the right word for it- she shuddered, opening her eyes to find that Severus' were glued to her bared neck.
So I do still have... something over him, she mused. Is that lust? Attraction? Weariness?
"Better?" he asked.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You should use your high caliber skills to make your potions taste like strawberries," she told him tartly.
"Thank you would have sufficed," he replied, taking the flask from her. "I'll endeavor to do better in the future."
She sighed. "I suppose I'll need to be getting to breakfast." Even she could hear the regret in her own voice.
He nodded. Although Severus was still dressed in his full Death Eater's garb, the humanity etched onto his face reminded her that he was just as weary as she was. "It's the last day of classes. I doubt any of the teachers will want to do much."
Standing would be difficult. She braced herself on the couch, pushing up until she was standing on her two painful feet. Hermione wavered, putting out a hand to catch herself. Strong arms gripped her forearm, steadying her.
"Thanks," she murmured, savoring the contact with him. If things continued as they had been, it would be the last in a long time. The warmth of his fingers bled through her shirt to her skin, leaving an imprint as intangible as whatever it was they shared.
He seemed to understand that she could not bring herself to pull away. "Go," he said, not roughly. There was not sympathy in his voice, but the same echoing sadness that she found in his eyes. "I'm sure our High Inquisitor will want to speak with you."
Severus was right.
Three minutes after Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table (her nose no longer running and her head feeling less full of cotton) the stubby witch was bearing down on her, two spots of red high and shining on her pale cheeks.
"Where is Mr. Potter?" While not quite a screech, Delores Umbridge's voice was rather frantic.
Hermione blinked up at her professor. "Excuse me-" From behind the stout shape of the furious woman, Hermione could see Professor McGonagall descending, anger evident in the thinness of her lips.
"Harry Potter!" Now the voice was a screech, loud enough to make Hermione wince. "Where is Harry Potter?"
"Dolores Umbridge!" shouted McGonagall, the very picture of outraged shock. "What do you think you are doing?"
Umbridge's beady eyes narrowed even farther. "He's missing, and you helped!"
McGonagall drew herself up, the full authority of her status of Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Mistress settling upon her. "Mr. Potter had to leave early, due to a family emergency," she said stiffly. "Arthur Weasley is in St. Mungo's, and Headmaster has given them all permission to visit."
"Why was I not informed?" hissed Umbridge, glaring up at the much taller Minerva. "I am the High Inquisitor-"
Minerva smiled icily. "Which was exactly why we did not want to wake you," she said smoothly. "The Headmaster has asked to see you in his office, so that we can all discuss this in a more private location." The look on her face made it clear that the Head of Gryffindor House disapproved completely of discussing such matters in the middle of the Great Hall.
Umbridge exhaled loudly, her nostrils flaring. "Of course." She turned on her heel and angrily made her way between the tables to the exit.
Minerva didn't smile outright at Hermione, but she did pat the girl's shoulder. "The Headmaster wishes to see you as soon as we are finished with her. He'll send a messenger."
A sinking feeling swooped low in Hermione's belly. The Headmaster had demanded Severus' report; she had taken it but had gone straight to breakfast.
She sighed, and picked at her food. She would turn back in time, she supposed, and then maybe sleep for an hour or two so that she could be mildly coherent in class. She took a last sip of her pumpkin juice and stood, slinging her overly heavy bag onto her shoulder.
Once in her private room, she turned back. Once again, dawn was nearly breaking. Severus would be carrying her- yet again because she was injured- to his rooms. Test of Severus' loyalty, Azkaban breakout, she thought to herself. Test of loyalty, Azkaban. That was all the Headmaster need know.
The Knight Bus jolted Hermione terribly, throwing her into the window with enough force to bruise. She gave the window a nasty glare, and heaved herself up again.
"London Stop! Yer off, Miss!" It was the conductor, a pimply, gangly boy. Hermione nodded, and gathered her things.
Snow drifted lazily down to the dirty streets, piling in slushy mounds on the corners. The air was harsh in her lungs, tasting of smoke and smog and the streets of old London town. Early evening had fallen, the lit streetlamps and the oppressive darkness of early winter nights pressing heavily on Hermione shoulders.
She had been deposited three blocks from Grimmauld Place, enough for a short Apparition that wouldn't attract too much attention. She turned on her heel, endured a brief squeeze through space, and resumed her march up the weathered steps of Sirius Black's family home.
Normally Hermione would have knocked, but she wanted to alert the self that was within the walls of Grimmauld place that she had arrived. On cue, Walburga Black's portrait set up a cacophony of shrieks and racial slurs that made Hermione wince.
Sirius quickly appeared, ushering her inside. Even though his mother was screaming, he still had a large grin on his face. "Great to see you, Hermione!" he said cheerfully. "Harry and Ron will be happy to hear you've arrived!"
Hermione beamed at him. Sirius had a kind of infectious charm that always made her smile. "Nice to see you too, Sirius."
The old house was drafty, and the snow that clung to her hair and shoulders did not immediately start to melt. "Where's Harry?" she asked, looking around. She could hear the footsteps pounding down the stairs from the other parts of the house- but they were Ron's thumping and Ginny trailing lightly after him. Fred and George would Apparate if they cared- but they didn't.
Sirius frowned. "He's not left my mother's room since yesterday," he admitted. "I don't know what's wrong, but whatever it was it happened at St. Mungo's."
Patting his arm reassuringly, Hermione gave a short sigh. "I'll get it from Ron and Ginny and then I'll get him into shape," she said. "Give me two hours."
Two bursts of red could be seen briefly on the landing, and then Ron and Ginny skidded down the stairs with twin mixes of confusion and relief on their faces. "Hermione!"
With a quick wave back at a still grinning Sirius, Hermione allowed the two Weasley siblings to drag her up the stairs. She halted them on the landing, though, planting her feet in the ground and using all her weight to stay put. It was harder than she had thought- Ron now completely towered over her, and Ginny was far from a diminutive waif. Rather, the girl was solid, if slim, with the muscles of a Quidditch player.
It was time to cut with the happiness act. "What's going on with Harry?" she demanded.
Ron and Ginny looked at each other and sighed.
"He's been upset since yesterday, when we went to St. Mungo's," Ron said, abject worry crossing his usually cheerful features. "He didn't even leave the room for dinner yesterday."
Ginny crossed her arms, leaning against the railing of the landing. "And then Mum tried to get him to come down for lunch- after he ignored us all morning- and he just went another floor up. He's hiding in Buckbeak's room now."
Hermione winced. "Why?"
Ron and Ginny exchanged another set of glances. "Well... we think it's because of something Moody said yesterday," Ron hedged.
"Moody thinks that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is possessing Harry," Ginny said bluntly, rolling her eyes. "The word 'possession' isn't going to make me start crying, Ronald."
In an instant, Ginny Weasley sharpened to Hermione. It was easy to forget that this popular, sporty, well-adjusted teen had been the girl vulnerable enough to be possessed for months by the Dark Lord. Ginny Weasley had seen dark things and come out of them.
Hermione met the girl's eyes. It took an heartbeat, and then she was there. Yes, it was present, the sibilant memory of shadows and crooning voices and snakes, all the time, snakes slithering in her head and commanding trembling white hands to do things that would drench them in blood-
Ginny blinked.
Her heat was racing, Hermione realized. She looked down, biting her lip. "Let me talk to him," she said slowly. "You guys wait in Ron's room. I'll bring him in a second."
There was a flash of annoyance on Ginny's face. She is probably wondering what makes me so sure I can heave his arse out of his pit of angst and despair, Hermione thought ruefully.
Ron tugged his sister's arm; they went into the dark corridor and Hermione continued up the stairs.
Behind the door she could hear the squishy crunching of Buckbeak munching a dead rat. With a grimace, she raised her fist and banged the door. She figured that harshness wasn't the best option right now- she would go for sweetness.
"I know you're in there," she called. "Won't you please come out, Harry?"
It worked- the door was wrenched open, and a disheveled Harry stood before her.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked her, pulling open the door as Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the straw-strewn floor for any fragments of rat he may have dropped. "I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad?"
"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," said Hermione. "So, I've come here for Christmas. But don't tell Ron. I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who is serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway," she said briskly, "let's go to your bedroom, Ron's mum has lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches." Easy as that. Don't give him a chance to say anything and he'll follow. Honestly, Ron's known Harry longer than I have.
Harry followed her back to the second floor. When he entered the bedroom, he seemed rather surprised to see both Ron and Ginny waiting for them, sitting on Ron's bed.
"I came on the Knight Bus," said Hermione airily, pulling off her jacket before Harry had time to speak. "Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's and he'd given you all permission to visit. So…"
She sat down next to Ginny, and the two girls and Ron all looked up at Harry. Time for the real questions.
"How're you feeling?" asked Hermione.
"Fine," said Harry stiffly. Oh don't give me that, you silly boy.
"Oh, don't lie, Harry," she said impatiently. "Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."
"They do, do they?" said Harry, glaring at Ron and Ginny. Ron looked down at his feet but Ginny seemed quite unabashed. Yes, they did. They were worried for you, you prat, couldn't you see that?
"Well, you have!" Ginny said. "And you won't look at any of us!" Hermione approved of the fire that blazed in the girl's face. She must have gotten it all. Ron looks about as fiery as a limp noodle compared to her.
"It's you lot who won't look at me!" said Harry angrily.
"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other," suggested Hermione, the corners of her mouth twitching. I'm sorry but this is all very much teen drama of the century. It would be hilarious if this wasn't the boy we've been pinning all our hopes on.
"Very funny," snapped Harry, turning away. Oh look, now I've hurt his tender feelings.
"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Hermione sharply. "Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears -"
"Yeah?" Harry growled, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched the snow now falling thickly outside. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it." Preteen girl, I swear.
Hermione opened her mouth at the same time Ginny did. Hermione closed her mouth and nodded at Harry, gesturing for the younger girl to go ahead. "We wanted to talk to you, Harry," said Ginny, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back -"
"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," said Harry. There was a stubborn set to his chin that Hermione didn't like.
"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," snapped Ginny, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."
Again, Hermione could feel the aching sadness behind those words. Here was a girl who had been teased endlessly about her crush on Harry Potter, which had made her go back to thinking about how Harry would have never done that or would have protected her, until she was insecure and blushed at a new face. But at the same time this was the same girl who was underestimated and overlooked and who took advantage of that to sneak out to her brother's broomshed and practice on their brooms until she taught herself Quidditch well enough to play on the House team. She had Voldemort inside her head for a year and managed not to go twisted. She grew up to be a shockingly well adjusted girl who was pretty and popular and smart.
Dumbledore may have chose well, she admitted to herself. But it should be Harry's decision. I can't believe I never thought about Ginny this way before.
Harry too, apparently, had never really considered this. "I forgot."
"Lucky you," said Ginny coolly. Sitting next to her, Hermione could see just a cloud of red hair next to her face, but she could still hear the quiet frustration in Ginny's voice.
"I'm sorry" Harry said, and he meant it. "So… so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?"
"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing?" asked Ginny. "Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"
"No," Harry said, drawing out the word as he frowned.
"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you," said Ginny simply. "When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."
Hermione could sense it wasn't quite the right time to point out that there were several different types of possession and that was only one. Harry looked as if a great weight had just slid off his shoulders.
However, that hope was cautions. "That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though-"
There was a point there, but one Hermione wanted to divert. "Harry you've had these dreams before. You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."
"This was different," said Harry, shaking his head. "I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake… what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London?"
At least that fear was easy to abate. "One day," said Hermione, allowing her exasperation to leak through her voice, "you'll read Hogwarts: A History, and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."
"You didn't leave your bed, mate," said Ron. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up."
Harry started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. Apparently he digested what they had said, because he grinned broadly and grabbed a sandwich, shoving it in his mouth.
"There," Hermione said, brushing her hands down her jeans in the motion she normally did to smooth down her skirt. "Wouldn't it just have been easier to talk to all of us before getting all mopey?" She stood, crossing her arms. She was unable to stop the small smile from emerging on to her face.
Harry laughed, grabbing Hermione into a large hug. "You're the greatest," he whispered.
She squeezed back for a moment, then pushed away. "And you stink," she said firmly. "Shower then come down and help us decorate the house."
He didn't say anything, but she could see the mute hope in his eyes. She wished it was that easy, that there wasn't something greater going on, that she could reassure him with full confidence.
But the dreams... no. There was something bigger coming, and it was just over the horizon. It was like the dawn- she could see the light peaking up, the hints and clues that were forming dim images on the land, but the sun had yet to come and illuminate the whole picture.
The Dark Lord was planning something and it had not yet come to fruition. She would need to speak with Severus.
And so ends Chapter 23.
I find myself liking Ginny much more than I used to, personally. She went through a lot, and still came out on top, you know? Anyway, I thought I'd share a bit of my newly developed appreciation of Ginny Weasley here. I had to think about her character for a bit, but I have a new understanding of her because of it.
Next chapter will be a doozy. I'm serious- there will be some seriously adorable/sexy Severus bits. If you guys review- I seriously considered with-holding this chapter on the basis that I put in a lot of effort to stay ahead of posting so you can have regular updates and it doesn't seem to be getting very much appreciation. It's little things, people. Put this on your favorites list, instead of just following. If you have readers who check your 'recommendations' in the form of favorite stories they might read this. And reviews help with inspiration, of course.
I'd also like to point out (because I forgot last update) that the lovely new cover is courtesy of theloneliesttimeline who drew it and has some lovely fanart for this story.
Small teaser:
A moment later he was pulling away, loosening his grip on her.
Construe that as you will. ;)
Wish me luck for my IOC. (It's like saying an essay after fifteen minutes to analyze a piece of a poem or literature). Monday. Gulp. Also I have my interview for Cornell. I need all the luck I can get!
Thanks, as always, for reading.