A/N. I feel my motivation dwindling and I don't know why. I am so excited to get to the end of this book and the trilogy because I have so much planned, but I'm just losing steam. *sigh* I'll come out of this, though. I always do!
…~oOo~…
Chapter Eighteen: In Which There Are Risks
It was just Hermione and Chelsea in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Draco was bringing Margot back to the flat and reporting to Snow that he'd found her. They were likely in a meeting with Snow that moment while Chelsea looked at the young thirteen-year-old girl in front of her.
Chelsea was skinny and long, her brown hair short, but had grown out over the months to cover her ears and shade her eyes. She still wore a blue ribbon in her hair, a blue thermal shirt and denims. Her sneakers were ratty and her shoelaces were brown from being dragged through dirt. In many ways, she looked like any other barely-teenager – awkward, growing into herself, the half-matured face. On the other hand, she was frightfully shy, a shyness normally only seen in small children. And she was deeply complex, that must was obvious.
And the images in her dreams…and now, during the day as well…
"How long have these…visions…been going on?" Hermione asked gently. The fear welling in her chest was almost too much. Hermione remembered Harry's visions and dreams. How they'd chased after Voldemort only to be trapped and to lose Sirius Black.
"Almost since I arrived at Moony's," Chelsea confessed.
Brow furrowed, Hermione considered this. "Do you remember exactly when?"
"A few days after we started class," Chelsea said.
What she was describing was nothing like any Seers Hermione had read about. "So…you're saying when you're awake, and you get these headaches, and the vision appears… it feels like the past?"
Chelsea nodded.
"And when you dream… it feels like the future."
The girl nodded once more.
"Do you remember anything happening right before your first dream, or that day, did anything strange happen at all? Anything that sticks out in your memory?" Hermione asked, grabbing at straws.
Morosely, Chelsea shook her head.
"Alright," Hermione said, trying to make sense of it all. "Alright. Did your running away have anything to do with these visions?"
Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Chelsea practically folded in on herself when she shrugged. "Not…really…"
"Then why? Why did you and Margot run? Actually, scratch that. I can imagine why Margot ran, but…this isn't like you, Chelsea. You have a father waiting for you."
"No, I don't," Chelsea told her.
Hermione thought of the empty, abandoned house that was once Chelsea's address. "Where is your father, Chelsea?"
Chelsea shrugged and told her, "I don't know. He was…living in the car, but…he hasn't answered any of my letters since."
Hermione's heart broke for the girl. Her mother was dead and her father missing. A broken little family that couldn't seem to be repaired. But she understood it all, then. Why Chelsea ran away with Margot. There was nothing waiting for her at home, no brothers and sisters like Adam and no servants and doting parents like Yvette.
"Why didn't you say anything? About any of this? Your father, the visions…" Hermione asked.
Chelsea paused for a long time before admitting, "I didn't want to be a burden."
With a heavy sigh, Hermione told the girl, "You could never be a burden, Chelsea. Come along, we'll bring all your things back to Moony's."
They got to the Floo before Chelsea finally asked, "So…I guess you brought everyone home already?"
Hermione's heart throbbed at the reminder that Chelsea wasn't the only one without a home to go back to. "Yvette and the First Years, yes. But something very…bad happened to Adam's family and he's at the Burrow right now resting up."
"What happened?" Chelsea asked with wide eyes.
"The Death Eaters," Hermione told her honestly.
"Does this mean…we'll still have classes?"
"Well, the older kids in the Order who hadn't finished at Hogwarts are done now. And it's only you, Margot, and Adam…so maybe not classes, but something more informal. More relaxed."
"Can we be in the Order?" Chelsea asked, her eyebrows rose to her hairline. It was the first time Hermione had heard even a hint of real excitement in Chelsea's tone.
"Why would you want to be in the Order?" Hermione asked, more curious than anything. When she was young and joined, there had still been hope. But now that there was none, she didn't know why Chelsea would seem eager to join.
Chelsea shrugged and said slowly, "I want to help."
…~oOo~…
In the next week, a lot of things returned to normal and a lot of things did not. Mould-on-the-Wold took on the overflow from the other safehouses, but the only children there were Adam and Chelsea most days. Margot would be there during the day, mostly the assure that she wouldn't try running again, and return to the flat at night.
Adam was as withdrawn as Chelsea usually was. But she never seemed to mind. She just sat right next to him all the time, bringing him cups of tea every now and then. They communicated mostly silently. Sometimes he's scribble pictures on paper and she would join in. He didn't sleep much anymore, but she'd stay up with him as long as she could. A lot of the time she fell asleep on the couch after playing chess with him for hours. He'd pull a blanket up over her and then just sit there and read or draw.
Beyond the dejection, there was anger in Adam that was slowly becoming more potent. One day Chelsea tried bringing him his broomstick. Maybe if he tried flying again, he'd start speaking again. Adam did not see it this way. He took the broomstick and viciously broke it over his knee and threw the pieces into the fire.
Harry tried talking to him, orphan to orphan. But Adam just got angry, screamed at Harry, and stormed off to punch a hole in his bedroom wall. Margot made it a habit or riling him up and for some reason those encounters left him seeming a little…lighter. It was like her agitating him let off some of the pressure building inside of him.
It was a Sunday at the Burrow that Hermione saw some of the life come back to Adam's eyes. He and Margot were having one of their tiffs in the yard while Chelsea watched on like it was a tennis match, her hand winding through the tall grasses and plucking up dandelions. Hermione watched through the window in the kitchen, as she always did, just in case the tiff got out of hand.
"No, you're wrong! You boys are always wrong!" Margot declared, throwing her hands in the air. "Your heads of full of empty air and Quidditch!"
"Why do you always make out us boys to all be Quidditch-crazy idiots?" Adam demanded heatedly. "After all, you girls aren't any better!"
"No, we are better," Margot said. "Better at pretty much everything – including your precious Quidditch."
"Yeah, right," Adam scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Are you ready to bet on that?" Margot said, a snide smirk on her face.
"Hell yes," Adam responded with vigor.
"My slice of pie after dinner says that I could beat you in a race on a broom from one end of the property and back," Margot proposed, her arms crossed confidently. And Hermione couldn't help but smirk, because Margot knew exactly what she was doing.
Margot, that clever, clever girl.
"You're on!" Adam said, running towards the Burrow's shed where all the Weasley boys kept their brooms over the years.
Margot let Adam win, that much was obvious, but seeing Adam celebrate his victory, smiling and crowing triumphantly into the sky…that was special.
Hermione sighed and was about to move away from the window when a pair of hands came around her waist to rest on her hips.
"Margot is a clever girl," Draco whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"They call her Mag now," Hermione said.
"Yes, I've noticed," Draco said and kissed the spot under her ear.
"She's terribly smart," Hermione said with a nod. "She reads like a fiend, finishes a book in mere hours and absorbs all of it. Her brewing is impeccable. Her transfiguration is even better. All the private tutoring and home-schooling must have paid off." Then she realized something. "What are you doing here? It's Sunday. Brunch day with your future in-laws."
Lately, Hermione hadn't seen Draco very often. His schedule soon became packed with wedding plans and social gatherings and meetings to attend as both Undersecretary to the Minister and Death Eater. Something was shifting in the Ministry and Draco was trying to keep track of it. That and figure out why he hadn't been included on the plans to find the muggle-borns. And since, no one had mentioned it to him, none of the Death Eaters even knew he knew about the massacre of servants at Yvette's home or the slaughter of Adam's family. It was as if the other Death Eaters were going out of their way not to mention it to him and he had no idea why.
The only reason he could think of was mistrust and that would be…very bad. Very bad, indeed.
"They cancelled last minute," Draco said, dropping kisses down Hermione's neck slowly, tenderly. He was taking his time. "Astoria's mother had a meeting with an interior designer. They're redecorating their entire ballroom for the wedding."
The word wedding made Hermione wince almost unnoticeably. "The second Saturday of July, yes?" The date of the wedding.
"Yes," Draco confirmed stiffly. They were currently in the midst of June a month left. "But that doesn't mean anything, of course…"
"Yes, it does," Hermione said sadly, placing her hands over his.
"It doesn't have to," Draco said firmly, taking his hands away. He turned her around to face him head on. "It will be a marriage on paper only. She means less than nothing to me. I need you, Hermione."
"I told you," Hermione said. "I won't be anyone's mistress." Her tone left no room for argument.
"Will it really be any different?" Draco demanded. "It's just a much cheating now as it will be adultery once Astoria and I are married. Call a spade a spade, this is cheating. I am literally sneaking around with another women, evading my fiancée and lying to her."
"Fine," Hermione said nonchalantly, her eyebrow quirked at him daringly. "Then we'll end this now."
"No!" Draco exclaimed, too quickly and too loudly. "That's not what I meant and you know it. What are your qualms with sleeping with a married man that are so drastically different than sleeping with a man engaged? I just don't understand your moral code."
"I'm selfish, alright?" Hermione said, exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. "Happy? I've said it! I'm a stupid, selfish human being because I want to spend one more stupid month with the stupid man I love! I tell myself that it's different, that I'm being a good person by ending it once your marriage is official, but it's all just one, big, elaborate lie I'm telling myself so that I can sleep at night!"
There was long pause.
"I'm not stupid," Draco said, almost petulantly.
"That's what you took away from that?"
"Well, you called me stupid, and that's just not true."
"I was ranting, Draco! People say stupid things when they rant!"
"There it is again. That word. 'Stupid'. You're Hermione Granger, I'm sure your vocabulary allows for a more eloquent way to call someone or something stupid."
Hermione opened her mouth to yell at him until he realized what he was doing. "You're…you're doing what Margot does, aren't you?"
"Pissing you off so that you can let off some steam? Yes," Draco admitted as if it should have been obvious.
Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath. Once she felt calm once more, she said, "I love you."
"I know," Draco said with a smirk. He reached out and pulled her to his chest. He stroked his hand over her hair again and again while he felt her heart beat against his stomach. "Everything will be fine."
"I've been thinking," Hermione said.
"That's dangerous."
Hermione pinched him and he stifled a chuckle. "Thinking about what," he prompted.
"Chelsea's visions," Hermione said. "She wrote a lot of them down. I'm particularly interested in her dreams – specifically one of the earliest dreams she can remember. She was on a stretch of land with a castle in the distance and a big, weird-looking tree. She has to be on Hogwarts property, right? And then who she thinks is a future Adam says something about a snake. And that had me thinking… have you seen Nagini since the Dark Lord's return?"
"No," Draco told her, wondering how their conversation took this turn and why they weren't snogging already. "He keeps Nagini hidden away these days. It's his last Horcrux, the only thing standing between him and mortality. He's been keeping her very, very well-hidden, I assure you."
"Maybe we should focus more energy there," Hermione considered.
Draco looked down and tipped Hermione's chin up to look her in the eyes. His brow was furrowed and he looked a mix between concerned and incredulous. "Hermione, that is opening an entirely new can of worms. We don't have the resources or the manpower to hunt down Nagini and try to destroy the Dark Lord again. Even if we did manage it, he isn't the only one in charge now. There would be Snow. And Snow is even more impenetrable than the Dark Lord."
"But we have to do something," Hermione insisted. "The move with breaking out Kingsley and the interview with Harry was great – but what have we done since? Nothing! Kingsley is still trying to make headway with Africa, but until we get support there, we have to show them that we can fight! That we haven't given up, even though we have. We need to get back in the game. We've been playing so defensively, just hiding everyone, keeping everyone safe, but…that won't get us anywhere."
"What exactly do you suggest we do?" Draco demanded. "Hmm? Storm the Ministry with the few we have left? We need numbers."
"It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of one's followers," Hermione said determinedly.
"And what idiot said that?"
Glaring darkly disengaged fully from his embrace and said, "Remus Lupin."
Draco deflated at that. He definitely struck a nerve in her. No one spoke ill of Remus Lupin in Hermione's presence if they wanted to keep their tongue and he'd just called the man an idiot. Leaning against the Burrow kitchen counter, Draco tried grabbing a handful of Hermione's shirt as she walked past him, but she dodged and continued on her way.
"Come on, Hermione," Draco groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know I didn't mean it."
"We can do this. We can fight this fight with who we have."
"No, darling," Draco said, softening his tone. "We can't. And no one left wants to. The fight has gone from the Order's soldiers. They've seen war and nothing will make them go back – not promises of glory or freedom. Right now, our protection is all they have."
Hermione growled in frustration. "Why can't you be on my side?"
"I am on your side!" Draco defended.
"No, you aren't! You think I'm crazy for wanting to revive the Order."
"Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean I'm not on your side."
"I am not crazy," Hermione said with conviction, stabbing Draco in the chest with her finger to punctuate her point. "I'm not." She crossed her arms and looked back out the window at the three teenagers on the lawn. "Once upon a time, we were the majority and the Death Eaters were the ones who had to hide. How did they do it?"
"Numbers and fear."
"Ever since Harry's press release, we have people excited. We have people who refused to join our cause before reconsidering. We need to have a gathering."
"A gathering? You want to summon supporters from all over the continent?"
"I do."
"Kingsley, McGonagall, and Potter are in charge," Draco pointed out. "You'd have to get it pass them before anything can happen. And if these people come to join us, we have to put them somewhere. Even with Mould-on-the-Wold, we don't have the room."
It dawned on Hermione then and she grinned. A real grin. She looked over at Draco and said, "Those tunnels are pretty big…"
"Oh, Merlin. Listen, Hermione, I know where you're going with this, but can you really ask people to live underground?"
Hermione gave him a look. "We're already underground." She paused. "Will you back me up if I brought this up next meeting?"
"Of course I would," Draco said flatly. "But, please, think this through. You aren't Dumbledore, Hermione."
"And maybe," Hermione pointed out, "that's why this could work."
…~oOo~…
Draco was having the final alterations done for his dress robes by the gossip queen of Death Eater wives. Darlene Nott was chattering away about unfaithful husbands, who is in a feud with whom, and about who is having financial problems among the Death Eaters. It was both enlightening and annoying to suffer her nattering, but she had a few gems buried in her ranting.
"Darlene, what do you know about the muggle-born situation?" Draco said, playing it off as if he was in on it and just looking for her point of view.
"Despicable!" she spat. "Someone hiding those pieces of filth! All of them just gone, disappeared! But of course the whole situation is very hush-hush," she said as she mimed zipping her lips. As if. "I only know what my husband has told me. Are there any leads on where they all could be?"
"Not as of yet," Draco said smoothly. "You know why it's important this stays quiet, don't you, Darlene!"
"Of course!" Darlene immediately exclaimed. "Not too many can know that there's some kind of resistance out there, scooping up mudbloods, hiding them…" Her eyes widened. "Do you think it could be the Order? No, no, it couldn't be. The Order was squashed after the final battle." She waved it off. "Must be some other rogue blood-traitor. It's enough to make a lady spit."
"Do contain yourself," Draco drawled.
"Of course, sir," Darlene said with a smirk, putting a final pin in place where she needed to hem the robes. "Turn and look in the mirror now. How does that look?"
He looked at the robes. Old-fashioned, sleek, black dress robes complete with cummerbund and bowtie.
"It's funny," Darlene said. "You remind me of him."
"My father? Yes, we've been told the resemblance is striking," Draco said dryly.
"No, no." Darlene shook her head. "You remind me of Severus."
Draco stilled, feeling the air leave his lungs. "Do I?"
"Not so much the looks, no," Darlene said, "but your…demeanor. Your eyes. Dark and cold, like you've got a secret." She smoothed out his lapels and nodded in satisfaction. "And I admit, Severus didn't look bad in dress robes. Not as striking as you, of course. That blonde hair, those eyes, on charcoal black… A lovely, lovely combination if I do say so myself."
Looking in the mirror, Draco wanted to believe he could be half the man Severus Snape had been. He wanted to live his life for the cause, make moves that changed the tide of the war, have everyone guessing, gaining power and demanding respect from everyone he encountered.
But Draco didn't feel like he was anything like Severus Snape. He only felt angry.
How dare Snow and Voldemort keep information from him? He was the Minister's right hand. Almost everything went through him. He was infuriated, suspicious, and conflicted. Until he came up with an idea. It struck him suddenly, the idea. And it was probably a phenomenally stupid idea. It was risky, it was bold…
And it might just work.
…~oOo~…
~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~