Chapter Eight

Forbidden

I stumbled into 12 Grimmauld Place that night, barely awake. I very nearly fell over the doorstep, staggering as though drunk, when a warm voice said, "None of that, now," and there was an arm to cling to. The door shut behind me, and I closed my eyes for a moment when the lights came on; they were too bright, too painful to bear. "Hermione," that voice said again, "are you alright?"

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to look into Remus Lupin's warm, kind face and nodded.

Just looking at his former student nearly sapped all of his strength. Her face was suddenly haggard, worn; she had obviously been through a rough day. It looked as though she could barely keep her eyes open, but already she was straightening up, fighting off her exhaustion. She looked terribly troubled. He wondered, briefly, what it was that their enemy had asked her to do. "I'm fine," she said firmly, even though she looked far from fine.

"Hermione?" a hesitant voice said, and I turned to see Ron, standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking in concern at me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded firmly, trying to dispel my sense of worry. "I'm alright. Is most of the Order here? I have news."

Lupin nodded, and the three of us walked to the kitchen; by the looks of it, most of the Order was still there, including Snape. For a moment I met his eyes across the room and then looked away. I didn't want to do what he had done, but now I was given no choice. The room fell quiet when we walked in; the door banged shut behind us, sounding terribly ominous.

From all over the room, the Order silently assembled at the long kitchen table, and I sat down, too, next to Ron and across from Malfoy, who was glaring in the opposite direction, apparently still miffed about the night before. The night before…it seemed like an eternity ago by now.

As soon as they had finished seating themselves, I began to speak.

"It's worse than we thought."

Just that one sentence was greeted by sounds of unease and unrest; Lupin shushed them all and it was quiet again.

"Lord Verloren has a very strong tactic built up, as it would happen. His one mistake that I can see is that it will all fall if he falls. He has far too few trusted advisors, and even I don't know all of his plans. If we managed to kill him, the organization falls with him into chaos. I believe he's mortal…from what I can gather from his mind it seems as though he himself has killed few people…"

"We're dealing with a mortal," Tonks said in relief, leaning back in her chair. "That makes things so much less complicated."

I raised a hand. "I agree, he is not Voldemort," I said softly, and saw, out of the corner of my eye, Malfoy twitch slightly at the name. "But he may be worse."

This sentiment was greeted by something much less than enthusiastic. "How so?" Mad-Eye grunted. "He's mortal, isn't he? Has he got many followers?"

I shook my head. "It's not that. It's that he's mortal is what I'm worried about. It's like he doesn't feel threatened at all. He seems so completely at ease; when he's mulling over his plans it's almost as if he's a child playing a board game. It's as though he doesn't consider us opposition at all. And he knew, strangely enough, that the Order was back together. I mentioned that we might be a problem and he waved it off, saying we needn't worry about the Order." I looked down at my hands.

"That's where you come in, isn't it," Malfoy said bitterly.

I was silent a moment. It seemed that the whole room was holding its breath. "He wants me to spy," I said slowly. "On the Order."

"I thought he didn't consider us a threat," Mr. Weasley said mildly, though he looked worried.

"As long as he knows what's going on, he doesn't consider us a threat," I said softly. "He's not going for the grand affect like Voldemort did; he's going for subtly, for stealth, for sowing fear in the Wizarding world and the Muggle world before we even know what we're afraid of. You know the kind…the steps you think you hear on the stairs at night…the unexplained murders in the newspapers…the freak disappearance of Ministry members…the collapsing of new Muggle technology…the destruction of things we take for granted…it's all about fear with him, even more than it was with Voldemort."

My news was greeted with silence. "Do you know what his first strike is going to be?" Snape asked then, his voice quiet.

I looked up from my hands to stare into the blackness of his eyes. "Yes," I mumbled.

"Well?" Ron prompted. I noted that his face had gone very pale.

"Big Ben," I muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "He's going to collapse the clock tower at twelve noon. Tomorrow."

I sat down in the darkness of my old bedroom, not bothering to light a lamp. The dim light from the hallway was enough. I pulled a pillow to my chest and squeezed it tight, bracing my forehead against it as I turned the stone over and over in my mind, looking for a way to fix this terrible mess. The murmuring, subdued voices of the Order drifted up from downstairs, and for a moment I let my mind sweep blank, but only for a minute. Then I replaced the pillow and looked up, blinking slightly, to see something glittering on the bedside table.

For a moment I stared at it, frowning, listening carefully for the sound of anyone approaching. Then I reached out and pulled it toward me. It was a black, leather-bound book of some sort, and the lock on it was what was glittering. The lock, however, was undone. Curious, I opened it to the front cover. In dark green ink, in the top left-hand corner, was written in oddly slanting script, Draco Malfoy.

I froze, frowning even harder. Then my curiosity overwhelmed me; I turned to the first page.

I left the Wizarding world today.

It was easier than I'd expected it to be. I had nothing left, anyway. With both Father and Mother dead…the war over and nothing left to fight…it wasn't like I exactly had a life there anymore or anything.

I flipped through several more entries, spaced few and far between over the past couple of years, and found one that was dated from a couple of months ago.

I ran into Hermione Granger today.

She doesn't seem to have changed much except that she looked tired. I heard that she left our world, too, after Potter died. She was dressed in Muggle clothing, anyway. Somehow she was quicker to argue than usual now, too, as though she's just been waiting for someone to dig her claws into. Lucky for her it was me she ran into. We have excuses to argue with one another. Since when have Gryffindor and Slytherin not argued with each other? It's a law. They used to be best mates and all that about a thousand years ago, but it didn't end so well, did it?

The next entry was far longer.

I went to tell Granger today that we had to go back to the Wizarding world and rejoin the Order, that there was a Third War. I expected her not to like it or anything, but I thought she'd be glad for an excuse to finally come back. I certainly wasn't, I can tell you that much.

I don't even know what happened while I was there. All of a sudden I realized after I Apparated away that I'd called her by her first name. I nearly splinched myself when I realized what had happened. How could I have possibly let that slip? I've called her Granger, filthy Mudblood since we walked through the doors of Hogwarts. Having to come back to my world is unhinging me. Next thing you know they'll send me to some Muggle psychiatrist.

I stuffed my fist into my mouth to keep from laughing. The next entry sobered me up a great deal. He'd crossed each starting point out for some reason. I read through the lines.

I don't know what's going on. I was injured by the Mark Granger received and she What just happened? I spent the night sleeping on a couch with a filthy

What am I doing or thinking lately? I don't even know where to

It's forbidden, what I've just done, what I've just allowed to

Finally I came to a point where the words weren't crossed out.

I don't know what happened or why I feel so shaky. I can't believe I let myself be so vulnerable in front of her, in front of that filthy…

I don't understand why she didn't gloat. She's above that, I'll bet she thinks. Well, I'll show her. That's the last time I let something like that happen.

I closed the book with a sickened feeling in my stomach. I didn't need to read anymore of that. I replaced it on the bedside table, and just in time; suddenly, there were footsteps on the stairs. I threw myself across the bed and closed my eyes, trying to breathe deeply.

The footsteps paused outside the open door. I cursed myself for not having closed it. "Granger."

Malfoy.

I lifted my head and looked at him, trying to discern his features. The hauteur wasn't in place. He looked almost as he had the night before, but a bit stronger, a bit more unwilling to let anything out. "What do you want, Malfoy?" I asked coldly, purposely turning away from him to glare at the wall opposite me.

I felt him hesitate, and then he walked inside the room and sat down on the bed. I glanced at him in surprise. He wasn't looking at me, choosing to stare at his hands instead. They were shaking.

"Malfoy, what?" I asked again, my voice not so cold this time.

He looked up at me. "You weren't supposed to be a double spy," he said in a low, strained face. "Aren't you afraid?"

I shook my head, leaning back against the headboard. "I don't have anything to be afraid of anymore. I survived the last war; I'm sure I'll make it through this one."

"Gryffindor through and through," he said bitterly.

I shrugged. "They share more traits in common than you'd guess, Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"The Lion and the Snake, have something in common?" he scoffed. "You must be joking."

"They used to be best friends, you know."

"Yeah? And?"

"So they were both incurably stubborn. As you've just demonstrated most excellently."

He jerked his head up and stared into my eyes for a moment. For some reason, I felt my heart almost skip a beat. "Did you," he said in a low voice, "just call me stubborn? What about you, Granger? Has there ever been a time when you've backed down from a challenge? You're pretty stubborn, too, if I may say so myself."

I glared at him. It sounded like he was hiding a smirk behind his voice. "I'm sure you could name one if you tried," I said coolly.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said casually.

"Demonstrating again how excellently stubborn you are, Malfoy."

His face flushed, incredibly, and he fired back, "You're demonstrating it yourself, Granger."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Now, why on Earth would I do that?" he remarked. "You didn't used to rise to the bait so easily when we were in school."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've changed," I said shortly. "As I recall, you wouldn't dare let a conversation with a Mudblood like me run this long. Even if it was an argument…"

"Don't say that."

I glanced up. His face looked slightly stricken. "What? Mudblood? You used to delight in calling me that."

He cringed. "And so maybe I was wrong."

I stared at him in amazement. "Well, this is a revelation," I said, sitting up, taking my back away from the headboard. "Draco Malfoy, admitting that he is wrong."

"Yes, well, weren't you always the one who went around believing anything is possible?" he said irritably.

"I've really seen it all now."

"Dammit, Granger, can you let it go?"

I shook my head, smiling now. How I enjoyed toying with people's minds. "It's so fun to torment people."

"You understand my position, then."

What I realized about his position was that, somehow, he was closer to me than before. My heart raced. "Remember last night?" I asked quietly.

He started, anger flaring up in his eyes. "What about it?"

Softly, I said, "You don't have to be afraid of being vulnerable. Everyone knows pain, Malfoy. Everyone. You don't have to lock it inside. And just because I was in Gryffindor doesn't mean that we have to be enemies forever."

He was leaning forward, and so was I; even as he whispered, "Shut up, Granger, just shut up," his face was so close to mine that I could see every sparkle in his grey eyes, and then his hand was coming around to cradle the back of my head and our lips, very suddenly, met.

All I was aware of was sinking slowly back onto the bed as he kissed me, my arms around his neck, his hand cradling my head and his other arm around my waist. Then, just as abruptly, it was over, and there were footsteps coming up the stairs. He broke away from me as suddenly as we'd come together, threw me a glance, and said bitterly, "The Lion and the Snake, friends? That's forbidden."

With a loud crack, he Disapparated, leaving me sitting there, stunned, listening to the footsteps coming up the stairs.