Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all other aspects of this fic that you recognize (unless they're from any of my other fics) all belong to J.K. Rowling, and not to me! The storyline and the ideas involved in this story, however, do belong to me!
Summary: A dark force haunts the trio. When the dead come back to life, can you deal with what they might have to tell you? This is a story about loss, damnation, and a dead man's second chance at redemption ...
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Road to Redemption
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Chapter Nine: Bait
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Hogsmeade ... a beautiful, picturesque little village in which exciting things happened, romance blossomed and friends renewed their steadfast bonds. Hermione's mouth twisted a little bitterly as she followed Harry and Ron through the winding cobbled streets towards the Three Broomsticks. Sirius was trailing along behind them. It was the Hogsmeade weekend just before Halloween, and every person and every place was full of festive cheer. It was all Hermione could do to behave normally – for one thing, she and Sirius had kissed (twice) and they had both barely exchanged a word since then; and for another, she had a little plan to put into execution today.
"You're rather quiet today, Hermione," Harry ventured, looking at her and then smiling, "Is something the matter? Did you do something?" He addressed this last remark to Ron with a hint of accusation, but Ron only looked baffled.
"Me? I didn't do a thing! D-did I, Hermione?"
"No, Ron," she said wearily, smiling a little in spite of herself.
"Then what's wrong?" asked Harry as he pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks.
Hermione laughed it off, "Nothing."
As they sat down at the only table left in the place – a large one by the window with many chairs – and Sirius joined them with a slightly awkward look, Harry suddenly turned to Hermione and said, "Is it a guy? It's a guy, isn't it? It's Krum?"
Hermione blinked. Sirius looked up, his eyes narrowing. She suddenly smiled and said coolly, "Yes ... yes, I'm afraid it is Viktor. But it's not that something's wrong. On the contrary," she allowed a mysterious little smile that made Ron sit up and stare avidly to know the juicy secret, "Everything's good. I was thinking something he said to me over." She was looking solely at Harry and Ron, smiling at them. "He Apparated outside Hogwarts last night, you know. I met him."
"Last night?" Ron goggled.
"After midnight, when everyone was asleep."
Sirius's narrowed stare had turned into a complete glare. Harry said, sounding stunned: "That doesn't sound like something you would do."
"It was a special occasion," Hermione said with a sweet, mysterious tone in her voice. She was blushing from the fibs she was telling, and was glad to be blushing because it sent a very different message altogether. She paused in the telling of her story so that Madam Rosmerta could give them their 'usuals' – three Butterbeers. "He asked me to marry him."
Ron, who had been taking a sip of Butterbeer, choked and spilled the whole tankard on Harry's head. Harry didn't even seem to notice. Sirius's expression was as black as thunder.
"He – he – what?" stammered Ron feebly.
"Did he really do that?" demanded Harry, Butterbeer dripping off his hair, unnoticed.
"Never mind that – what did you say?" Ron demanded.
Hermione smiled, and said nothing.
"You mean to tell me," Sirius growled furiously, his black eyes blazing with absolutely fury and rage, "That you were stupid enough to leave the castle last night, after dark, and that you went – went to meet him? How dare you!"
"Jealous, are you?" snapped Hermione tartly.
Ron stammered: "N-no, I just wanted to know what you said."
"Oh, sorry, Ron! I didn't mean you."
"Then who?" Harry and Ron looked around, flummoxed.
"Bruno."
"This would be your imaginary friend?" asked Ron suspiciously, while Harry stared in complete and utter perplexity.
"Yes ... he's jealous, you see, of Krum."
"I am not jealous," growled Sirius.
"You're not Bruno," said Hermione sweetly.
Ron and Harry looked at each other, clearly wondering whether Hermione's sanity had departed some time over the past week or so. Hermione sighed, closed her eyes and counted to ten. Sirius had the ability to bring out the worst in her. Of course he wasn't jealous ... he was just angry that she had risked herself and thus risked his own chances of going to Heaven. She swallowed hard, squelching the tide of hurt that rose up inside her. She chanced a look at him from beneath her lashes and saw him glaring down at the table. If only ... if only ...
Well, what was gone was gone. Life wasn't made of 'if only's. It was time for Hermione to grow up and realize that all her dreams had been those of a child who adored a grown man. She was no longer a child. It was time to grow out of those dreams as well. Let those dreams dissolve to dust.
Like everything else.
"I'm not myself today," she offered quietly, looking up at Harry and Ron.
Harry pushed her Butterbeer towards her. "You work too hard."
"Not for much longer, though." She nearly bit her tongue.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, just – " Hermione was immensely relieved when the sounds of familiar voices greeting them alerted them to the fact that Fred and George were standing beside their table and preparing to sit down with them. She could have kissed them both.
An animated, boys-only discussion ensued. Hermione seized the opportunity to study them all with a mixture of affection and sadness. Fred and George ... the number of pranks and stunts and chaotic moments they had created in the time she had known them. She remembered the way they had tried to make Ron patch things up with her when she and Ron had fought about Crookshanks 'killing' Scabbers. She remembered the way she and they had locked horns so often during fifth year because she was prefect and they were anarchists in the midst of what she had hoped to be a disciplined Gryffindor House.
Ron ... Ron, who could always make her laugh. Ron, who she had once had a crush on. Ron, who hated corned beef sandwiches. Ron, who she had spent the majority of her time in Hogwarts either bickering with or helping with his homework. She remembered how he had been so upset and angry when Harry had become school champion for the Triwizard, and had poured out his woes to her. Remembered how he had dragged them all into the Shrieking Shack because he had been so devoted to his pets as well. Remembered the long conversations, full of laughter and arguments, that they had had in their time at Grimmauld Place (often with Sirius), where they were all united by friendship and trust and their concern for Harry's safety.
And Harry ... Hermione blinked sharply ... what could you say about Harry? The number of times he had saved her life and Ron's, put their lives before his ... his courage and strength and loyalty in the face of Voldemort's destruction. His resilience in the face of all the Dark Lord had done to him and taken from him. The way he could always be depended on, as a friend and an ally ... the way he was so deeply devoted to them but always tried not to show it. Harry, who depended on them. What would he do without her, if something happened to her? But he would manage ... he would survive with all of the others who would be there for him. She didn't matter. Harry ... her best friend, who could be so wretchedly selfish yet she loved him just the same for all of his flaws.
Friendship always held. Not even death could take that way. But the good times ... no, the good times were gone. But if she survived, perhaps they could come back. Otherwise, she would watch them have more good times from Heaven (was she good enough to reach Heaven, she wondered).
She couldn't bear it. She had to go.
She had to go now.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, looking out of the window. "I just saw someone I know. I'll be back in a minute." With a smile, she pushed back her chair. She desperately wanted to hug them goodbye, but didn't dare. They would guess, then ...
She fled from the Three Broomsticks –
And realized Sirius was running after her.
"Stop!" he commanded, seizing her and making her turn around. "Are you really going to marry Krum?"
Hermione laughed, a little sadly. "No, Sirius. Of course not."
He stared. "But I don't – "
This time, she couldn't restrain herself. Hermione walked back towards him, and before he could move, she slipped her arms around her neck and kissed him. Then she quickly broke away and said, "I want you to remember something, Sirius. You have to protect Harry, whatever happens. And – and I love you." She backed away, turned, and hurried off. She left him in the middle of the crowded street (imagine what people must have thought if they had seen her!), staring after her as if she had shot him.
Then she disappeared into the crowd.
Hot tears pricking her eyelids, Hermione made her way towards the Hog's Head. Dumbledore had expressly forbidden them from going there – because his informants had discovered that the owner and barman were working for Voldemort as spies. And that was precisely why Hermione was headed there. She entered the pub and found the table closest to the bar before ordering a Butterbeer.
Minutes ticked by. Her heart was thumping painfully.
With grim satisfaction, she watched the barman sneak out of a back door, no doubt to inform his master of a certain 'lucky' circumstance.
It was only a matter of time now.
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Sirius shifted restlessly in his chair. He wanted to talk to her – he needed to talk to her – he needed to kiss her, damn it – but where the hell was she? Ron, Fred and George were still talking eagerly, but Harry had quieted slightly as if he, too, had noticed that Hermione had been gone a rather long time. Sirius felt the beginnings of fear take root inside him. But his mind barely grasped the situation. It was fixated on her words, the words that had shaken him right down to his core – 'And – and I love you' ...
She loved him.
Hermione loved him.
He could hardly keep a grin off of his face.
But something swiftly made him sober up. It was Harry, who shifted slightly and finally interrupted the others' conversation by saying, "Something's wrong. I can feel it. Where is she? She's been too long. I know something is wrong."
Sirius's grin faded like an eraser on chalk. He felt it too.
Ron frowned at Harry. "What d'you mean, Harry?"
"I'm talking about Hermione," Harry said impatiently, "Where is she? She went out saying there was someone she recognized in the street, whom she wanted to speak to. It's been – " he looked at his watch and his jaw dropped, his face turning rather paler. "It's been over an hour since she went. For pity's sake, Ron, you can't be telling me she's talking to someone she saw in the street for all of this time. And I can't even see her out there."
Sirius stared at Harry. He remembered following her outside. It hadn't struck him then, but Hermione hadn't been heading to talk to somebody. He could have kicked himself. He was supposed to stay with her at all times.
Where the devil had she gone?
The four boys and one man sat at the table for a long moment. Sirius was inwardly cursing himself with every foul word he knew. He couldn't get rid of a premonition of fear. He was terrified that something had actually happened to Hermione. She had disappeared, and had been gone for over an hour, and fools that they were – that he was – not one of them had noticed her absence till then. Sirius had been dwelling on her words before she disappeared. He groaned and closed his eyes, furious with himself. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd been lured to the Hog's Head somehow? Where was she, and where had she gone? That was what troubled him – a nagging feeling inside him: that she had said she saw someone outside but had instead just taken off into the crowd. And the way she had said "I love you" ... his blood ran cold. It had sounded like a 'goodbye' or an 'if I don't see you again, remember this'. He stood up abruptly, restlessly, and his chair turned over with a jerk.
Harry, Ron, Fred and George turned their heads sharply at the sound and stared at the chair as if they were all going mad. Then they looked at each other, eyeing the other faces for any sign of disagreement or diminishing sanity, and then George's eyebrows flew upwards. "I assume everyone else saw that chair just overturn itself on its own. Is – is someone there?" he asked doubtfully.
Sirius stared at them. He was too worried to even care that he'd drawn attention to himself. He wished desperately that he could talk to Harry, but there wasn't a sign of parchment, quill or chalkboard anywhere around.
Ron looked uneasy. "Er – Hermione?" he peered into the air around the chair. "Is that you?"
"What's the matter with you?" Harry demanded of him.
"It could be Hermione with your Cloak, playing a joke on us ..." Ron sounded unconvincing in the extreme.
Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, Ronnie. Hermione doesn't know what 'joke' means."
George smiled, but it soon faded.
"Look," Harry said, standing up, "Forget the bloody chair. I don't give a damn about it right now. I want to know where Hermione Granger is and why she hasn't returned here yet. If there had been some emergency meeting, she would have come back and taken us along – or at least, told her informant where to find us and someone would have come here by now. Something – is – wrong." He emphasized the last words as if they were a chant – or a nail he was trying to hammer into their heads.
Fred nodded soothingly. "Yeah, mate, relax. We get it."
"We have to do something." Harry insisted.
Sirius would have hugged Harry fervently if he had been tangible. "That's my boy, Harry," he said hoarsely, "Get them on their feet and start a search." He was sorely tempted to go out looking on his own, but at the same time, Hermione's words – 'You have to protect Harry, whatever happens'. He'd already bungled with his first charge. His chest suddenly felt tight. Fiercely, he told himself that he had to stay with Harry and keep and eye on him.
Harry, as they all knew, was prone to playing the hero and dashing off. The last thing they needed was for him to get into more danger. But if his best friend needed him ... that was the question, wasn't it? Did Hermione need someone to rescue her? Was something really wrong with her, was she really in danger? He wished with all his heart that he had followed her. He wished he knew the answers to the questions. He wished he had never accepted Peter's task and had gone straight to hell. That was where he was headed anyway, and if he had just gone sooner, he wouldn't have had to deal with the pain and wrench of seeing Harry again – and of feeling these awfully painful feelings for Hermione.
"What do you want us to do?" asked George, business-like.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, when the door to the Three Broomsticks opened, and Professor McGonagall walked in. Her face was pale, her mouth set in a thin line.
"Professor – " Harry croaked.
She laid a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. "All four of you," she said briskly, but her voice was rather strained, and Sirius felt his muscles stiffening, "Come with me. Professor Dumbledore wants to see Potter and Weasley in his office, and you two – " she indicated Fred and George, " – may as well come along. Your discretion can be relied upon, I'm sure."
"It has to do with Hermione, doesn't it?" said Harry.
"Not here, Potter," Professor McGonagall said sharply to him. "Come along now."
"Just tell me – "
The stern deputy headmistress of Hogwarts paused, and looked down at Harry, her expression softening. Ron looked terrified by now, and there was a small note in Harry's voice when he had spoken – the sound of a child pleading with an adult. For a moment, there was a glistening of tears behind the stern spectacles of the dispassionate professor.
"Yes, Harry," she said gently, calling him by his first name for the first time in his life, a sniffle in her normally crisp voice, "It does have to do with Hermione."
Sirius's heart dropped like a dead weight.
He felt suddenly hollow.
Professor McGonagall stared around the little group for a second, and then with a sympathetic inclination of her head, she turned and swept out of the Three Broomsticks. Baffled and not half-frightened, the four boys stumbled after her, Fred dropping a few coins on the table for their Butterbeers. Sirius stared at the open doorway and, numb, trudged out in Harry's wake.
He was empty.
He knew, instinctively, that he had failed.
And the worst part was, that Sirius wasn't hollow because he was going to hell. He didn't care about that anymore. It was because he had lost her. He had sworn to keep her safe, and now he had lost her.
Over the past two weeks sometime, he had come to realize that without her, he was empty.
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TBC.
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A/N: This chapter is shorter because I thought the last line was a good place to end it. I wrote up an extra scene, but I think I'll use that for the opening scene of the next chapter. Update coming soon! Enjoy, and please review!!