"Wait. Wait! We can't leave."
Ron groaned and derailed into the wall, shifting the weight of his heavy burden so that the nearly unconscious man was leaning mostly against the stone, instead of mostly against Ron. As he panted from the exertion, his gaze wandered up to the ceiling where he spotted a cobweb. "Right. This place is charming. Real cozy-like. I can understand why you'd want to stay."
He eyed the wife of the man he'd been practically carrying. "Wait a minute, no, I can't. Why can't we leave?"
"The device!" she said. There were still obvious signs of fatigue about her…she was gaunt, hollow looking. Dark smudges under her eyes told Ron that she hadn't really slept for days. The tears had dried on her cheeks, but he could still see their tracks through the dirt on her face. But there were signs of life, also, and he knew they were directly attributed to Hermione's revelation that all but one of the woman's children had survived. She had something to live for, now, and the fact that she considered the device important enough to risk being recaptured spoke volumes.
"I thought they couldn't make it work?" Hermione asked.
"It's only a matter of time," the woman replied. She ran shaky hands through her short, dark hair. "We can't leave without it. It's what we were working on when we were taken…it's the whole reason we were taken. What that Death Eater said is true…if they determine how to use it they could find our bases. Lives could be lost. It could conceivably turn the tide of the war for whichever side possesses it."
"Well then," Ron sighed dramatically. "I guess we're not leaving."
"How do we find it?" Hermione wanted to know.
"We've been here for a week," the woman answered. "Every day they'd march us into the room where they're keeping it, trying to make us tell them how it operates. I know exactly where it is."
"All right," Ron said decisively, the plan already crystal clear in his head. "Here's what we'll do: Hermione, you take them back to the pipe. I'll go and get this whoozit and meet you back there, and we'll all get out of here together."
"You'll need me to lead you to it," the woman pointed out. "You'll get lost, otherwise."
"Then you'll come with me," he decided.
"Actually," Hermione interrupted, "I was thinking the exact same thing…except you should take him," here she nodded at the nearly unconscious man who was still propped up against the wall, "and I'll go and get the device."
"I don't think so."
"Ron…"
"No," he said flatly. "Not going to happen."
"Ron, look at him. You're having trouble keeping him upright, and you're stronger than I am. It only makes sense for you to be the one to take him."
"We're not splitting up," Ron declared.
He watched as Hermione's fists opened and closed spasmodically, as if she were having to restrain herself from reaching over and throttling him. Well good. Why should he be the only one aggravated? "It was okay to split us up a moment ago when it was you going off to find the device," she said, sounding as if she were trying to be reasonable.
"It's still me going off to find the device," he answered.
"Ron, you're not making any sense!" she cried.
"Look," Ron said angrily, "I'll make it plain for you. No way am I letting you wander off alone in this bloody place!"
Oh, she was really riled up, now. He could tell from the way her face was getting all blotchy. "You're doing it again," she hissed. "I can not believe you're doing it again!"
"Doing what?"
"Making decisions for me! Directing me about like I'm some helpless little girl, incapable of contributing anything useful. Well, I don't care what you think about me…you're the one best suited to get him out of here, so I'm going to get the device."
"Like hell you are!" Ron nearly shouted. He couldn't deal with this right now, he just really couldn't. On top of not finding Harry, worrying about getting these people out of here, the new task of locating the device, Viktor Krum, and everything else, he just simply could not handle the idea of Hermione wandering off in a hostile environment on a dangerous mission of her own, without him. What if something happened to her?
"Excuse me," the woman interrupted. She'd been watching them silently, her eyes flicking back and forth like a spectator at a lively Quidditch tournament. "But she's right, and we don't have much time. We could be discovered missing at any moment."
Ron's jaw clenched and he glanced at his charge. What they said was true…the bloke was out on his feet, and his large frame was proving to be quite a handful. He tried to picture his diminutive friend bearing that weight successfully all the way back to the dungeon, and the mental image proved that she was right. Her version of the plan was the only one with any possibility of success. As much as he hated to let her out of his sight, he was going to have to.
"All right," he said reluctantly.
Hermione blinked, taken off guard. "What?"
"I said, okay. You're right, your way's the only way that'll work. I just…I'll take him back to the pipe; you two get the device and meet us there. Just…be careful, will you?"
He met Hermione's gaze, knowing that his concern for her shone plainly on his face, but unable to hide it. In her own eyes he saw some strange, new, indefinable emotion. Surprise, mostly, but also…something else. He wasn't sure what it was, but it warmed him and he realized it was the first time since that morning that he'd felt connected with her. Somehow it made him feel better.
"I will," she promised.
When the woman headed down the corridor, Hermione turned and followed. Sighing to himself Ron turned back to the man, who by this point had slid nearly down the wall. "Well, looks like it's just you and me, mate," he commented, pulling an arm around his shoulder and hauling the man up. "We've got a long walk ahead of us; we'd best get started."
VV
The only sounds were her own blood rushing in her ears and the quick, light noise of their shoes on stone. Underneath that, surrounding it, the silence seemed to make a sound of its own…a loud, high-pitched whine that buzzed in Hermione's ears and caused her to constantly be looking around in a paranoid fashion. It was nerves, she knew, but she felt as if they were being watched. As if someone knew where they were and was just waiting for the right moment to pounce. She'd been on enough covert operations to recognize the sound as being the product of hyper-sensitive hearing induced by the unique thrill that came with apprehensive anticipation. In other words, they were somewhere they oughtn't be, and she worried that they could be caught at any moment.
Next to her, the woman she'd rescued from the cell was equally fleet-footed and silent, her every movement efficient. She radiated professionalism, reminding Hermione of the dynamic she, Ron and Harry had together when they went on missions.
The woman paused before a large, heavy-looking door and glanced down both ends of the corridor before turning to Hermione. "It's in here," she breathed.
Hermione kept her voice just as low when she replied, "Shouldn't there be guards, if it's so important?"
"Who's going to steal it?" the woman wanted to know. "No one but Death Eaters roam these halls. Now, stand watch while I get us inside."
Hermione did as she asked, stepping off a few paces and keeping an alert eye out for any indication that someone was coming. The long moments stretched out unbearably, and eventually she couldn't keep her eyes from straying to her companion.
The older woman was kneeling in front of the door poking some sort of long, slender instrument into the lock. Surprised, Hermione asked, "Where did you get that?"
"From the desk in the cell room," she replied. The words were mumbled due to a second sliver held clamped between her teeth. "It's just a splinter of metal. I'm not even sure what it's for. But it should be adequate for our purposes."
With great concentration she maneuvered the first sliver into place and then retrieved the second from her mouth. She inserted it into the lock carefully, then jiggled it slightly. There was a catch and when she reached for the knob it turned easily in her hand. She shared a weak smile with Hermione. "By the way," she said, "if we're going to be breaking and entering together, don't you think we should be formally introduced?" She held out her hand and Hermione took it. "I'm Ursula Stockwell."
"Hermione Granger," Hermione smiled, and together they went inside.
The room was spacious and - like the rest of the fortress that Hermione had seen – conspicuously bare of any form of decoration. Illumination came from numerous candelabras placed around the room. Their flickering light showcased the mystery of the silver device that rested on a round table, which was the only piece of furniture in the room.
Hermione watched as the older woman approached it slowly, a look of loss crossing etching into her features. "For this. Everything that's happened; all of it was because of this."
She skimmed her long, elegant fingers lightly over the surface of the device. "We were trying to help. We've been working for the Order from the beginning; both my family and my husband's fought against Voldemort the last time he rose to power. But no matter what happens, it seems he can never be fully vanquished. This war just drags on, endlessly. It's not the life I wanted for my children."
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "And so we built this…this thing. If it works, we can locate every one of his bases and strategically take them out. It could win the war for us. Only somehow he found out."
Her eyes closed and Hermione knew she wasn't really there anymore. She was back at her house on the morning her world had been turned upside down. "We had only a few minutes' warning that the Death Eaters were about to attack. No time to conceal the device, no time to get away. All we could do was hide the children where they wouldn't find them. We hoped that somehow we'd escape and get back to them. It was the only chance."
Her breath hitched with a sob, and she covered her face with her hands. "But as the days dragged on we couldn't get away. Our only hope was that by some miracle, somehow, they would be found in time."
"I'm so sorry," Hermione said. Her voice was thick with emotion. "We didn't receive the mission orders until the morning we found them. I didn't get to them in time. I should have…I wish there was something…"
She trailed off brokenly, staring at the floor and trying to hold back the tears. Her emotional distress seemed to trigger something in Ursula, for she turned and approached Hermione.
"I don't think you understand," she said. She placed her hand on Hermione's arm, nearly breaking her heart with the unbearable mix of sadness and kindness on her face. "I'd given up. As the days stretched on I came to realize that all of my children were dead. You can't possibly understand what a horrible feeling that is. The grief is overwhelming. I had…no hope, anymore. The pain was…beyond anything I've ever known. It's what I feel for my little Charlie. I can't think about him right now, not too much or I'll fall apart. But you gave me something precious when you came to rescue us, and I don't just mean our freedom. I wasn't blaming you. There was no way you could've known. No way anyone could have. You gave my children and my hope back to me…I can never repay you for that."
VV
Ron became aware that he was tapping his fingers against his thigh again.
He'd started doing it soon after successfully arriving with Mr. Stockwell in the dungeon. The man had regained consciousness long enough to exchange a little information and to offer limited assistance in lowering himself down the stairs. After the exertion required to raise himself into the pipe, however, he'd promptly passed out again, leaving Ron to wait alone.
To wait, and to worry.
Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing else he could do. He couldn't go looking for Hermione and Mrs. Stockwell, because he didn't know where the device was being kept. Additionally, Mr. Stockwell was utterly defenseless while unconscious, and couldn't be left alone.
He thought it was safe enough, however, to creep back out of the dungeon and wait across the hall from the door. There was a recessed alcove there that he fit into quite comfortably, although the cold from the stone floor seeped into him after he'd sat there for awhile.
And then it had started. The tapping. When he realized he was doing it, he stilled himself immediately. This wasn't exactly the best environment in which to be fidgeting. Any passerby would be attracted to the movement. It just wasn't safe. But he couldn't stop himself. His mind kept wandering. He wondered where Harry and Draco were. One of the first questions Ron had asked Mr. Stockwell when he came to was whether or not he had any idea what might've happened after they left. Mr. Stockwell hadn't; according to him, there'd been no time to conjure any sort of magical trap that might've ensnared the two boys after the kidnapping. So Ron had been right…wherever they were, one or both of them had done something to contribute to their situation. As this was their last and only lead, he could only hope that they could get themselves out of it again.
Well, Harry, anyway, Ron thought. Who gives a toss whether Malfoy ever makes it back again, or not?
As the minutes stretched, his mind continued to work. He wondered if the device the Stockwells had created would actually accomplish its function. He wondered what that look Hermione gave him had meant. He wondered if they were going to get out of here undetected. And he wondered what in the hell was taking them so long.
Just when his fingers had resumed their beat against his thigh for the dozenth time, he heard footsteps. Ron stood quickly, pressing himself as far back into the alcove as he could go, and still see out. The sound of footsteps grew closer, and then Hermione came into view. Unaware of his presence, she stood in front of the dungeon door across the hall and turned to her right. Ron couldn't see the other woman from his perspective, but he assumed Mrs. Stockwell stood next to her. They were conferring about something, but obviously there was no danger. Ron stepped out into the hallway, startling them both.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
"We got it," Ursula held up the device. Ron glanced at it, but then his gaze returned to Hermione. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she'd been crying, but when she looked back at him she smiled tentatively, relieving the anxiety that had built up within him while she was gone. He smiled back.
"Where's Jack?" Ursula asked anxiously.
"He's all right," Ron started, but that was as far as he got before the sound of many running feet came to them from around the corner. Ursula spun around, looking back the way they'd come with wide, panicky eyes. "They know we took the device," she whispered, whipping back to face Ron and Hermione. "They can't get it back!"
The answer came to Ron immediately. "Get down there. Get out. We'll lead them away." He yanked open the door to the cellar and reached for Ursula, but Hermione was already there, pushing her through. Ursula sputtered, but any protest she might have voiced was perfunctorily cut off when Ron shut the door in her face. He grabbed Hermione's hand and took off in the opposite direction. Behind them, he heard shouting.
What followed was a sort of a frantic game of hide and seek, wherein Hermione and Ron always seemed to be only a step or two ahead of those who pursued them. The Death Eaters followed dangerously close, like a pack of hounds nipping at the heels of the fox. They were just behind them, almost within eyesight, when Hermione ducked into a hallway on their right. Immediately she pulled Ron into the first door on the left. On the other side of the door she kept her hand tight with his as she ran for the only other door in the room.
It wasn't until they emerged back into the corridor they'd started from again that Ron realized what she'd done. The Death Eaters on their trail had been temporarily fooled into thinking their quarry was escaping down the side passageway, when really Hermione had doubled them back to the point of origin. The ploy would only buy them a few moments, but it was a few moments they couldn't afford to pass up.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to allow them the time they'd need to withdraw Harry's invisibility cloak from their pack. They had no choice but to run for it, racing back the way they'd come, arriving breathless in front of the dungeon door. Ron threw it open and shoved Hermione before him. She hastened down the stairs ahead of him, both of them skidding and missing steps, scraping their hands down the rough stone wall as they fought to keep from falling.
Ron's eyes shot ahead to the pipe, and then widened when he saw Ursula Stockwell inside, beckoning toward them. "Hurry!" she urged.
"What are you doing here?!" Hermione demanded as they ran up to her. "You were supposed to be getting out!"
"I got Jack out and hid the device. I couldn't just leave you here."
"Less talk, more escaping," Ron advised anxiously, glancing back even as he helped push Hermione up into the conduit. She heaved herself into the pipe and he immediately dropped to his knees, ripping the backpack off his shoulders and digging around inside.
At the top of the stairs, the door flew open with a bang against the wall. Death Eaters streamed in, slipping down the steps like water over river stones. The chillingly vacant expression of each mask was trained on them, their malice palpable. Ron could taste it. Like wasps they swarmed at the bottom of the staircase, radiating menace, then probed forward with their wands outstretched.
Ron was ready for them. In his hands he held the package he'd retrieved from the bottom of the pack. With one flick of the wrist he made short work of the string around the burlap sack. Grasping the rough fabric carefully, he fluidly stood and flung the contents of the sack at the Death Eaters.
A tiny Brittany Spaniel puppy soared through the air, its silken ears spread out like wings.
He heard Hermione's horrified gasp behind him, and he almost…almost…grinned. He hadn't had the time (or the inclination, after the little encounter with Viktor Krum that morning, if the truth be told) to fill her in on his 'surprise package' and he was sure that she – as he had the night before – assumed that what she saw was the real thing.
At the peak of its arc the Hush Puppy spun, its traditional rust and white colors bleeding together to become uniformly pink. It grew and flattened in the blink of an eye, mutating into the design its true function demanded.
The fleshy mass struck the pack of Death Eaters at the base of the stairway and expanded, stretching around them to capture the vast majority within the translucent membrane.
It happened quickly. One moment there was a horde of black-robed aggressors standing at the base of the stairs threatening pain and death; in the next there was only a harmless squirming blob.
Two Death Eaters were fortunate enough to have been standing just behind the others, and therefore escaped the Hush Puppy's snare. In unison they lunged forward, aiming their wands at Ron.
The next few moments were a blur to him. He'd had to pocket his wand in order to use both hands to retrieve the Hush Puppy from the rucksack, and so it was with a sort of helpless fascination that he watched the advance of the men who would kill him. They seemed to approach in slow motion, as if they were moving underwater; yet Ron felt the impotent defenselessness of a man marked for death. And there was no time left at all.
Then above him, behind him, he heard Hermione's voice chanting. At the exact same moment, another Death Eater surged into the room from the door at the top of the stairs, his wand pointed at the other two. As if through layers of cotton Ron heard him saying something too, but he couldn't make it out. His voice mingled with Hermione's and it was only when they finished that Ron comprehended they'd been saying the same spell.
A blue mist shot out from the tips of their wands, immediately streaming forward to swirl around the two remaining Death Eaters. The moment the mist touched them the masked men seemed incapable of lifting their arms. They staggered on their feet, swaying drunkenly before toppling over like felled trees. Each man stayed where he landed, snoring loudly. Belatedly, Ron recognized the sleep spell.
He stared at the robed man at the top of the staircase, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. A cute little puppy morphing into a big wad of chewing gum, sure. Hermione saving his life with a last-minute spell, of course. She'd done so before, and would no doubt do so again.
But Professor Snape? The same Professor Snape that they'd just heard interrogating the Stockwells? Death Eater Snape?
It appeared so, for as he walked down the stairs to meet them Snape removed his mask, revealing dark, burning eyes and the pale complexion of one who spent all of his time indoors. His black hair, as always, hung down around his face. "Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger. Still exhibiting blatant disregard for the rules, I see."
"You're undercover," Ron realized.
"And you could have jeopardized my entire mission!" Snape reprimanded.
"We didn't know you were here, Professor," Hermione explained.
"That's true," Snape conceded. "Which is why you're not supposed to go on missions against orders, Miss Granger."
Ron was proud when Hermione simply lifted her chin defiantly, not bothering at all to appear apologetic. "We had to find out if Harry was here. And if Dumbledore knew for a fact that he wasn't, he could've told us and avoided this whole thing."
"But then…" Ron said slowly, "then we wouldn't have been here to save the Stockwells and recover the device."
There was a moment of profound silence where not one of the four spoke.
"He knew we'd come," Hermione realized. "He couldn't expressly order it because of the other professors, but he knew we were going to come anyway, and didn't stop us." She looked at Snape. "You've been giving him reports."
"Since I arrived two days ago," Snape allowed. "But there was no way to free them without exposing my position. However, if a rescue attempt were launched, and they were able to escape…"
Ron nodded, understanding. "Then your secret is still safe."
He felt the tips of his ears tingle as he realized he'd jumped to utterly the wrong conclusion about the man. "I…I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I misjudged you. I thought you'd betrayed us."
Snape's gaze never wavered. Ron had never known it to. "Well, Mr. Weasley, since that's exactly what I want everyone to think, I can hardly blame you for it, can I?"
Hermione shifted her weight a little and Ron glanced up. He could see Ursula over Hermione's shoulder; both of them looked as if they were beginning to notice their cramped, uncomfortable surroundings. "Will you come with us, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"No," Snape said simply. "My mission is not yet complete. I'm far more valuable as a spy than a guide. I trust that you can find your own way out?"
Ron nodded again. "What about them?" he asked, indicating the fallen Death Eaters.
"They saw only you," Snape replied. "There will be no reason to suspect me. And if I know Lucius Malfoy, these men won't be around long enough to remember any differently."
Ron felt a chill creep up his back and saw Hermione swallow out of the corner of his eye. This was war, and of course they'd seen death. But Lucius Malfoy was a level of evil they hadn't really had to contend with, and Ron was just as glad that they wouldn't have to today.
"Well," he said, rather awkwardly, "we're off, then. Good…uh…good luck, Professor Snape."
Snape nodded to him and then spun to leave, his black cloak swirling behind him. Ron turned back to Hermione and saw that she was holding a hand out to help pull him into the pipe. A smile tugging at his lips, Ron took it.
VV
It was late when the knock came at Ron's door, and he mumbled as he kicked at the blanket he'd just pulled over himself. It had somehow become tangled around him over the past ten minutes, though, and proved to be a frustrating adversary. By the time he'd freed himself so that he could rise and open the door, the person waiting on the other side beat him to it.
From the bed Ron watched as Hermione poked her head into the room timidly. "Ron? Are you asleep?"
"No," he said, sitting up now. "Not yet. What's going on?"
She crept into the room, turning to shut the door quietly behind her. When she turned to face him again he was perplexed by the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. And although the inadequate light from the room's solitary candle was too dim to reveal whether or not she was blushing, something about her uneasy stance told him she was embarrassed. "Is everything all right?" he asked.
"I…I was wondering," she said. "If you wouldn't mind, that is…could I…stay here tonight?"
"With you," she added unnecessarily when Ron didn't respond immediately. "It's just that…Oh, I hate it. I hate needing to be with someone, like a child's safety blanket, but when I'm with you the nightmares aren't as horrid. I…I feel safe."
A warm feeling suffused through him at her words. She wanted him to stay with her, again. And okay, so it was just to keep the nightmares away, but he could do that. It was a hell of a lot better than nothing. At least she was coming to him, and not…
No, he wasn't going to go there. He wasn't going to ask her….
Damn it, he was.
"What about Viktor?" he gritted out. He felt like a wretch for asking, especially on the heels of her revealing declaration, but he had to know. "Doesn't he?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Viktor's not…"
Ron waited for the end to her sentence. What wasn't Viktor? Not here? Not available?
"He's not you," she finished.
The pleasing warmth deepened into a soothing balm. She was here because she wanted to be. She'd come to him instead of Viktor, and he was amazed by how much better he felt. As revealing as it was about his own insecurities, he was overwhelmingly reassured to know that he had something with Hermione that Viktor could never have. He looked up to find Hermione watching him curiously, now. "Why would you think that?" she asked.
"Well," Ron started, then cleared his throat. "It's just….you know…you did spend all day yesterday with him."
"Only because you left me behind," Hermione pointed out.
Ron opened his mouth to argue the point, but Hermione saw it. "Stop!" she said, laughing a little. "I didn't come here to get into a row. I…actually, I wanted to apologize."
"For what?" Ron wanted to know.
"For…well, for the argument in the dining hall the morning after we got here, and…things like that. I know that you were just trying to protect me. I knew that even then, I just…"
Here she paused, obviously forcing herself to keep her eyes on his, even though it was difficult while saying what she was. "I just…you're the only person I've ever cared about who hasn't left, or been taken from me, Ron. And it felt like you were trying to shake loose of me, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."
"Hermione!" Stunned by her misconception, he shifted over toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled her down next to him and he faced her. "Hermione, that wasn't what I was trying to do at all."
"I know," she said with a fragile smile. "I do, now. After you let me go with Ursula to get the device at Captarum I realized that. Your trust in me was never an issue…I only thought it was. And it wasn't that you didn't want me with you, you just wanted to keep me safe."
Ron swallowed the thick lump in his throat, and couldn't keep himself from gently grazing the back of his fingers across her cheek. "That's all I ever wanted, 'Mione."
His touch encountered a tear, and he wiped it away. It really bothered him that even for a little while she'd thought he wanted to leave her behind. Something had to be done to rectify that. He had to…convince her, somehow. And he thought he knew how.
"You know," he said quietly, letting his hand fall to take one of hers. His other hand rose to rest on top. "You said something last night, in your sleep. You were starting to have another nightmare."
Hermione's gaze was fixed on his hands holding hers. "What did I say?" she whispered.
He traced a light pattern on the back of her hand with his thumbs. "You called my name out. And then you said 'don't leave me'."
He watched her face closely, saw the tears begin to collect in her eyes. "And do you want to know what I said?" he asked gently.
She nodded.
"I said I'd never leave you," Ron told her.
Finally, the water standing in her eyes became too heavy to remain. With her next blink two identically glistening tears spilled over onto her cheeks, then ran down her face to drop from her chin. "You can't promise something like that," she said softly.
"I do," he said firmly.
"The future could bring anything, Ron," she reminded him, but he could see that her heart wasn't in it. She wanted to believe him. He wanted her to.
He lifted one hand to her face again, a finger under her chin tilting her head up so that she'd look at him. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and she watched him with more emotion on her face than he'd ever seen. He'd seen passion before, when she spoke of things she felt strongly about. He'd seen fear, each time they faced down some new foe. He'd seen excitement, and amusement, courage and rebuke. But he'd never seen quite this expression before. Not aimed at him.
With a sense of wonder he looked back at her, his thumb inching up to skim lightly over her lips. She parted them on a gasp, and Ron stopped, teetering on the brink. He felt the yawing of potential before him. He sensed that…hell, he was pretty sure that if he kissed her right then, she'd kiss him back. And he really, really wanted to kiss her.
But not if he couldn't be sure why she was returning his kiss, he realized. And he knew he'd need that. He couldn't accept anything less.
And so he let his hand continue up to the side of her head, his fingers curling back around her neck. When he propelled her toward him he simply rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.