Chapter Forty-Eight
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Hermione woke in the late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the window. Severus was gone, but the bed held his impression, his scent lingering on the pillow. Hermione stared at the ceiling, barely seeing the stone. Happiness was filling her, buoying her up, happiness so deep and rich her body hummed with it.
Ridiculous, in the face of their impossible circumstances, to be so happy. Foolish and insane. Either of them might end up captured, tortured or dead within the month.
And yet. Yet.
Hermione pulled a pillow over her face to hide the smile she couldn't prevent. She knew one night didn't magically fix things. Now he mentioned it, Severus had been acting like a colossal dickhead. But none of that seemed to matter when her hand still tingled with the ghost of his touch.
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Hermione was searching for her friends when Barty Crouch found her. The castle was full of light, spring sunshine flooding the corridors, and it was time to bring everyone back together. There was so much work to be done in the final weeks before the tournament.
"Hermione?"
Halfway to the entrance hall, Hermione spun, wand out. She stopped when she saw him but didn't lower it. Barty Crouch raised his hands warily.
"I'm not trying anything."
Hermione stared at him. It had been months since she had spoken to him, and she had barely noticed his presence the rest of the year. He had been like a shadow, moving through the common room and the great hall without leaving an impression of himself behind, and they didn't share any classes.
"Barty," she said, as wary as he was. The last time they had spoken had been in the crowded pub in Hogsmeade back in October. Hermione was pretty sure that she had used a sticking charm on his balls on that occasion.
Barty hesitated a long time before speaking, blinking rapidly. His pale face and freckles made him look younger than he was.
"I wanted to say thank you," he said, sounding as though the words were difficult to get out.
"Thank you?" Hermione said, taken aback.
"Yes." Barty studied his shoes.
"What for?"
"My mother. She's...she's better."
Hermione was uncomprehending. "That's wonderful news, Barty, but I don't -"
"You told me to try the muggles," Barty said, the words tumbling out. "You said they had cures that the healers couldn't do, that they could help when magic couldn't."
Hermione stared at him. She remembered, vaguely, suggesting something of the sort, but the idea that Barty might have actually listened was staggering.
"You -"
"I took her to the muggles," Barty said. "I didn't believe you, but I would have done anything. And they - they fixed her."
"They fixed her," Hermione repeated.
"Yeah. They said she had some sort of - ah, I can't remember what they called it. But they said she needed treatment, and I think she just kept going and taking it, and I went home for Easter, and she was better -"
Barty's voice broke off, and Hermione saw tears in his eyes. He looked down, obviously embarrassed and Hermione pretended not to notice.
"I'm so glad," she said.
"Yeah. My father can't believe it. He actually took time off at Easter - my mother made him - we went on holiday as a family. He's never done that before. I guess I just wanted to say…."
Barty kicked at the flagstones. "Thank you," he finished awkwardly.
"Look, I know we didn't have the best start," Hermione said, "but you can't imagine how glad I am to hear it."
And she was. With shining eyes and a bright smile, Barty had made it all worth it for a brief moment. He'd only turned to the Death Eaters from loneliness and desperation in her time. Could this change everything?
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Barty said. He suddenly looked uneasy. "I know that you're close to, er…."
"The Dark Lord," Hermione said. Barty glanced around the hall to check for watchers, but it was deserted.
"Yeha," he said, clearing his throat. "Thing is, he didn't like me much when he met me. And I've been thinking a lot, and I just don't think I could do it. Join him, I mean. My mother was talking to me yesterday before I left, and she said I should think of going into the ministry like my dad - I got twelve OWLS last year, you know - and I don't want her to be -"
"Stop," Hermione said, raising a hand and trying to hide the relief rushing over her. "You don't need to justify to me why you're not joining him. But are you sure? You were so keen."
"I wasn't in a good place," Baty said quietly, and Hermione thought that described almost every recruit. "My mother was dying. I hated my father. But it isn't right for me. I can see that now. My father would be devastated."
A rush of warmth filled Hermione. She had done something good - she really had. Something she changed in this timeline had made a positive difference to somebody's life, and it hadn't involved any murder.
"Barty, I'm glad for you," she said sincerely.
He nodded. "Well, anyway, I'd better go. I just saw you and wanted to say it."
"Thank you for telling me," Hermione said. Barty nodded and turned away. He was heading down the corridor when it suddenly occurred to Hermione, who she had been talking to.
"Hey! Barty, wait!" she called and jogged after him. Barty stopped and turned, surprised.
"Your father," Hermione said, panting as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. "He works for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, doesn't he?"
Barty's eyebrows raised. "What? Merlin, no! He's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd never take a crappy job in the international office."
Hermione realised her mistake too late. Barty Crouch Sr had been demoted to the DMLE office after the aurors had sent Barty Jr to Azkaban. It had been a punishment.
"My mistake," she said hastily. "I just wanted to ask a couple of questions about one of the international duelling teams. I thought - never mind, I got mixed up."
"Dad might still know," Barty shrugged. "He's well connected. What did you want to know?"
Hermione hesitated, wondering how much to trust Barty. But she had to take a chance here.
"One of the competitors from Durmstrang, Grindelwald. He was found dead recently."
"Shit, yeah, they're hunting Selwyn over that, aren't they?" Barty said, shaking his head.
"Ye," Hermione said. "It's just - I'm struggling to understand the motive. I wondered whether he might have been involved in anything illegal or had done anything on record to explain why she did it. I wonder if your dad has ever heard of anything called the Pureblood Alliance?"
Hermione watched closely to see if anything in Barty's face changed when she said the words, but his face remained clear.
"I don't know," Barty shrugged. "But dad might. I can ask."
"I'd appreciate that," Hermione said. "Thank you."
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The final weeks before the duelling competition passed in a blur. Days full of classes, pretending to prepare for exams Hermione would almost certainly never take, and nights filled with Lord Voldemort practising his hideous choreography for the final takeover.
"Thanks for waiting up," Hermione said to Severus late one night when she returned well past midnight to find him fully dressed and waiting for her. He yawned and closed his book.
"Someone has to report to Dumbledore," he said, but his touch was gentle as he helped her remove her robes, folding them carefully away for her.
After Hermione showed Severus her memories, the walls had fallen between them. They were inseparable, often staying up late into the night, half speaking and half sharing minds until sometimes Hermione felt that they were more one person than two. But there was a dark undercurrent to her happiness - the feeling that they were living through what might be the final weeks of their lives. Every second was precious, and as the clock continued to tick, panic dogged every step.
They had not yet found the horcruxes. Dumbledore assured her that they had every member of the Order of the Phoenix searching every end of the country, but she was petrified they wouldn't succeed in time. Over and over, she questioned her memories. How could she have been so sure she'd seen the locations in Voldemort's mind? Why weren't the horcruxes where they should have been? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.
So instead, Hermione rested her head on Severus's shoulder and felt him run his fingers through her hair, tugging gently at the ends.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, knowing it was a lie and knowing he knew it too. "Just fine."
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The night before the duelling competition, Hermione left the great hall after dinner and went outside and into the grounds. She couldn't bear returning to her small, claustrophobic room to wait for Lord Voldemort's summons while Severus paced anxiously. Without asking, she knew he would have laid out her freshly laundered Death Eater robes and polished up her silver mask, and she couldn't bear to look at them.
Days away from the final battle, they'd found nothing—no evidence of a single piece of soul magic across the length and breadth of Britain. Hermione was sick to her stomach with fear that everything would slip through her grasp once more. Was it possible that in coming to this time, she might actually have made things worse?
Hermione was also, deep down in a part of herself she tried to avoid, aware that she was not only days away from the battle but also in the final weeks of her pregnancy. It had arrived so fast that she could hardly understand it, and she never let herself think of it. Never considered how it had happened or what might happen - when the baby arrived. She had seen no healer, had no official due date, only her own maths. Deep inside, she knew she'd been profoundly reckless. But it was too late to worry. So she pushed those thoughts away with all the others.
It was a warm spring evening, and the grounds were dotted with flowers, the air redolent with the scent of rich earth from Hagrid's freshly tilled pumpkin patch. Hermione directed her steps towards the black lake, letting the fresh air fill her lungs, soothing and calming her.
"Black," someone called, and Hermione turned. It was Barty Crouch - again.
He'd been off her radar all year, and now he was appearing twice in a matter of weeks. He jogged across the lawn towards her, squinting in the glare from the sunset. His face was so much less pale, and he looked happier and healthier than she'd ever seen him.
"I got a letter from my father," Barty said, waving an envelope at her. "I wanted to let you know straight away because - well, I owe you, anyway. And this stuff is interesting."
"What does it say?" Hermione said, excitement flickering inside her like a light. She glanced around, but the grounds were deserted. Hermione had not had any time to go searching for information about Grindelwald. She had tried to take Severus's advice and forget about him, telling herself that, after all, he was dead. But she couldn't deny her burning curiosity now that Barty was waving a letter at her.
"It says - well, read for yourself," Barty said, pushing the envelope into Hermione's hands. She opened it, heart thrumming. Could Barty Crouch Sr know something about Grindelwald? Her hands fumbled at the envelope, and she finally managed to withdraw the parchment and unfold it. Scanning it, past greetings and well wishes and news from home, Hermione dropped down the page until she saw Ivan's name mentioned.
"There," Barty said, pointing at the relevant paragraph, and she nodded.
I was most surprised to read the part of your letter where you requested information on the Pureblood Alliance. Son, I am not sure how you came to be aware of the presence of such an organisation, but I would beg you to steer well clear of them. They are an ancient organisation and usually inactive. Still, there have been recent rumours that they have been taking an interest in the affairs of Great Britain, particularly concerning he-who-must-not-be-named.
Once again, I am astonished to find you know of this organisation, but you are correct - Ivan Grindelwald was believed to be their leader. But given his youth, many of us feel that is rampant speculation. I am aware of the deeply concerning events regarding Mr Grindelwald at Hogwarts before the Easter holidays, and I beg you not to further poke at such a delicate matter. It is a great embarrassment to Durmstrang to be entangled in such affairs, and they are not best pleased with the fruit their involvement in the duelling competition has borne. Do keep your head down until the competition is over. I will be at the final myself and look forward to seeing you there.
As always, your loving father.
Bartemiuous Crouch.
"Holy shit," Hermione breathed, staring at the letter.
"I know, right?" Barty said, taking it back. "I never even heard of this Pureblood Alliance until now. They seem to have a better way of going about things than the Dark Lord in some -"
Barty abruptly broke off and went pale, glancing at Hermione as if he had suddenly remembered to whom he was speaking.
"In some ways, but not others…" he trailed off lamely.
"Thank you for this, Barty," Hermione said sincerely. "I needed this information. I've got to run, but seriously, thanks. I won't forget this."
She left Barty and went inside, intent on going straight to Dumbledore and asking for his input. Surely now he couldn't think she had killed Grindelwald - not with all this new information. Grindelwald must have enemies everywhere! And perhaps she could find out if the Order had made any further progress on the horcruxes.
But as Hermione dashed up the stairs towards Dumbledore's office, she felt the tell-tale buzz and heat from the dark mark pendant, and she stopped, panting, torn about what to do. Would she have time to speak to Dumbledore before going down to the dungeons to dress and leave for the meeting? Probably not. But she would go as soon as she got back, no matter how late it was.
When she reached her room, out of breath from her jog down the stairs, Hermione found Severus, sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding a letter. He had an odd, frozen look on his face, but he grimaced instead when he took in her dishevelled state and red face.
"Another summons?"
"Yeah," Hermione said distractedly, taking the robes he offered and sliding her arms into them. "I didn't think it would be this early."
Severus handed her the mask, still silent, and something about his lack of words might have concerned her if she hadn't been so full of the meeting she'd just had. Barty's letter was running through her mind, and she had to tell someone.
Hermione slipped the mask onto her face, pocketing her wand. "Sev, you're not going to believe this. I've just been speaking to Barty Crouch - it's brilliant! He wrote and asked his father about the Pureblood Alliance and Ivan Grindelwald, and they confirmed that he's involved. Not just involved - they think he's the leader!"
Severus stepped back, hands dropping from Hermione's robe buttons. He didn't speak for a minute. Then, he said slowly. "You spoke to Barty Crouch? That asshole?"
"He's not so bad," Hermione protested. Severus scoffed.
"He's a little prick who was horrible to you for most of last year. And his father is worse, from what I hear. Why were you asking him things?"
"Because nobody else would listen to me!" Hermione snapped back. "You wouldn't! Even Dumbledore wouldn't."
"Because it's completely irrelevant to our problems right now," Severus said. "I feel like we've had this conversation half a dozen times already! Who gives a damn about Grindelwald now? He's dead!"
"But the Pureblood Alliance wants to kill Voldemort...Voldemort is planning to take over Britain at the duelling tournament, and the leader of the pureblood alliance entered himself at the tournament. Don't you see that something must be going on here? Something big?" Hermione protested. "I feel like we've got one view of this. We're always worried about the horcruxes -"
"Hermione," Severus said disbelievingly, "We're always worried about the Horcruxes because we cannot kill Voldemort without them."
"I know!" Hermione said, voice rising. "But what if we're missing something important? I think there are other currents at work here that we need to be aware of."
"I've just about had enough of this," Severus hissed. "Hermione, please. Do you think you could just focus on trying to stay alive for the next few days?"
Hermione stared at him. There was an edge to his voice she hadn't heard since the night they made up, and she suppressed her instinct to snap back at him, studying him closely instead. Something was wrong.
"What's the matter, Severus?" She took a step towards him.
He stepped back, a reflexive moment he didn't seem aware he was making.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"It's nothing," Severus snarled, and his hand tightened around the letter he'd been reading, crushing it in his fist.
"What's in the letter?" Hermione demanded.
"N -"
"Don't say nothing." Hermione tried to take it from him, but he yanked his arm away.
"For god's sake, do you have no boundaries? Can't I even keep my correspondence to myself?" Severus said, jerking back from her.
"Boundaries?" Hermione was incensed, heart pounding with rage. "You want boundaries, now, when we've all got everything on the line for defeating Voldemort tomorrow? If we don't kill him, I'm - you are - we all are completely fucked. I think that's a bit more important than whatever secrets you're trying to keep!"
And before Severus could respond, she wordlessly summoned the letter, the paper ripping as it jerked from his fingers into her hand.
Severus advanced towards her and gripped her wrist in his, painfully tight, his face flaming with anger.
"Don't you ever fucking do that again," he growled.
Hermione met his dark eyes and saw, beneath the anger, deep wells of pain. In the nights they had spent sliding lazily from one mind to the next, he had become almost as familiar to her as she was to herself, and she recognised every tic, every hint of a thought that flickered through him. She saw it without even entering his mind.
"It's your mother, isn't it?" Hermione let the letter go. But Severus paused, his face twisting with indecision and finally settling into lines of grief.
"Yes," he said hoarsely. "It's her."
They stayed that way, frozen, for a moment. And then Severus slowly brought his forehead down to rest on her shoulder, and Hermione slid her arms around his broad back.
"You don't have to hide it from me," she murmured.
Severus shook his head; face pressed into her neck. "They think she's going to pass soon. They've asked me to come. But - I can't. I can't leave you."
Hermione drew back to stare at him. "What are you talking about? Of course, you have to go! Don't be ridiculous!"
Despite how terror gripped her at the thought of his absence, she said it. Despite the tightness in her chest and the sudden lump in her throat. She could face Voldemort without him. She could bring everyone together, navigate whatever tomorrow brought, alone. Of course, he had to go.
"I can't," Severus said, holding her like she was made of air - like he was afraid she'd vanish in his arms. "I don't know how long it's going to take. I can't leave you to do this alone."
"Severus," Hermione said, taking a step backwards and detangling him from her, though every movement felt like she was creating a tear that would bleed. "You have to go. Your mother needs you."
"You need me," Severus said wretchedly. "The baby needs me."
"I am fine," Hermione said, though her breathing was ragged, trembling. "Go, Severus. Everything will be okay. Just go."
"But tomorrow - the duelling competition -"
"Go!" Hermione cried, pushing him towards the door. "And hurry!"
Severus hesitated, his face twisted with anguish. "But -"
"Go!"
Severus paused for one more second, jaw trembling with indecision, and Hermione did something that she knew he might not forgive later. She slipped into his mind, the one she'd learned so well she could navigate without leaving the barest trace and gave him the slightest nudge. Go, she told his thoughts. Go.
Because she would have done anything to have said goodbye to her parents. To tell her own mother that she loved her, just once more, before she died. And no matter how much she needed Severus, she wouldn't take that away from him.
Severus made a convulsive movement towards her and then stopped in his tracks.
"I - alright," he said. Hermione passed him the letter, and pulled him to her, kissing him deeply, so hard she thought she might drown, memorising the shape and feel of his lips against hers, half-afraid she'd never feel them again.
Then she pushed him out of the door, and shut it firmly behind him. The latch clicked, and Severus was gone. Hermione doubled over, feeling as though she was going to throw up.
What if he didn't return in time for the duelling competition? What if she died and never saw him again? She dropped her hands to her stomach and felt nothing - the concealment charm doing its usual job. The pain seemed to start in her chest and stomach and radiate out to every part of her body. She could feel it in her fingers and toes, the deep aching sensation that everything was wrong without him there.
Why hadn't she focussed on finding the horcruxes? Why hadn't she taken more notice of what was the most crucial part of preparing for this final battle? Hermione rubbed furiously at her eyes. She still believed that Grindelwald was somehow central to all this, but she couldn't think of it now.
The low, insistent buzzing of the dark mark roused her from her position on the floor. With a jolt, Hermione realised that she was coming very close to being late, and that would result in more torture and damage. Hermione dressed in the long black robes as quickly as possible and then left the dungeons at a run.
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I was genuinely so touched that some people left a review on the last chapter. I wasn't sure if anyone was still reading after so long!
Thanks for reading,
Cas
