***
The next days went by at a steady pace, Hermione mostly spending time alone— with occasional visits by Mrs. Weasley.
Hermione focused entirely on the manuscript, sometimes so distracted by her own inner monologue that she would take breaks and read on her bed— pondering why he didn't try such and such an ingredient, or use the freshly pressed oils of plants instead of ground powders (so notorious for causing need for greater quantity in potionmaking. The oils would lend greater strength earlier in the plants life thus conserving natural resources), or why blue morning asters were so rare to locate. Couldn't they be cultivated in specialized greenhouses which mimicked their natural habitat?
She jotted notes and theories to herself which she kept in the false bottom of her trunk. She felt only a little guilty for her early use of the documents, but inspiring thought was what the book was intended for— and so he should take it as a compliment. If he ever found out.
She was almost 1/4 done with the volume. And then she came on her first diagram. Hermione Granger had excellent penmanship, but she did not fancy herself an artist of any type. She settled for tracing some of the drawings, experimenting with a light box to aid drafting.
She ran downstairs to peruse the shelves for old botanical texts with pictures of scientific flowers. She also pulled out Beatrix Potter's works and old pictorial studies on the behavior of ants and bees. The calligraphy in those books was magnificent and after multiple attempts she was satisfied she could at least draw a decent cauldron.
His illustrations of flowers and roots became more complex, and she noticed the Professor had used different colored inks to help with identification of plants. Oh dear. She needed more ink, otherwise the 13 varieties of bellflower would look identical to one another. She decided to do it all in black and then fill them in later when the inks arrived. She could discretely order them through Ms. Renou.
As the chapters progressed, she was finding more confusing words….
Was it belladonna or baiiafoma?
Sometimes the words just all ran together. She decided to write a letter in her uniquely unrecognizable hand—she figured if she was hired for this effort she should at least make her correspondence presentable. She read through the work again, marking the places, pulling the offending pages. She added that she would prefer a list of the inks 'he or she' had used to color the potions ingredients and flora, which would save valuable time in avoiding the trial-and-error method in order to get it right.
That morning, she asked Ms. Weasley to borrow an owl and sent along her careful note, one to 'KR' and the other unmarked, both wrapped in the same enchanted paper.
Katie would surely send Buckwheat again, her amazingly invisible owl. He always ducked and stayed out of sight. She felt nervous using Pig— he was a bit to hyper. Now Hedwig would have been wonderful, but Harry's snowy owl was a bit too eye-catching and recognizable.
Pig darted around, hooting madly. Finally the manic owl rested before looking up, hoo hoo hoo-ing hopefully at Hermione.
"Now, Pig—" she whispered. "This is very important. Take this to Katie Renou at Flourish and Blotts and to no one else. Understand? This is top secret."
Pig surprised her and settled down with a soft hoot. Amazing. Some animals could understand humans. Pig looked like he'd taken a Valium. Pig, now almost normal, would never be as still again, she was sure. She released the miniature owl outside the front entrance and she flew immediately to the trees. Hermione couldn't see Pigwidgeon anymore and was satisfied the owl had understood.
"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," she said when she returned to the kitchen.
"Don't mention it dear. Happy too. Writing your parents I suspect hmmm?"
Hermione winced. She had been so caught up she hadn't sent any messages. That was unlike her, and it was the summer. Nothing should be more important to her. She remembered Headmaster Dumbledore would be here Friday and vowed to give a letter to him then. All of the correspondence had to go through him anyway.
"Yeah. I may get a reply in the next day or so, is that okay?"
"Certainly dear. Don't let Remus get you so worked up okay? It's not like this is a business or something."
Hermione smiled. Actually, it really was.
***
Snape sat in the dungeons in his reading chair encircled by books, papers and parchment strewn everywhere. This had been a common sight as he had written for two years on that manuscript and here he was entombed again by paper.
He loved it.
If it only didn't have to do with bad things. The hunt was engaging though. He was desperately researching for references pertaining in any way to virgin sacrifices and the Dark Arts. The search was not going well. So far he did not find any earthshaking results.
Fertility spells on top of fertility spells, numerous ways of raping virgins.. disgusting. He tossed those aside. Not even close. Yes, we know about the unicorns… healing spells… yeah yeah…blah blah…
Then he opened a book on magical objects. He flipped through and stopped on an interesting page…
A tapping at his stained glass window signified mail, and he reluctantly laid down the book to retrieve it. Releasing the latch on window, Buckwheat flew in, the tawny brown owl who had presented him before with the samples. Surely they weren't finished already?
The load was too light to be considered a finished work and he removed the letter. Muttering the slicing spell, the heavy communication unrolled itself, once again in the flowing hand of the artist. Buckwheat waited patiently at Snape's feet.
Seeing his stack of notes, he reviewed them. Clearly they were asking for clarification. He was both annoyed this would take time and grateful that the artist had so carefully labeled the places that needed further explanation. He frowned at the markings on his text, but then noticed they were easily removed and still stuck. None of the ink had been lifted. They were little multicolored pieces of tape, no bigger than a thumbnail with arrows. Hmmph. Impressive. He wondered where he could find these in Diagon Alley.
Snape set to writing, and it went much quicker than he had expected. He had almost forgotten about the colorful diagrams, and the colorful inks were indeed necessary. He pulled his list of inks and wrote in the margins with arrows identifying which dyes and powders were used where. He boxed up the rarer inks and powders he knew were hard to find. It would not do to waste both the artisan's time and his own by forcing them to go on a pigment hunt. He cursed himself for not mentioning the ink before. Snape was very thorough.
Boxing the stack of papers up, with his reply and the items, he sent Buckwheat on his way. "I'm sure you know where you are going." He offered a piece of cracker from his table by Buckwheat ignored it. It appeared the owl was as distrustful as Professor Snape.
He returned to his book and examined the photograph of an antique device used long ago…
***
Weeks ago, Hermione found herself, envying her peers summer arrangement at 12 Grimmauld Place with the Order members. Ron and Harry spent at least a month there after their fourth year and Hermione was able to join in. Now that the war appeared to be heating up, Hermione felt her blood race a little— like she was on too much caffeine, as she anticipated the inevitable and unsettling battle to end Voldemort's reign of terror. Her friends needed her. And she needed to feel useful and do something to help end the war besides study for Newts.
She worried that by the time they were old enough to be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix it would be too late to be of use to the current battle. Daily, she suspected Order members had their secret missions… gathering data… anticipating the Death Eaters next attack… studying potential weak points… recruiting new members… forging alliances with magical creatures too long discriminated against… the giants were proving difficult… keeping tabs on the slow trudging wheels of government at the Ministry.
As she left on the train the end of her fifth year, she left in contemplation of how they, the students— the members of the DA, could be useful. Even without being able to do magic they had a cunning way of solving things. Hermione was convinced they could do small missions, or at the very least—research, which would free up others to do valuable fieldwork.
She had longed to be here. In the middle of the action. And here she was. Anywhere but. The flat was dead silent, with the exception of the occasional chitchat of Phineas and Ms. Black. Hermione was waiting for their first screaming argument. She knew just how she would respond.
Hermione was writing again, working on pages left in her rooms. Soon the flat would be filled with people and she wouldn't be able to do this work discretely. These rooms would become a haven for her friends, and gossiping. She'd need to clean all this up before they got here Friday.
She was so happy when Mrs. Weasley had told her Harry would be joining them. Apparently he had cut off all contact with the outside world. He hadn't responded to Remus's or Dumbledore's owls. He wasn't calling Ron begging to be let out of the Privet Drive Prison. In fact Petunia had scribbled out a plea for Dumbledore to help him. She had 'never seen Harry so depressed,' she wrote.
'Maybe she's coming 'round,' Molly had said. Hermione believed not. But Harry had mentioned how shocked his Aunt Petunia was the beginning of last year. Maybe Petunia knew more than she let on. She was definitely sensible enough to be afraid of You-Know-Who.
Hermione needed to see sunlight. She figured it would be harmless to walk around and stretch her legs. She walked downstairs and opened the door only to be accosted by Buckwheat. Wow, that was fast. She shut the door, removing the parcel and the owl hooted to be let out.
"Aren't you thirsty?" She inquired.
The owl continued to impatiently hoot and she let him fly. Alrighty then.
She smuggled the package up to her room and opened it. She was thrilled to see the selection of inks and powders available as well as his meticulous notes. Snape was thorough. She decided to save the coloring for last and hid the ink in her trunk beside the galleons. She laughed out loud as she read his puzzled inquiry about the tiny Post-It-notes. They were inexpensive and he wouldn't know where to look, so she vowed to send him a care package of various sizes and colors when she finished the job. She imagined she'd turn red if she saw him using the Muggle invention in grading or his other class papers.
On Friday morning her back was beginning to ache, and she packed up all of her things. A flash of her circular sonnet sprang to mind and a light bulb appeared in her head.
She had her idea for the cover. Woo hoo! She pulled out her inks and quills again and pulled out a heavier parchment. Instead of a mere circle, which she had seen done before, she was ambitious enough to attempt scripting in a Celtic design. She drafted quickly the lines necessary and whipped out a Celtic book of knots. Using a pencil she made swirls and arcs, experimenting with the angles and loops.
She heard his familiar silky tones in his first year lecture…
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, betwitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"
She half-wanted to swap out the potions text for his trademark lecture. But thought better of it.
Perhaps just a sample… she could keep for herself.
She worked hard at it, the words forming the knot tapered and swelled in waves. They would appear as a wisp of smoke, the fumes… That's it! SMOKE!
She felt a little like Pig and she settled down to focus. After a series of drafts and sketches she stood back and admired her work. She was happy no matter what the author would say. It was brilliant.
Bravely, she turned to the title pages of each chapter, carrying the concept of the smoky loops around each heading and tinier around page numbers. She carefully inked the grayish smoke and hoped Snape would approve. She was taking one of her artistic liberties, and once inked, the pigment could not be removed—she'd have to start over if he hated it.
She packed everything up and let the cover dry. Her own sample of his twisted school lecture lay dry already and she wrapped it carefully, lining it with acid free paper on each side. She smiled and wondered if she'd ever get the nerve to show him.
***
Friday at four in the afternoon, Ron and Ginny ran in the front door and mobbed Hermione. They hugged, in a comfortable way, as Ron's feelings for Hermione had resolved. Dating each other would've been a disaster. They valued their friendship too much to let that happen. Dunderhead though he was, as were most boys his age, he was handsome. Hermione had to give him that. His reddish waves of hair were growing longer at the ends, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. He was taking after Bill. Handsome devil.
Ginny was intelligent and precocious, a mixture of Fred and George's mischievous ways with less of their foolishness. Girls at school in Gryffindor House like Lavender and Pavarti were too interested in girlish, time-wasting activities which Hermione felt were better spent in the library. When Hermione wanted to 'girl-out' she knew she could do so tastefully with the likes of Ginny Weasley.
Ginny was a beautiful girl. Shocking really how Harry managed to miss her right under his nose. She had straight red hair which hung to the middle of her back, defying the curly locks of her parents. She had a fair and even complexion with a cheerful smattering of freckles along her nose to match her disposition. Her brothers teased her and said they could see Orion along her left cheek. Though she was the youngest, she definitely showed more maturity than the twins or Ron, without the stodginess of Percy.
The last of their group followed closely behind, escorted by Dumbledore himself. Harry looked a bit weary and Hermione walked to him to hug him. "Missed you," she said. "You look tired."
"Occlumency," was his one word answer. He needed rest.
"You wanna catch a nap in my room?"
"Nah." She hooked her arm around his neck in a friendly way and ushered him to the couch for a butterbeer with Ron and Ginny.
Hermione had read up on Occlumency in a number of DADA texts and attempted to independently examine the concepts involved. It was an impossible feat without practical experience. Once Harry was feeling a bit more capable in his own skills, she wanted to ask him to help her. It could be pretty useful, especially when perfecting the subtle science and fine art… of lying to someone's face.
The Order of the Phoenix was an underground organization which was responsible for recruiting and mobilizing witches and wizards as spies across northern Europe. Led by the legendary Albus Dumbledore (Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First-Class, Member of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Secretkeeper for the Order), they had quite a following including key Ministry officials: Aurors, Unspeakables, animagi, retired codgers, (i.e. Moody), a reformed Death Eater, a werewolf, and a con man. The Order was the key in the fight against Lord Voldemort.
Despite news reports endorsed by the Minister of Magic himself, fear fueled denial and skepticism among the public who preferred to believe lies over the frightening alternative. Almost 20 years ago there were innumerable losses which affected every family. No one was left untouched by the violence of the Dark Lord. Nearly every wizarding household had lost multiple family members and friends to the Dark Lord— Death Eaters included.
On Friday night, it was business as usual, with Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny using extendable ears, listening in vain through the well-warded kitchen door, sound-proofed against the likes of them. Behind this door, was the real work, as twenty wizards and witches sat discussing strategy around a wooden kitchen table.
Hermione longed for a piece of the action, feeling completely under-utilized, along with a severe case of cabin fever. Harry was feeling the same, a little angry at being left out-of-the-know— after all, he was the Boy Who Lived. And what about the Prophecy? He was beginning to feel that the truth was owed to him.
Sirius fell through the veil. He was dead. And it was all his fault. He would never be the same. Then Dumbledore had revealed to him the ultimate secret 16 years in the making— it was Harry or Voldemort.
Snape both detested him and owed him. Harry reminded Snape of both James and Lily, a couple of popular peers who seemed to have everything: supportive family and friends, good looks, the tolerance of the teaching staff, even love. He despised Harry for what he saw in him of James, a boy with every visible advantage and watching him take it for granted. Harry shunned attempts by adults to protect him. He was impossible, and did not—could not, fully appreciate the danger he had been in countless times, many times of his own making. Snape's mental picture of Harry growing up with love and support wavered with the Occlumency lessons. The glimpse of his horrible Muggle relatives was painful to behold. Snape felt answerable for the crime of following the man responsible for executing Harry's parents. Seeing Harry reminded him of that obligation daily. As did teaching Neville Longbottom.
Harry wasn't a glory-seeking boy, but he felt he desperately needed to redeem himself. Had he and Snape only spoken candidly to one another, they may have found that they had a great deal more in common than previously thought. He had not energetically practiced Occlumency as he had promised. Harry hoped that Dumbledore would work with him on that point. He was still furious with Snape for purposefully making Occlumency difficult for him and for being cruel, though in his own heart Harry knew he shared in the blame. Snooping in Snape's Pensieve didn't help matters. If anything it showed him a side of his father he never wanted to know. His scar still hurt at night, but only faintly. It seemed things had died down for the moment. He had not gotten much sleep. He stayed awake most nights staring at the ceiling, thinking about his godfather.
"Scoot over," Ron grumbled.
"Stop it."
"You move over…" the whispers came, along with nudging elbows.
Hermione wiggled closer to the door and Ginny leaned away, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
"We might as well give up," the red-haired voice of reason exasperated. "Our best bet is to pry information out of Mundungus Fletcher. You know how he loves to go on about things."
"Wish Fred and George were allowed to join the Order," Ron said. "They'd tell us everything."
"Yeah, for a fee or favor." Harry chuckled. All of them stood up and collapsed on the sofa.
Fred and George ran a flourishing joke shop in Diagon Alley, doing well. Ron was positive they were making magical weapons on the side, for the Order, but it was an unlikely romantic notion.
"What do we do now?" Hermione asked.
"We could play chess…" Ron suggested.
"Ugh," The girls grunted in unison.
"What? So we can watch you beat Harry's pieces to pulp again? No, thank you." That had gone on for most of the afternoon.
"Hey! I win… Sometimes." Harry whined and smiled.
Hermione smiled too. She had wanted to see Harry in better spirits, but she knew it'd take a while at least to do that. One day at a time. Friendship was good medicine.
Soon enough the party broke up. Various members exited the now unwarded door. They were surprisingly silent. Remus and Dumbledore had their heads together, still whispering in serious discussion at the kitchen table. The old bat Snape was looking paler than usual, and Molly waltzed into the room drawing the two girls tightly to her side in a fiercely protective hug.
"I love you girls, you know,"she sniffed. Mrs. Weasley was misty-eyed and they realized something was amiss. Molly Weasley was very protective of her family, but she was not a weak woman by any means. Something had obviously scared her.
Ron and Harry were feeling a bit left out as they observed the spectacle. "What is it, you think?" Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Don't know," Harry replied with concern. He watched carefully the expressions of everyone in the room. Nearly all had either looked on the girls briefly with silent concern or avoided looking at Hermione and Ginny entirely.
Something was very wrong.
***
The foursome sat around talking when they overheard Tonks arguing on the phone with a person they assumed was another Auror.
"…You can't pull her off…"
A few moments of silence.
"But…you can't have no choice! You're the lead…" Tonks said more loudly still being interrupted. That earned a loud shushing and 'keep your voice down' from Mrs. Weasley.
Another pause.
"…She's the only one who can sing. No one else can do it…" Hermione's ears perked up.
Harry and Ron saw her conversation held all of the surrounding member's attention. Snape, Dumbledore and Remus remained with Molly in the kitchen. Everyone else had already left on assignments.
"They're leaving in less than an hour? But… how can that…?"
"I understand… Yes… Uh huh. Yeah, I know… Yes, Sir." She closed her cellphone.
"Shit." The pink-haired Auror muttered insults under her breath and sat with a plop in on the kitchen bench. Her hands rubbed her face in frustration. "Crap, we have no time for this. I mean honestly!"
"So, no Misty?" Molly said. Tonks nodded.
"We have to call it off." Remus supplied.
"We can't," Snape urged. "This is the only opportunity we'll have."
Hermione steeled her nerves and stood up to bravely inquire if she could offer her services. It sounded like time was of the essence anyhow.
She walked into the kitchen, and was immediately redirected. "This is a private discussion, Hermione." Remus began with a stern fatherly tone. Everyone was staring at her.
She ignored Remus. "I couldn't help but overhear that you need someone with singing ability. I take it you've staged something soon and it's falling through because of this unavailable party?" She had excellent deductive skills. That and Tonks had a big mouth.
"You can't help, Hermione. It's too dangerous, and you're too young." Molly lectured.
"Just tell me what the assignment is. Does singing really involve that much danger?"
"Yes!" Echoed all five adults at once.
"Well…" Tonks hedged trying to salvage the situation.
"Well what!" Molly said. "She can't go and that's that!"
"She'd just be observing. We just need another lookout. She'll have no contact…" the young woman persuaded.
"Absolutely not," Dumbledore protested.
"We can't use someone with false talent. It will be noticed. No glamours, no magical anything," Tonks explained.
"Tell me the situation, and maybe we can find a solution together. How much time do we have anyway?" Hermione inquired in her most studious tone. Ron and Harry watched as Hermione worked her persuasive magic. She was good, no doubt about it.
"Forty-five minutes," Tonks groaned.
"What's the objective?"
Snape's eyes narrowed menacingly— he didn't like where this was going. His answer was cryptic. "We must secure an object before it is removed to a place where we can't retrieve it."
"And who has it?" She continued.
"M.."Tonks was interrupted.
"Don't answer that!" Molly squealed. "This is absurd, we can't be discussing this with her. She's 16!"
"Actually, she's rapidly approaching her eighteenth birthday," Albus said plainly. All heads turned to face him in disbelief, and then looked at the young chestnut haired woman.
"She used a time turner in her third year to take extra classes," he explained. "And Miss Granger, even though you show maturity beyond your tender years, I am more than reluctant to encourage you."
That still wasn't technically a no, she thought.
"So you just need someone to sing, someone who can see the whole room right? I just need to observe? I can do this. Let me help you," her jaw clenched, her tone serious.
"How do we get you there and back?" Remus argued.
"Portkey." She said plainly. Simple as pie.
"Unauthorized portkeys are against the law, Hermione," Remus said.
She let out a huff. "Oh c'mon. Is this the Order or not?!" She knew good and well Dumbledore made unauthorized portkeys. Truth was, it happened all the time. Like driving over the speed limit. Too many people did it and it was hard to get caught.
Tonks spoke up, "I could made her a pin that is both a tracking device and a portkey. It'll look like it's a part of her clothing. We can see her all the time through a little camera and hear her."
It was Snape's turn to be the pessimist.
"Miss Granger, just because you can sing in a church does not mean you possess the talent required to sing at a high end club." His voice was an accusation, but also the intention was to result in her staying here, out of harm's way. He couldn't care less if she hadn't seen the light of day in weeks.
"Actually sir, I have sung in clubs before," Ok it was a club, so sue me. "I can do this."
"You shouldn't go." Snape said.
"She's not a member of the Order." Remus agreed.
"Vol-" That earned a scathing look from the potions master. Names were important. "You-Know-Who doesn't care if I'm an Order member or not. We need this."
Albus Dumbledore's look seemed to concede that point and he smiled at her.
"You've got…" she looked at the freckles on her wrist, "thirty minutes to come up with a better idea." She quirked her annoyed eyebrows up and met the steely gaze of Albus Dumbledore.
"Very well, Miss Granger. You will wear a portkey provided that you can slip into the role of entertainer."Albus said.
Mrs. Weasley was looking quite flustered, but watched on. The decision had been made.
"Fine. Pass me your cell phone, Tonks." She held out the phone and typed the keys to pull up the number to the club. "Who do I ask for?"
"His name is Tom Phelps," she answered.
"And who can't make it tonight?"
"She uses the name Misty. Misty Burroughs. She called in sick. Mr. Phelps was furious."
"Professor Dumbledore, can you cast a charm on my voice box to give me a slightly lower voice range?" Hermione prompted.
He extended his wand hand and pointed it at her throat whispering a spell on his breath.
She cleared her throat while the phone rang as she stared at the somewhat stunned group which surrounded her.
"Rue Nineteen, this is Angel may I help you?"
"May I speak to Tom Phelps please," Hermione said is a seductive voice.
Ron's jaw went slack a bit, in hearing her confident tones.
Hermione waited as she was placed on hold.
"Tom Phelps here."
"Mr. Phelps. My name is Myra Winters. I understand that you have an opening in this evening's show."
"Yeah, how did you know that?"A gruff voice asked.
"Misty Burroughs is a friend of mine and when she fell ill, she contacted me." Snape was impressed by her deception, hearing only one end of the conversation. It was kind of true.
"I don't have time for games. I have no time to book a new act, and have this go flop. You know what I'm saying?" His tone was one of an Italian. Hard to believe with a name like Phelps. He definitely ran the show though.
"I understand the situation perfectly well Mr. Phelps. I tell you what. I'll meet you in half and hour before things get busy and perform for you. And you can let me know then if you still wish to cancel."
"I don't know…"
She continued. "It is a Friday night Mr. Phelps, understandably the busiest night of the week. I expect if you don't have a full act, people are not going to want to pay the cover to enter your fine establishment. Am I right?" She didn't wait for a response. "Of course I am," she added in buttery tones.
"What's your name again?"
"Myra," she said in a velvet hush. Hermione looked at the group confidently.
"I'll see you at five. You'll have ten minutes, and bring a list of your music."
"Ciao." She clapped the phone shut
and handed it to Tonks. "We're
in. I have an audition in thirty
minutes."
Damn she was good.
"Ciao?" Ron mouthed to Harry. Harry shrugged.
"I'll need an escort there and some clothes. Tonks, you're good with transfiguration right?"
"I'm your girl." It was an absurd question. Tonks was Queen of Conversion.
They both stood up from the table and marched upstairs. Mrs. Black was mercifully quiet.
Moments later they came down with a hanging bag full of full-length satin gowns and formal shoes. Hermione's hair, now a dark brown, was upswept on a smooth twist at her nape, her makeup reminiscent of forgotten days. Red lips completed the look. She could've been a model. Or with the addition of heavy lip-gloss, she could've at least appeared in a Robert Palmer video.
She wore complicated perfume that was far too mature for her, but it was a serious measure. It went with the serious clothes she now wore.
She descended the stairs wearing designer crepe slacks and trendy stiletto boots. She carried her jacket on her arm and wore a form fitting low-cut collared sweater.
Snape regained control of his senses. Student… student… student…
Harry and Ron hadn't.
"Whoa, Hermione!" Ron gasped.
"Thanks, " she replied her voice still unnaturally deep. "Don't tell me, "she addressed Dumbledore, gesturing to her throat. "This charm wears off at midnight huh?" She did feel a bit like Cinderella.
"At least until then," he assured her.
"Good, cause I'd hate for my register to change in the middle of a song. Tonks, do you have the list of music Misty was planning to sing?"
She nodded and reached for her folder. Hermione was handed a list and she nearly sighed with relief as she recognized most of the tunes. Everything was going to be fine.
She circled the ones she planned to sing, enough music for an hour and half, with one 15 minute break. Tonks charmed the paper for her, correcting it.
This small action made Snape painfully aware of how vulnerable Hermione was. She could perform no magic. None.
After Harry's somewhat faint triumph at the Ministry last year, he had no faith that children who practiced magic even in self-defense would be awarded leniency.
"You ready?" She asked Snape.
"As ever, Miss Granger." He was not at all amused.
They walked out the back and disapparated.
Appearing in the alleyway, they walked up to the front of the club near the valet. The large brass framed double doors were locked as it was at least another hour before they opened for dinner. A burly mustached man in a slouchy, but fine suit unlocked the door for them.
"You must be Mr. Phelps." She extended her hand to shake his meaty one.
"He's your manager?" He pointed his thumb towards Snape.
"No, he's my ride." She said.
"You don't drive?"
"I don't drive, I'm driven." She leaned in playfully.
Phelps liked her humor. Snape stifled an urge to scowl and sat on a straight-backed chair in the rear of the hall.
"Your music?"He held out a hand with an abrupt motion. Yeah yeah yeah… blah blah blah… show me what ya got kid.
She handed it to him. He glanced at it nodding. The band could do this.
And she walked toward the back of the room to the stage. "What would you like to hear first?" She called out. She wanted to take charge. Confidence would win this. Show confidence and people will have confidence in you.
"How about Is it a Crime?" He offered. He'd have to see to believe this.
He was very picky. Gave Simon Cowell a run for his money. He had seen it all. People wasted Mr. Phelps time every day.
She sang immediately without missing a beat.
"This may come... this may come as a surprise— but I miss you… I can see through… all of your lies... and still I miss you…" the breathy vocalization carried easily throughout the room. Here was a place Hermione could be unrestrained. She loved singing in a club. It was liberating.
"Is it a crime? I still want you and I want you to want me too… hmmmm…"
"…My love is wider than Victorian lace…. Taller than the Empire State…" her body moved with the imaginary band and Snape was impressed by the maturity of her performance.
"…deepest ocean— can't give you more than that… surely you want it back…"
She ended with grand fashion as her voice sailed over the notes. Mr. Phelps could picture it easily. It was a crime— to look as fine as she did, sing like that with no band, and not be singing here every week.
He clapped in a deadpan way. She knew she'd wowed him. He just was biding time until he negotiated with her. He spoke through the smoking cigar he was chewing on, "Come 'ere." He feigned disinterest, waving her down front by the bar and poured her a glass of water.
She walked but didn't hurry and met his gaze the whole way.
She took the glass of water from him and drank. Licking her lips, "What say you Mr. Phelps?"
"My father is Mr. Phelps young lady. It's Tom. What's your price?"
Damn. She should've asked Tonks what Misty had been dealt. She hated it when they left it open, that way she could low ball and wouldn't even know it. This was a high-end joint, and she was only singing an hour and a half. This place seated 350 at least or more. Drinks… cover… She didn't flinch as she said "Five hundred pounds."
"Honey, your twisting my arm," he joked.
Shit. Now recover. "I figured that would be fair, since I'm an unknown and if I do well? Next time you hire me we can renegotiate my fee," she said silkily.
"What makes you so sure I'll hire you again?" He bantered.
"You will Tom. See you at 8:30?" She finished her water.
"You bet." He liked this girl.
"Ciao."
She picked up her coat from the barstool and left on the arm of her 'ride.'
Snape was loathed to admit he was wrong. And he wouldn't. She was spectacular. But he wouldn't.
***
A couple of hours later, Hermione had been prepped and instructed. She had asked Snape what she would be looking for when he told her about who he expected to see there.
"Malfoy should be seated at the center table," Snape started. He scrutinized her reaction as he spoke, trying to make her shifty or fidget but she didn't budge. A slip could get her killed or worse. Hermione was as cool as a cucumber, though her stomach was in knots.
"He is purchasing an object from a skittish Muggle businessman who deals in both the magical community and the Muggle world. He only does these kinds of things in large public places."
"How did you find out?"
"This businessman knows enough about Lucius Malfoy to be properly worried of him. He contacted a mutual associate and here we are."
"What should I look for?"
This was the sad part. Hermione would have the best advantage to see everything that went down. That's why it was so damned infuriating. She was the most important link. There would have been foreign Aurors dressed as Muggles throughout the restaurant, but they all got pulled away on assignment. That was suspicious enough. From the stage she could see everything.
"A waitress will come by to pick pocket it from Mr. Malfoy. You'll know when it happens. She's beautiful, and Malfoy won't be able to resist paying close attention to her." Snape explained. He sighed. "Don't blow it by looking too hard, but what you might catch a glimpse of is a slender brass object. It resembles a stylus."
"But it's not."
She wasn't going to pry out of him more than he intended.
"That's all you need to know."
She groaned. "Should I give some kind of signal then?"
Snape nodded. "Obviously."
She thought a bit, trying to avoid the discomforting gaze of the terse potions master. "It should be relatively easy for me to signal you. I'll be gesturing with my hands a lot when I sing anyway."
They settled on three signals. One was interlocking her fingers together in front of the microphone stand—that would signal she spotted the object. Her right arm extended in the air would mean we have it in possession. And lastly, her right hand traveling up her left arm would mean she'd been made or needed out.
Now she was beginning to get nervous. She tried to make believe that this was ordinary. She was just doing a gig… yeah right. In front of Lucius Malfoy. Urgh.
She put in color contacts, false eyelashes and kept the chestnut brown hair pulled straight as you please, smoothly in a twist on her nape.
She'd change at back of the club. She put some emergency money in her bra. Tonks approached her with an elaborate vintage pin which was both a portkey and a muggle spy device. It was a tiny camera and a tracking device. Her right earring reflected an image of Hermione as well. Two cameras, and two televisions sat on the kitchen table of the flat being watched by Remus, Albus and Molly. Ron, Harry and Ginny sat in attendance as well.
***
Snape vanished seamlessly to God knows where as 'Myra' walked in the side door of the establishment to change in the dressing rooms. She was greeted by one of the band members and introduced herself. She flirted shamelessly with the director and won them over with her wit. Snape witnessed her laughing with them openly. They looked as if they were laughing at the punchline of a funny joke. She had blended in as a regular.
Hermione excused herself to slip into her gown. Mr. Phelps had selected the red satin one for this evening. It came to a V in the front and back, with wide neckline extending around her shoulders. Delicate formal pleats curves around her breasts and waist in traditional fashion. She transferred the pin to her gown and inspected her makeup.
She waited for her introductions and signaled the band leader of the first song. The lights in the club were low and talk was lively, even at 8:30— a very successful establishment.
Tom Phelps observed from the back and nodded in appreciation as the crowd fell to a hush.
"I gave you all the love I got, I gave you more than I could give… gave you love…"Hermione scanned the audience as she began with the tune most familiar to her. She sang passionately, and could sing these first few songs in her sleep.
"This is no ordinary love… no ordinary love…"
There he was: Lucius, Malfoy. Next to the blonde there sat his wife Narcissa, Mr. And Mrs. Parkinson and Pansy! Crap it was a reunion. Hermione wasn't worried about the adults recognizing her, but Pansy? They had just spent two weeks singing together. She would bet a sack of money that she could spot her, disguised or not.
Lucius was seated across from a jittery fellow in a three-piece suit. He shifted uncomfortably and attempted to watch the show.
"There's nothing like you and I… baby…"
Hermione tried not to stare and attempted to observe out of her peripheral vision.
"Love… wandered inside.. stronger than you… stronger than I…
And now… that it has begun.. we cannot turn back.. we can only turn…
Into one.
And I won't never be too… far away to feel you… and I won't hesitate at all…
Whenever you call…"
There was some heated arguing at the crowded table, and Lucius had rebuked the waitress for hovering too close during their discussion.
Hermione tried to remember to smile and not wear too serious of an expression. She was singing, this was supposed to look fun not painful.
Her performance was important and she needed to wow the crowd before they got bored.
She laid into the bridge, claiming the attention of the crowd, gesturing wide with her arms.
"…Whenever you call! I-aaahhhh won't ever.. be to far to fe-el you and I won't hesitate at all… whenever you call… And I'll always remember…. a part of you so tender… and be the one to catch your fall… whenever you call…"
Now she had their interest, and Tom was nodding his head in approval in the back.
"I was a wayward child… the weight of the world that I held deep inside… life was a winding road… and I learned many things that a world should know…
But I close my eyes…Still I feel like a child as I look at the moon… maybe I grew up a little too soon…"
Snape listened carefully to the words which spoke too close to truth. This young girl was up there singing in front of the most depraved man he'd ever known next to the Dark Lord in order to protect girls such as herself.
The night wore on and song after song, nothing happened. She watched carefully, but also performed well. Gesturing with her hands often, she appeared to sometimes be lost in the music. Snape wondered if she was paying close enough attention.
Painful words were sung, more psychologically charged than ever.
Myra Winters was possessed by a passion inside of her that could only be described as soulful.
Who knows whom it could have described. Snape just watched silently trying to keep his attention on Malfoy not Hermione.
"It's hard to explain… Inherently it's just always been strange… Neither here or there… Always somewhat out of place everywhere…
Ambiguous…Without a sense of belonging to touch…Somewhere halfway…Feeling there's no one completely the same…
Early on, your face…The realization you don't have a space… Where you fit in… And recognize you were born to exist…
Standing alone… Eager to just… Believe it's good enough to be what…You really are… But in your heart…Uncertainty… forever lies… And you'll always be…
Somewhere on the…Outside…
And it's hard! And it's hard! And it's hard…
Irreversibly…
Fall- falling in between… and it's hard… to be understood…
As you are…As you are!…
AND OHHH! And God knows…
That you're standing on your own…
Blind and unguided!—Into a world divided!
You're thrown…
Where you're never quite the same…
Although you try! Try… and try…To tell yourself…You really are…
But in your heart— uncertainty forever lies…
And you'll always be… Somewhere on the— outside…"
Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes, thankful for waterproof mascara. She really shouldn't sing songs she too closely identified with. She thought of Snape as she sang, empathizing with his lonely plight as a spy amongst murderers. The applause of the crowd was deafening as she realized she couldn't make out the table amongst the standing patrons. It was intermission.
She quickly took a bathroom break as she was expected to. Many of the guests had the same idea and she saw the Muggle businessman go to the bar for a drink.
In the stalls of the employee's loo, she heard some muffled sobs and collected herself to see what was happening outside her stall.
"Her…mione… I can't believe it's you…" heaved a distraught Pansy. Pansy!
"You were right to be worried… I can't believe… my own father…" she sobbed. Hermione rubbed her back nervously as he consoled her companion.
"What is it?"
Pansy wanted to continue, but stopped herself. "Dad, he… you know he's a…"
"Death Eater?'
"Yeah. But… he asked me if I was a virgin and…" She cried harder. "He wants to turn me over to Him."
It wasn't registering. "That doesn't make any sense…"
"I can't believe it. My own f-father… would s-s-sacrifice me! Talking about it over a glass of wh-wine in a big place like this so I won't make a scene…"
Hermione looked at her seriously. "We need to talk about this later. Pansy…"
She caught her gaze anticipating her question. "Don't worry they don't even recognize you. Hell, I barely did. Had to fake your age to sing here huh?" She smiled halfway. "Good job. I mean really."
"We'll figure something out Pansy. Really. I'll find a way. Don't say anything, please. Okay?"
She nodded and dried her tears quickly like she'd done it a million times. Pansy pulled out makeup from her purse as Hermione returned to the stage a bit shaken.
Two more songs and no deal. Myra pressed on.
"Did I ever give you any doubts… have I ever given you any reasons… for you not to feel the same love I feel for you baby?… Won't you try to read my mind… it's worth more than minor words can tell you…
…It's got to be real.. cause if it doesn't feel the way I feel with you baby… I tell you I don't want it…"
And there it was, the exchange of money plain as day. And the brass flicker… she interlocked fingers around the mic. Snape sat up alert in the darkness.
…I promise I won't let you down.. I promise I'll always be there… I swear I'll stay right here…I swear I'll be there… I swear I'll be right there…
The waitress arrived and bumped the table inadvertenly knocking over Lucius' wine, he cursed and spun to face the stunning brunette who clumsily attempted to clean him up with a cloth napkin. Lucius was clearly entertained by her nervous display rubbing up against her subtly.
I don't need no body else… because if I doesn't feel the way I feel with you baby… I tell you I don't want it… No… dare to be real…
Hermione raised her right hand at the climax of the song as she saw the subtle lift. Snape smiled. They were home free.
Almost.
Oh Shit. As soon as the 'waitress' left the table she stumbled a bit and the tiny object fell out of her grasp, spinning wildly. She kicked it with her shoe. This was not happening. It was like something out of a Mr. Bean film.
"Dare to be real!" Hermione swung arms wide in an attempt to distract everyone from what concerned her.
It had slid across the floor rolling beneath the band.
She finished the set, as she thought about how to rectify the situation. Everyone clapped and whistled; she bowed as the next act came on to set up equipment behind her. Malfoy wasn't looking frantic yet, so he thought he still had it. Just a few more moments.
Snape was flipping out until he saw what happened next. Hermione walked forward to the front stairs of the platform and she walked casually up to the band and shook hands with members, thanking them for their accompaniment. Laughing and chatting again, she searched for a glimmer of the stylus. A fly buzzed around her and stopped after she waved it away.
She knelt by the director and fingered it easily, it was peeking out from his music stand. She didn't notice the tiniest sequin fall, effectively leaving herself behind with the band as she walked away.
Waving and turning, she slipped the metal object between her cleavage so she could have her hands free.
She walked to the rear, slightly out of breath. She leaned against the back wall, and fingered the pin.
It didn't work.
***
Back at Headquarters…
"Oh shit."
"What? Don't say that. Don't say 'Oh shit' Tonks," Remus interjected.
"The tracking device fell off." She panicked. Tonks was a good Auror, but damn she was clumsy. She winced under Lupin's gaze.
"Oh no! Look!" Remus pointed at the screen, Hermione was frantically rubbing the pin.
"WHAT! You mean she's stuck out there without a way to track her AND without a portkey?!" yelled Harry. He'd had enough of danger. And his friend was in the middle of it.
Ron heard 'without a portkey' and came running in with Ginny from the den.
"What was that?"
Harry repeated it for them.
Ginny, the voice of sanity, reasoned. "Don't worry Harry, she's with Snape. It'll be fine."
"I'll give you fine. He's a glorified observer! If Lucius sees him, he can't do anything."
"Hold on a sec, Harry," Remus spoke up. "Snape is king of stealth, okay? He surpasses even myself. If he doesn't wanna be seen, he won't even be noticed." He swated at a pesky fly on the table and killed it.
Tonks whipped out her cell phone and began to dial.
***
Snape picked up the offending object and answered.
"Yes?" He seethed low.
"We got problems." Tonks explained.
"Don't worry, I saw her pick it up," he waved off any concern.
"She's not here yet, Severus."
Hermione had vanished from his view.
"What do you mean she's not there… yet?" Snape became only a bit uneasy. It had only been a few minutes. Then he saw Lucius walk towards the back of the hall, holding something suspicious in his hand. All expression vanished from his face, becoming more disturbed with each passing moment as Lucius swept his wand arm back and forth.
"Her portkey didn't activate!"Tonks confessed.
Snape hung up the phone and dashed to the back of the building to enter from the side.
***
Hermione panicked. She looked through the curtains of the stage and couldn't see Snape anywhere. Lucius was moving.
Shit.
She ran to the bathroom and stripped to her street clothes still hanging in the stall. Putting the instrument in her front jacket pocket, she zippered it shut. She left the dress on it's hanger and stormed out the rear door. Raising both arms in desperation the Knight Bus popped into view.
Stan Shunpike began his long-winded speech.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency tran…"
"COME ON LET"S GO!"Hermione yelled.
"On the run, are you dearie?" Ern asked.
"She is idn't she Ern?"Stan observed.
"SHUT UP AND STEP ON IT!" The infamous Knight Bus shot off like a cannon.
***
Snape barely caught a glimpse of the Knight Bus before it vanished. Bloody hell, she could be anywhere! He couldn't apparate on a bus that insane, he'd splinch himself trying.
***
"What's closer? Diagon Alley or the Forbidden Forest?" She heaved in a panic.
"Forest Miss, but it's too dangerous…"
"Idn't it dangerous Ern?"
"Yup. Dangerous."Stan said.
"Take me there NOW!" Hermione screamed.
"Yes ma'am. Don't have to be so mean about it," Ern quipped.
"Don't we always take people where they wanna go?" Stan stated.
"Yup, we sure do." Stan answered his own question.
The Knight Bus slammed to a halt and Hermione nearly collided with the windshield. She hadn't even sat down. The ride took a whole minute.
She bolted from the double decker.
"Thank yeh, and come again soon!" Ern called out after her.
"That wudn't polite, it wudn't Ern." Stan chastised.
"Wahddya mean? I wuz nice."
"This is for emergencies. We dinnit want to wish 'er an 'mergency do we Ern?"
"No, but she's in trouble idn't she? We'll prob'ly see her 'gain." Ern defended..
"Reminds me of that Neville fellow. What's his other name… Harry Potter wadn't he? Crazy wadn't he? Dinnit I say he wuz nutters?"
"Yup." Ern agreed as per usual.
***
Not far behind, he saw Lucius Malfoy step out of the shadows and lift the device he held in his right hand. With a crooked smile Lucius knew he had located the object and Myra Winters. He disapparated.
***
Running as fast as her legs could carry her, Hermione fled into the dark trees jumping over roots and branches ducking under low limbs hoping she could find the spot. She'd read about it in Hogwarts a History and with magic being out of the question, Malfoy likely not far behind, she just had to hope for the best. That tomb had to be here somewhere. She hoped that her need of it would lead her straight to it. Worked for Harry when he needed the stone. She prayed for a miracle. Please, please a tiny ray of moonlight to offer any aid. It was true, you could pray anywhere, she laughed as she ran for dear life.
It was pitch black.
***
Lupin, the werewolf three days out of the month, recognized the forest on the camera and sent word to Dumbledore.
"That's so dangerous, all kind of creatures out there," Tonks exclaimed.
"Yeah, we know," Ron muttered. They'd been out there far too often.
Molly was in a horrible state, "I told you, I told you…" She muttered some choice words about Albus. "…crazy old man… without the sense of a…"
Harry piped up quickly, "Hey I know why she went! There's an old portkey in the middle of the forest. She talked about it last year. She's nearly memorized Hogwarts and history."
"Tell me about it," Ron said.
Lupin passed it on to Dumbledore.
They could only hope.
***
After running for nearly 5 minutes, the courageous Gryffindor was getting frightened. The woods were whispering horrifying tales of death through winds which carried foul smells. Creepy things.
Then, there it was. A stone rectangle seated high off the ground, the beacon illuminated by moonlight because the trees above had parted.
Thank the Virgin.
Hearing footsteps and crunching leaves behind her, she resisted any impulse to check for a sign of her pursuer. A little farther… A mere meter from the prize, her right foot caught a root and she tumbled forward… but just far enough to touch the damp stone crypt as she felt the familiar tug at her navel, welcoming a delightful and dizzying disappearance.
The portkey was spent. Myra Winters vanished. The device was gone. Lucius Malfoy slammed his hands into the tomb in outrage. He worried not only what his punishment would be for having failed such a simple task, but also how quickly he could defeat a crowd of angry bowtruckles. Out of breath, pissed off, and entirely surrounded, he was quite beyond the point of gathering enough energy to apparate. Shit.
When the whirling feeling subsided, Hermione Granger opened her eyes and found herself face to face with Albus Dumbledore.
Author's notes:
Many thanks to all of the helpful reviews. No flames yet, thank you! I do however appreciate criticism and feedback. Thanks. Next up… consequences of her indulging and the fallout at 12 Grimmauld Place. Poor Harry…
Ezmerelda: So helpful as always! I've read and reread. Hope you like the rewrite of the first chapter. I'm trying to put up new chapters quickly, partly because I'm obsessed. And even though I proofread a lot I don't always catch everything. I really need a beta. When I get a chance, I'll comb through 2 and 3 again and reload. Still having problems with the italics at the end of some of my fics, I can't figure out why the formatting drops off y'know? And I bet you 'guessed' correctly, but you won't meet them for a while. Wink!
And Buckwheat is cool idn't 'e Ern? Sneaky. (Belongs to Katie Renou.)
GeekGoddess1: Being shook up is good. Helps you reevaluate why you believe. Have you read Dan Brown? His books are really good. BTW love the pen name
Victoria: Oh no. Don't die. As promised, another installment just so you'll stay with us. ;0)
Marie Falcon: Thank you for the compliment. Does that mean your reading The Burden of Sight too? Yay!
Dandysgirl: Thank you, but I must admit, I use the web a lot. If anything reading good fan fic with a lot of literary refs makes me want to pick up an old High School syllabus and catch up with a little Shakespeare and Latin. I am in the 'wanna be' category.
Alicat999: Thank you very much. Fortunately no flames yet. Hey since you're an RC, what can you tell me about lighting candles in prayer for a relative or friend? You know those large ones you can purchase from most stores with pictures of saints? Do you think Hermione would light one in her room at school or no? After all she doesn't really get a chance to attend mass during the school year, she must find other ways to worship. If I write it in, I want to get it right. Without overdoing it. Hmmm.
Amsev: Thanks for your review and thanks for the quote. I'm trying to come up with the second round of war between the Dark witch and the Mudblood. It wouldn't be wise to tempt a clever one such as Hermione.