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.
Also, I included the bit about Hermione and the memory spell because that never made sense to me in the books. In canon, Hermione tells Ron that she modified her parents' memories, but then in the cafe she says she only knows the theory. I figure that actually goes well with my story so I had to include it :)
I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.
Ch 22: Just One Dance
'They are attacking the Ministry tomorrow. If the attempt is successful, the protections around the Burrow may be compromised. Be prepared to run with Potter.'
Not exactly the wake up call she'd been hoping for. Why did they have to do it today and risk ruining Bill and Fleur's big day? Though she supposed she should just be grateful they'd waited and not attacked first thing in the morning. She'd gone to bed before Snape messaged her, so she'd not seen it right away.
With Harry joining them at the Burrow, and Mrs. Weasley doing everything within her power to keep them occupied, Hermione had barely been able to message Snape the last few weeks. Though she had found time to tell him about the odd items Dumbledore had seen fit to leave her, Ron, and Harry in his will. He'd been intrigued, particularly when she suggested they each had a purpose, but he thought perhaps the items were merely for sentimental reasons.
Hermione had her doubts.
"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione called, relieved he'd been so easy to locate as she stopped the man headed downstairs.
"Oh, yes, Hermione. Can I help you with something?"
"Do you still have the tent we used at the Quidditch World Cup?" she asked quietly, not wanting to be overheard.
She'd been meaning to ask him for it since she arrived, but there was never a good time. He was working round the clock, and the few times he was home, he was trying to help Mrs. Weasley with the wedding or doing something for the Order.
"Hmm, yes, I believe so," he said absently, fingers working on undoing the knot he'd somehow managed to get his tie into.
"I need it," Hermione pressed, her tone snagging his attention.
Part of her delay in asking had also been a case of self-preservation. She'd not wanted to risk Mrs. Weasley finding out then interrogating her. Hermione didn't want to cause any additional problems. The woman was under enough stress as it was.
"All right…" Mr. Weasley said uneasily, sighing resignedly. "I can look for it after the wedding."
"It can't wait," she insisted, conveying what she could without giving everything away. "I have a feeling, what with our luck, we should be prepared. As soon as possible."
"Ah. I see. For the same reason you nicked the extra Polyjuice Potion?" So he had seen her do that, she'd wondered. He watched her shrug helplessly, hoping a lecture wasn't forthcoming. Mr. Weasley sighed sadly. "It should be in my shed out back. Why don't I run and grab it then put it in Ginny's room while you keep Molly busy?" he suggested, not arguing with her reasoning.
He'd been incredibly supportive of their plans. Between helping Ron prepare the ghoul to pretend to be him, and at least attempting to get Mrs. Weasley to back off, she knew he understood their stance. Hermione was immensely grateful to the man for how accepting he was. There was no way he was actually comfortable with the idea of his son running off to do something dangerous, particularly not when he'd have a giant bullseye on his back thanks to Harry. But he was aiding them anyway and had raised his family to always do the right thing – no matter what. The man was a bloody saint.
"Thank you," she said sincerely.
"Just promise you'll keep each other safe," he said thickly, the tip of his nose flushing while moisture gathered visibly in his eyes.
"I'll do my best," she vowed, knowing there were no guarantees.
"I know you will, dear," he said kindly, giving her a reassuring pat on the back.
He'd just disappeared around the landing on the stairs when Ginny spoke from behind her. "You're leaving today."
"I think so," she answered, unwilling to lie to her friend. This might be the last chance Ginny had to be with Harry, and she figured it was better that she knew it.
"Will I see any of you again?" Ginny asked softly, showing just a hint of vulnerability.
It was a side of her that Hermione rarely saw, and she was taken aback a bit viewing it now.
Since she'd gotten past the events of her first year, Ginny made sure to always project a fierce, strong front to the world. It was her defense mechanism and probably a bit of a survival one too considering she was surrounded by older brothers that liked to tease. But right now, Hermione could tell it was at least partially an illusion. Cracks had formed, allowing Hermione to glimpse the insecurities and uncertainties lurking just beneath the surface.
"I hope so," Hermione replied, wishing she could promise they would, but knowing she couldn't.
"I hate this. I hate being the only one left behind. I want to help Harry. This matters to me just as much as it does the rest of you. I'm just as involved and affected. People I care about are in trouble, and I could be helping, but instead I have to just sit in a classroom and ignore it.
"Being passive makes me guilty of letting it happen. It's not right. It's not what I want – it's not who I am! I want to be part of this, not sitting on the sidelines – benched," Ginny said heatedly, intensity and a barely contained fire burning in her gut, fueling her passionate stance.
"Don't think of it like that, Ginny," Hermione insisted, a bit taken aback.
Harry had said similar things over the years to justify his involvement. He'd never let anyone bench him, no matter what. But Ginny was – because that's what Harry and her family needed from her. And Hermione could see it was killing part of her to put them first. To put them above what she felt was right.
"How else should I think of it?" she demanded.
"There isn't only one way to fight this war. Not only one battle happening. Harry, Ron and I are fighting on one front while the Order fights on another. You'll be at Hogwarts – be a leader, Ginny. Defend and inspire those there. Restart the DA," Hermione advised, wondering what Snape would think when he found out she'd thrown a new obstacle in his path that was intent on making his life difficult, as the DA no doubt would.
He'd probably threaten to strangle her…or paddle her….
A blossom of warmth bloomed in her center at the thought. Snape hadn't ever tried incorporating things like that into their bedroom activities, but Hermione wondered if it was something he was interested in. She was still learning his tastes and preferences, what with him being so much more experienced. So far she'd loved everything he'd done to her, but that was something she couldn't imagine him ever wanting to play around with given their previous teacher/student dynamics. It'd make him too uncomfortable to enjoy, but Hermione was still surprised her thoughts had even gone in that direction.
Mostly, she was shocked that the idea of doing something so foreign excited her, even after Crabbe. Probably because she envisioned doing it with Snape. Everything about that man seemed to be intoxicating to her senses.
"I would think this was your version of a consultation, except –"
"Except we both know we need as many people on our side as possible, and considering there could be Death Eaters at Hogwarts again, it's essential the students learn how to defend themselves. A lot of people need help, some don't even know how much they'll need yet, and you're in a position to offer it. You're as vital as we are," Hermione concluded, hating the truth of her words, but relieved that they had a backup of sorts.
Who knew how long this would drag on for….
"You sound like Mad-Eye," Ginny remarked, though she appeared to have regained her composure and repaired the crumbling wall she hid the truth of her feelings behind. Possibly, she'd even gone so far as to reinforce the stone with steel and rebar.
"Thanks…I think," Hermione said, unsure if it was a good thing or not to be compared to the paranoid ex-Auror they'd recently lost, and whose death she still felt guilty over.
Ginny only smiled enigmatically before heading downstairs.
The ceremony was beautiful, and one of the most romantic things Hermione had ever witnessed. Hovering lights, roses, and gold accents gave the decorated tent an enchanted air that tried to take everyone far from the reality and strain of the war. Yet, despite her magical surroundings, she spent the whole time comparing it with her own hushed and rushed ceremony in the headmaster's office. And she couldn't prevent herself from wondering what it would have been like to marry Snape for real. She just couldn't picture him as the smiling groomsman surrounded by friends and family. Of course, neither of them had any family. Not to mention Snape was currently running dangerously low on friends.
Still, it would have been nice for them to both have actually wanted to get married before it happened. For her not to have been so flummoxed the whole time, or for Snape not to have adamantly protested the union while also suggesting it might be better if he died instead. Though she had to admit she didn't mind where they were at now. At least mostly.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Harry said quietly.
Hermione followed Harry's line of sight to where Ginny was dancing with George. She swallowed uncomfortably when she saw the bandage on the side of his head covering where his ear used to be. It may have been an accident, but no one else knew that.
Nor did they know Hermione had warned Snape he needed to come up with the plan, so she was partially at fault for Moody's death and George's injury as well.
Ginny laughed as George swung her in a wide circle, the skirt of her long golden dress tangling around her legs, unable to keep up with their pace. They moved so fast Ginny would have fallen if not for her honed Quidditch coordination and reflexes. Her hair fanned out in a flowing curtain of crimson locks. Her smile really did make her look radiant. Hermione didn't think she'd seen Harry look away from Ginny since first catching sight of her walking down the aisle.
Was Harry imagining this was his wedding, and Ginny was his bride? Somehow Hermione didn't think Harry was quite there yet. He'd been hurt so much in his youth that all he probably understood was that he wanted Ginny. That she was safe, affectionate, brave, understanding, and that she always seemed to give him what he needed – be it a reality check or quiet comfort. Hopefully, Harry would get a bit better at giving Ginny what she needed once the war was over as well.
"I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing you think so," Hermione suggested, wondering if anyone else had noticed his fixation.
It was still odd seeing Harry disguised as cousin Barny Weasley. Probably it was worse for those that saw how interested he was in his cousin, Ginny. Then again, maybe not. After all, Purebloods tended to marry their first cousins – and Crabbe was the result.
"It's too hard. I just want to run away and disappear with her whenever I get close," Harry admitted, confirming Hermione's thoughts.
"You know you're going to have to grovel after this is over," Hermione stated, wishing Harry was more comfortable discussing had he really felt both with her and Ginny.
Hermione didn't understand how Ginny didn't seem to mind overly much, and was able to understand regardless of how closed off and emotionally stunted he was. It would drive Hermione crazy – did drive her crazy with both Harry and Snape.
Snape….
Was her relationship really that much different? She got the impression it wasn't. The two wizards really were eerily similar in some aspects.
"You don't think she'll move on?" Harry asked quietly, confessing a secret fear that must have been weighing on him for some time now.
"It's always been you for her," Hermione reassured him, touching his arm as though to infuse him with the confidence she felt.
"I wasted so much time not seeing it, then being too scared to speak up," Harry started, but then his eyes darted to something over her shoulder and he smiled ruefully. "Speaking of…."
"'Er-my-oh-ninny?" The thickly accented voice had her spinning around and it was like falling back through time. She was the ugly duckling suddenly transformed into a beautiful swan for everyone to see for the first time all over again.
"Viktor!" she cried, jumping up. Her hands fluttered momentarily, and she wasn't sure if she'd been planning to throw them around the newcomer or if it was just because the attention made her nervous.
"Vould you dance vith me?" he asked politely, though his expression was so confident and self-assured that she was certain he believed she'd never refuse. Did any witch? He was a world famous Quidditch star, after all.
"Umm, yes. Sure," she said, slightly flustered.
Viktor really did have a way of making her feel like the awkward girl she'd been three years prior. The one Ron couldn't see, despite her being right in front of him day in and day out. All of the thoughts that ordinarily filled her head seemed to fly out her ears. Probably with those nargles Luna was always going on about.
His attention and the giddiness he invoked in her was a rush, but she wasn't sure it was the good kind. More like he left her feeling like she was experiencing a sugar high, complete with the ensuing crash that left you feeling rotten and sick for twice as long as the jittery joy lasted.
He didn't speak at first as he led her across the dance floor, and Hermione didn't know if it was because he was concentrating on dancing, or if he didn't know what to say. Their letters had tapered off just before Christmas, and with everything that happened over the holidays, Hermione hadn't even thought of him once since.
Several of Fleur's Veela cousins were staring and whispering as they glided by, but Viktor hardly seemed to notice. It was obvious they were only interested because he was famous. Hermione suspected he only fancied her because she didn't find that impressive. The truth was, Viktor wasn't actually all that attractive. His eyebrows were too bushy, his posture made him look like he was mimicking a bow-legged ape, and his hair was so dark it made his skin look a touch sallow – despite all the time he spent outside practicing and flying. In fact, he looked a great deal like a younger version of Snape.
Oh Merlin, she had a type. Dark, brooding, intelligent.
"You are very beautiful," Viktor said stiffly. Hermione had a feeling he'd picked up on her distracted thoughts, and wished for them to return to him and the moment they were having.
It didn't work. His question only made her wonder what it would be like to dance with Snape. She couldn't picture him ever doing so willingly, but he'd no doubt be incredible. Smooth. Confident. In complete control.
Where had all those previous feelings of giddiness gone? Not a trace of them still lingered. No one else apart from Snape could give them to her. Not in a lasting way, at least.
"Thank you. How's Quidditch?" Hermione asked, searching for some way to extend the conversation and not come across as bored.
"I vas injured this year, but I am hoping to lead us to taking the Vorld Cup again next year," Viktor said, warming to the subject. Of course. Why did she insist on surrounding herself with Quidditch obsessed people? She could feel her brain cells withering and diminishing from lack of proper stimulation with each passing second wasted on the pointless subject.
"Oh?"
"And you? You will finish up school this year?" Viktor said, sensing her attention waning.
"Something like that," Hermione answered vaguely, not wishing to discuss the details of her upcoming plans with Harry and Ron to Viktor.
"Perhaps after you will consider spending some time abroad," Viktor suggested meaningfully.
"I don't think I'll be able to find time for that," she replied uncomfortably. Had she given him the impression that her ambition was to become a Quidditch groupie? Even if she weren't fighting a war against Voldemort, she'd have far more important things to do and demands on her time.
"You are not still interested in me," he stated knowingly, sighing dejectedly.
"I'm sorry, Viktor. I don't mean to be rude, but I am…seeing…someone," Hermione admitted, worried she'd inadvertently offended him.
"Ronald?" he inquired curiously.
Hermione blinked, not having expected him to try and determine who she'd chosen over him. Decidedly, she answered, "No."
"I asked around, and was told there wasn't anyone," Viktor prodded, apparently unwilling to let the subject drop.
"It's private, but serious," Hermione replied, offering him a tight smile that hopefully conveyed her desire for him to stop prying.
He led them to the edge of the dance floor, near where Ron was seated eating his third slice of cake. Viktor's hand came up to cup her cheek softly. The touch didn't linger, recognizing that the advance was unwelcome.
"I see," he said, finally giving up fishing for more information. Graciously, he said, "Then I vish you the best of luck."
"You too, Viktor," Hermione said sincerely, marveling at how differently she felt about him now. Before, the distance had been the primary problem for her. Well, that and her unrequited feelings for Ron. Now, she simply wasn't interested. She wanted Snape. And only Snape.
"How's Vicky?" Ron asked when she sat across from him.
"I don't fancy him anymore, Ron," Hermione announced frankly, wanting to clear the air before he could pick a fight with her about it.
Then he surprised her by saying, "You could. I mean, I know you know you can, but…well, it wouldn't bother me if you did."
It wasn't until that moment that Hermione realized Ron didn't try to goed her anymore. He didn't argue with her just for the sake of being obstinate. He didn't try to one up her anymore. He didn't take offense to every little thing she said, always believing she was trying to prove superior intelligence and ability. They…actually got along. And had for a few months now.
Amazing. Now that there was no more romantic tension, they were actually friends.
"I don't," she repeated.
"Hermione –"
"Why didn't you wait to end things with Lavender? It might have been nice to have one last great day," Hermione interrupted. If he could bring up her love life, she could do the same.
After seeing the longing Harry was experiencing earlier, and knowing how much she wished to have had that last day with Snape at Spinner's End, she didn't understand why Ron had purposefully denied himself. It wasn't really his usual MO. Ron never willingly gave up what he wanted.
"Your parents, actually," he said, shocking her.
"What do they have to do with bringing a date to your brother's wedding?"
"What you said stuck with me. I think I should put some distance between us to protect her. They're going to be gunning for us when we take off with Harry. Dad warned me that the ghoul will only fool them for so long, and I don't want them to try using Lavender to get to me, and ultimately Harry," Ron said, demonstrating one more way he'd matured in recent months. Hermione felt an immeasurable amount of fondness for him in that moment.
"I'm sorry, Ron. I know how much you care about her," she said softly, resting her hand over his. His fingers flexed, the tendons straining beneath her fingers briefly.
"I really do," he agreed. All of a sudden, his jaw fell open and he blinked at her stupidly. "Ah man, this is why Harry broke off with Ginny."
"Did you just figure that out?" she asked, smothering a laugh. And he was back, the Ron she was more familiar with.
"Shut it," he grumbled, flushing deeply. Even the crests of his ears reddened.
"I think your mum said she was looking for you," Luna said dreamily, staring at Ron with her large, unblinking blue eyes. "You're awfully red right now, did you know that? You might have been bit by a cuttletoe. They make your skin turn all sorts of colors."
Hermione stifled her laugh at seeing the look of horror wash over Ron's face and the way his flush deepened further, disappearing beneath the collar of his dark dress robes, at having been called out.
She had caught sight of Luna a few times that day, it was difficult not to see her given the bright, sunflower yellow she was decked out in, but she'd not yet had a chance to talk with her friend. Nor had she been able to after Luna had covered for her while they'd still been at Hogwarts. Being in separate Houses had kept them apart, since the professors had kept them confined to their dormitories except for meals during the two days leading up to the funeral.
"Best see what she needs," Ron said, hopping up. More likely, he was just eager to be away from Luna's scrutiny.
"You shouldn't watch him so closely. I think it unsettles him," Hermione remarked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
"He's interesting," Luna said by way of explanation, adding, "and very funny."
"Luna, you don't fancy Ron…do you?" Hermione asked cautiously. It would not go well if she did. Luna simply wasn't Ron's type, and Hermione doubted he would bother letting her down gently.
"Oh, no. I don't think I would like being with someone so insensitive. He can be quite cruel," Luna said matter-of-factly.
"Yes," Hermione agreed, snorting a bit as the girl called it so aptly. She recalled that Luna had voiced something similar previously, and it was still every bit as true now as it had been then. For all Ron was beginning to mature, he still had a long way to go.
"Besides, he's very shallow. A witch would need to be beautiful for him to want her," Luna said conversationally.
Hermione could tell she'd not said it because she was fishing for compliments. Luna really believed that. And while she wasn't traditionally appealing the way Lavender was, there was something striking about Luna's appearance.
"You're very pretty," Hermione insisted, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
It was true that Ron did prioritize looks. Fleur was an excellent example of his preferences. Lavender and Padma too. But hadn't he fancied Hermione as well? Hermione had never considered herself beautiful, apart from when she'd put forth a great deal of effort at the Yule ball. Did others see her differently? Did Snape?
His appearance had certainly grown on her. Perhaps it was the same for him. Not to mention there were so many other things to admire about him that spurred her interest.
"I'm odd," Luna said frankly, breaking Hermione away from analyzing Snape. "He'd never accept me as I am, so there's really no point even considering it."
"All right," Hermione agreed, not having a defense against what she was saying. Besides, Luna seemed to have already talked herself out of Ron, and that was probably for the best. Hermione just couldn't see him changing enough to be a good fit for her.
"Does Professor Snape accept you?" she asked suddenly, staring unblinkingly at Hermione as she waited for an answer.
He did, she realized, but that hardly mattered at the moment.
"Luna…" Hermione began worriedly, glancing about quickly to make sure they were not being overheard. "Thank you for your help that night."
"What happened to you? You don't have to answer, but I was very worried when I woke up and you weren't there anymore. I couldn't find you on the map either," Luna inquired, tilting her head slightly as she waited for Hermione to respond. Hermione could tell she wasn't asking to pry or be nosy, but because she was genuinely concerned for her. "Then suddenly you were back and I raced to meet you."
"Crabbe took me to Malfoy Manor. But Severus got me out before anything truly awful happened," she answered, trying not to dwell on the events of that night.
"He cares for you a great deal," Luna said sagely, the tips of her lips curling up slightly.
"He feels obligated to protect me," Hermione replied, downplaying their relationship. She knew he'd hate for her to be gossiping about what went on between them, and considering he was so insistent that he felt nothing for her, she felt the urge to adhere to his wishes and convey that message now.
"It was more than that. I could tell," Luna countered, smiling wider. She looked genuinely happy and supportive of them. If only others would feel the same should they find out. The unexpected realization that that would never be the case caused the tendril of happiness that had unfurled within her to wither and die a swift death.
"I didn't expect…after what happened that night…what he did to Professor Dumbledore…."
"There's always more to the story. Listening to Harry, and seeing the pair of you together, knowing him for the last five years…I think there must be more going on," Luna announced decisively, as though it really were as simple as that. Too bad it didn't work that way for others. "I think he must be very misunderstood. I can relate to that."
"You probably can, and yes, there is – he is – but I can't really talk about it," Hermione acknowledged, understanding exactly what Luna meant. Most people didn't bother discovering where her fascination with mythical creatures came from or why she was in Ravenclaw instead of Hufflepuff considering the girl's loyal streak. Even Hermione had never asked, a fact she instantly regretted, but this didn't seem the right time or place to.
"I trust you, Hermione. You're my friend, so I believe you," she said simply. And to Luna, it really was that simple.
"Will you keep an eye on Severus for me this year? I've a feeling he'll find his way back to Hogwarts, and I'm worried about him. He won't have any allies at the school," Hermione said sadly, dreading the hardships he'd face in the upcoming months, and hating that she could do nothing to ease his burden. His former colleagues would loathe him now.
"Of course! He'll have me. Don't worry. Besides, daddy is going to write all about the war this year. He's going to print the truth, unlike the Prophet. We're going to support Harry."
Part of Hermione wanted to advise her against that, recognizing the danger it would put them in. Another part wanted to point out that it might not actually help since no one took the Quibbler seriously, but she didn't want to hurt Luna's feelings. Instead, she remarked, "Maybe I don't see the world as clearly as you always have."
"It's all right, Hermione. I already knew that," Luna said airily, repeating, "I promise I'll look out for him."
The instant agreement and reassurance made her heart lurch. "You'll stay safe this year, won't you?" Hermione all but begged, grabbing Luna's hand and squeezing.
"Ginny told me what you suggested she do. I think I'll help her with that," Luna declared, undaunted by the monumental task she was agreeing to be a part of.
"Help her with what? And Mum said she wasn't looking for me," Ron grumbled, flopping down into the empty chair across the table from them.
"Oh. My mistake," Luna said vacantly, leaving Hermione to strongly suspect Luna had made the whole thing up as an excuse to speak with her alone.
"What are you helping Ginny with?" Ron persisted.
A great, silvery lynx dropped down in the middle of the dance floor, bringing everything to a sudden halt. Hermione immediately recognized Kingsley's distinctive, deep tenor as it slowly rolled out of the Patronus's mouth, announcing, "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Snape had been right. It was time to run.
Hermione buried her head in her hands. Her whole body was trembling from the stress of the last hour. Hour. Was that really all the longer it had been since they'd left the wedding reception?
The coin had warmed in her pocket twice since they'd fled, but between changing, trying to hide, being discovered by Death Eaters in the cafe, and escaping again, she'd not had an opportunity to check it. She didn't bother to now either. Instead, she pulled a few items from her beaded bag, scattering them along the dusty table to make it look like she was organizing things should one of the boys enter, and located the charmed parchment.
A message was already waiting for her there as well.
'Did you get out? It's chaos here and no one is sharing. Rowle is being tortured. Are you safe?'
'Yes,' she replied, caught off guard by the guilt she felt at being responsible for the suffering Rowle was currently experiencing. If she'd not modified his memory, Voldemort wouldn't be cursing him for failing. Of course, that would also probably mean she, Harry and Ron were captured and would be suffering in his place.
'Where are you?' he asked, and she read the worry underlying the terse question.
Hermione glanced about the filthy room. It was apparent that Kreacher hadn't cleaned the room since Sirius's death. There were even a few dirty dishes by the sink. Probably left there the night he died when he'd raced to the Ministry to save Harry. The whole place was likely in a similarly neglected state.
'Grimmauld Place.' Hermione could easily picture his expression in her mind at the inadvertent reference to Sirius. The way his lips would curl with distaste. The hard glint of malice in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. It'd all be there right now.
'Only one good thing about that.'
'What do you mean?' she asked curiously, surprised he'd find anything good about her being off alone with Harry and Ron.
'With a house-elf, you can still avoid needing to cook, considering we never had the chance for me to teach you that day.'
Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes at the joke he'd made at her expense. Not like what the house-elf made would be edible, and he'd probably try to poison her at some point. 'Funny, Sev.'
'I know.'
'Have you been punished?'
'No, but Malfoy was hinting to Bellatrix about how interesting it would be if they'd caught you in particular.'
'Did he tell her of the spell?' Hermione asked, alarm causing her heart to race.
'No, and luckily she was too distracted enjoying Rowle's suffering to pay him much heade.'
'I won't get caught.' It was a promise they both knew she couldn't keep, but one she'd have to try very hard to or risk exposing him.
'See that you don't, Hermione.'
'Are you still at Malfoy Manor?' she asked, wondering how he was able to keep writing to her unnoticed.
'No, I slipped out when you replied. I intend to avoid Lucius as much as possible this year. Hopefully, he will forget about the spell and what it means for us if he doesn't see a reminder.'
'Out of sight, out of mind?'
'One can hope. How was the wedding?'
'It was beautiful. I danced with Viktor.'
Why had she mentioned that? Was she hoping for a reaction?
Snape didn't disappoint if she had been, replying, 'That buffoon can barely stand upright, so I'd hardly call anything he attempts dancing.'
'You think you can do better?'
A single drop of ink appeared on the page. Softly, Hermione ran her fingertips across it, picturing Snape with the quill hovering over the spot, uncertain how to respond. It wasn't as though they'd have the opportunity before the war ended for him to prove one way or another. And she already knew what he believed about after the war. He probably didn't want to remind her of that and ruin the teasing banter they had going.
It did nothing to stop her from longing to. Just once. Just one dance.
One she'd probably never get the chance to have.
"Hermione," Ron said, the sound of his voice startling her. Immediately, she dropped her quill and tucked the parchment inside the cover of Tales of Beedle the Bard that she'd inherited from Dumbledore. Ron raised an eyebrow at her suspicious behavior, but he surprised her by bringing up a different topic. "Earlier, at the cafe…you said you knew the theory. But that's not right. You've done the spell before. Didn't you modify your parents' memories?"
Hermione's mouth opened and closed, but she could find no words. He was, of course, referring to when she'd modified Dolohov's and Rowle's memories, erasing all evidence that they'd located the trio. Ron was right. That summer she'd told him that she'd modified her parents' memories, when really it had been Dumbledore that had modified her father's. In the cafe with the Death Eaters really was the first time she'd ever done the spell, but she'd forgotten the story she'd previously told when she'd been talking to them.
"Oh, right. I guess I was flustered earlier," she tried, surprised that Ron had paid enough attention to catch her slip.
"Right," he said, frowning at her. Hermione felt a twinge of regret at his obvious disappointment in her. But all he said was, "You know, you've never been a very good liar. We're friends, I trust you and I'm here if you need me."
"Did Harry notice?" she asked quietly, acknowledging the truth they were both aware of.
"No. He's not really with us right now," he answered darkly, meaningfully.
"He's in his head, isn't he? He knows how dangerous that is!" she hissed, mentally cursing Harry for not trying harder to stay out of Voldemort's head. He should have learned Occlumency properly. He'd had plenty of time to master the skill, if only he'd try.
Why did he keep doing it? Snape had said Rowle was being tortured. That couldn't be a pleasant experience for him to witness.
"I don't think he's got much of a choice," Ron said feebly, though she detected a hint of uncertainty in his words.
Probably, he, like her, was beginning to think Harry occasionally sought out the connection for some reason or another. Hermione couldn't fathom willingly venturing so close to the insanity that was Voldemort's twisted mind. It couldn't be pleasant.
"Where is he?"
"Bathroom, but –" Ron broke off when she jumped up to confront Harry. He raced after her, grabbing her arm to stop her, and insisting, "Hermione! Just let it go, today has already been hard enough."
She pursed her lips, mentally allowing that he had a point, but that didn't mean she didn't still mean to distract Harry enough to break the connection. Ron, sensing her capitulation, released his hold on her, but still followed closely behind her as she made her way to the closed bathroom door, prepared to intervene if the two started fighting over it.
"Harry, do you want your toothbrush? I've got it here," she called loudly, listening to him stirring a moment before he answered.
"Yeah, great, thanks," he replied, sounding strained though she could tell he was attempting to mask it. Then the door opened and she caught sight of his pale, sweaty face. He looked bloody awful. Wrung out and thin as cobwebs, ready to blow away with the next stiff breeze. "Where is it?"
"Oh, umm, it's actually still downstairs," she said, feeling slightly embarrassed when she realized she'd left the beaded bag on the table she'd been sitting at.
Ron snorted, but saved her by suggesting, "It's late. Why don't we all catch some sleep in the parlor then we can plan out our next move in the morning."
"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed, and Hermione felt relief and gratitude wash over her.
She'd not been looking forward to the idea of sleeping alone that night. With all of the adrenaline and fear she'd experienced that evening, she'd surely have had nightmares. Hopefully, with the boys close at hand she'd feel safer and that would keep them at bay.
