Hermione reclined in her favorite chair in the Gryffindor Common Room, a bored expression on her face as she re-read the paragraph in front of her. She was re-reading "The Art of Expert Transfiguration" because Bellatrix had decided at some point during the last week that it was absolutely essential for Hermione to become an animagus.
"If you decide to do your task you might need a discrete escape method," she had said, and if not, well… you might need a good disguise."
Hermione had refrained from asking how discrete she would be if her animagus form were to be a bear, or perhaps a whale. Instead, she had dutifully promised to keep a Mandrake leaf under her tongue for the next month, and be as prepared as possible for the transformation during the Easter Holidays.
She shifted the soggy leaf to the other side of her mouth, wincing a little as the sharp flavor bit her tongue, and turned the page. In addition to becoming an Animagi, she was also taking the Ministry lessons on apparation every weekend. She was tired of having to rely on others to travel.
"Doing some research for your Transfiguration essay?" Seamus' voice cut into her thoughts, and she looked up to see him standing in front of her, a shy smile on his face.
"Something like that," she said, giving him a kind smile. She liked Seamus well enough. He was always stopping by to say hi, or to ask her questions. She also made it a point to ignore when his cheeks turned pink, or when he stammered over a simple phrase.
"Did you have a nice holiday?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Yeah. Did you?"
He nodded. "I was wondering-"
He was interrupted by loud laughter from the portrait hole. Ginny and Ron clambered in, followed closely by Harry and Neville.
Ever since the news of the Dark Lord's return became official, those four (as well as Luna) had become legendary. The entire room shifted as all attention was redirected to them, and Hermione felt a sliver of jealousy at how easily they commanded the room.
"Hey Seamus, we were just about to start a game of gobstones. You in?" Ron called, his clothing still wet from what Hermione assumed was a trek through the snow.
Seamus cast an apologetic look at her, which she returned with a cheery grin. "Maybe in a minute-"
"Oh, hold on!" Harry said, walking over to Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to give this to you."
Her heart sank before she even accepted the slip of paper. "Thanks Harry," she murmured, flashing him a tiny smile.
His green eyes were kind, "No problem. If you want to take a break from that-" he nodded to her book, "you could play gobstones with us."
"That's alright," she said quickly, noticing the flush that had spread across Ron's cheeks. "I'm in the middle of an interesting part." It sounded lame, even to her, but he bought it.
"If you change your mind you're welcome anytime."
"What would Dumbledore want with Hermione?" asked Seamus, his nose wrinkling, "You never get into trouble."
"He's her uncle, remember?" said Ron, his tone hard.
She looked at him in surprise, and his blue eyes fell immediately to the floor. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at him, she unfolded the note.
Her uncle's elegant script read:
Hermione,
I would like to see you when you have a spare moment. I think you'll find I like ice mice this time of year.
Uncle Albus
It was better to get it over with, she decided, standing up.
"You're leaving?" Disappointment shone clear on Seamus' face, and she added it to her list of things to feel guilty about.
"My uncle wants to see me," she said, forcing her voice to sound light. "I'll see you later!"
"Yeah, ok!" He called out after her.
Harry, Neville and Ginny joined in a chorus of "Bye", and she waved absentmindedly to them as she climbed the stairway to her dormitory.
She dropped her book off on her bed, and then traced the familiar path to the stone gargoyle. After muttering the password she climbed the stairs, and felt her stomach grow leaden with each step.
"Come in!" he called once she'd knocked on his door.
The Headmaster's office was warm. His silver instruments clicked gently, filling the room with the sound of a couple dozen clocks.
"Hermione!" he said warmly, his blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Just who I was hoping to see." He indicated a tray before him, "I even had the kitchen send up tea, in case you visited."
Fawkes let out a gentle trill as she took a seat. "Hello, Uncle Albus," she said softly. Her chest felt very full as she watched him arrange a teacup in front of her, his blackened hand sitting uselessly to the side. There was a tray of her favorite hazelnut and chocolate tarts, and she smiled as he pushed it closer to her.
"I hear you made quite the impression at the Slytherin Ball," he said, chuckling a little as he poured her tea. "Did you enjoy it?"
"Most of it," she said, trying not to blush as she thought of what she had done after.
"Apparently there's quite a lot of talk about you and Terence Higgs," his blue eyes were caught somewhere between teasing and serious.
She blinked back at him, "Terence is a friend," she said slowly. "We were just dancing."
He gave a low chuckle, "Marriages have been promised on much less," he pointed out.
As the daughter of an elite pureblood family she had been teased about her marriage since she was old enough to walk, but she was tired of having to defend her friendship with Terence. "I'm not marrying Terence," she said shortly, blushing when her uncle fixed her with an amused glance.
"Have you tried the tarts? They're quite delicious."
Of course they were. She had been eating the same ones for the last six years. Still, she took a bite to appease him. Even the mandrake root couldn't dampen the rich, buttery deliciousness of Hogwarts' hazelnut tarts.
"Was the ball well attended?" he asked, brushing bits of pastry from his beard.
She nodded. "Oh yes. I didn't know there were so many Death Eaters."
"Oh yes, I expect there are."
"And I'd say about a third of them were Ministry employees. They didn't look imperiused or anything."
"Did you learn anything?" He asked mildly, peering at her as he took a sip of his tea.
Her fingers played with the gilded edge of her saucer. "He likes his pageantries," she said slowly. "It felt very much like a scene from one of the storybooks Mother used to read us when we were children. It wasn't like Mother's parties at all." It was louder, and there was a frenzied current that made it feel more dangerous- though not in an unpleasant way.
"Slytherin was known for his grandiose galas," he said, "I expect he was trying to emulate his ancestor."
She nodded thoughtfully, and took a bite of treacle tart. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she made a decision. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.
"Uncle Albus," she said hesitantly. "The Dark Lord gave me my first task."
He broke off a piece of tart and held it out to Fawkes. "Oh?" The scarlet bird nibbled at it, letting out a delighted coo.
She licked her lips, "Yes. He.. he told me that he would let me free Papa if I did it."
"Then you must feel very strongly about it."
That was one way to put it. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "He told me to kill you."
He looked at her then, his eyes so blue and kind that she almost started weeping.
"He thinks I'm going to do it," she said, speaking quickly, "but I won't. I can't. I promise you I won't!"
He said nothing.
"Mother can arrange for us to go into hiding," she said quickly. "Or we can fake your death. I know you could! You're the greatest wizard of all time! He wouldn't have to know, and we could continue to do everything just as we are." When he still said nothing she balled her hands into fists. "Please say something. Don't you believe me?"
"I believe you." He reached out and stroked Fawkes' head. The bird looked back at him, and it seemed as if they were having an internal discussion.
At last, he looked back at her said, "Do you know what the Headmaster's Choice is, Hermione?"
She shook her head, confused at why he wasn't focusing on the important thing.
"Every Headmaster has the power to influence the sorting of one child in their career."
Dread filled her. She did not want to hear what this was about. "Please, if you focused on planning what we're going to do-"
"Most Headmaster's use it on their own family. To ensure that an errant grandson follows the family legacy, or soothe the fears of one worried they'll get sorted into the wrong house." He sighed, and finally turned his blue gaze back to her. "I was worried that if you were sorted into Slytherin you would become seduced by the promise of prestige. That you would align your views with your Slytherin friends, and become too cloistered to make your own decision about who you are. In Gryffindor you would be exposed to so many more viewpoints. I hoped that eventually your friendships there would compensate the fact that you didn't really fit the traditional Gryffindor image."
She felt very cold as he continued. As if she had been doused in ice water.
"The fact that you came here today, and admitted the Dark Lord's plan, proves that I made the right decision six years ago."
"So the reason- the reason I'm not a Slytherin was you?' She was shaking with suppressed anger.
He nodded. "A decision I stand by."
"The hat told me it was because I was muggleborn!" she spat, "Do you know what it was like, knowing that the House I belonged in was out of reach because I was born to Muggles?! I've been miserable in Gryffindor. The only person who liked me before this year was Harry-"
"I regret that I was not able to allow you to be in your true house," he said softly. "But I needed to make sure that you grew up with the right loyalties."
She scoffed. "How do you know you haven't just ruined that?" she asked, unable to keep the scowl from sliding over her features.
"I'm willing to take that risk." His voice was still gentle. "You've been honest with me, and so I am going to reward you by being honest with you. We don't have very much time left. It's time for us to speak not as mentor and student, but as equals in a fight for the greater good. Can you do that for me?"
Despite her anger, she found herself unable to deny him. "Yes."
There was a flash of relief, but it was quickly snuffed away by his mask of sincerity. "You have grown into a capable young witch. I have never been more honored to call myself your uncle." He took a breath, "Which is why you are going to fulfill Lord Voldemort's task."
For a moment all she could do was gape at him. "Surely you're joking?" she said, letting out a shrill laugh.
He shook his head, "Never about something so serious."
"But I..I can't," she felt very real fear then. All along she had known instinctively that he would take care of this for her. Prevent this.
"I'm dying anyway," he said softly. "This-" he jerked the blackened hand, "This will kill me by midsummer. It will be a gruesome, wasting death if I let it happen. You will be doing me a kindness, in addition to ensuring your spot at Voldemort's side."
"I don't want to!" She cried. Meaning it with every fiber of her being.
His voice was grave, "Then you will take away the greatest shot the wizarding world has at defeating him."
"The wizarding world has Harry!" she shot back. "The Wizarding world has you."
But not for long. Her eyes fell on the blackened hand and she swallowed heavily. He was dying. He would be dead by midsummer anyway. He said it would be a kindness...
She shivered.
"Is your tea cold?" he asked. He picked up his wand and waved it over her cup until a little puff of steam popped up. "There. All better."
"It's not," she said brokenly. Still, she took a sip of the tea to appease him. She felt him sizing her up, waiting for her to say anything else. Slowly, she dragged her eyes up to his gaze. How could anything so gentle be so piercing? He looked so sure, and so understanding. Like he always did. He had always had all the answers, hadn't he?
And then it clicked.
"You knew he was going to ask me to do this, didn't you?"
He smiled sadly, "I knew that if we were successful. If he truly believed you were on his side, that it was a great possibility."
She exhaled a long, shaky breath. "How do you know I won't give myself over to him completely afterwards? You don't just kill someone and then walk away unscathed!" Especially not family members.
His eyes continued to twinkle back at her, "I know you won't." he said simply.
It was over. She had the distinct feeling that she never had a choice to begin with, and it frustrated her endlessly.
"I'll… I'll do it." She felt as if someone had scooped out her insides. Hollow and dusty.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I will ask you to give me some more time, if you would be so kind. There's more I need to do before I go."
She let out a bark of a laugh, "I'm not in a hurry."
"No, I suspect you're not. There's so much more we need to talk about. I would like it if we could strike up our weekly meetings again."
"Yeah," she said, suddenly needing air. "Yeah, anything you want." She slid back her chair and stood. "I have to… I need-" The room seemed as if it was tilting on it's axis. As if she was miles above her feet, watching them spin helplessly beneath her. "I can't be here right now," she whispered.
"I understand." For the first time a flicker of sadness entered his eyes. "I'll see you soon. How about Saturday?."
She nodded, and fled.