Author's Note
Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right.
I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.
Ch 21: Decoys and Trust
"It's right –" Hermione broke off as Moody finished patting his pockets and pulled out a second flask, not having heard her, particularly given his focus on Mundungus's shiftiness. Moody must have forgotten that he'd already set one bottle of Polyjuice Potion down on the table before he'd begun arguing with Harry.
Harry was protesting far less than Hermione had anticipated. She'd expected they really would have to hold him down and yank his hairs out by force. Not that he'd agreed right off, but he'd caved rather quickly. Perhaps he'd finally learned that some arguments were futile.
Hermione eyed the abandoned flask. That potion could come in useful this year. Snape had stocked her up with all manner of healing potions prior to the end of the school term, but Hermione hadn't thought to ask for Polyjuice Potion. Nor did she have the ingredients to simply brew it herself.
Darting a look around to find everyone sufficiently distracted, Hermione snagged the silver flask off the table and bent to stuff it in her sock.
Mr. Weasley was frowning at her as she stood, so she spoke before he could ask, saying, "Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry."
The idea of ingesting anything of Crabbe's made her want to be violently ill. So far there'd been enough distractions between Dumbledore's funeral and helping the Weasleys prepare for the wedding that she'd not thought much about what he'd tried to do to her. Hermione's hand tightened involuntarily around her wand, reassuring herself she had the means to protect herself close.
Ron's shocked look had her feeling like she'd just said something ridiculously provocative, and she could feel the warmth infusing her cheeks as she blushed profusely. "Oh, you know what I mean – Goyle's potion looked like bogies."
It was true though. This potion was a bright gold that reminded her a bit of Felix Felicis. Probably because Harry had such a pure spirit.
"Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please," Moody ordered, directing them about the room like troops on a battlefield.
"You didn't get over me because you've got a thing for Harry, right?" Ron asked lowly as Moody and Mundungus argued some more over what his role would be in this little adventure.
"What? No!" Hermione hissed, feeling faintly nauseous at the thought. It'd be incestuous to fancy Harry. First Snape, and now Ron. Why did everyone insist on trying to pair her up with Harry romantically? "I meant what I said. I was just surprised it didn't look like something that would make me barf considering the last time we tried this." So much for this not making her sick.
"'K. Just…I know there's nothing between us, but you know, don't go feeling him up…."
"What?"
"Nevermind," he mumbled, flushed so deeply he was nearly the shade of maroon he detested so fiercely as they each accepted one of the small glasses.
"Altogether, then…."
Hermione downed the contents, eager to get the process over with before her mind pointed out all the ways this could go wrong.
Her skin bubbled, stretching and distorting as she gasped and doubled over, clutching her stomach. The sound of fabric ripping drifted to her, and she felt the lace of her bra dig into her ribcage as her shirt tore. Harry's torso was much broader than her own, and the cotton didn't have enough give to compensation for the difference. She was a sausage stuffed into a too tight wrapper. Her scalp itched as her hair seemed to get rapidly sucked inside her skull, pulled through a straw by a greedily sucking mouth and leaving the sensation of ants scurrying all over her.
As quick as it began, it was over. The space around her was all a blur, and she heard the twins cry, "Wow – we're identical!" Only they would make such an obvious joke and find it hilarious. Good thing they'd gone into pranks over stand-up.
Something hard was pressed against her hand, and her fingers closed around the object, recognizing it as a pair of glasses. Hastily, Hermione gratefully doned them, finally able to see the other Harrys surrounding her.
"Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I've got smaller here, and vice versa. Don't forget the glasses, there's six pairs in the side pocket. And when you're dressed, there's luggage in the other sack," Moody announced, though Mr. Weasley was already passing out the glasses since it was obvious no one could see what they were doing without them.
"Harry, your eyesight really is awful," she said wonderingly.
Then everyone was stripping, and Hermione began following suit. Except her pants were so tight she was having a great deal of trouble getting them off. They clung like spandex to a wet body needing to be peeled off, though cutting her out of them might actually be easier. And when she finally did remove them, she wished she hadn't. Her tiny lace panties did nothing to contain the new penis she was sporting. The shaft was poking out one side while the balls went out the other. Then, when she tried to tuck it inside, horrified to be seeing Harry's cock, the thing twitched, making her jerk her hand away abruptly.
An amused snort to her left had her turning to the Fred-Harry. He was grinning widely, and holding out a pair of pants to her.
"Nice knickers, Granger," Fred teased, and Hermione yanked the pants on as quickly as possible, all the while glaring at him. "Though they look a bit full at the moment. Best be careful with that or it'll grow on you."
Grow? No. Absolutely not. She did not want to know what an erection felt like to have – particularly not her best mate's!
It was a good thing Snape had stopped reading her mind. He'd be furious if he ever saw this. Not to mention jealous as hell.
Oh geez. Just thinking about Snape made it twitch again, and had her pulse seeming to migrate south. Fred and George were both openly laughing at her now, detecting her inability to cope with her new circumstances without behaving like a prudish, naive schoolgirl.
Who's bright idea had it been to change in the open?
How was she ever supposed to look at Harry again now that she knew that was under his clothes? And was it always so quick to react to the slightest touch or thought? No wonder teenage boys thought of little besides sex!
She barely heard Moody repeating everyone's assignments, too focused on breathing and forcing the blood to circulate around the rest of her borrowed body, not just to her groin.
It was strange being so much larger. Hermione felt ungainly and awkward trying to shuffle through the crowded room with Harry's taller, more muscular body. When had he filled out? Weren't Seekers supposed to be scrawny?
Once everyone was situated and had exited the house, Kingsley offered a hand to hoist Hermione into an awkward perch behind him on the winged, skeletal horse. It should have been invisible. It had been the last time she'd ridden one. But it wasn't anymore. Hermione could clearly see the dark, half-starved looking beast. Because she'd watched her mum die. Hermione grimaced, hating the unwelcome reminder staring her in the face.
"Don't worry. I can see it, and I won't let you fall," Kingsley said reassuringly, assuming that was the reason she'd been hesitating.
"Thanks," she muttered, not bothering to correct him.
Hermione shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in, but it was a little difficult with a rod shoved down her pants and wing joints digging into her thighs. Sensing her discomfort, Kingsley said, "Hold on tighter."
Reluctantly, Hermione wrapped both her arms around his waist and clutched handfuls of his purple robes, then sighed and asked, "What if I need to fight?"
More like she knew she'd have to. Snape was waiting to attack. And he definitely wouldn't come alone. No – Voldemort would be with him. How utterly marvelous….
"There shouldn't be more than two or three, and with all of us, I doubt we'll be targeted."
"That's not been my luck so far when Harry's involved," she insisted, making Kingsley chuckle deeply at the truth of her words.
"Here - I've got an idea," he said, conjuring a thin rope that looped around both their waists and held them loosely together. He waved his wand again, and nodded, apparently satisfied. "This should keep you with me, but free up your hands if necessary, and help you keep your seat. It's reinforced with spells that will prevent you from falling."
"Thanks," Hermione breathed, relaxing her death grip on the back of his cloak just a bit.
"We're headed to my flat in London. It's one of the closest. The flight shouldn't take too long," he said, turning his head just enough that the fading daylight winked off his earring and shiny bald head. In a voice as rich as honey and just as soothing as a bit in a cup of tea, he added, "You were probably right about being prepared. The Death Eaters will expect Harry to be with the strongest Aurors. That means they'll likely target Mad-Eye and us. I know you've fought before, but if it comes down to it - don't be afraid to do what you must, understood?"
"Y-yes," Hermione said shakily.
The idea of attacking Snape made her uneasy. She'd never be able to, and she'd not told him who she'd been paired with. Besides, the idea of fighting while masquerading as Harry sapped her confidence. She'd had no time to practice maneuvering his body or controlling his limbs.
Kingsley turned around a bit more and reached to pat her enlarged hand reassuringly. Clearing her throat, and sitting up straighter, Hermione said, "I've got this."
Moody sounded the countdown, then they were off, shooting straight upward into the sky at twilight along with the six other pairs.
They were waiting. There were probably twenty Death Eaters hovering on brooms in a loose ring like dark blemishes marring the sky. Grim reapers eager to collect their souls.
Knowing they'd be there and seeing them for herself were too very different things. It was so much worse than she'd anticipated.
Those gathered completely surrounded Harry's childhood home. A noose ready to tighten and strangle them.
Hermione swallowed, finally able to banish all of her wayward thoughts and focus on the matter at hand. She gripped Kingsley tighter just as the black-clad figures converged en masse, jets of deadly green light coming from everywhere at once.
"Hang on!" Kingsley yelled, diving lower to narrowly avoid two spells that collided right where they'd just been. The sparks exploded outward along with the smell of burning hair.
Hermione scanned the sky, searching for Snape. Where was he? There was no way he'd sit this out knowing she was participating, and she didn't want to accidentally hit him.
Catching sight of a Death Eater gaining on them, Hermione yelled, "Right! He's on the right!"
"Thanks," Kingsley gasped and veered off to the left.
Several Death Eaters broke off to follow close behind. Kingsley was guiding the thestral in a complicated series of faints and zigzags through the air that left Hermione's stomach churning and dangerously close to expelling the meal she'd hastily consumed at the Burrow that afternoon on Mrs. Weasley's orders. All she could do was hang on while he tried to dodge the spells cast their way.
"Cover us!" he shouted, leveling out a bit so she could twist around and take aim at the pursuers.
"Immobulus!" Hermione cried repeatedly, trying and failing to stop at least one of the Death Eaters from following. But again, and again, she missed. At least they were too busy ducking her spells to send many towards the pair of them.
"How many?" he asked, focused on outmaneuvering the pursuers and trusting her to keep them from getting hit.
"Three – no, wait," she tried to recount, but with the swerving and the masks, it was hard to tell if she'd already counted them or not. "Four!" she declared.
Suddenly, one broke off and came at them from below.
"BOMBARDO!" he shouted, aiming a Blasting Curse at the thestral they were riding.
"PROTEGO!" The shield charm only barely formed in time to block the spell that would have sent Kingsley and her falling to their deaths.
"Well done," he praised. "Now hang on," he warned before swerving around to fly straight at the startled Death Eaters.
The unexpected move distracted them enough that Kingsley was able to hit one as they flew straight through the center of their line. Hermione didn't know what spell he used, but his target dropped back, giving up the chase. Kingsley turned the thestral upward, arching back over the scattered Death Eaters as they struggled to reform their line and continue their advance.
One ripped his mask off as another dodged the spell Hermione aimed his way, and she was annoyed that neither seemed to be Snape. She was terrified he'd been hurt or that she'd accidentally hurt him.
"Aim a bit in front of your target," Kingsley instructed, reminding her of what was actually important right then. They were fighting for their lives.
"Right," she said, grateful for the advice. She was still getting used to the way having Harry's body altered her movements.
Perhaps Snape had been right in advising her to sit this out. It was much more difficult than anything they'd practiced in the DA back when Harry had been teaching them how to defend themselves. Here, half her mind was preoccupied with staying atop the moving mount, despite what Kingsley said about the rope doing that for her. Plus, the additional obstacles of an unfamiliar body and the awkward, twisted perch she was stuck in made it even more challenging to hit her targets.
They were flying higher than ever now, and her head spun dizzily every time she caught a glimpse of the ground so very far below. Last time she'd ridden a thestral, it had directed itself, and the ride had been fairly smooth. This time, however, Kingsley was steering, and it was like being on a boat during a hurricane.
Then she saw him. Snape. He was only a little ways off. He was with another group of three Death Eaters chasing Lupin and George. Even as she watched, his arm came up, wand pointed directly at the soaring pair.
"Hermione, he's gaining on us!" Kingsley barked.
"Descendo," she cried, tearing her gaze away and throwing the spell wide. Perhaps wild spell casting would keep the others at bay. "Descendo," she called again, this time aiming at the closest, trying to send the broom-riding Death Eater back to the ground. She cast it three more times, not bothering to aim, and just hoping it scared them off a bit.
Hermione gasped, elated when one managed to hit a Death Eater's leg, and his broom dipped towards the ground, flying downward for several feet, before he corrected his flight path and rose back up to follow them.
So much for that idea.
"We're almost there," Kingsley announced, relief evident in his velvet-coated voice. "Just a little longer. Five minutes, tops."
While Hermione had been watching the one she hit, another had crept up on her. She recognized him instantly. Crabbe Sr. – the father of the monster that had tried to rape her.
"Reducto!" she shouted, not caring if she blasted him apart directly, or his broom so that he plummeted to the ground. It missed, but she saw the fear in his eyes. For just a second he hesitated, and Hermione took advantage to again scream, "REDUCTO!"
Crabbe Sr. did a barrel roll on his broom, clutching the handle hard enough to splinter it as he rolled down, avoiding her spell. Once he was upright again, Hermione watched him bring the tip of his wand to a spot on his arm. The Dark Mark. It had to be. That was precisely where the tattoo branded Snape's arm.
Snape. Where had he gone? Not to mention Lupin and George. The others had vanished. She and Kingsley were alone, and Voldemort had just been summoned.
Crabbe Sr. had summoned Voldemort.
In her worry over Snape, she'd initially missed the significance of his action.
"No," she whispered, horrified by the idea he was summoning his master. Had her defiance made him think she was really Harry, or was it payback for threatening him? Kingsley turned to look as well, and even the thestral seemed to slow his flight as they processed the scene.
"He just…. Did he…." Words failed her.
"Focus! We're so close. We just need - Voldemort!"
"What?" Hermione squeaked, though she didn't doubt the truth.
"He – he's flying…"
"How is that even possible?"
"Target the others – I'll take him," he ordered, ignoring her question. The deep tones of his voice centered her. He sounded like Snape.
There wasn't even time to worry or find acceptance in the fact that this – Voldemort targeting them – would likely mean her death. But at least if Voldemort was distracted with them, Harry would have a chance to get away. He'd have the chance to finish this war.
Kingsley turned the thestral to face off with Voldemort while she aimed spell after spell at the three remaining Death Eaters, shooting off Freezing Charms as fast as possible with shield charms between each since they luckily were not aiming Killing Curses their way.
The next minute or two was a blur of color and light and adrenaline. She could feel and hear moving behind her, Kingsley's back rippled and jerked, but she was too focused on blocking the multitude of spells being shot at them to witness Kingsley's duel. One of the Death Eater's hoods had fallen off, and Hermione distantly realized that he strongly reminded her of Sirius. He had the same hollow-eyed, gauntness and skeletal appearance. As well as the limp matted hair that came with years of poor hygiene or a stint in Azkaban.
Then, Voldemort retreated, suddenly and without warning. She only knew he was gone because Kingsley had momentarily paused, yet she could still feel him panting heavily behind her.
Alarmed, she twisted around, shouting, "What's happening?"
Voldemort had only barely arrived, and he certainly hadn't accomplished what he targeted them to do. Hermione was still breathing, after all.
The other Death Eaters rushed to follow before Kingsley even had a chance to respond. Kingsley took advantage of their hasty departure to fire a final shot from over her shoulder at the slowest, the one without a hood, hitting him in the arm. Hermione saw ruby drops falling in a rain of gemstones as he pulled his arm inward to cradle against his chest, and he headed to ground instead of following his master.
"They're gone," Kingsley said, sounding just as baffled as she felt.
"Yes, but why?"
"I don't know. Let's get out of here. The Portkey should activate soon, and we don't want to miss it."
They quickly resumed their course to Kingsley's flat and arrived only a minute or two later. It was surprising just how much ground they'd covered during the fight. Hopefully no Muggles had caught sight of them or the others. The last thing any of them needed was to have the Ministry on their cases over this with legitimate evidence against them.
"They knew," Kingsley said after quickly ushering her into his sitting room. He'd paused outside only long enough to send the thestral back to Hogwarts.
"It does seem likely," she said evasively, having no wish to discuss the matter with him. She wasn't anywhere near good enough at lying to hide that she'd known. She feigned paranoia as she spoke, moving to look outside and check that no Death Eaters had followed them or were lurking outside, just waiting to ambush them again.
Kingsley sighed heavily and moved to stand beside her, checking as well. Glancing at him, Hermione looked him over, checking for wounds. Apparently, they'd been incredibly lucky. Aside from a bit more physical exertion than she was used to, they were both all right.
He didn't speak or acknowledge her, but his wrinkled brow indicated he was too consumed with puzzling out his unpleasant thoughts. Of course that could have been how he always looked. Hermione didn't really know him well enough to be able to decipher his expression.
Slightly uncomfortable, Hermione busied herself with taking in the room. It was nearly empty, a sofa and coffee table the only items in the room. No pictures adorned the walls and nothing was left out on the table top. Somehow she doubted he'd cleaned just because they'd be dropping in briefly. It seemed much more likely that he was simply a workaholic and hadn't seen any reason to waste time decorating when he was rarely home. And aside from his earring, he didn't really seem the type to waste effort on anything outside of the bare necessities.
"You fought well," he remarked thoughtfully.
"Thanks," she said, not sure if she believed him or not.
"Are you interested in becoming an Auror?" he asked conversationally, adding, "I know that's Harry's plan."
"No. I…I want to make a difference," Hermione admitted, wondering if he'd think her a foolish, naive child. It was such an idealistic thing to say, but she couldn't figure out a way to put it any better. Nor did she know what she could do to actually accomplish her goal.
"I don't think you will have any trouble with that," he replied easily, offering her a genuine smile.
"What would you recommend? For me, that is," Hermione dared to ask, curious to see if he had a better suggestion than those Snape and McGonagall had given her.
"Minister of Magic. I'd not settle for less, were I you," he said seriously, startling Hermione.
The idea had real merit. She could have final say in determining laws and policies within their world. She could improve circumstances for some individuals while weeding out the corrupt lampreys clinging onto those in power that made them feel important or gave them a free pass. People would finally have to listen to her and take her ideas seriously.
"And in the meantime?" she countered, knowing perfectly well that'd be a long ways off and that she'd have to prove herself worthy in the meantime.
"You want to help people? Look around…our people are raised with old prejudices. They know nothing else. Identify the root of the problems and change what's keeping them around," Kingsley said, moving to pick up a bent, wire cloth hanger from the coffee table.
"Just like that?"
"Something tells me you're more than capable of standing strong even when facing off with a mountain," he quipped dryly, not bothering to hold back a smile as he said it.
"Thanks, Kingsley," Hermione murmured, rotating her shoulder. It was stiff and sore from trying to fight and maintain her perch on the thestral.
"Let me know if you need any help when the time comes," he offered, watching her.
"I will."
Hadn't Snape been trying to steer her away from traditional careers as well? Did he believe her capable of overhauling things as Kingsley apparently did? Pride and determination filled her in equal parts. She would make things better in the wizarding world. It was a worthy goal.
"Are you injured?"
"No. Not really, just achy. You?" He shook his head, giving a disbelieving little huff. As though their luck was completely unbelievable. Honestly, it truly was. Voldemort and four Death Eaters came after them and they were both completely uninjured.
"You're really not a bad fighter," he repeated, adding, "Mad-Eye was right to put you with me."
"How so?"
"I told you earlier. If they were going to attack, they were going to target the strongest, thinking Mad-Eye or I would be the most likely to have Harry with them. The idea was to keep everyone alive, meaning I needed someone who could hold their own paired with me."
Part of Hermione wondered if he was only saying that because he was being kind. The way she remembered the Order meeting going, he'd been paired with her to appease Mrs. Weasley. Regardless, it was nice to hear.
"And, Merlin, did they attack…. They knew," he repeated, seeming to be confirming his internal debate aloud. "There's no other explanation for them being ready like that," he finally said.
"You think someone told them? That someone… " she trailed off, leaving the implication unfinished.
From his point-of-view, it was obviously none of the Weasleys. They were right there, each one of them risking their lives to move Harry safely. Besides, they all loved Harry too much to ever even consider selling him out.
Same with Lupin and Tonks.
And Hermione wouldn't have been able to since she'd been with the Weasleys since the plan was first formed. Luckily, her alibi would make it difficult for anyone to be suspicious of her.
Of all the others…Mundungus was rather shady. But it had been his idea to have seven Harrys, and he was far too cowardly to risk his own life by coming along if he had told someone. Not that Moody had given him much of a choice, but surely he'd have found a way if he had been the leak.
The only other explanation was that someone might have let something slip accidentally. It was possible. Hagrid had done so on more than one occasion in the past. He did so with alarming frequency, if Hermione was being entirely truthful. It felt disloyal even thinking it, let alone voicing the thoughts, but that didn't change the past. Perhaps it really was dangerous and careless to continue trusting him with sensitive information – especially when there were lives at stake.
Hermione hated herself a little bit, but she jumped on the excuse, hoping to plant the suggestion if he wasn't already thinking, and asked, "You think someone accidentally let something slip since the meeting?"
"Yes." Kingsley sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he said, "It's the only answer that makes any sense."
"Do you have any idea who it was?"
"I can hazard a guess. I don't think it was deliberate, but this slip could have gotten a lot of people killed."
"I'm not sure you should tell Harry. He needs to be able to trust those around him right now, and he's already got enough to deal with," Hermione said, picturing Harry as he'd been the previous year, completely obsessed with exposing Malfoy's affiliation with the Death Eaters.
Harry often had a one track mind. They didn't have time for him to try and discover a traitor or clear someone's name. Hermione also didn't want Harry to look too closely and figure out that she'd been the one to discuss things with Snape. Her friend had a bad habit of uncovering the truth despite how well hidden it was.
"We can't afford to make mistakes or let people being careless go unchecked," Kingsley countered, straightening and looking far more imposing than he usually did. He took his role as co-head of the Order very seriously.
"I suppose," Hermione allowed, knowing to argue further would only cause him to reexam her as a potential threat. "So you're sure it was an accident? I mean…it must have been, surly."
"Either that or…or someone isn't who we believe them to be."
"An impostor? Like Moody during fourth year?" She'd not considered that alternative, but it was a good excuse, and a genuine concern.
"I'd prefer that, honestly. At least that way…," he trailed off, scanning her slowly. Suspiciously, he asked, "What is it you three are doing this year?"
"I can't say. Professor Dumbledore said to keep it secret," she ventured, hoping he'd drop it.
To her relief, he did. Nodding, he said, "All right."
Kingsley checked the time and held out the lopsided end of the hanger he held and ordered, "Less than a minute. Grab hold."
With a flash of blue, the Portkey activated. The spinning sensation reminded Hermione of a carnival ride, only far less fun and entertaining. It seemed quite possible that she'd unintentionally left her stomach back in Kingsley's flat.
The Polyjuice Potion was nearly worn off by the time they landed in the back garden of the Burrow. She had to reach higher, and her hair was longer and bushier by the time she'd thrown her arms around Harry in relief as he and Remus raced out to meet them. To see Harry standing there safe and whole was like taking a deep breath after nearly drowning. The plan had worked. It had all been worth it.
Hermione gasped when Kingsley abruptly aimed his wand at Remus's chest, asking, "The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?"
"'Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him,'" he replied, rushing on to assure Kingsley that he'd already checked Harry out. "It's him, I've checked!"
Once again it was bluntly stated that they were betrayed before each group relayed the events of what happened, drawing from each to put together a timeline. Though it was also to distract themselves from the awareness that the others should already have been back by now yet weren't.
The tales didn't take anywhere near long enough.
Then they were back to waiting. Endless waiting. Hermione's emotions were on a roller-coaster. Where were the others? Why weren't they back yet? Was she to blame since she'd helped Snape? Was he really the one to injure George? That glimpse she'd had of him…he'd been facing off…Remus sounded so certain.
Harry left her after a couple minutes to check on George himself, and Kingsley and Remus excused themselves to discuss potential traitors some more. She wasn't even upset about being left out of the conversation for being "too young" and "not in the Order". It was easier not having to mask her thoughts.
Mr. Weasley and Fred arrived shortly after, and Hermione warned them about George just before they took off for the house.
Where was Ron though? She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him and it was her fault. They were finally in a really good place.
Hermione refused to consider any possible explanation for why he wasn't back yet that didn't involve Ron eventually showing up. He must have been distracted and missed his Portkey. It wasn't possible that he wouldn't appear at any moment. He was just late. That was all this was. He wanted to make an entrance after getting to fight in a battle.
Waiting did little to keep her occupied and prevent her from fretting over Snape and the others who'd yet to arrive.
Then the coin in her pocket warmed, alerting her to a message from Snape. Relief flooded her. At least he was alive, though she didn't dare risk retrieving the coin to read what he'd sent her. It was enough to know he was capable of contacting her at all.
After a few minutes Harry joined Hermione in her silent vigil, making her glad she hadn't risked contacting Snape immediately. Others might have come out as well, but she was past noticing.
When Ron and Tonks finally landed, Hermione was finally able to breathe normally. Then she was hugging him and laughing with relief as he awkwardly patted her back, unprepared for the way she launched herself at him much the same way she'd done to Harry.
"You're okay," Ron murmured, "you're both okay."
"I thought - I thought -" Hermione gasped, only barely able to acknowledge the fear that had gripped her for the last half hour or so as she pulled back. She bit her lip, debating how to tell him about George.
"'M all right. 'M fine," he said, his hand roughly patting both her back and Harry's, one hand on each of them. The trio reunited, and still whole.
"Ron was great. Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters," Tonks said. Harry elbowed Ron, making the taller boy grin in appreciation of the praise, and Hermione swallowed her teasing comment as Tonks continued, "straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom –"
" Are we the last back?" Ron asked, surprising Hermione. Ordinarily, he loved to bask in the spotlight, and Tonks was shining it directly on him.
"Bill and Fleur haven't returned. Nor have Moody and Mundungus," Harry answered, glancing at Hermione meaningful. They silently debated which of them would break the news about George to Ron.
His penetrating emerald stare had her relenting, and confessing, "Ron, George was injured. He –"
But she didn't get a chance to say more. He'd turned a faint green and taken off for the house at a dead sprint.
Her heart lurched as she watched him go. The Weasleys just couldn't catch a break. They were so deep in this mess. One of them was always getting hurt, yet they refused to back down or hide just because it'd be easier. It made Mrs. Weasley's overprotectiveness that much more understandable. Not to mention, it made her love the whole family that much more because of their sense of honor and nobility.
It wasn't long until Bill and Fleur finally arrived, bringing with them the heartbreaking news of Mad-Eye's death.
Guilt ate at her. She may not have cast the spell, but she'd aimed the wand.
It was late, after the whole group had toasted Moody and after she and Ron had stopped Harry from trying to leave on his own – he was so predictable – before she was able to break away and see Snape's message. It read, 'Use the parchment, immediately.'
Ducking into the room she shared with Ginny, the other girl was still downstairs looking after George, Hermione retrieved the parchment to find he'd already messaged her there as well.
'Are you all right?'
'Yes. Are you?' she replied, wondering if he was still waiting or if he'd had to suffer at Voldemort's hands with his fellow Death Eaters.
She didn't have to wait long to find out.
'Yes. Were you injured? Was it you I hit?'
'No. It was George, but he'll be fine. He lost an ear. Aside from that, we only lost Moody.'
Hermione hesitated, warring with herself over whether or not to ask, but after what little she'd seen, she just couldn't let it go.
'Were you aiming at Lupin?'
There was a long pause, and Hermione feared she'd hurt him by asking. As soon as she'd written the words, she knew he hadn't. He may claim to hate the man, but he would never outright attack him.
'No.'
'I'm sorry.'
'You're right to wonder. I've made my feelings on the subject of him and his mates abundantly clear.'
Hermione frowned, guilt doing nothing to lessen her curiosity. Remus had told everyone Snape attacked him. George was pretty out of it still, either that or he was too busy making jokes to help keep Mrs. Weasley and Fred calm.
'What happened then?'
'It wasn't intentional. I was aiming for a Death Eater, but Lupin flew George right into the path of the spell.'
'I hoped it was something like that.' Hermione admitted, wincing, but feeling the need to say as much since he couldn't see her.
'Why do you always give me the benefit of the doubt? I've more than proven what a bastard I am over the years.'
Hermione blinked, rereading the words twice before actually being able to process them. Ordinarily, Snape resented everyone for thinking badly of him, for not seeing the truth despite the pains he went to to hide it. Even now, Hermione had just failed him in that regard, yet he was excusing her merely because she'd given him the opportunity to explain. The depth of her guilt intensified drastically.
'As you're well aware, I didn't this time.'
'You asked. You didn't accuse. You let me explain. Most never offer that chance, but would rather believe the worst.'
His words echoed her thoughts so closely that she was momentarily stunned. For the first time, it truly registered with Hermione that she was coming to know and understand Snape, despite his continued efforts to remain distant. Perhaps he didn't believe she could love him, because she was young, or inexperienced, or simply too different, but Hermione saw this as proof that her feelings for him were real.
She might see the best in him. But he saw the best in her too.
'You have your reasons, and they always justify your actions.'
'That hasn't always been true.'
The statement reminded her of the questions she'd never asked when staying with him. The reason Harry hated him most of all, though her friend was clinging to many varied reasons.
'The prophecy? We never had a chance to discuss it.'
'There are many things I've done in my life that I'm not proud of or that I regret. None more than that.'
Her brow creased. So he had shared the news with Voldemort. But why? And why would he regret placing the target on James Potter's back? Then again, knowing he regretted that, it was easy to trust him when he said he didn't aim at Lupin intentionally. The two instances nearly paralleled one another. Though that hadn't stopped Snape from getting Lupin fired, but really, Lupin had proven himself a danger when he'd carelessly forgotten his potion knowing there were students he might be putting at risk without it.
The timing of the prophecy kept nagging at her. Something about it….
Then it clicked. Hastily, she asked, 'Is it why you turned spy?'
For a while, she was convinced he wasn't going to reply. Then he surprised her.
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'I don't wish to discuss this with you, Hermione,' he wrote, dashing her hopes that she'd finally be able to unravel one of the final mysteries shrouding the man she called husband. 'Please understand that some things are private and painful. I can't discuss it.'
Can't? That was such an unusual way of putting it. Not won't as he typically insisted. Not to mention the private and painful bit. Shouldn't sharing with her less his burden a bit? That's how she'd begun to feel when she spoke with him, and he'd asked her to talk to him about Crabbe several times in the last few weeks via parchment. Each time had made it easier for her. She wished to do the same for him – particularly if he'd been hurting, alone, for years.
'Do you not trust me?'
'I trust you more than anyone else.'
Yet he still wouldn't talk to her. She didn't know what else to say.
'I don't wish to hurt you,' he finally confessed, confusing her all the more.
So much for knowing and understanding him. The man was a freaking onion, peel back one layer, and all you get is a dozen more!
And why in the name of Merlin would the truth hurt her? She'd been…what, two, when it happened? He wasn't making any sense.
'Please don't push this.'
'I understand.' That was it then. She couldn't force him to confide in her. Unwilling to end on a sour note, she tried changing the topic, stating, 'They suspect someone told. They were arguing over how he learned of the new plans.'
'It isn't a fun position to be in.'
'I wonder if this is how Wormtail felt.'
'Never compare yourself to that vermin.' The vehemence that came through in the statement startled her.
'You hate him as much as you do Sirius.'
'More.' This time even the letters were thick and jagged with ink blotches around the e, as though he'd gripped his quill so tightly it'd snapped as he wrote. It was impossible to ignore.
'Why?'
'I asked you not to push this.'
No, he'd asked her not to push about why he became a spy. Were the reasons related somehow? That didn't make any sense, but she sensed he was rapidly losing patience with her. The knowledge was a dozen thorns wedged beneath her fingernails. It ached and throbbed persistently.
'I should check on the others. I'll let you know if anything new happens.'
Quickly, Hermione closed the parchment before seeing if he replied.
