Authors note: I'm so sorry for this huge delay, I have been so busy, and I know that's no excuse but that's the only one I've got! I just wanted to get this up, I'll update whenever I can and have time, not too sure how often that will be. Again just for the reminder, the h/d will take a long time in this story, I don't want it rushed! Don't hate me! Well, I would greatly appreciate your feedback so even if you hate, feel free to let me know! Here it is...
Disclaimer: IF I OWNED HARRY POTTER I'D BE PUBLISHED…AND YOU GUESSED IT, I'M NOT.
Chapter Four:
The Order had decided it best to make Harry himself the new secret keeper for Number 12 Grimmauld Place after Dumbledore had past on. The odd group stood awkwardly on the lawn connecting Number 11 and 13, and waited as Harry reluctantly told Malfoy the address of Headquarters so he could be admitted.
It was nearing dawn, a light fog hung about the neighborhood, as it was no longer night, but not yet day. Snape had left them a few hours ago to go purpose the idea of Malfoy becoming the dark side's double agent to Voldemort. Hermione was unsure of how this arrangement would work out, and could not help but notice how the war seemed to entangle such complicated webs of lies. It seemed that every time you thought you had something finally figured out, it went and changed on you. Who was to know who Malfoy was really playing spy for; the light or the dark. One side was surely being deceived and who is to say it wasn't theirs. Malfoy did not really explain his reasoning for his sudden change in thought, in death. She believed Snape's story to be true, but Malfoy could be playing them all, including the Potions Master himself. It was a confusing game, and etched deeper and deeper as the war edged closer. There was no stopping it. Malfoy would simply be given the benefit of the doubt, they had nothing to lose (she knew this was untrue, but it brought some comfort in a twisted way), and one thing brought her much comfort about the group's decision: she was confident that Dumbledore would have made the same one. This eased her mind, knowing that even though he was gone, he still left his mark on them and had a hand in what choices were made. He was in the back of all of their minds, in all of their hearts. Essentially then, there was more than one man Voldemort had to fear, for Dumbledore lived in all who were faithful and loyal to his name. So, they each had a part of the wisest wizard of all time, and they each had a part to play in the war; good or bad.
It was this strong faith that allowed Hermione the sensation of courage. They could die, and oh yes many of them would, there was never any question to that, but she knew it was worth it. Dumbledore's sacrifice changed all of them and the way they viewed things. They were fighting for the future, for their late headmaster, for each other, and for the promise and hope of tomorrow. Hermione Granger, a strong-willed witch was not fighting as a bookworm-know-it-all, but a member of the Order. They were allies, they were a team, they were one.
Hermione was disrupted from her thoughts by the bone-breaking hug she received from Mrs. Weasley upon entering through the door. She walked in to the hallway and looked around; nothing was different. The house was still gloomy, curtains that covered Mrs. Black lay as unwelcoming as ever, there was still the display of grotesque severed house elf heads, and the feeling still lurked that dark wizards had previously owned the land. She could tell by the pain his eyes that it hurt to be back in the place that reminded Harry so of nothing but his godfather.
"Well this has a nice homey feel, now doesn't it?" Draco drawled sarcastically.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes roamed onto Malfoy, just noticing him. Her face darkened. Lupin had sent a message via Patronus to Molly, informing her that Draco would be accompanying them to Order Headquarters, however, Hermione could tell that Mrs. Weasley was not convinced he should be here.
"Well, Remus, everyone that you ordered is here, so why don't you bring Malfoy into the meeting and explain his and Severus' case." Molly whispered, clearly unconvinced and annoyed.
"Why don't you three go on and rest upstairs, nothing is really going to be said that you have not already heard first-hand, so there is no point in further depriving your bodies of the rest they so obviously desire," Lupin stated calmly, but upon seeing the look on their faces added, "and don't worry, we aren't going to not include you in Order meetings and activities like last time. You three are as much members as I am." He finished, receiving a reproachful look from Molly, who obviously still felt they were too young to join, no matter how involved they already were in recent events.
Harry felt this an adequate explanation, for he began moving upstairs, a notion which Ron and Hermione soon mimicked.
The young trio sat in silence in the room that once belonged to Harry and Ron. They had grown so comfortably close that no one needed to voice the concerns, questions, and mixed emotions they were all feeling. Everything was mirrored in their faces: Is Malfoy really changed? Was Snape telling the whole truth? Were they wrong in believing them?
The latter put most of the weight on their young shoulders, for they were well old enough to understand that such a huge mistake would cause giant ripples of deadly repercussions. Their choices carved paths for the rest of the wizarding world; these very paths would direct them through to the inevitable future; fate could only take you so far, the rest depended on will, talent, and intelligence. Hermione looked at her two closest friends and realized that if her life rested on two young boys, she would feel most secure if it was on them.
Slowly they began drifting off, and Hermione felt her eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. Her gaze found Phineus Nigellus' empty canvas and soon found herself staring out of a shattered window, overlooking a misty field, the smell and breeze of the ocean fluttering past the curtains. She turned at a knock on the door and was face-to-face with Bellatrix Lestrange. She lay frozen, prepared for death, and more in fear of Harry and Ron's lives than her own. After a few seconds she opened her eyes, surprised by the lack of impact and looked down to see the silvery blonde strands of a young man lying below her, apparently dead. Something behind her stirred, and upon turning she saw Ollivander, an emaciated figure, tied and motionless……
She was awoken by the scraping of chairs and scattered voices and feet which led the trio to the conclusion that the meeting was over. It only took her a few seconds to get over the reality of the dream; she was used to them by now. They always revolved around the same things; the death that she feared, the war that they were entering; and the confusion and mystery that seeped into all of their minds. They never meant anything, but simply proved that her subconscious was not numb to the feelings she was covering on the exterior, with her optimistic smile and big brown eyes.
She followed her friends as they went down the stairs to see how the others took the reveal, only to find that the stirring below was from something else.
Author's Note: please review thanks guys!