6

Exile

"I'm going back and forth

No one to turn to

Slowly losing my mind, so what am I doing

If only you could see the pain and hurt in my soul

But you don't understand me

So how could you know?"

--P.O.D.

I walk outside into the blowing storm and feel the bits of ice and snow pelting my face. In a matter of seconds my skin is red and stinging. Even by England's standards, this winter has been nasty. I begin to shiver. It will only take a few more minutes before hypothermia begins to set in again. I promised Harry I would not betray him, and there's only one way to ensure that I keep my promise. While it's unlikely that Lucius Malfoy would use Veritaserum, it's always possible. I can't risk that. There's no reason to hold back any longer.

I walk down the icy path in the rocks. The whiteout is so bad that I can barely see. I finally find a decent outcrop of rock that looks steep and high enough. I step up on top of the jagged stones and look down. It's a long fall, but that's what I want. My teeth are beginning to chatter and my tears are freezing to my face. My chest is aching where Lucius's foot cracked my rib. But it's almost over. The pain will soon come to an end, and my days of living dawn to dawn will draw to a close as well. I feel no regret. I put one foot out into oblivion . . .

And I'm dragged backward by strong arms around my waist. I struggle against the grip, frightened at first. My fear diminishes and I realize who it must be. I begin to struggle in anger rather than in fear.

"Harry!" I yell. "Put me down!"

"No," he replies firmly. He's pulling me back up the incline and into the cave. He's too strong for me, so I finally give up and allow him to shove me back past the visual barrier and into the cave. I collapse to the ground once he lets me go. He has grabbed me right over my injured rib, and I'm having horrible trouble breathing. I look up at him and he glares down at me. "What were you thinking?" he snarls.

I cannot answer, the pain is so bad. I vaguely hear Harry call to Sirius in alarm as my eyes begin to black. I can't get the air I need! Well, I think distantly, I'm coming to my end after all . . . Then I feel someone pulling back the arms that I have folded over my stomach and a moment later the pain begins to seep away. He's healing me. Suddenly I'm breathing deeply and the blackness begins to recede. They have saved my life. Again.

Harry's hands are on my shoulders, his face in mine. "Breathe, Hermione, come on!"

If I were not as weak as I am, I would have rolled my eyes. I am breathing, I feel like saying. That's the problem. All I do is nod. He lays me back gently against the stone wall and backs off.

My vision is back in focus, and I can see Harry and Sirius exchanging a look.

"Okay," Sirius is saying, sounding defeated. "I see what you mean. That girl is either hiding something that could change everything we believe to be true, or she's the best actress I've ever known. Don't get me wrong, I'm still not convinced that it isn't the latter; but I'll give it the benefit of the doubt."

Harry nods and looks back at me. "You seem to be all right now," he says. I feel as though I am being interrogated; I probably am. "Good; now you can answer my question. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I promised you I wouldn't give you up," I say. "There's only one way to ensure that I won't."

"What, throwing yourself off a cliff? That's never an option!"

I feel like screaming. Merlin, why does he care so much? I've spent the past two years convincing myself that making them hate me was safest for everyone. I believe that with every fiber of my soul and being. Yet somehow my deceit has not convinced Harry. He's putting himself back in the way of danger.b I know I will not be able to live with myself if he dies because I failed to make him hate me enough.

"Then what do we do?" I ask.b I am too weak and weary to argue—I feel like falling asleep right where I sit. Silence greets my query.

"I'm not sure yet," mutters Harry. "Sirius, can you think of anything?"

Sirius shrugs and shakes his head. He looks at me and I look away.

"I want to talk to her," he announces. "Could you give us a minute? No offense, but the atmosphere is too explosive when the two of you are both in here together. I'm not exactly the most neutral person, but I'm more so than you, Harry."

Harry glances from his godfather to me, finally nodding mutely and walking outside into the blizzard and out of our sight.

Sirius walks over to me. He kneels down so that we're at eye-level. Sirius is somehow different than Harry. There's something about him that's so calm and placid that I fear he will somehow discover my secret. "Hermione," he says. "Hermione, look at me."

I don't acquiesce. "Why? What does it matter?" I question in a defeated, dismal voice.

Sirius sighs. "Okay, don't look at me—but listen, and listen hard. I don't trust you, I won't hide that fact. But I'm beginning to wonder. It's a lot easier to hate you and label you a traitor when we're miles away from each other. However, being here, watching and listening to you, things are beginning to fall into disarray. It's obvious that you're hiding something. You're not good at hiding it, which leaves me wondering how you could have infiltrated Hogwarts as a Death Eater if you're that bad a liar. I have two ideas. One, this is all an act. You want us to believe you're hiding something when you're really not. Or, two, you weren't lying . . . ever. Something happened and you betrayed us, but you were never a spy, or a willing participant. I've learned a lot about judging whether or not someone is lying, and without a doubt, you are. But I'm having a hard time deciding which type of lie you're fabricating."

I pull up my left sleeve and show him the black serpent and skull burned into my skin. He flinches.

"I have the Dark Mark. What else is there to know?" I demand.

"Anyone can wear the Dark Mark," he objects. "It's what's in your heart that counts. The fact is, I never knew you or Ron as well as I know Harry, but I got the impression that you were as adamantly against Voldemort as he. No matter what I believe, I know you're a smart girl. I don't see how you could go over to the Death Eaters, knowing all you do about the subject. You would have known that the people you care about would be affected, particularly because Harry and Ron are your friends and because your parents are Muggles. Unless you don't care what happens to them." Sirius gently moves my chin so that I'm looking him in the eyes. "Do you care about what happened to your parents, Hermione?"

At the mention of them, I try to stay strong, to appear indifferent and uncaring, but it's beyond my ability. A sob escapes my lips, and my eyes begin to tear. I had long since known they were dead; that was hard enough to deal with. But when Harry informed me that Voldemort had tortured them to death . . . I can't hold strong, knowing that. Knowing I caused it. I had thought my lies were protecting the ones I loved. How could I have been such a fool?

Sirius nods. "I thought so. I think it's time you tell us the truth. You don't have to tell me, but you owe it to Harry. He's risked everything to save you. You can't keep lying to him."

Apparently having said all he has to say, Sirius stands and walkes over to the cave's entrance to call for Harry, leaving me where I am, crying for my mother and father, and for my own disgusting stupidity.

Harry reenters the cave and looks between Sirius and I, gauging the situation. He and Sirius talk in hushed voices for about five minutes, too far away for me to hear them. I'm regaining control of myself, and I can see that they are obviously arguing. About me, I suppose. What else? Finally, I see Sirius nod, but it's obvious he's still not happy.

Harry walks over to me. "Can you stand?" he asks, and extends a hand to pull me up. I nod and take it, wiping my eyes again. In a gentle tone, he questions, "Are you okay?"

I can tell from the look in his eyes that he really does care. I'm not sure where that leaves me. What can I do now? Perhaps it is time I tell him the truth. He won't stop asking until he knows, and he's already in the danger I'm trying to protect him from. Still uncertain, I nod.

Sirius walks over. "It's getting dark. The others will be worrying about you. Harry, are you sure about this?" He looks very unhappy.

"Yes," says Harry in a voice that allows for no arguing. "There's no other option, Sirius. I'm not going to leave her here. And my group can think what they want."

"They'll have to live by your decision," Sirius warns. "If things go badly, they'll have to die by your decision. Are you sure you don't want me to go ahead and ask . . . ?"

"Nobody is going to die, Sirius, and no. I know what they'll say, no matter what my argument is."

"Harry, you're not being fair. You lead those people, they look up to you and depend on you to keep them safe. Being a leader means you have to sacrifice things on your own behalf; you can't just look out for your own interests."

"I know that!"

"Do you really?" asks Sirius quietly. "Because right now you're not performing as a leader should—not at all."

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I know I'm screwing up right now, but this is all I can think to do. And if it works out, it will help us all."

"And if it doesn't?"

Harry looks away and doesn't reply. "We'll just see. Thank you for your help," he says. They embrace briefly and Harry turns to me. "You're coming back to my hideout with me."

My eyes widen. "Aren't you afraid I'll betray you?"

"Yes, I know there's that possibility. But I'm willing to take that risk, because I don't believe you will. So take my hand and I'll Apparate us there. You're too weak to Apparate yourself."

Stunned that he trusts me this much, I do nothing. He takes my hand himself and closes his eyes. Just as I do the same, I feel the dizzying, spinning feeling that comes with Apparation, and a moment later we're out in the cold again. We appear to be in a forest, in front of a rundown, well-lit Muggle cabin in the late dusk. Harry pulls me up the steps and opens the door. Clearly he doesn't intend on wasting time.

I'm frightened. Not everyone will be as willing to give me a chance as Harry is. What will they do? Ron is certain to go ballistic. I tell Harry I would prefer to wait outside, but he refuses, saying I've already nearly died from the cold once today and he's not going to give it a second chance at me.

He pulls me inside and closes the door. The lights are on and a fire roars. I can't help but sigh in relief as I feel the hot air against my face; I can't remember the last time I've felt warm. For the past twelve hours, there have been three temperature levels for me: freezing, below-freezing, and hypothermia.

This place looks like the old cabin by a mountain lake my parents would take me to during the summers. The thought of them hurts and I push it away, forcing myself to observe my surroundings more thoroughly. Hagrid and Ron are sitting on the couch, facing away from us, talking quietly. My stomach clenches. It's serene in the cabin. In a moment, it will be pandemonium.

Hagrid and Ron turn to see who has entered.

"Harry!" cries Ron, leaping to his feet. "Merlin, pal, we've been freaking out here . . ." He finally takes notice of me and freezes in mid-sentence. For about twenty seconds he is still as a statue, stunned. Slowly, he begins to redden and yells, "What is she doing here? Have you been Imperiused? ARE YOU CRAZY!" Ron lunges, but Hagrid pulls him back with one hand. Ron struggles viciously, but Hagrid holds on.

"Harry," says Hagrid in a disappointed sort of way. "Yeh shouldn' have brought her here! We can' trust her. Yeh may well've killed us all!" He gives me the same look of disappointment before looking down. It's almost worse than Ron's anger.

More people are appearing, attracted by Ron's shouting. The other members of Harry's resistance group are slowly trickling into the little sitting area that had mere moments ago been so peaceful. The first two to arrive are Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Neville stares at me with an innocent, hurt expression on his face and once he recovers from his shock, he whispers, "Hermione, how could you?"

Ginny steps up next to her brother and begins to berate Harry and I in a similar fashion. Soon Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Fred and George Weasley appear, too. The Weasleys are the angriest, Ron in particular. While Fred and George attempt to hold back their ferocious younger brother, they glare at me with the utmost hatred. Ginny has stopped yelling at me and is standing beside Neville again. She's crying and he's trying to calm her down, still looking too shocked to do anything else. Katie and Angelina seem to have taken notes from Fred and George, and are simply glaring silently.

"ENOUGH!" yells Harry, startling everyone. "Ron, sit down! Fred, George, put a curse on him if you have to, but calm him down and shut him up! Ginny, it's okay, just take a seat. Everyone, sit down, or stand up, but just listen! Be civilized. We can talk about this."

"Talk about it?" howls Ron. "With her? You can't talk to people like that! They're sociopaths, monsters with no feelings! You can't make deals or be civilized. Kill her, or kick her out, then we'll talk!"

I'm trying desperately to hold back my tears—crying will probably only make them hate me more. I know that this is what I wanted to achieve; I know I wanted them to hate me, but this is too hard. I desperately want to run from the cabin, and feel certain that I will if this doesn't end soon.

"Ron, shut up!" snaps Harry. "Look, we all know what she's done, but over the past two days, I've begun to wonder. Just hear me out." And so they do. They listen, but their eyes are trained on me, glaring, accusing, condemning. I cannot bear to look up from the floor. Finally, Harry finishes, but only silence greets him.

"I think we need to have a counsel about this," decides Fred. Harry begins to step forward, but Fred holds up a hand and gives one quick, sharp shake of his head. "Not you."

The others gather in a big circle in the center of the room while Harry and I stand on the outside. He says nothing to me, and I don't think I can speak without sobbing, so I stay quiet as well. Finally, after at least five minutes, the group breaks apart and Hagrid steps forward, a gloomy expression on his face.

"Harry, yeh endangered all o' us by goin' ter see her an' bringin' her here. Ron an' I are supposed ter stop yeh from doin' things like that. We couldn' stop it, but we can prevent it from happenin' again. Yer no longer the leader. Ron, as second in command, will be our new leader."

I look at Harry. He looks as though he's been slapped. Clearly, he didn't expect this, but he nods slowly. "I wouldn't expect any less, I suppose. I deserve it," he says quietly.

"Second, she can' stay here. Unfortunately, she's now seen where we are. Memory charms are never fool-proof, so it's not safe ter give her one. Powerful Dark magic can reverse the spell—even one o' tha' git Lockhart's memory charms can be reversed by a powerful enough Dark wizard. You-Know-Who could do it." Hagrid sighs, running a hand though his hair and looking depressed. "So, tha' leaves us with two options. One is that we kill her. Some of us are very much for that idea."

My insides freeze. I never imagined they'd kill me. Certainly, I no longer fear death, but to die at their hands? Merlin, they wouldn't . . . would they? These were the kids I'd grown up with, my one-time classmates and friends, all good-hearted, all very much opposed to murder. They didn't have it in them. But things have changed, times have made them crueler, and looking at the expression on Ron's face, I have no more doubts. He could. He would.

"No," Harry refuses. "What's the other?"

"She's thrown out, an' you go with her."

"What?"

Ron stands up and walks over to stand in front of Harry. His face is deep crimson, and he's just barely holding back his rage.

"You heard him. I don't want to lose you as a friend, but the fact is, I can't live with the fact that you're willing to trust her. She leaves and you go with her, to keep an eye on her. I don't care where you go, but you have to be with her. You can come back any time you like. But before you do, you have to do away with her properly." He glares at me. "And you know what that means."

Harry is staring in shock. "You've got to be kidding."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Harry stares and slowly shakes his head. "Okay," he says after a long pause. "If that's the way you want it." He takes my arm and begins to pull me toward the door. I'm frozen by shock and can't think quick enough to move with him, so he stops as well, turning to face Ron again. "We'll go."

Ron let's out a humorless laugh. "You're really willing to leave us all because of her? Merlin, Harry, if it weren't for her you wouldn't have to make this decision!" He shakes his head in disgust and turns to me. "And you know what I think of you and all your lies and everything you've done to me and my family?" He spits at me. It was intended to hit my face, I'm sure, but I dodge. I stare at him. It hurts more than a physical blow. He turns away. "Go on, then, Harry. Go with the traitor."

Harry says nothing. There is no anger on his face, just a bleak, painful resignation. He turns and leads me with him. We walk out the door and a moment later it's slammed at our backs. Harry sits on the wooden steps leading up to the door and buries his head in his hands.

Still I continue to cause the people I care about pain. Their group has been divided, their friendship torn, and Harry sent into exile. All because of me. And still, after all I've done, after all I continue to do, he is only one willing to stand beside me, the only one who believes I'm not as bad as I pretend to be.