Errol tapped against Harry's kitchen window for the third time that week. Hermione was ready to stun the damn bird. Staying in one place already made her anxious, and the owl showing up every other day didn't help. She wanted to move, find a new safe house and disappear again, but the information Kingsley was gathering and passing along was far more important than her nerves.
The owl ultimately gave up its mission of gaining entry and dropped the letter in the garden box. Judging by the collection of damp letters they discovered, the poor owl had been making rounds to the flat every other day since the Sunday after Harry disappeared.
"Molly again?" Hermione asked, eyes still skimming the report in front of her.
"Yeah." He sat heavily in the seat next to her and propped his feet up on the coffee table as he read the letter. It was the same as the last, and the one before that. And the one before that. The guilt tightened in his throat reading how distressed Molly and the rest of the family were over his disappearance.
"I think I should go see them," he offered, eyeing Hermione nervously. "She's not meaning to, I know she's just worried, but this is drawing too much attention."
Hermione hummed but continued her reading rather than the conversation.
"I think you should come with me."
Her eyes snapped up from the file to him, trying to find the punchline.
"Why?" The question came out harsher than she intended, but Hermione also did not look forward to a lecture from the Weasley matriarch.
"They're family."
"To you," she corrected, then turned back to the file. "They're family to you, not to me."
"What are you talkin-" The file smacked against the table as Hermione threw it in frustration at the continued argument. She didn't have time for petty arguments.
"Did you know I never received a Christmas sweater?"
Harry's jaw clenched. Even though she never wore a Weasley sweater, he always assumed Hermione had at least received one. Just as he had every year.
"Not a single one," she continued, meeting his bewildered gaze. "Not even the year I stayed at Grimmauld. It didn't matter that I always kept my mouth shut and never argued with her. I was never family to her. I'm not even sure she liked me much. You were family, Harry. Part of the family she was so scared to lose. Not me."
"You're my family too, and I want you there."
"You are such a sap, Potter," she snorted and rolled her eyes at him.
"I mean it!" He crossed his arms indignantly and gave a pout worth of Teddy. It took all of Hermione's self-control to suppress her laugh.
"I know you do." The sentiment was sweet, heartachingly so, and it was clear by the fact that he was there with her. The fact he kept choosing her each day.
"I still think you should come with me. It's been four years, and I think we should let them in on what's going on-"
"No," she insisted, leaning forward on her elbows and opening the file again. She hoped it would end the conversation. She really did.
"Why not?"
"It may not be safe. We don't know who all is involved in this scheme-"
"That's bullshit. You don't trust them is what it is," he accused, his gaze hard and unyielding on her. The silence and narrowing of her eyes on the papers told him everything. "Why?"
"Why what?" she huffed and raised her glare to him again. Five years ago, the look she shot him would have made him back down. But he was no longer the same boy sitting in the Gryffindor common room, and she wasn't the same girl buried in a book. War robbed them of that long before.
"Why did you trust me? So far, you won't trust anyone else. The Minister, the Weasleys? People we've known over a decade and you refuse to trust them. But you never questioned me. Why?"
Skepticism crept into her eyes as if she was just now considering his trustworthiness. Just then considering the possibility that trusting him was a miscalculation. "Are you trying to convince me that I shouldn't trust you?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to understand why you'd trust me but no one else."
She took a spare page of notes and rolled it in her hands, forming a tube over and over. The truth was she didn't completely understand it herself. Her training and history screamed to go alone, to trust no one, but when Harry cornered her in Diagon Alley, something flipped. A tiny crack in her facade formed, a crack that seemed to widen by the day as she spilled more and more secrets. And the scariest part was that she didn't understand it. She couldn't explain it.
"You've never given me a reason to not trust you," she reasoned and hoped he would drop it. But of course that was too much to ask of him.
"And Ron has?" he prodded.
The table scraped as Hermione stood and shoved it back before stalking into the kitchen to pour a fresh cup of coffee. To put distance between them. "He hasn't exactly always been the most loyal," she explained, her face to the wall and a room away "Ronald left. Several times. We may have forgiven him for that, but I can never forget it."
"You left too," he reminded her softly as he followed her to the kitchen.
"No," she growled defensively and spun on him. An angered spark lit her eyes as she stared him down. The air between them sizzled hotly. "I didn't leave when you needed me. I would never leave when you needed me. I made sure you were settled and comfortable, and when you didn't need me anymore, I left to do what I had to."
"Hermione, I'm always gonna need you."
The days after her disappearance washed over him again in paralyzing terror. He wished she were close enough to touch, to physically assure himself that she was there in his kitchen even if she was glaring.
"I still don't understand why you trust me over everyone else, though."
For just a second, a flicker of his old friend broke through the mask. Her eyes, while sad, held more warmth than before. The tense lines in her forehead smoothed out before her brow furrowed again in concentration. She drummed her fingers against the mug, the rhythm in time with her racing mind. And then the mask slid back in place.
"Do you remember that fight we got into third year?" she asked as she casually leaned against the counter. "About that broom Sirius sent?"
How could he forget? It was the one time he truly thought their friendship may not make it. Years older and with the privilege of hindsight, he knew Hermione had been right to report the gift. Her hypothesis had been correct after all, even if Sirius was proven later not to be a threat. Hermione was always right.
"Once we got over that row, you've always been there steady and constant." Lazy bubbles drifted over the surface of her coffee, and she used that as a focus point. Anything to avoid his transfixed gaze. One, two, three, four bubbles making slow circles. "I can't even imagine a world where you aren't you. Where they could possibly corrupt you. You're the only person I've ever fully trusted in my life. Is it wrong to trust you?"
"No!" He rushed closer to her, bending his head to catch her eyes and gripping her arms desperately. "Of course you can trust me. I'm honored, but if you're going to trust me, you need to trust me completely. Trust my judgment. We go to the Weasleys." Remembering their recent visit to the Minister, he added, "And you won't slip Veritaserum in the Sunday stew."
"Well, it wasn't the stew I planned to put it in." As he started to chastise her, the corner of her mouth quipped upwards in a smirk. She was making a joke. She was trying. It quickly faded as her gaze dropped to the coffee cup in her hand. "Not yet though."
"Hermio-"
"I'm not saying never," she hurried to clarify, not wanting to erase the progress they had just made. "Just… let me try Mary Beth first. I need to know how and if they're recruiting here. We'll be a lot safer once we know what to avoid doing."
"Okay," he relented. "But after that-"
"I will let you drag me to Sunday stew. On my wand."
He knew it was a big ask and he appreciated that she was trying. Especially after learning of her less than warm welcome by the woman he considered a mother to all.
"I'm sorry. I never knew you didn't get Mrs. Weasley's sweaters. I thou-"
"It's nothing." She waved it off and attempted to move past him to the living room, but his hand closed around her arm, keeping her there.
"It was wrong."
After a moment of steady eye contact, she shifted under his conviction. "I need to come up with a plan to intersect Mary Beth."
After confirmation of her habits from Kingsley, Hermione determined the best opportunity to ambush her former Academy mate was in Muggle London the next morning in her former glamours. According to intel, the newly deputized Deputy Head of Foreign Relations used the Ministry telephone booth entrance next to her favorite coffee shop. The location made sense for an ambush. Communication with the New Order would be difficult to conceal in a Wizarding community, and the foot traffic of London was easy to slip into unnoticed, which was the same reason Hermione had determined it the best place to corner her prey. No magic. No backup.
"Allen," Hermione called from the shadows, the hood of her jacket providing cover.
The woman turned on sharp heels to skewer Hermione with a glare. Her jaw clenched, likely from the use of her actual name if Hermione had to guess. As recognition flashed through her eyes, she went slack-jawed. "Watson? What the hell are you doing?"
"Are we clean?" Hermione pulled the hood further over her face. The heavy traffic around them concealed her words to passers by, but the location was far from covert. She pulled the woman into a quieter alley where Harry stood under his invisibility cloak, poised to defend if necessary.
"Yeah, but, Watson, what happened?" The woman yanked her arm out of reach and stumbled a few steps away. "They said you stole research and cut. That you burned the place down on your way out."
"It's a lie. It wasn't me. Jones set me up."
"People were killed in that fire! Our people!"
Hurt crossed Hermione's face as she averted her eyes. The smoke in her mind attempted to close around her again, to smother her. Even as awful as the Post had been, she never intended to kill anyone with the fire. "I would never hurt our people; you know that. Jones, though? You've seen what he's like."
"Why would Jones set you up? You were working on his golden project." The disdain in her voice was evident. Jealousy. Hermione could work with jealousy.
"You know he doesn't take no for an answer. I told him it wasn't ready yet. That I needed more time, but he wouldn't accept that. Swore he'd make my life hell for passing his ludicrous deadline."
Her eyes flashed up to Hermione's before looking back down again. She knew what it meant to pass a deadline set by Jones. "But why did you run? Why didn't you say something?"
"Against Jones?" Hermione scoffed a laugh as she paced. "They weren't taking a C Class's word over a 1st Commanding A-Class, and you know it. I was scared, so I ran and now I need your help." Hermione paced the alley three more times before taking her silence as a good sign and continuing. "I need to know how they're recruiting here-"
"Absolutely not. I can't share inside secrets-"
"I was inside, Mary Beth!" Several pedestrians turned at her outburst but continued on without much notice. It did remind Hermione to lower her voice and regain control. "I would still be inside if it weren't for that bastard. Mary Beth, please."
"Sarah. I go by Sarah here."
Hermione held her hands up. Confiding in her the alias she used was a win. "Okay. Sarah. I need to lay low until I can clear my name and the only way I can do that is if I know where to avoid and what not to do." Silence laid thick against the stones as Hermione waited. This could only end well or very, very poorly.
"I'm just trying to get my life back here," Hermione tried, stepping closer to the woman that once was her classmate, the closest thing she'd had to a friend. "I want to be able to come back and finish my work for the good of the New Order. I was so close." The scenarios continued to run through Sarah's mind, and Hermione could read the indecision in her eyes. One final push. "You know what they'll do if they find me before I clear my name."
Her broken voice nearly convinced Harry from where he stood in the back of the alley. Until then, he stood in rapture as she skillfully moved pieces on an invisible chessboard with only her words. And he was certain the other woman had no idea it was happening. It made him question for just a moment whether Hermione was manipulating him just as much as she manipulated this Sarah. Whether it was training or an inherent talent she'd always possessed, he wasn't sure.
The air held a charge of challenge. Whoever spoke first would lose; they both knew it. Hermione's gaze bore through Sarah, sure and steady. Backing down wasn't an option now that Harry's life was on the line too.
"It's difficult here," Sarah relented as she crossed her arms tightly. "There's too much magic. We have to work quieter here. Infiltrating small villages, looking for outsiders, people who need to be part of something. But they've circulated your face to everyone labeling you as a combative, Harper. You aren't safe if anyone from the New Order sees you. You're lucky you got the jump on me before I saw you." Her gaze swept the alley again, contemplating her next words carefully. With a sigh, she turned back to Hermione and said, "Stay away from Poland. That's where the majority of our outposts are, but honestly? They have us spread anywhere there's magic, looking for opportunities. It's difficult with the Ministry, but that's what I'm here for: to get our people strategically placed and looking the other way."
Silence enveloped the alley again, both women locked in an impasse and looking for an end. As she had won the previous, more important, silent war, Hermione gave in and chuckled. "Looks like you finally got the British accent down. Took you long enough "
"Well I had a pretty piss poor example to mimic," she teased, dropping back into her natural southern American accent. They shared a brief smile at one of the few good memories before Hermione locked her arms around the woman's neck.
"Thank you, Sarah. I'm glad it's you here. You may have just saved my life."
Sarah patted her back awkwardly before Hermione released her. "Yeah, I'm still deciding if that's wise or not."
"I hope one day you'll find it was." A quiet moment passed before Hermione held her arm towards Sarah. "Take our peace."
After a moment's hesitation, the woman gripped her forearm, nails biting into her skin. A warning. "Or die to keep it."
With a curt nod from Hermione, Sarah dropped her arm and turned back towards the busy street. The noise and din seeped into Hermione again, reminding her that she was still out in the open, exposed. With Sarah now in the crowd of pedestrians, she slipped into the back alley behind a dumpster she knew Harry stood near. His hand flashed into existence as he parted the cloak for her to step in. The cloak had certainly become more crowded than it was the first time they hid under it at eleven. All three of the trio centrally wouldn't fit, and she and Harry only fit if they stood pressed together.
"Take our peace or die to keep it?" he hissed.
"Not here," she bit back. After watching as Sarah crossed a street and disappeared around a corner, she checked her sleeve for a tracer, finding none. So Sarah did trust her still. And almost entirely at that. She would make for a very good source as long as Hermione could keep her in her pocket. Without another word, Hermione Apparated through her four turn system just to be safe before taking them back to Harry's flat.
