Twenty-Five
Day: 1452; Hour: 13
Hermione opens her eyes, briefly, and makes to turn over until she finds her left leg uncooperative. She then thinks about how the short, blurry peek at the white, on white, on white was somehow very wrong. Her memories rush back before she even opens her eyes again. For that brief moment of time she had been truly without complicated thought. It was almost worth the broken leg.
The sensation of freedom jumped off a cliff and is now replaced by that familiar, well-hated bind of post-mission confusion. She breathes out a rasp and coughs, feeling a dull pain in her side at the movement. She is in St. Mungo's then, judging by the starkness, the lights blinking over her head, and the pain meter poster across her bed.
She is slow to catch the presence of someone else, and turns her head expecting a roommate. Instead she sees white-blond hair, an intense look in gray eyes, and a mouth slow to smile. It is a fake smile, and then she sees the sling holding up his arm, and the strange angle of his body.
"Draco." Somehow, he is the last thing she expects to see out of all the people it is possible to find at her bedside.
The roles were reversed. She wonders if this is how he has felt whenever he woke up to find her there. "It's about time, Granger. I thought you might actually die from a broken leg."
"H-" Her voice cracks and strangles itself, so she clears her throat, watching him grab a cup off the side table. "How long have I been out?"
"Two days. You would have woken up sooner, but they kept you under to heal."
"From a broken leg?"
"Burns. Your whole side, from your temple to your calf. A bit on the side of your back. The less movement you made, the faster your skin would heal. Should go without a scar now."
He hands her the cup and a straw. She takes a sip before her body's need takes over and she chugs the water down in seconds. "I thought that heat was going to kill me."
"It almost did, from what they said. If you had passed out from the pain, which must have been a close thing, you would have been dead by the time they found you. All that stupid bravery, Granger. I told you it would kill you."
"I'm not dead," she gives him a glare, but it's empty. "We would have had to kill the Aurors if we didn't take down the Death Eaters first."
"I would have, but there were too many. I would have killed one by the time they killed me. Finnegan refused to kill them. I...I couldn't move enough to go around to get the Death Eaters. Finnegan would have been killed if I left him, and then I would have followed when they came after me."
"It was a bad situation."
He pauses, and then, like it was the hardest thing to say. "I figured we were dead. I knew Finnegan and I were losing it, and if I sent you and Justin around the other side we would definitely be dead, and you two would likely be as well. There wasn't enough time between curses to Portkey out without being dead by the time we left. You... You saved our lives."
Hermione blushes and shrugs. "It's what we're supposed to do, right? We're all full of stupid bravery - you too. I took a chance, it worked."
Draco nods, still looking uncomfortable as he stares at his thin hospital pants. "I didn't hear you behind me so I knew where you went. When an Auror went F.M and turned on the others, I was going to follow y-... I blacked out."
"I would suspect so. Jesus, Draco, your arm looked like it was practically cut off, and...broken rib?"
"Pulled it out of the socket, fractured my shoulder, broke my arm and my rib. I jumped out of the third floor when I saw the fire. Ground is rather unforgiving."
So is fire - she can feel the pain sharpening with every breath, and knows the pain potion is wearing off. "I'm glad you're okay. How is everyone?"
"Finnegan cracked his head, he was released this morning. Ust is...well, I heard she's alive. Brown, as well. She actually came to visit me yesterday and I couldn't get the bint to leave for over five minutes. I saw Justin in here yesterday, he left the chocolate." Hermione exhales heavy relief at the news of Lavender and looks over to the table to find boxes of chocolate and flowers, but she is too concentrated on something else.
"You were here yesterday? In my room, I mean." She probably shouldn't have asked this, judging by the way his face goes blank.
"I wanted to see if you were really so weak that a broken leg was keeping you under for so long."
Hermione rolls her eyes, but smiles because his excuse is weak and he's likely to know it. He fidgets in his chair, his tongue shoved against his cheek, and she wonders what he's thinking about. He's in pain as well, she's sure, since he hates the pain potions so much.
"You know, I really didn't mean to find the letter." She thinks she should say this one more time, just in case he still doubted it. Doubted her.
"I know, Granger. I... I shouldn't have reacted like that."
The silence stretches on again. She busies her fingers on the edge of the sheet, the fabric rough and stiff. She thinks he might leave now, but he doesn't.
"You know, you heart speeds up when I say dirty things to you in your sleep."
"It does not!" She looks alarmed, her cheeks flaming.
She's not going to give it to him despite that it's probably true, since when his eyes light up and he laughs the thrumming light that signals her heartbeat blinks quicker. He glances up at it and then looks at her, his eyes tracking her blush before he meets her eyes. He's smiling that crooked grin that always makes her breathing hitch a little, and so she gives it to him. Just this time.
Day: 1452; Hour: 18
It's not Draco when she wakes up later, but the very irritated face of Harry Potter. She can only imagine how very angry he was the entire time she was gone when he still managed to look so upset when she's been laying in hospital for three days. He stares at her for a long moment, his fingers stopping the twirling motion of the flower between them. He sighs and tucks it into the vase with the others, clasps his hands, and bows his head.
"I'm happy you're okay, Hermione. I guess I should start there."
Hermione sighs now too, because he really isn't even going to wait until she's out of a hospital bed to start. "Thanks, Harry. I'm happy you seem to be back at normal health."
"Did you think it was okay? To not tell me about Ron until someone shoves a letter from you under my door a couple days ago - which, by the way, was late since Lupin told me the day after I was released from Mungo's. I'm still angry with him, but you, Hermione? You don't tell me?"
"It wasn't like I wanted to keep it a secret, Harry. I wanted to tell you, I felt guilty for not, but Lupin said it was best for your health, and I think it was! You were injured-"
"I already read all about it in your letter, Hermione, your tired excuses. I was injured? Hardly. My best friend is out there somewhere, waiting for me, and you-"
"He's my best friend as well."
"You lie to my face, you take off on a mission to find him, without me!"
"How does it feel, Harry?" She raises her voice now, propping herself up on the bed even though it sends pain up her side.
He pauses, his fingers tightening around the arms of the chair. He looks surprised, suspicious, and then cruel. "That's what this is about? Some sort of revenge-"
"Oh, please. I-"
"-on the "final battle". Have you really turned that vengeful of a-"
"Hey! While we're talking about it, Harry, did you notice how I never brought that up to you? Did you notice that I was obviously hurt about it, something like you might be feeling now - betrayed - but I had decided that if I brought it up at all, it would be after the war-"
"I-"
"No. You listen to me, Harry Potter. I know you're angry, but I'm laying in hospital right now after nearly dying, and you want to talk about this now? Harry, I love you, but you're being selfish-"
"I'm being selfish? I'm not the one who refused to tell you about Ron because I was angry at-"
"That is not why I did it! I didn't tell you about Ron because it was best for your health, not just physically so you didn't run off, but mentally - at least until you collected yourself after killing Voldemort! You-"
"There are no excuses for not telling me, Hermione, and I won't accept any! If you were in my place..."
Hermione sinks back into the bed, trying to ease the tearing sensation from her side. "Maybe you're right. I'm sorry, Harry. Neville was dead, Ron was missing, I was scared you weren't...you weren't all together yet. I should have told you. I wasn't really thinking."
"No, you weren't. Because then you took off to go find Ron without telling me that either."
Hermione shrugs. "Maybe it was some subconscious desire to pay you back for not telling me about the battle with Voldemort. You also didn't know about Ron, you were still in a hospital bed, and I didn't know if you were all that...stable. Most of all, I didn't really think of it."
"How could you not think of it, Hermione?"
She hates how she feels guilty despite what he's made her feel for most this war. She hates that she still isn't sorry, and she wonders what kind of person that makes her. "Harry...this has been a very long war. I have been in so many battles, on so many missions over the years. And I did them without you. My head was so confused; I was running on routine. You..."
"I see," Harry whispers.
"You can be angry. You can not forgive me. But that is the truth."
"I don't have the room to be angry anymore." It sounds strange coming from him, because she knows he has always been one to run off his emotions first and his thoughts second.
"Harry, it... It took me a long time to realize who I am without Harry Potter. Ever since I came to Hogwarts, you, Ron, and this war have defined my life. It took me a long time to figure it out, and I'm still learning, still growing. But it's been years since I've spent more than two days with you and-"
"Hermione, I never want you to know who you are without me. I mean... That is to say that I want you to know who you are as an individual, but I never want to stop being a part of your life. You're my best friend." She doesn't know she is crying until his fingers travel her cheeks.
"You're one of my best friends too, Harry. And we're going to make it through whatever else comes our way, I know we will. But you have to know that everything I do...it's not going to involve you. That every decision I make in my life isn't going to revolve around you anymore."
"I think that's okay." Harry nods and gives her a lopsided smile that takes her back to Hogwarts faster than any thing could. "But never this again, okay? If you're going to go out there and risk your life while I'm in contact distance, I want to know about it. If it's something important, I want to know about it. Deal?"
"I think that's okay," she repeats, and smiles a little, accepting the careful hug he gives her head. This has been easier than she thought it would be - but it would be harder later. It always was.
"Lupin's putting a team together. We'll both be on it. We'll find Ron together. He's putting a couple Aurors on it, Lavender-"
"No, he isn't."
"What?"
"I promised. I told Lavender that if she fights for her life, I promised she would not be in this war again."
"She told me." Harry smiles faintly and shrugs a shoulder. "Lavender requested the team."
"What?"
"She requested it. Unfinished business, she said."
Hermione breathes a laugh and shook her head. "Gryffindors."
It's supposed to be playful, but Harry is watching her too closely. His fingers tap on the plastic of the chair, and his voice is careful when he speaks. "Lupin's putting Malfoy on the team as well."
"It shouldn't be a problem. With the whole Lucius thing, I mean."
"Is there, uh..." He shrugs again, doesn't meet her eyes, and she knows what's coming. "You and Malfoy are friends?"
"Good friends, I would say." She would very much say, and she almost laughs.
"Damn," Harry presses his lips together and nods, and Hermione thinks that it isn't just Harry who has to learn the new person inside their best friend. Even simple conversation showed changes in who he is now. "He was walking down the corridor right before I came in and started glaring at me. I thought it was about what happened, but you said there isn't a problem..."
Hermione blushes and shrugs. Draco had said that he didn't hate Harry. Unless Draco knew that Harry was coming in here to yell at her. It isn't the first time Draco tried to protect her against her own friends, but she refuses to look into that more than she should. They were friends, her and Draco, at least she thought so. They might be lovers too, but they were friends.
"Oh, my God," Harry sounds excited and Hermione looks up in alarm. "Yes! Chocolate Frogs! Can I have one? I love these things, but you always have to eat them before they get all dirty-"
Harry's face lights up and he's grinning like mad as he rambles on, and she thinks maybe Harry hasn't changed that much after all. She smiles when the frog jumps from his grasp, laughs when he jumps on her bed to catch it and promptly falls off, and laughs so hard the healer comes in when he starts running around the room in a futile attempt to catch it.
He holds it up to her with a grin and she claps sarcastically, laughing, ignoring the pain searing into her side. Because she needs this right now, as much as he needs her now too.
Day: 1453; Hour: 7
Harry brought her a new change of clothes, but her boots are still blood and mud splattered. She thinks she should wash them, but she likes them like that, in a strange way that she wouldn't admit to other people. After three days of being at St. Mungo's in a dull haze of reunions and pain potions, she grew a little comfortable. She slept a lot, she didn't have to worry about too much, and every time she demanded they let her out they would dose her up again.
Her boots reminded her of business. They reminded her of the last time she wore them, of missions, of death, of war. Of finding Ron. So she doesn't wash them but ties them up tight, and washes her hands when they stain bronze from the laces.
Lavender had been in shortly after Harry left yesterday, her eyes shining tears of gratitude, and Hermione had hugged her tight enough for the girl to gasp for breath when they pulled apart. Harold had come with her, creepy grin still attached, and she was pretty sure Dean Thomas was somewhere in the haze of faces. She isn't really sure on anything though, because she also recalls Neville smiling down at her, and it takes her hours to knock the thought out of her head that he wasn't really dead.
She remembers Draco, though she doesn't know if it was a dream - she had woken up for perhaps two seconds, muttered something about pain potions, and fallen back asleep again. At the time she had been having the greatest little girl dream of dancing with faeries, and she knew she must have been completely high.
Her leg is healed and her skin shows no evidence of the burns - all the wonders of magic medicine. They had also taken care of the wounds on her back. The healer had asked her later if she wanted him to get rid of her scars; she had a small collection from her childhood and the war, the most noticeable being the small dash across her cheekbone and the long one down her shoulder. Hermione had replied in the negative before she even thought about it.
Not that she didn't have enough reminders of war inside her head, or in the cemetery, or in the world they would have to rebuild. But it felt like she...earned them. Like they were the badges she carries from the years she fought. It is a reminder to herself - this is what I gave. She is proud of them in a way that she isn't sure would make sense to other people. Then again, maybe it would; Draco still has his, and she has seen scars on even Lavender, a girl who used to hold the blemish-free smoothness of her skin in high regard.
"Ready to go?"
Hermione's head jerks up toward the voice, the signed release form crinkling in her hand. Yes, she has grown too comfortable. "Who are you?"
They're both wearing Auror uniforms, but she doesn't like the fact that their wands are out and in the hands at their side. She doesn't get hers back until she's released. "Auror Davids, Auror Finnegan. We're here to escort you."
"Escort me? I'm quite capable of handling myself." This is true.
"By order of the Advance Guard."
Hermione raises an eyebrow and stands. "Lupin?"
They don't reply and so she sighs, walking out of the room and hearing their feet fall in time with hers behind her. Auror Stiffs, Draco calls them, the ones who look, walk, and act like robots. She doesn't know if they even eat if it's not an order. She hands the release form to the woman behind the counter, only managing a weak smile, her thoughts too busy with the upcoming meeting with Lupin.
"That's my wand." Hermione points at the Auror, as if he didn't already know this.
"By order of-"
"You will return my wand to me immediately." That was her life, for all serious purposes.
One of them, Davids she is guessing from the lack of red hair, hands her a parchment. She glances at Lupin's familiar scrawl, the order to retrieve her, escort her to MH19, and confiscate her wand. The stamp of the Order is raised against her thumb. She thrusts it back toward him with a glare, her boots clicking angrily toward the Apparition point.
She's overwhelmed with flashes of light the moment she turns the corner. Hermione pauses, blinking in the bursts of white and red that take over her vision, and the two Aurors grab her arms to keep her moving. Cameras, in lines down either side of the corridor toward the Apparition lobby, two lines of chattering people held back by steel barriers.
"Miss Granger! Miss Granger, is there any word on Ron Weasley?"
"Miss Granger, are you here on a visit or were you injured?"
"How were you injured?"
"How is Harry Potter?"
"There are reports that Harry Potter is undergoing treatment for-"
"Is Harry-"
"Does Ron-"
"Have you-"
Hermione is overwhelmed, and she is sure there are going to be several unflattering pictures of her gaping and blinking. The press hasn't been something she had to deal with all war, and she never really thought she would have to. The press, to her, was dragged down to an old newspaper she might find every couple months. It certainly isn't rows of cameras and reporters attacking her with their lights and questions. Did they know how trivial it all was? Did they have any idea beyond the list of casualties or their pages of obituaries?
"Hermione, a few questions!"
"Does Harry have anyone special in his life? Are you someone special-"
"Have you found Ron?"
"Draco Malfoy's involvement-"
"Remus Lupin and-"
"Hermione, do you think-"
Hermione stares straight ahead at the wall as one Auror releases her arm, and the other holds tighter. She goes from chaos to silence in a second. The Malfoy Manor climbs the sky in front of her, and nine people hold their wands aimed at her. For a brief moment she thinks Lupin has lost the plot and put her against an execution line.
The line of Aurors keep their wands aimed as Davids approaches them, the order he had shown her back in his hand. A burly woman with a hard face takes the parchment and examines it more thoroughly than Hermione did. "Cleared."
The nine of them turn as if by strings, and she watches them dismantle the wards. "This is new."
The Aurors don't answer her, but she doesn't expect them to. She waits until the gate opens before pulling her arm away from Finnegan and starting up the deep hill that leads to the Manor. She had been wondering what MH19 stood for. They had always just called it the Manor. Or, from some, The Place Where Evil Still Dwells, but that was a little too dramatic for her.
They show the order again at the door and Hermione walks inside to a tomb of silence. She follows Auror Finnigan up two flights of stairs, down a winding corridor, and to a blue door. She looks at them expectantly when they stop in front of it.
"My wand?"
"The Advance Guard has ordered its possession." Davids spoke gruffly, raising a fist to knock on the door.
Hermione can feel the magic pulse toward her as Justin opens the door. She can only read his lips when he asks if she has her wand on her. She shakes her head and he opens the door wider, inviting her in. The magical barrier in the doorway tingles over her skin as she walks past it. The Aurors have turned their backs toward her but remain stiff and guarding. Hermione closes the door and wonders if Lupin knows just how unnecessary it all was.
"Welcome to the new headquarters."
"What happened to Grimmauld?" Hermione asks, looking at the table in front of her. Draco, Lavender, Seamus, and Justin sat around it, and she knew what this had to be about.
"Compromised." It isn't the first time. "With the amount of prisoners they have taken, and the fact that Grimmauld is located in a Muggle community-"
"It's back to using the Manor as the headquarter." Hermione nods, finishing Seamus's sentence.
They could use more magic to protect the Manor since it wasn't going to have any impact on Muggle neighbors. Grimmauld had been abandoned by them several times, and when the heat would leave the Muggle neighborhood, they would go back to reclaim it. The Death Eaters already knew about the Manor, but it was a force of resistance. They would know the Death Eaters were there before they even passed the gate, and there was no chance in harming innocents - at least, the citizens they called "the innocents".
"So, what is Lupin going to slap us with, you think? A..." Justin trails off as the door opens and Minerva McGonagall enters the room. "Shoot."
McGonagall rounded the table, coming to stop at the front of it, and drops five folders down with a sigh. "You could all face criminal charges for abandonment. You're lawfully and magically bound to the Order until the Oath is broken upon your resignation. While all members of the Order have the right to resign at any time, none of you contacted the Advance Guard to-"
"We didn't want to resign." Lavender still hasn't learned not to interrupt their old professor. "We were still doing a pretty good job of-"
"It was not an authorized mission, but we were on Order business." Draco cuts in smoothly, still far too relaxed for a disciplinary meeting, his legs outstretched under the table as he leans back in the chair. "Despite that it was unauthorized, we followed protocol, rescued prisoners, and sent back Death Eaters."
"Which is the only thing that saved you in the eyes of the Ministry," McGonagall snaps, angry for the interruption, and the whole reason they were there. "However, this is Order business and will be treated as such. I strongly doubt that the two Ministry Aurors who accompanied you will be reprimanded so...delicately. Have you turned in your reports? Except Miss Granger."
"Yes."
"Hermione, you will give your report to Lupin, in his office, after this meeting."
"Alright," Hermione nods, and blushes under the heavy eyes of the older woman.
Minerva McGonagall has seemed to age another twenty years during the war. Hermione feels an odd sort of shame to look at her. Perhaps if the younger generation had been better, stronger, than maybe an older woman could have found more rest. But Hermione knows that Minerva was the Head of Gryffindor for a reason - she could have never let the war go on without her.
"As my former pupils, I expected as much from some of you. I had been hoping that time brought better choices, but I am disappointed. However, though your self-made mission was a stupid one, it was also effective. Besides the major law you all broke, you did follow the Order's guidelines, captured several Death Eaters, and rescued many prisoners.
"We would still suspend you, but your infraction has come at a critical time when all of you are needed. For that, we are letting you go with a warning. Do keep in mind that if any of you are in violation of the rules of the Order again your punishment will be worse than seems fair for the violation, and you will also have your wands confiscated for three months. Do you all understand?"
"Yes," is the breath of relief that circles the room.
"That said," Minerva swept the folders back into her arms and nods at them. "I am happy to know you have all made it back alive. Also...well done."
Day: 1453; Hour: 9
Lupin gives her a severe look the entire time she recounts the events for the report. She avoids his eyes and watches the quill as it speeds along the parchment to record her words. She stands when he places it inside her folder, still not speaking, but when she turns to leave she is pulled back and into his arms. The hug is short, and she'll never make out what he mumbles over her head no matter how often she thinks about it, but the severe look is gone when she leaves his office.
Day: 1453; Hour: 14
"I'm surprised you got over it so quickly." Harry doesn't look up from whatever he's scribbling at her words.
"I forgave you the moment you came back alive, really..." Harry pauses and she can see "Ginny" written at the top of the parchment. "Lupin was livid. I figured I should go a little easy on you since I thought he wouldn't. Public service, really."
"Oh, Harry. You loyal public servant and hero." She plays, his hand pausing and he looks up at her then, a strange smile twisting his lips.
"You've been hanging out with Malfoy too much. Look! You even have that weird smirk going on!" He points and laughs. "It's really creeping me out, stop. No, really... No, stop."
She laughs.