Chapter 22 – All in the Same Room

Hermione hadn't felt so good for . . . months, maybe even years. She sat up, yawning and stretched. She'd had a very unusual dream. What was strange about it was how very normal it was. Usually her dreams were wild – either wonderful and thrilling where impossible things happened, or, more common recently, terrifying, her every fear exaggerated. Last night though, she'd dreamed that she was having tea in the Malfoy Gardens with Draco and his mother. That wasn't possible, since his mother was deceased, but everything else about it was completely realistic. The conversation was light, the food was lovely, nothing was distorted in any way, neither good nor bad. In fact, for parts of the dream she'd felt like it wasn't even her dream, like she was just watching a memory of Draco's.

Harry was sprawled over a chair next to her hospital bed, sound asleep. Hermione shook her head. The plastic chair was far too small for him. Why hadn't he conjured a more comfortable chair? She wandlessly transfigured the chair into a soft reclining chair like her father's favorite chair. Wow – she wasn't usually able to do such a complex spell wandlessly, particularly not before she'd had breakfast. She smiled and levitated the extra blanket from the foot of her bed and covered Harry with it. He stretched and sighed. He had dark circles under his eyes. He must have been exhausted.

The glowing blue on her arm caught her eye. How strange – last night her fingers had been blue, but this morning the blue was higher – a thick band just above her wrists. She flexed her hands back, then gingerly touched her own blue skin with one finger.

"Does it feel different?" Harry's voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but easy to hear in the hospital silence.

"No. Well, maybe . . . I think there's a little . . . tingle under my skin, but that might be my imagination."

"What do you think it is?"

"No idea, . . . except I don't think it's dangerous. It's definitely not any kind of dark magic."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because . . . remember how the horcruxes felt? There was something . . . horrible about them."

"Yeah, and this doesn't feel that way?"

"No, in fact, it's just the opposite. It makes me feel . . . hopeful." Maybe more than that, but she didn't want to say anything to Harry about such vague suspicions. This morning though . . . she'd slept better than she had for a long time. Better than that, her magic seemed stronger.

"Hey," Ron peeked in the door. "Good morning. I thought I heard you talking. How do you feel?"

"Fantastic," she said. Ron frowned. "Not like that, Ron. I told you. It wasn't a love potion."

"How would you know?" Ron walked over to her bed. Without asking he took her arm and studied the glowing blue skin, turning her forearm slightly to see whether it was completely encircled.

"Maybe because I don't feel like I'm in love with anyone." Hermione pulled her arm away from him.

"That doesn't mean it isn't messing with your mind. No one knows what it . . . ."

"Excuse me, Miss Granger? I'm Healer Pye. Time for your morning check up."

Hermione was relieved when the healer interrupted before Ron could go off on a rant.

"Good morning. Any chance I can go home today?"

The Healer scrolled through a rolled parchment. "Yes. It'd be nice to know what's causing the glowing, but if everything else is healing satisfactorily and you'd like to go, there's no need for you to stay." He waved his wand over her and faint red marks appeared on her skin, echoes of the wounds that had been healed.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. What's all that?" Ron spoke in a hushed voice.

"They wouldn't have brought me here for a parchment cut, Ronald."

"Yeah, but I thought it was just one curse. That looks like a thousand."

Hermione paused. "I don't remember." She knew that Healers needed good information to be able to do their jobs, but there really wasn't any further treatment she needed. If she started answering questions about her injuries she would jeopardize Draco's cover.

"There are any number of curses which can cause multiple wounds like this. You don't remember hearing what curse it was then?"

Hermione shook her head.

"How about the counter-curse? Did you hear that?"

"No. I was pretty out of it." Harry and Ron exchanged a look. She'd already told them what she did remember, although she didn't say who'd done the healing. Hopefully, they'd understand why she wasn't giving this healer any more information and keep quiet.

"Too bad. I'd love to know what spell could heal all of your injuries, that includes the internal cuts, and what's more – finite incantatem –" the red spell marks disappeared, "it doesn't appear that you'll have any scaring. That's some magnificent magic there. Now, let's take a look at these blue markings."

Harry and Ron both peered over his shoulders.

"These aren't what I was expecting." Healer Pye seemed disappointed.

"Oh, have you seen this glowing blue before?"

"Yes, although not professionally. When I was a boy, my grandmother used to make this potion, I'm afraid I don't even know what it was called, but when we drank it, it was the most marvelous feeling. All pain disappeared, at least minor things like cuts and headaches, and life felt wonderful for a while. We'd get this blue glow that would settle right here." He put his hand over his own heart. "It was faint enough to be covered by clothing, but it could last up to a day or so." He sighed, dramatically. "I thought maybe I'd be able to figure out what that potion had been, but these marks . . . on your arms here . . . the file says they were on your hands and feet." He looked up at Hermione.

"Yes, last night they were. The markings seem to be moving."

"Fascinating. Can you feel them in any way?"

"I don't think so." He frowned and waved his wand over the blue bands.

"Well, as I said earlier, since you seem to be healing well, and since the glowing doesn't seem to be causing you any problems you can go home today, but do be sure to contact us right away if there are any problems or any changes at all that concern you."

"Do you think the glowing will just . . . stop?"

"Maybe. Come back if it isn't gone in week." Healer Pye nodded at each of the boys and, after giving Hermione a disappointed smile, he was gone.

"I thought you were the one always telling us that we should tell the healers everything." Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"This is different." Hermione sent a silencing spell toward the door. "I'm a handler now. Protecting our source is more important. Besides, you heard him, I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Ron crossed his arms across his chest. "You have no idea what's going on and you don't even care. This isn't like you at all. And why are you still protecting . . . this source . . . this Death Eater?"

"Ron, our source saved my life."

"Sure. For all you know, he's the one who cursed you first just so that he could . . . ."

"That isn't true, Ron. I know who cursed me. It was Dolohov."

"Well, your precious source probably set you up, so Dolohov could get to you."

"That's ridiculous. He even sent me a message warning me away, telling me that Greyback would be there."

"Yeah, but if he knows you at all he'd know that you were going to ignore that. What better way to trick you into trusting him than letting someone curse you so he could save you?"

"Ronald, you have no idea what you're talking about. He saved Ginny and was almost killed because he didn't . . . you know what. I'm going to save my breath. You're not going to listen anyway. If you have problems with how I'm handling this – take it up with Kingsley." She reached into her drawer to pull out the notes on the "Amorita," not giving Ron another glance.

"That's another thing," Ron stepped over to her and grabbed the notes out of her hand, "what's this and where did it come from?"

"It was here this morning. He must have left them for me overnight. It explains the potion I was given, which wasn't a love potion."

"Sure, then why's it say right here . . . 'Amorita – bottled love?' Sounds like a love potion to me."

"No, it isn't. It's a completely different theory. Love potions are banned because they mess with your free will – they make you think you're in love with someone. 'Bottled love' means that it is a way to let someone feel the sensation of being loved. They're no more dangerous than your mother's rhubarb crumble. Now hand me that or I'll cover your back with boils." Hermione stabbed the air between them with her wand.

"No. I'm not giving this to you. You have no idea where it came from. It could be cursed."

"Of course it isn't cursed. It could never have gotten past the wards on the room if it was . . . ." Hermione paused. Ron and Harry had shared a look, then quickly averted their eyes, but it was too late. "You did put up our usual wards on the room, didn't you?"

Harry looked intently at the wall, as though he were trying to remember whether they'd put up wards. Ron looked up at her, his chin down, rather overdoing the puppy dog eyes look. "Well, I figured . . . I mean, it is St. Mungo's. I'm sure they already use all sorts of protections and wards and stuff."

"Wards that you can trust to keep any cursed objects out?"

Ron had no answer. He tried to catch Harry's eye, but Harry just looked down to study the cleanly swept linoleum. "Maybe you should go over the wards with us again."

Hermione crossed her arms. They all knew that he was just trying to distract her, divert her anger into the chance to teach them, well, reteach them. She sighed, then held out her hand for the notebook papers. Ron handed them back to her.

"Seriously," he said, "I remember that there's 'Salvio Hexia,' and something about 'Cave . . . '

"It's 'Cave Inimicum.'" If he was finally going to pay attention to the protective spells, she wasn't going to let this chance go to waste. "You'd also want to use 'Protego Totalum.' So . . . go ahead . . . you might as well practice."

Ron threw Harry a fast look, but he wasn't helping at all. Hermione got the distinct impression that Ron didn't want her to see how unfamiliar he was with the spells she'd used so many times.

His face lit up. He'd gotten an idea. "Wait, there's that other spell, too. The one you used to do before all of the others, . . . this one –" He waved his wand with a flourish. This was obviously a spell he was more comfortable with – "'Homenum Revelio!'"

Hermione gasped. There was a figure standing behind Harry and Ron, at first glowing white, then the sheen dissipated and she could see Draco Malfoy, arms crossed, face furious, glaring at her. It took a moment for Harry and Ron to register that Hermione'd seen something, someone, then they both turned and instantly their wands were drawn.

"Apparently, that one is fairly important." Draco shifted his face from angry to impassive so quickly that she wondered if she'd seen it at all. His voice was calm and smooth.

"Harry, Ron, put your wands down. We need to talk."

Harry moved, folding his arms, while still holding his wand, mirroring Draco's pose. Ron, however, kept his wand up, pointed right at Draco's face, and took a step toward him. "What the hell are you doing here, Death Eater scum?"

"Ronald . . . ."

Draco shook his head, signaling that he'd answer the question. His eyes stayed on Hermione, though, as if she were the only one in the room. "I stopped by last night, to see how you were doing and to give you the information on the potion." He nodded toward the notes in her hand. "When I realized that it'd been too easy to get past your supposed guards, I put up some wards and stayed to make sure there was no trouble."

There was a thick silence as they all digested his answer. Hermione felt a tightness in her chest. He'd done all of that for her? Even though he'd been looking at her, he hadn't quite met her eyes, his focus apparently just over her shoulder. She frowned at him. She needed him to look at her. She needed to peer into his eyes to see . . . why had he done all that he had done for her? Her mind swam with questions.

Harry's did too. "Why couldn't you have . . . I dunno . . . just let us know that we needed more wards."

Draco smirked, then once again, directed his answer to Hermione. "I didn't think a . . . little chat with your friends would be an effective way to deal with the situation."

"Bull. You're probably just here to reinforce your imperius curse on her." His face was mottled with rage.

Both Hermione and Harry spoke at once. "You have no right to . . . ." "Ron, you know she isn't . . . ."

"Actually I sort of agree with the Weasel." Draco glanced at Ron, whose wand wavered for the first time. "A little more paranoia might keep you from being so reckless," he glared at Hermione. "Not that it worked last night."

"I'm obviously not under an imperius." Ron was being completely illogical about all of this, just because he still hated Draco. "You've been talking to me all morning. I was examined by a Healer. Are my eyes all strange? Are you even thinking?"

"There are those who can cast an undetectable imperius," Draco answered before Ron could.

"Draco. You are not helping here."

"I'm not trying to make your life easy. I'm trying to keep you alive."

"I think we just arrest him and let Kingsley sort this out."

"Ron, no." Hermione glanced toward the door, and sealed it with an unspoken charm. "There's no way you could do that without half of St. Mungo's finding out, . . . and it is completely unnecessary. I trust Draco. If he were going to hurt me, he's already had plenty of chances."

"He's the one who said you're too trusting . . . ."

"As lovely as this discussion is, I need to be going." Draco was again speaking to Hermione, completely ignoring the wand Ron still had pointed at him. "When you're feeling up to it, we need to talk. I need to catch you up on things. Nappy?" Before Hermione could respond, the house elf appeared, with a soft "popping" sound. She smiled at Hermione, then the two of them vanished.

"Stupefy!" A red light shot from Ron's wand, passing through the spot where Draco had been standing and smashing into the wall.

"Ronald! If I hadn't sealed this room for sound, the staff would be running in here now." Hermione quickly repaired the dented plaster, and righted the nearby painting.

Ron turned to her, his eyes blazing. "Now do you believe he's got you under the imperius? He as much as said so."

"No, he didn't." Harry's voice was tired and he slumped back into his chair. "So I guess we've met your contact then?"

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "I need you to trust that I'm not under anyone's control. Is there a spell that reveals the imperius?"

"A thief's downfall would wash it away, but we don't have one of those." Harry answered absently.

"I'm fresh out of Veritaserum myself," Ron said. His wand was down, but his eyes were wary.

"Wait, Harry, you can check. Do legilimency on me. You'd see the casting of the spell that way."

"Is this really necessary?" Harry looked sideways to Ron.

"Yes." Ron folded his arms. Did he really think Hermione'd was imperiused or was he punishing her because he was angry? It didn't matter.

Hermione shook her hair back. "Go ahead. Let's just get this over."

Harry stood up and faced her. "How far back do I need to go?"

The question was directed at Ron, but Hermione answered. "Ron, Kingsley said that the Auror Office is charmed against anyone under the Imperius, remember? We were in there yesterday, so go back to then." Ron was looking uncertain by now. He wouldn't insist that Harry check her, but there was a little fear in her mind. She wanted Harry to check. Draco's bragging had almost seemed like a warning. That made no sense, but still . . . .

"Legilimens." She felt Harry in her mind. He skipped over the morning's discussions, then paused when he reached her treatments the night before. Her memories were vague, she'd been slipping in and out of consciousness, but there was shouting, blood, everyone rushing around, healers appearing, then disappearing, then he went back further and she was at the cottage. She wished she didn't have to watch it again. She saw Draco and Nappy, frantic as they worked to save her. She could smell the blood, feel the nausea again. Was Harry getting all of that, or was she the only one? Could he see the desperation in Draco's face? Her heart pounded as she tried not to think about what that meant.

Then Harry took her back to the Ministry. At first the only solid memory was of her desperate search for her wand and the portkey in her pocket, then they heard Dolohov's curse. He traced back through her panicked run through the halls, the ice charm, the obscuring charm. This part was much more clear. She'd been fully aware then.

He reached her exit from the office next to the Auror Office, then skimmed through her time watching Draco and his aunt. Finally, he glanced at their last movements within the Auror Office.

She felt him leave her mind and breathed a sigh of relief. She trusted Harry, probably more than anyone, but she hated the feeling of having him in her mind. She couldn't look at him. He'd seen so much. What would he make of it? She didn't know what to make of it.

"She's clear. No Imperius," he announced.

Ron said nothing, but nodded. He looked more abashed than relieved. It was going to take more than that for him to be able to trust Malfoy, and therefore Hermione. She reached up to rub her temple. She'd take a headache potion when they got back to headquarters. Asking for one here would just delay things and she wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Hermione was standing in front of the mirror in her room examining her glowing blue marks, which now encircled her upper arms and just above her knees. Still slowing moving. How strange. She was recasting the glamour that was keeping them hidden from the rest of the world when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Hermione? How're you doing?" It was Harry.

"Hi Harry. I'm fine, really, I don't know if it has anything to do with the potion or not, but I feel better than usual, more rested."

"Ron just went down for lunch. Are you coming?"

"Sure." Hermione'd sent a message through the coin, telling Draco that she was ready to meet whenever he was, but she hadn't heard back from him yet. She might as well have lunch.

"First though," Harry hesitated, "there're some things I wanted to talk to you about." He sat on the bed. Hermione was puzzled. He seemed concerned about something.

She sat down next to him. "Okay, what's up?"

"I've been thinking . . . I'm starting to think we should stop going into battle, stop doing the polyjuice thing."

Hermione's eyes widened. This was a surprise. "I feel like I should be asking you a security question." Then she paused. Maybe this did make sense. "Harry, are you just saying that to get me to stop going?"

The sheepish look on his face answered her question. "Kind of. That's the main reason. Look, Hermione, I can't believe, looking through your memories, that was such a close call. If you hadn't had a porkey with you, if you hadn't been able to reach your wand, do you realize where we'd all be right now? You'd be dead, or wishing you were. Malfoy'd be dead, or wishing he was. Our plot to set a trap for Snake Eyes would be blown. We'd be begging, trying to do anything to save you. It'd be a nightmare. It's just too much of a risk."

"But Harry, everyone's important. It's not fair for me to be able to hide out when everyone has to go into battle."

"Not everyone knows the things you know. If he got a look in your mind . . . . "

"I'm good at occlumency. I can keep him out."

"No one's that good. If he knows you know something, he can get it out of you. Just ask Malfoy. What if they brought in Muggle children and chopped them up piece by piece until you talked, what if they . . . ."

"Oh my God, Harry, stop. Fine." Hermione leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands. How could Harry think of such things?

"Look, it's not just you. It's me, too. I can't risk it either. We can stay together. We can work on creating encoded documents, figure out what they should say, how to plant them. We have a lot we need to do."

"I don't think I want lunch anymore."

"Sorry. There's one more thing I need to ask you about though."

"Great. What?"

"What's going on with you and Malfoy?"

Hermione sat straight up and glared at Harry. "What do you mean? He's the contact. I'm the handler. What are you suggesting? Don't start being like Ron. Don't start seeing things that aren't there."

"Actually, I think I'm seeing something that is there. Maybe you're the one who's not seeing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when I thought they had Ginny or that she was . . . dead . . . or . . . ."

"Harry, I already told you I never meant for that to happen. I'm so . . . ."

"No. That's not the point. I'm not blaming you. It's just . . . I remember how I felt , how terrified, how desperate. I saw your memory. I saw Malfoy when he thought you were going to die. I hardly recognized him. That usual sneer, the cold blank face, it was gone. He was terrified. He has it bad for you."

"Harry, no." Hermione jumped to her feet. She began to pace in tight circles. "You must be wrong. He was just worried. He needed to save me. I'm his . . . ."

"His handler. I know. That wasn't it. You know it too, even if you're not willing to admit it." Harry leaned back on his arms and watched as she continued to pace.

Suddenly she stopped and turned to face Harry. "Why're you telling me this? What do you want me to do? I need to work with him."

"So . . . you're not okay with it then?"

"No. I mean, that's not it." She began to pace again. "There's no 'it' for me not to be okay with . . . at least I don't think there is. We've never . . . it's never been like that. We have a professional relationship."

"And you don't . . . like him, that way?"

"I don't know. Look Harry, even if I did, he couldn't . . . I'm a Muggleborn . . . it would never . . . I shouldn't even be discussing this with you." She stopped and gripped her head in one hand, trying to calm her swirling thoughts. Could what Harry said possibly be true? Harry had never been the most perceptive person, at least not before, but ever since his near death experience, his talk with Dumbledore in whatever limbo they'd been in, Harry'd been a bit different, more intuitive. Truth be told, she'd seen what Harry had seen. She'd told herself it couldn't be true. She couldn't believe it. The most frightening thing of all was that she almost hoped that it was true.

What a mess that'd be.

She realized that Harry was still sitting there, silently, watching her. "What do you think I should do?" Her voice sounded small.

"What you want to do is up to you. Either way, I trust you, but . . . Ron'll have a fit. He's bad enough already."

"Great. He couldn't be bothered to be my boyfriend when he was, but he'll take time out from his schedule to make sure that no one else is." She sat back down on the bed next to Harry.

"Hermione, that's not fair. You know that Ron and Malfoy've never gotten along. Malfoy's been a git to him."

"Malfoy was a git to all of us, but he's changed. He's different now. You know, Flat Face killed his mother."

"She's dead? That's weird. I owed her a life debt. I guess now . . . ." Hermione jumped back up. She pulled the coin out of her pocket. "What's wrong?"

"This is the signal. I need to go."

"Are you going to see Malfoy? What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to ask him what the heck is going on." Hermione glanced in her mirror, and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm some errant curls. She turned back to Harry. "Wish me luck."

She picked up the portkey that was sitting on her dresser, said "Portus," and she was gone.