Hiatus? Haha, I lied. Yeah, so, I guess all I needed was a jump start in the right direction. Hope you all enjoy the chapter. Review and stuff, but only if you've read.

Leather & Cigarettes
Chapter Four: restrictions and rings

The owl pecked at Hermione's window in the middle of the afternoon, a snowy bird the brunette recognized almost immediately as Hedwig. Surprised and slightly disconcerted, she stood from the couch and let the messenger in, petting her gingerly on the beak before taking the offered letter.

Don't leave the apartment again unless ordered. They're looking for you.

The parchment burst into flames only moments after her eyes slid over the last word. She swore as fire licked at her hands, and stamped it out on her carpeting. Hedwig hooted amusedly.

"I should have never taught him that spell," Hermione muttered angrily, casting a cleaning charm and low-scale healing spell on her hands. "And he has no right to boss me around." Hedwig looked at her reproachfully, and the brunette sighed. "All right, fine, I suppose he has some right. I know there's a good chance that they could follow me back home, even if I Apparate. But why is he so certain I can't take care of myself?"

The white bird cooed at her again, opening and closing its beak. Hermione couldn't help but smile lightly, and reached for the bag of owl treats hanging next to the window, letting Hedwig nip it from her fingers. "I doubt your master needs a reply, so I'll let you be on your way." The owl nipped at her fingers again affectionately before going out the window, into the overcast afternoon sky.

The brunette sighed again, rubbing her face with her hands. She knew how important her work was to the war – she was the only one willing and patient enough to invent new spells and research, after Lupin and Tonks died together in battle. Harry sent her almost daily reports on how her spells worked out, having no space of her own to test them out without damaging her apartment. She and Harry had both agreed that it would be better for her to stay where she was at all times, unless called upon by Harry himself or Hogwarts. It seemed logical enough – no one wanted the enemy to have the brains of their entire operation. And yet…

"And yet I'm basically suffocating in here," Hermione complained aloud, casting her eyes towards the scraps of parchment and open books and all the other objects that spoke of her solitude. "I understand how Sirius felt. And Harry should know how this feels, too. He was the one who had to be cooped up at the Dursleys every summer…"

Feeling restless now, she went to the kitchen to put on a kettle of tea. She rarely ate anymore; she didn't have the appetite. Though she wasn't on the actual battlefield, she had just a good idea as anyone how many bodies there were. She got a sick feeling in her stomach every time the owls came; the first to tell her there was to be a battle, the second to tell her who on their side had been killed or gone missing. But even if they went missing, she didn't try to give their families any hope. More than liking, those who had been captured were tortured to death, and then turned into Inferi.

Chamomile, she chose from her wide selection of teas. She needed to calm down. Getting upset over what was happening out there and her own situation was pointless, and she knew it. Harry was, after all, just looking after her – as a war leader and a friend. He didn't want her to be hurt just as much as she didn't.

But would it really be horrible to get out every once in a while? She remembered the last time she went out, and running into Ginny. She smiled in spite of herself. Though the outside encounter had led to a Death Eater attack, there really wasn't any reason to panic, in Hermione's opinion. Unless he had been sent specifically to find her…

She banished the uncomfortable thought from her mind and went back to thinking about Ginny. The redheaded woman was an amazing lover and a good companion. They'd always gotten along well. She didn't see why that would ever change. But it was getting harder and harder for her to beat down the feelings that threatened to erupt in her every time the redhead was near. She knew the dangers of attachment. She knew that Lavender and Ron had gotten into more scrapes than not simply because they were trying to save each other more than their other team mates. She knew they had been warned by Harry over and over again to not be so obvious. Ron was Harry's right hand man – and if Lavender was taken, or killed, it was clear that the red-haired male would try to save her, and what would happen then? Ron gone, probably killed by trying heroics or simply kept as ransom, Harry in a pinch, and there was no way Harry was ever going to let his best mate be killed by some lackey of Voldemort's. They would be sent back by leaps and bounds, maybe even defeated. Of course they would ask for Harry in place of Ron and Lavender. Harry would have no choice put to agree. Even now, he still left his emotions hanging on his sleeves, in his shining emerald eyes.

"But that doesn't mean the same thing will happen to Ginny and me," she said fiercely, slamming her mug down on the counter harder than necessary. "I mean, it's only her out in battle, not me, and I'm pretty safe up here in this apartment. There are ten different levels of protection on the walls and windows; my fireplace has restricted Floo connections and protections on that as well. And this apartment is Unplottable on magical maps. Only those who know exactly where it is can get in here. There's a very slim chance that--"

Hermione's rant was interrupted by a second pecking at her window. Frustrated and surly, the brunette practically stomped to the window, letting in a tawny-feathered owl with a scowl. "Battle, I assume?" she asked it, removing the roll of parchment.

Battle at 6p.m. at King's Cross. Ginny Weasley's Firebreathers to report to Headquarters at 5p.m. for specific instructions.

The more formal note was followed by the same chicken scratch of Harry's she had seen only half an hour ago:

Remember what I said about leaving.

This one didn't burst into flames. Hermione half-screamed in frustration, causing the owl to ruffle its feathers uncomfortably. She jabbed an owl treat at it, earning her a sharp bite from the beak's owner. It gave her a dirty look before flying away.

Hermione sucked at her bleeding wound in worry and frustration. Ginny was going to be fighting this evening. Ginny could be hurt, or killed; or even worse, captured. What would Hermione do then? What would Harry do? Ginny was important, but not important enough to risk the necks of ten people to rescue her. Of course Ginny must know that. Hermione knew it well enough. There had to be something she could do, there had to be…

"If I leave, I could be caught; not necessarily by Death Eaters, but by Harry," she whispered past her thumb, still tasting copper in her mouth. "He would skin me alive. I do important work. I can't throw it away just to personally protect Ginny; for the war, it's not worth it." She closed her eyes against the sting of truth in her eyes. "We said no attachments. They're too dangerous. But I couldn't help it…"

She opened her eyes and strode purposely towards her bedroom, not bothering to flick on the light switch. She pushed open the closet door and started sifting through the piles and piles of personal items she used specifically for her protection spells, things small enough to fit in pockets or on chains. There had to be something she could give Ginny, maybe even enough to give to everyone on her team…

"Aha!" she cried in triumph, finding a box of old rings. They were all simple bands in silver and gold, Claddaghs, gemstones, intricate Celtic knots. It wasn't out of the ordinary to wear rings, and she could charm them to be a perfect fit for whoever the wearer was.

She grinned, pleased with herself, and hauled the box back to the living room. There were forty in Ginny's group, as far as she could remember, though it wouldn't help to have extras, just in case… She sat herself down on the couch and started flipping through her old notes, finding her self-designed protection spells. She would make these all extra strong, send them to Harry, and be… mostly satisfied with her work.

She glanced at the time – two hours to go until their debriefing at headquarters. Brow furrowed and wand out, she began to work.

…

Hermione breathed heavily as she fell back onto the couch, wand slipping away from her fingers. Fifty sparkling rings twinkled up at her from the coffee table. Fifty, with only fifteen minutes to spare until five o'clock. She grinned tiredly and forced herself to stand. An owl would be less reliable for a job like this; it would be too easy to get lost or intercepted and her work would become worthless. No, she would simply have to deliver them herself – not a direct disobedience, but it would still rile Harry's feathers a little that she left without his permission. She grinned even wider and fluffed her hair a little, pulling it all into a bun on her head.

"Probably my best work yet," she preened to herself, scooping them all back into the box. She trotted to her bedroom and slipped on some shoes, humming happily to herself. "There's no way Harry can be angry." With that thought in her mind, she disappeared with a distinct crack.

She appeared again in Harry and Dumbledore's office, box under her arm. The two men were sitting at the table, surrounded by all the treasures and artifacts Dumbledore had collected during his life; in all honesty, it didn't look too different from his office at Hogwarts, though there was an obvious lack of portraits. Now, more than ever, they were careful about painted spies sneaking off to tell their secrets.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore greeted her pleasantly, a serene smile on his face. He didn't seem at all disconcerted that she had appeared; indeed, he looked rather pleased at her arrival. "Lovely to see you again."

She bowed her head in respect slightly, and returned his smile. "Professor," she said politely, then turned her attention to Harry. The young man looked like he hadn't slept in days, but that was common practice. His hair was horribly disheveled, as if he had just been flying, and his robes were haphazardly put on. She wondered, vaguely, if maybe they were getting closer… "I brought some new protection for the battle tonight."

Harry smiled, but it was small and barely stretched his lips. "For Ginny?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Hermione ignored him, but couldn't help the rise of a blush on her pale cheeks. "I've managed to perfect a detector for the Killing Curse," she continued, opening the top to show him the rings she had bewitched. "Each ring's centerpiece glows red and heats up when the Killing Curse is in close proximity – meaning, ten feet in radius or less. It occurs as soon as the curse is aimed, giving the wearer – hopefully – amble time to get out of the way." She cleared her throat; she really hated explaining her work to other people, even Harry. He always had a look of feigned interest on his face that drove her mad. "I've also managed to add a spell that lessens the pain and mental effects of the Cruciatus curse, and there's extra protection to block the use of the Imperius curse against the wearer."

"Are all other previous protections in place as well?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione nodded. "And strengthened from their former levels."

There was silence in the office for a while. Hermione was waiting for dismissal, but Dumbledore surprised her.

"I'm sure Harry will agree when I say that it will be difficult to relay all this information back again on our troops," the professor said kindly. "Therefore, I think it would be best for you to stay for an explanation in your own words of these bonuses, and through the battle so you may see for yourself how these have helped." The old man smiled brightly at her. "That will also eliminate the need to send about fifty different owls to your apartment tonight. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry nodded his affirmation, eyes watching Hermione with a curious and closed expression. He would, of course, know about her first encounter with Ginny outside the coffee shop, but maybe not the numerous other times Ginny had appeared at her apartment. She had made him promise not to send spies to her apartment at all times; it was embarrassing to hear sniggering every time she went in and out of the shower, and she'd boxed many a peeping-toms ears in who swore up and down they had been sent there for 'her protection'. But did Harry know how deep their affair had become?

"It's five," he said flatly, standing. "They should be here."

Hermione let out her held breath and followed Harry out the door, Dumbledore staying behind. She waved goodbye to him before the door shut, staring straight ahead as they walked down the hallway to the main conference room.

Headquarters was quite extensive. The Order of the Phoenix had spent months furnishing an old factory once Grimmauld Place became too small for their operations, but they hadn't wasted their time. It was fabulous and massive, filled with extensive rooms for combat training, stratagems, battle plans, weapons and spell testing, and hostages. There were also furnished quarters for those who didn't want to or simply had no choice but to stay there.

Ron greeted her animatedly when they arrived at the conference room, pulling her into a warm hug. His hair was just as shaggy as it had ever been at school, and his light blue eyes looked happy, but tired. He was lucky enough to still be in regular contact with his other living family members; Molly and Arthur even lived at headquarters, once the Burrow had become unsafe.

"New protection spells?" he asked brightly, rummaging in her box. "These are nice. You honestly keep this kind of stuff around the house?"

"That's my job, Ronald," she told him, in teasing exasperation. "I'm supposed to keep things like these around my house."

The joking came to a stop almost immediately, however. The troops had arrived.

Hermione felt it difficult to breathe when she saw Ginny walking calmly at the front, wand out. She was wearing the same leather jacket, the same dark jeans, the same beat-up shoes, but there was something different about her. Her eyes, usually blue-grey around Hermione, had darkened to indigo; she had a hard look to her face, as if nothing could stop her.

She couldn't help but watch her, begging for a sign of acknowledgement – and hating herself for her. She swore she saw Ginny's eyes flicker to her as Harry addressed them, talking objectives, saw the hunger and longing Ginny always portrayed in her eyes when she looked at her, but she didn't dare hope. There was too much at stake to hope.

"…Hermione Granger, our specialist in protection spells, has brought some upgraded items for you to wear during this battle," Harry finished, and gave Hermione a meaningful look. Feeling stupid for being so distracted, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"They're rings," she said, in an authoritative voice, coming to stand next to Harry. "Rather nondescript; they're meant to look like something you'd wear on a regular basis, not something the enemy should suspect as something magical. Therefore, in the case of your capture, the enemy will not remove this small piece of jewelry, and you will be able to block most forms of torture."

She went on to describe the new features, finding herself walking among them as she spoke, pulling out the rings and handing them to each person. The witches and wizards looked at them in surprise and interest, placing them on their fingers. When she reached Ginny, they locked eyes; Hermione could feel her pulse quicken. She pulled out a ring and slid it, gently, onto Ginny's ring finger, feeling it grow slightly in size to fit. "What do you think, captain?" she said softly.

Ginny's mouth twitched a little. "Have they been tested?" the redhead asked, though her voice was soft.

Hermione frowned. "Unfortunately, no," she replied, in a loud voice again, and pulled herself away from the woman. Ginny's hardened mask returned into place. "These rings have not been tested; I've only just finished them with precious minutes to spare before your arrival. However, I doubt that Harry or Dumbledore would be confident in giving them to you for your protection if they weren't confident in my abilities."

"But people have died under your protection," someone from the back called out, a bit nastily. A few murmurs of agreement flooded the room.

Hermione felt herself stiffen, guilt washing over her senses. She could feel her eyes go out of focus, all the lists of people she had received, the letters she had to write; it was the only reason why she had agreed to write them. She felt responsible for their deaths.

"You can't stop death if it's really after you," Ginny said flatly, over the small pockets of conversations. Everyone went still. "Nothing's fool-proof. This is the best she's given us to avoid Avada Kedavra. There's no warning, otherwise. I'd have to say that's a pretty good deal, and job well done on Hermione's part."

"So, basically, it's your own fault if you get squashed," said a cheerful voice close to Ginny. Many laughed.

"Like Ginny said, nothing's fool-proof," Hermione said, finding her voice again. "Obviously, you're going to have to pay attention and be cautious. If it's a question of your death over the enemy's, make it be theirs. There's no time for mercy anymore."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Prepare yourselves and head for King's Cross. You know what you have to do. Good luck."

Ginny spared Hermione a final glance before turning and following her troops out.

"Good luck," Hermione echoed softly.