Chapter content warning: reproductive coercion.
Hermione and Harry woke with a start two days later before dawn, terror gripping them as the front door opened and the cursed figure of Dumbledore rushed the people there, so early in the morning. She stood with Harry at the top of the stairs in their pyjamas, wands aimed at the entrance.
"It's us!" Ron called. "It's me and Lupin!" Her heart soared and hand weakened, aiming at the curtains to shut Sirius' cursed mother up. Harry, however, stepped forward, wand arm rigid and face hard.
"Show yourself!" he shouted. "Prove your identities!"
Lupin stepped forward under the gas lamps, hands held high.
"I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map –"
Harry moved his wand to Ron, who was looking much more annoyed than Remus, staring between her and Harry.
"I'm Ron Weasley. And I fought with you both about Viktor Krum at Bill and Fleur's wedding."
Harry had not mentioned this, she thought, as he lowered his wand and greeted them both properly. Was it self-centered to jump to thinking it was about her? She supposed it might have been about Ginny, given Viktor and her were talking when Ron decided he wanted to argue.
They went down to the basement kitchen, Hermione boiling water in a kettle for tea.
"No sign of Snape, then?" Remus asked them both.
"No," Harry replied. "What happened? Is everyone ok? We got your Dad's Patronus message, Ron."
"Yeah, but everyone's being watched," Ron said, eyes darting to the edge of his vision, towards the front of the house. "We had to Apparate directly onto the front step to avoid the Death Eaters they've got out front for you guys."
Harry and Hermione had seen them, too. Harry looked at her.
"We didn't think of Apparating to the front step. We approached from a distance via muggle transport," he said, giving Hermione a shadow of a look. The look that meant he disapproved of how she had blasted her way through Death Eaters to get him here.
"You got past them to get in?" Remus asked, looking concerned and surprised.
"Not here. They found us two roads over," Hermione said. "Coming from different directions."
Lupin looked aghast as she stood back up to pour their tea. "But that would mean –"
"- they can track us, somehow," Harry said. "I know. Do you know of any ways they might be doing it? Hermione has a couple of ideas, but we're not sure."
Lupin looked back at her, surprised. "How do you think they're doing it?" he asked, tone urgent.
Here we go. Mind empty. "Well – my first idea was that there's something going on with Harry's Trace," she started. "He's only –"
"Impossible," Remus said, shaking his head. "The Trace breaks on everyone on their seventeenth birthday."
"Some muggleborns have had problems with the Ministry after their seventeenth birthday, but while they're still at school," she persisted. "Does that not mean it's possible the Trace could be extended?"
Remus shook his head firmly. "That'll be because of a lag time in the Improper Use of Magic Office, rather than the Trace," he said. "They can't alter the Trace to affect just Harry; it's a universal charm." Harry looked very relieved.
"The other – well, it's only something I've read about in the library," she hedged. "Have you heard of a Taboo Jinx?"
Remus and Ron looked lost.
"It's a different form of Trace," she said, heart beating painfully hard as she half-lied. "It theoretically can trace particular spells or words, rather than all magic in a particular age group."
"But how would that lead them to you so quickly after leaving?" Ron asked. "What word – oh."
Ron suddenly shut up, looking apprehensively at Lupin while they were all thinking of the word horcrux.
"I don't think we said that word," Hermione replied cryptically. "But Harry and I don't tend to call him You-know-who."
Remus looked unwell. "That…that would be a cunning way to rat out resisters," he said.
Hermione nodded. "Power that muggle dictators could only dream of. And if they're combining it with knowledge of muggle places from the Improper Use of Magic Office – Harry and I Apparated to a church I know in Finsbury. There probably aren't wizards living around there."
Remus looked around at the basement ceiling. "I suppose such a tracking charm wouldn't break protective spells," he said.
She nodded. "Well, if I'm right, it doesn't seem so. We've said – uh, lots of things here, that he might have Tabooed," she said, looking back at Harry and Ron. "But no Death Eaters have made it in the front door yet."
"But it's just a theory," Harry said, turning back to Remus. "Do you know of any other ways they might be tracking us?" Harry asked Remus. He shook his head.
"Basic Tracking Charms are hard to apply and easy to break – so it won't be that. Aside from the Trace…" Remus looked around at them all.
"Well. You know what happened to my friends in the First War, Harry. I know what you'll all say. But do not be blind to signs that someone close to you has betrayed you."
Hermione tried her hardest not to swallow or avert her gaze, but she didn't need to worry. Harry reacted so physically to Remus' very sensible suggestion that it drew all eyes to him, clicking his tongue and shoving his body back from the table to get up and actually walk away from Remus.
"There's no way, Lupin," Harry said, staring resolutely at a corner of the kitchen.
"I agree it's not likely, Harry. But do not close yourself off to the possibility," Remus said. Hermione looked in his face; his gaze was sad and far away. "James and Lily might still be here, if only we had considered unpleasant possibilities."
Ron turned to her, clearly keen to change the subject. "How did you get past the Death Eaters that ran into you?" Ron asked. Harry looked to Hermione again, with a reproachful look that reminded her of Hedwig.
"They didn't approach us together," she eventually said, jaw clenching in anger at Harry's silent judgment from his surly corner of the kitchen. "We had Stunned Dolohov before Rowle found us. Harry had the Invisibility Cloak on, so we had a big advantage."
"You did well to escape Dolohov. I'm not familiar with Rowle," Remus said. "What does he look like?"
"Huge guy. Blond," Harry said. Recognition popped in Remus' eyes.
"That's the Death Eater who tried to kill me at the Astronomy Tower," he said. "But his Killing Curse hit another Death Eater instead. Seemed fairly thick."
"Maybe you should have left him alive, Hermione," Harry said cuttingly, walking back to sit tensely at the end of the table. "Sounds like you did Voldemort a favour."
Ron turned to look at her again, like after they had got Harry to Surrey, but Remus merely sipped his tea.
"And Dolohov?" he asked, mild as ever.
Hermione looked at Harry stonily. "Killed him with a muggle weapon. The fighting had attracted muggle attention, I wasn't sure if the Death Eaters or muggles would get there first to clean up."
"You probably saved a lot of lives, Hermione," Remus said kindly, glancing at Ron. "He committed some brutal murders in the First War. He would have done so again."
Ron did not say anything, and Harry looked quite ready to move the conversation on from how justified Hermione was in her actions.
"What happened after we left?" Harry asked. "Last we saw, Death Eaters were entering the wedding tent."
"Most people were able to Disapparate," Ron said. "We stuck around – they questioned us for hours. They weren't sure you had been there, Harry, so the disguise worked."
"And they kicked their way into any Order-related house in Britain that wasn't under a Fidelius Charm," Remus added. "Poor Ted Tonks caught a Crucio, but no deaths. They burnt down Dedalus Diggle's house, but he's in a secret safe house with your aunt and uncle, Harry, as you know. They were just looking for you."
"Are they just openly saying they want to hand Harry over to Voldemort?" Hermione asked. Remus looked at Ron, who had a distasteful expression on his face.
"Well – no," Remus said, pulling a Daily Prophet out of his coat. "This is the excuse they're giving."
Hermione looked over it with Harry, trying to remember what a surprised gasp sounded like so she could fake shock. But she didn't need to – the excuse was possibly the worst thing they could have come up with, making her exclaim in disgusted anger. WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, the Prophet screamed. They had printed Harry's mugshot from when the Wizengamot had processed him in the summer of 95, the beasts. 10,000ʛ FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO ARREST.
She looked to Harry, feeling a sympathetic stab in her chest for his pain, all annoyance forgotten.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus said.
"And you, Hermione," Ron said roughly, turning the page quickly as though to get this over with.
Draco had been too polite, she immediately realised. As she leaned forward in the photo, her slip dress shifted and you could see right down it, Fleur's charm working harder than if she had breast implants. They hadn't even bothered with an excuse for her – Voldemort wasn't concerned with killing her himself, she supposed, unlike Harry. MUGGLE WITCH ON RUN AFTER AUROR MURDER – 5,000ʛ REWARD. There it was, "muggle witch", her favourite dog whistle.
"Lovely," she said briskly.
"You're a, er, bit of a poster girl for the anti-muggleborn moves the Ministry is now making," Remus said diplomatically.
"You look like a slut, Hermione," Ron said, much more straight-forward.
"Yes, thank you, Ronald," she said, sweeping past Ron's terrible attitude. "'Muggle-born Register'," she read aloud, her lip curling. "Well, that didn't take long."
"No," Remus agreed.
"So is every muggleborn now on the run?" Harry asked. "Surely no one is actually handing themselves into the Ministry?"
Ron shook his head. "You'd be surprised. Dad says they're acting nice, to get people in the door."
"People are scared," Remus said, a strange apologetic or pitying tone in his voice. "To think you can attend an unpleasant interview with the government to clear up a misunderstanding, and life would go back to normal? Very tempting for many. And people are being mostly let go – at this stage."
"Not before they've handed over their address and ratted out all the other muggleborns they know," Ron said, expression very dark. "I couldn't believe it either, when Dad told me. He reckons it won't go on much longer, all the compliant, scared muggleborns will be processed soon. Then they'll start going after those who didn't turn themselves in."
"What about muggleborns at Hogwarts?" she asked. "Or muggleborns who are of age for enrolment?"
"Nothing yet," Remus said, circling a finger around the edge of his mug. "But he wouldn't want to move too fast. There's weeks to go before Hogwarts starts for the year. You don't go after children first," he said, teeth and gums visible in his anger, "when you start a genocide."
"And he killed Scrimgeour," Harry said thoughtfully. "We talked about that – did he try to Imperius him? Surely the take-over would go better with the same Minister in charge of such a shift in the Ministry?"
"Dad heard a rumour they tried to torture your location out of Scrimgeour," Ron said, looking paler than usual. "They might have got carried away."
"Aurors are trained in suicide tactics," Remus said, rather casually. "He would have had a lot of information Voldemort wanted. Once he was surrounded, death would have been his goal, to prevent what he could from falling into Voldemort's hands."
This made Hermione feel very queasy about the information she held: about the horcruxes, about Harry, about the turncoat Death Eater at Voldemort's table. She looked up at Ron, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Should they be preparing suicide options in case they were surrounded? She thought of the heinous men bragging about reanimating her dead body for their own disgusting ends and ground her teeth.
Hermione didn't want to die. But if she was going to, she wasn't going to give those sick fucks the satisfaction of her corpse. Some sort of explosive, then…
She broke out of her grim train of thought, realising she'd missed some of the conversation.
"…some evil stuff, Lupin," Harry was saying, looking blankly at his mug of cold tea. "And we don't know enough about his methods in the First War."
"Yeah?" Ron said. "If you're cool with it. I think it's a great idea."
"One of you can have my room," Harry said, standing up. "I was gonna move to Sirius' old room anyway. Oh, yeah, check out this photo I found, Lupin…"
Remus actually laughed as he saw the photo Harry had retrieved. Ron looked at her and smiled, though it seemed a little forced.
"So! Four of us, now," he said.
That was what she missed after zoning out for a second? She looked up at Remus, who actually seemed happy, for once. He reminded her irresistibly of Sirius, and how he and Harry would become the only two people in a room full of friends.
Well. It was Harry's mission. His call, she supposed. And Remus was far more experienced than them all.
"Yeah," she said, smiling back.
Though the morning started more formally and historically, reviewing Death Eater and Voldemort tactics in the First Wizarding War, by the afternoon it had given way to reminiscing about James, Sirius and Lily. Harry hung onto every word and Hermione wondered how much his and Remus' dementor lessons in third year had followed this same pattern.
By that evening the liquor was flowing; Remus had left and returned with muggle and magical alcohol, and was determinedly trying to recreate some sort of hybrid cocktail Lily would sometimes brew at parties in the 1970s Gryffindor common room. It was like a much more wholesome Room of Requirement, she decided. You didn't need to worry that someone was suddenly going to start fighting you.
"Remus, I don't know how to say this," she said after he shoved a third glass of the concoction in her face. "But Lily's cocktail tastes like total cat piss."
He howled with laughter, wiping his eyes. "That's cause Lily came from a total shithole in the Midlands," he said, sighing. "The only good thing to come out of Cokeworth." The laughter faded from his face, his eyes strangely blank and far, far away.
Hermione looked around – Harry had left to try and load a drunk and passed-out Ron into bed. "I was thinking – you know what you said earlier, about Auror suicide tactics?" she asked. "Do you know much about them? I'd be keen to think about those tomorrow."
Remus sipped his terrible, nostalgic drink. "You're the flintiest of you three, Hermione," he commented. "Because you understand…what it means, to be hunted by the institutions around you."
She downed Lily's terrible drink and poured the Irish whiskey Remus had brought into her empty glass. Draco's preferred poison. "I don't know about that," she mumbled. "It's different being a muggleborn to a werewolf."
"Growing up mixed-race in Britain can't have been fun and games," he said, finishing Lily's drink.
"It…was probably more miserable than Hogwarts," she said, thinking about it for a moment. Remus suddenly slammed his glass down, putting his head in his hands.
"Remus?" she asked, standing up shakily to sit beside him. "What's wrong?" He didn't reply for a moment, instead tensing his fingers into his greying hair and pulling hard.
"What do I do, Hermione," he said quietly, voice wavering. "She won't terminate."
She felt her whole body freeze up; even the air in the room seemed to get very still.
"Tonks?" she breathed.
"I should never have married her," he said, only raising his head to shake it. "All I ever do is make enormous mistakes."
"Remus," she said blankly.
"It's – it's going to be like me, I know it. I'm no better than Greyback. I'm worse," he spat, "making her carry a fucking werewolf for nine months –"
She jumped as the door to the drawing room slammed open; Harry stood there, absolutely furious.
"Harry –"
"This is why you're here?" he said loudly. "Because you couldn't coerce your wife into aborting your unborn kid?"
Remus jumped up. His face had never looked so ugly, all the kindness in it gone.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said viciously.
"You take Hermione aside to whisper about how to kill someone who is discriminated against in the womb?" Harry shouted. "You're sick."
"Harry – no –" she said, trying to stand up as steadily as she could with a stomach full of whiskey.
"Maybe because Hermione can make hard decisions," Remus said, his scabbed fists clenched. "Unlike you."
Oh god. She stumbled in between them, vaguely hoping to stop a physical or magical fight from breaking out.
"Wow. I guess Voldemort doesn't need Death Eaters with people like you around, Remus," Harry said. It was horrific; they were both usually so kind that when they tried to hurt it was truly painful.
"How dare you," Remus hissed, but Harry just laughed dangerously, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I'd have never believed this," he said, a disgusted sneer plastered on his face. "The man who taught me to fight dementors – a coward."
There was a sudden movement past her and a bang; Harry was sent flying into the wall, as Remus shoved her out of the way as he left the room. Hermione pushed herself back up, stumbling over to the stairwell.
"Remus!" she yelled, leaning over the banisters – but it was too late. He was out of the front door with a slam.
Blinking dumbly, Hermione tripped back into the drawing room, where Harry was picking himself up off the floor.
"Did – did he hurt you?" she asked. Harry was still shaking, but she thought it might have been anger rather than pain.
"What the fuck is wrong with him," Harry side stepped, not looking at her. They stood there for a few seconds, silent and miserable.
"I – I think he's – very stressed, Harry," she said tentatively.
"Don't make excuses for him," Harry snapped. "There's no excuse for what he's doing."
She wasn't sure she could argue with him. What would be the use, anyway? He shrugged out of her attempt to pat his back and left the room. After a few moments of staring at the empty bottles and glasses, she followed him out, locking herself in her bedroom and waiting for Draco to respond to her magical message.
What's wrong? he replied, quickly enough that she was still soaking in whiskey and complete depression.
There's some miserable choices being contemplated under the Dark Lord, she sent back. But this didn't seem to engender any sympathy in Draco.
No fucking shit, Granger, he replied mulishly.
My friend is trying to convince his wife to end their pregnancy, she said, deciding not to talk around it. Because their baby would be in danger under Voldemort.
His reply was fast and rather uncaring. He's not wrong about the danger. Shit sucks.
Hermione closed her eyes; it was too horrible to think of. You would do the same thing? she asked.
He didn't reply for a minute. Do we need to torture ourselves with hypotheticals? his response eventually glowed. There's enough of it without seeking it out.
That was an interesting way to approach it. Hermione couldn't help but dwell on it, even if she wanted to not think about it.
I don't know what I would do, she sent. Maybe that was why she couldn't stop thinking about it – she was stuck in a loop.
I know what I would do, Draco replied. I would die because I would beg you to leave Potter's mission and I bet you still wouldn't do it.
Hermione snorted. Straight-forward enough, she etched back. Moral dilemma resolved. She didn't know how, but his bad joke had made her feel a tiny bit lighter.
Oh, I saw that Prophet article by the way, she said, remembering the paper from earlier. You were very polite to not mention that everyone in Wizarding Britain got an eyeful.
Pansy was bitching about it to me today, he wrote, kindly sidestepping the sloppiness. So jealous she's seeking out a human transfigurer.
Normally it would have been hilarious to hear this. But it reminded Hermione of tiny Pansy emerging from behind Crabbe and Goyle, a too-alert expression on her pug face.
I need to tell you something about Pansy, she sent back reluctantly. I ran into your lot on the train home and said something stupid.
The bangle lit up again after a moment. When someone as smart as you does something stupid, it tends to be a big problem, Draco said, making her feel even more apprehensive. She didn't want another lecture. Hopefully he would just let it go and be ready for any weird comments Pansy would make…
I asked them if they missed you, she scratched back, as quickly as she could do get it over with. I didn't mean to. I said it without thinking. Sorry.
Her bangle remained still for two long minutes, enough time to give up and go find some water to start drinking so hopefully the punishment tomorrow morning for all the drinking tonight would be less severe. Finally, it warmed against her wrist again.
Were you just planning on not saying anything if Pansy didn't come up?
Hermione winced. I don't know, she lied. I was busy banishing my parents when it happened. That was technically true.
Terrible fucking habit, Granger, he scolded through the bangle. Anything else you're hiding that I should know about?
That there was no other spy, and he was all alone in Voldemort's inner circle? That Ron was now here, calling her names when he wasn't avoiding her? That Remus poured his self-loathing poison down her throat, along with countless drinks and sad memories?
I don't know, she wrote back weakly. Don't try to find the other spy, she decided to land on. It's not who or what you think.
You don't know what I think, he wrote back quickly. Tell me the truth. Are you sleeping with them?
That was what he was worried about? No. They've got nothing to do with me, she sent back. I've never even met them.
She frowned. Was he projecting? Are you sleeping with someone else? she sent into the void.
Why? he asked quickly. Would you care if I was?
There he was again – the piece of shit Malfoy that she, Harry and Ron had all hated since first year. God, she missed slapping the sneer off his smug face.
I've killed three Death Eaters. If you've got a side piece they'll never find the body, she sent back angrily.
Good thing I've got an Unbreakable Vow tying your hands, then, her bangle gleamed arrogantly.
It says nothing about making your life miserable, you enslaving bastard, she wrote back, starting to shake. The Vow gives you one safe priority only. I'll slit your parents' throats myself. Draco's confession in the Room of Hidden Things, the only three people he cared for counted on his fingers, somehow twisted into something even worse than a plan to go on a school killing spree.
Well I guess you did already dig their graves, didn't you Granger? he snapped.
They did that THEMSELVES Malfoy, she wrote back quickly. With their incompetent hatred. She paced the room to try and work some of the agitation out. It was terrible to not have him in front of her so she could fight him with her fists.
Any more incompetent than your parents? he bit back. I'm getting rather good at killing muggles these days.
She swayed on the spot. It felt like he'd actually punched her in the chest. But Draco did not stop there:
I owe them a thank you for ruining my life anyway, putting you in front of me.
Hermione dropped the bangle into the abyss of her beaded bag and snapped it shut.
Author's note: wow who do u think will win cutest couple at the yule ball guys.
A lovely commenter said recently it's nice how they've transformed into a semi-healthy relationship – I'm really sorry about the absolute shit fight these two toxic assholes have in this chapter! Two steps forward one step back with these two.