Chapter Eleven
The sun had only begun to rise when Hermione was awoken- as all the members of the house had- by an excessive banging on the front door of the Burrow. Doors all up and down the staircase opened as everyone rushed out of their beds to investigate. Mr Weasley was the first to arrive at the door; when he opened it, a harried Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the home.
"Forgive my late intrusion," he apologized, glancing around at the bleary-eyed, pajama-clad group before him. "Or I should say, early. I wouldn't have come if it weren't urgent."
"Don't you worry about it," assured Mrs Weasley as she ushered him into a seat at the kitchen table. "I'll put on some tea. What can we do for you?"
Hermione joined Ron, Ginny and Harry as they leaned against the far wall of the room. Being a full-fledged order member was still new to her, as she assumed it was for them, and somehow sitting alongside the newly appointed minister felt a bit above her. She watched as Mr Weasley joined him at the table, George lingering in the doorway, a sense of unease crossing his face- an uneasiness she felt the whole room shared.
"What's happened?" he asked, and she knew the response before it was said.
"There's been another attack. In Bristol. It... shows similarities to the others." He took the offered teacup and nodded at Mrs Weasley as she joined her husband.
"Who was targeted?" Harry asked, stepping forward. "Anyone we know?"
Kingsley shook his head. "They were muggles. An older couple, in the wrong place at the wrong time." He looked at Mr Weasley as he said, "I need to return to the office, but as soon as possible we need to have a proper Order meeting. There was an eyewitness, a wizard. He described a man that matches the likeness of Walden Macnair. It seems he, at least, is back in the country." Pausing to take a sip of tea, he added, "I would appreciate it if someone would reach out to Minerva, see if we could meet at the castle. And I'll need to speak with Severus."
At that Hermione spoke up. "I'm meant to be at the castle today," she said as she stepped forward next to Harry. The task force had been scheduled to meet this afternoon, but she doubted that would be taking place now. "I could go there shortly, and talk with Professor McGonagall if you would like."
Kingsley nodded at that. "Yes, thank you. Potter and Weasley, go with her, help Minerva with whatever she may need. You are dismissed from your ministry duties for the day." He stood, addressing the couple before him. "Arthur, Molly, could you inform the others? Express the importance of this meeting, I want as many Order members present as possible- every member would be ideal. Unless there is a reason we cannot, I would very much like to meet no later than eight."
"Of course," said Arthur as he stood as well. "Hermione, please inform me as soon as possible with Minerva's response. I will pass on the meeting place and time accordingly."
Mrs Weasley turned to them then. "You three- oh, and Ginny, too I suppose- go upstairs and make yourself decent before you leave. Quickly now!"
The four of them ran up the stairs, throwing themselves into their rooms and rooting for their clothing. In record time, Hermione found herself fully clothed in jeans and the first t-shirt she saw, throwing her unkempt hair in a bun as she hurried to at least brush her teeth. She grabbed a pair of trainers on her way out the door, stumbling as she slipped them on while rushing down the stairs. Harry had beaten her to the door, but as she took in his black pajama bottoms and more-than-usually tousled hair she understood that he had put in even less of a priority on his appearance than she did.
"Cheater," she muttered to him as Ron and Ginny nearly crashed into them on their descent down the stairs, looking arguably more put together than either her or Harry, who smirked at her.
"Let's go," he said, throwing the door open. The four of them hurried out of the home, spun in place, and disapparated with a crack.
Severus walked into the Great Hall of the castle that morning and found it to be underwhelmingly transformed. It no longer held the typical five long tables, but four shorter ones, forming a square in the center of the now oversized room, and packed with Order members. It seemed he was the last to arrive- a move he had orchestrated on purpose, as it cut down the inane babble of pre-meeting speculations. However, as he took the only remaining available seat in between Dedalus Diggle and Hermione Granger, he found himself thinking that just once, maybe he could have handled some chatter if it meant picking a more preferable seat.
To her credit Miss Granger greeted him with a simple smile, and he gave her a polite nod in return. She, at least, had the sense not to talk to him. Diggle, on the other hand...
He let the man ramble nonsensically at him as he observed the rest of the party. The bright wave of red hair at the table across from him and spilling out around the corner was proof that the entire Weasley crew had found their way to Scotland, including Miss Delacour... or, he supposed, a younger Mrs Weasley. The Golden Trio was sat at his right, the youngest Weasley capping off the end next to Potter, and on the other side of Diggle taking up a corner to himself was Hagrid, in conversation with the only remaining Dumbledore- he made sure to avoid Aberforth's eyes as he looked around at the rest. Hestia Jones sat between Sturgis Podmore and Elphias Doge, and he saw Minerva sitting next to Kingsley Shacklebolt alone at the table to the right, both of whom had noticed his arrival.
The whole crew was assembled, and as he looked around once more at the relatively small gathering, it was only now that Severus understood just how many people they had lost. It was an incredibly sobering realization.
The short man at his side was thankfully cut off in his ramblings as Kingsley stood, clearing his throat and calling everyone to attention. "Now that we've all arrived, I'd like to get started." A hush fell over the group as heads turned towards the minister, the immediate silence an indication of just how worried they all were.
"Allow me the opportunity to skip the pleasantries and jump right in." The minister looked around the tables with somber eyes. "There was an attack in Bristol last night, at approximately two in the morning. The targets were an older muggle couple whose identity, as far as we know, have no significance to the war or our cause. Judging by the ticket stubs we located on the bodies, we've gathered they were on their way home from a nearby theatre show. They were found in a place they had no reason to be, in a department store near the venue. There was evidence of a fight, as much as they could muster anyway, as they both favored wounds indicative of a struggle." He paused, and Miss Granger leaned forward, blocking part of Severus' view. At least she has her impossible curls pulled back, he thought with an internal sigh as he adjusted in his seat, even as he noticed their very fight to escape the bun she had forced them in. I wouldn't be able to see a damn thing otherwise.
Kingsley continued. "The cause of death was ruled to be the result of the killing curse, but we discovered the magical trace of the Cruciatus present as well. There was no dark mark overhead; however an eyewitness described a man that matches the description of Death Eater Walden MacNair leaving the scene."
Severus stiffened in his seat. MacNair shouldn't have been in the country. Was he alone? Was Narcissa's information already out of date?
As if she had become aware of his agitation, Granger looked over at him with concern in her eyes. He shook his head imperceptibly, dismissing her worries, and with reluctance she turned back towards the minister. He, too, brought his focus back to the meeting. With luck, his questions would be answered shortly.
Sturgis, tension evident in the pull of his brows, leaned forward. "I thought he was in Wales?" He should have been, Severus thought to himself. They all should have been. Where were the others?
"That was our original assumption, yes," Kingsley replied, frowning. "But our witness was very descriptive, and we took liberties to ensure that it is most assuredly him."
"So they're back?"
"I can't speak for Dolohov or Gurth, but I would hazard a guess that yes, they are indeed."
A small panic traveled through the tables as questions were called out in rapid succession.
"How do we know they even made it to Wales?"
"Do we know why they were going there in the first place?"
"Could it have been a rendezvous location? Could there be more Death Eaters we don't know about?"
"Who was this eyewitness? Are they suspicious?"
"So the muggles were attacked at random? Is this a hate crime?"
"Enough!" Minerva shouted, glaring around the room. Severus was impressed at the way her voice cut through the crowd like a knife. "We are grown men and women, not a classroom full of panicked children. Let's assume some modicum of order, please."
From his right he heard an undignified huff of laughter and he turned his head to see Miss Granger covering a smile with her hand. She must have sensed him looking at her, because she caught his eye and blushed, abashed. He raised an eyebrow in question.
Glancing over at Minerva, she looked down and whispered, "Sorry, sir, I know it doesn't really call for laughter. It's just that she would always say something similar when the common room would get too out of control."
He made a point to glance over her head at Potter and Weasley when he quietly replied, "You must have heard the speech quite frequently, then." She ducked her head as another soft laugh escaped her. His lip quirked, and he sat back in his seat, staring back at Kingsley, though he noticed Minerva's eyes linger on him for a moment.
"This is the information we have," Kingsley was explaining. "A man that matches the description of Walden MacNair was seen leaving a crime scene where a muggle couple was tortured and killed in a department store. Our previous intel that the escaped Death Eaters were traveling to Wales is now at least partly out of date, though as of yet there have been no sightings of the other two that were previously assumed to be traveling with MacNair. The eyewitness was a fellow wizard, who volunteered his memory via legilimency while under a truth serum."
He knew she was going to whisper a question to him before her head leaned closer. "Does that affect the ability to occlude?" she asked him quietly. He dipped his head to meet hers.
"It makes it far more difficult, though not necessarily impossible. Now pay attention," he muttered, amused at her shamefaced blush as she straightened in her seat.
Kingsley continued, "I have two of my best aurors sweeping the area, though I fear nothing will come of it. It seems for all intents and purposes to be an entirely random act of violence. We are all but certain that it will be classified as a hate crime on muggles."
An apprehensive silence followed Kinglsey's statement, the severity of the situation settling over the group. Miss Granger's hands were wringing in her lap, her fingers twisting together with nervous energy. They were very distracting in his peripheral, and he turned his head to look around the tables. There was an uncomfortable unease on each of their faces, but none were quite as anxious as the young woman next to him. He came to a sudden realization that she was the only muggleborn at the table, and for some reason that surprised him. He imagined it must be quite isolating for her.
Percy Weasley leaned forward and asked, "What is the ministry planning to do with this information?"
"We're spread thin, Mr Weasley. There isn't much we can do."
"How many are undergoing training with Ron and Harry?" Bill Weasley looked over at his youngest brother. "Could the training be expedited?"
"Yes, put us out on the field," Potter responded before Kingsley could answer. "Clearly there's a need for us out there."
"Harry," the minister sighed, "we've been over this."
"We'd been over it when we thought they were in Wales." Potter's fists clenched on the table in front of him. "They're back now, and you said it yourself, you don't have enough people."
"I need my men properly trained. You do not meet that criteria."
"Since when have we been properly trained for anything?" Weasley interjected. "We helped defeat You-Know-Who with a sixth year education. We're perfectly capable of handling more responsibility, even if it isn't involved in this case."
"The law states-"
"The law was written for peacetime!" Potter shouted, growing more and more agitated. Miss Weasley reached out and placed a calming hand on his arm, and he lowered his voice, though it still carried a harsh edge. "The law has been broken many times in this fight, you can break it again."
Miss Granger leaned towards her friends and Severus heard her hiss, "Harry, you're yelling at the Minister! Calm down!" He almost laughed; Potter never cared about who he yelled at before. He would be surprised if it would matter to him at all now.
"Perhaps," interjected Podmore, "we could get them some on-hands training."
"Yes!" exclaimed Harry, standing in enthusiasm over the idea. "Train us as we go! Let us learn by doing!"
Weasley agreed enthusiastically next to him, even as his sister pulled on Potter's arm and Granger leaned over to tug at his shirt, hissing "Sit down, Harry!" It was Severus' turn to snort at the sight of it all.
"Potter and Weasley make for truly dismal students," he smirked, breaking his silence, "but I will admit their aptitude in high pressure situations would prove to be a valuable help to you, Minister." He shot a look at the two of them, entertained at the expressions of shock on their face at his support, as he added, "I would recommend you consider Mr Podmore's suggestion. They could always take over some mundane patrols, freeing up some of the more capable hands for the significant work."
With a great sigh of defeat, Kingsley stated, "Very well, I will consider it. Now let the matter drop, Harry. That's an order."
He tried to ignore the pleasure he got from Potter's cowed embarrassment as he found his seat.
Next to him Diggle asked, "What of the Order? What would you have us do?"
"You, my friends," Kingsley replied, "are my eyes and ears of the country. For some of you I have specific plans in mind-" he met Severus' eye, and inwardly he sighed. Of course he'd have a task for me. Just once I'd like to be an unnecessary. "All of you, however, can help the ministry simply by observing. Gather intel. Pay attention to the muggle news as well as our own. Listen in on conversations in disreputable locals-" he glanced at Aberforth, who nodded- "and report unusual activity, as always. No bit of information is too small at this time. It may very well be the puzzle piece we need."
The words settled over the room, a somber silence spread amongst them once more. "Let us have a short recess," the minister declared. "Be back in twenty minutes."
The air filled with sounds of scraping chairs and mumbled voices as members took to their feet to stretch and mingle. Diggle jumped out of his chair and hurried over to Hestia Jones, opening up a spot on Severus' left and allowing him to breathe a bit more freely. To his right, Miss Granger sighed and laid her head down on the table in front of her, cradled in her arms. She was facing him, and Severus could see dark bags under her eyes again. Those bags brought him back to when he first woke, finding her in his hospital room, looking haggard and unhealthy; he didn't like to see them returning.
"Not sleeping, Miss Granger?" he asked, and her eyes opened slowly.
"I'm sleeping," she answered, mumbling into her arm. "Just not last night."
"Pray tell, what kept you from your rest?" he asked, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, but she smiled in amusement.
"It was nearly an all-nighter at Grimmauld Place," she answered with a yawn, "and then the Minister came to the Burrow quite early... it was barely sunrise."
"Keeping busy I can understand," he remarked, "but working through the night is excessive. I thought you were going to be careful?"
She didn't seem to take much offense to his words, but she frowned nonetheless. "It isn't like I planned to wake up with the sun." She picked her head up and rubbed her eyes. "We were supposed to be in bed still."
He was about to make a snide comment about having a lie-in when, to his annoyance, Kingsley approached his chair and leaned against the table.
"Severus," he greeted, "I don't mean to interrupt your conversation." Severus noticed the other man glancing at Miss Granger with a bit of surprise, as if seeing him conversing with a former student was a shock; heaven forbid he have a discussion with someone under his tutelage. "I have a task I was hoping you'd be able to help me with. Could I speak with you a moment?"
"Of course, Minister," he replied with an air of indifference, turning to Miss Granger himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your nap." He heard her snort indignantly as she turned her head towards her friends, and he rose to follow Kingsley out into the hall.
They walked to the far side of the entrance hall, tucked into the corner of the wall and staircase, and Kingsley began. "Have you had any luck discovering what Wales meant to them?" he asked. Severus shook his head.
"No, and I'm not even sure where to look at this point." He frowned. "I know this new information sheds doubt on the matter, but Narcissa's information is sound, I assure you."
Kingsley waved his hand dismissively. "I don't doubt you, Severus. I only wished to check in."
"And to ask a favor of me."
The minister nodded. "I hope it isn't too much of me to ask this, but I think it may also be a benefit to your concern for Draco. How out of favor do you think Lucius Malfoy had fallen? Do you think he may have information he'd be willing to bargain for?"
Severus ran a finger over his lip, piecing together what was being asked of him. "You're hoping Lucius knows more than Narcissa. He very well may; where he fell out of favor with the dark lord, he found pity with others. What are you willing to offer him in exchange?"
Kingsley eyed him cautiously for a moment before replying, "The release of his family, and if you feel it wise, himself as well."
"You're asking me if I think Lucius is a threat out of Azkaban?" Severus frowned. "No more than he was the first time around. Keep him out of the ministry and without influence he should be as threatening as a first year."
"Would you be willing to speak with him?"
With a sigh, Severus agreed. "You know I will do whatever is asked of me. Arrange it, and I shall speak with him."
Kingsley clasped his shoulder, much to his discomfort. "Your assistance is appreciated, my friend. I would not ask if I did not find it necessary. I swear to it that the moment this war is over for good, I will leave you to live your life in peace."
"Don't give me hope," he replied dryly, causing the other man to chuckle. "Is there anything else?"
"No, Severus. Thank you. I'll be in touch."
The men parted ways, Kingsley returning to the great hall while Severus lingered in the entrance way. The idea of him living a peaceful life was difficult to imagine, having never experienced such a thing before. He had always wished for it in the back of his mind, but now that the possibility grew nearer, he wasn't sure what that would even look like. He had grown comfortable in the chaos of his existence. Would he be able to adjust to normality?
He shook those thoughts from his head as he rejoined the group, noticing with amusement that Miss Granger had indeed fallen asleep at the table during the recess. He took much joy in startling her awake as he sat down heavily beside to her, chair scraping across the floor.
He failed to notice the few vacant seats he could have chosen instead.
Hermione found herself back at Grimmauld Place shortly after the Order meeting had ended, sitting on the floor of the drawing room and sorting through stacks of books to find any salvageable tomes worth keeping. Harry and Ron were attempting to repair the ancient piano on the other side of the room, and while they were able to put the instrument back together, it seemed to be incapable of proper tuning and it creaked as it was played. Ron stared down at it, scratching his head.
"I think it was better as a rubbish pile," he muttered after admitting defeat and closing the lid over the keys.
"I'm sure someone could fix it," answered Harry as he turned away from the piano. "I won't throw it out yet. Find anything good, Hermione?"
She shook her head. "A few old schoolbooks, but nothing worth holding onto. Everything else so far has been shredded." She dropped an old History of Magic textbook onto the pile of decently intact books and sighed, the toll of the day catching up with her. If it weren't for Harry's determination to get the house back to order in record time, she would have gone back to the Burrow directly following the Order meeting and gone straight to bed. But Harry needed the distraction, and she recognized that, even as Ron remained unaware of the fact.
"How much you wanna bet Kingsley avoids us this week?"
The abrupt question pulled Hermione out of her sleep-filled daze, and she looked up at Ron as Harry rolled his eyes and replied, "Ten galleons says he's going to be 'in meetings' until August."
"I don't know about that," she said. "You have a few powerful people in support of your advancement. I'm sure the Minister will take that into account." Picking up another book, she added, "Plus, you're right, and he knows it; he needs more men out in the field."
"Since when did you become a supporter of our job?" Ron joked, and she gave him a disapproving look.
"I support you becoming aurors, I always have. I didn't support you dropping out of school."
Harry chose to ignore their bickering. "Are you talking about Snape?" he asked her as he sat down on the other side of the book piles.
"Him and Sturgis Podmore," she replied. "Kingsley respects their opinions."
"Why do you think Snape stood up for us?" asked Ron as he sat down as well. "That was about the only thing he said at the meeting."
Remembering their brief whispers to each other, Hermione fought a smile. It wasn't the only thing. "Because he's logical, Ron. He knows it makes sense, too."
"You reckon he knows what's in Wales?" he asked as he flipped through a nearby book.
"If he did he would have shared it," she responded a bit harsher than she had meant to. "I thought we were done wondering which side he was on. It's obvious he doesn't know."
"It's just weird to me," Ron replied, shrugging. "He was one of You-Know-Who's favorites, and he doesn't know about what they were going to do after they won?"
Calm down, Hermione. Take a breath. She took time to control her rising anger before responding. "You are being ridiculous. After everything Harry saw in his memories, you still think he's keeping secrets?"
Harry looked down at a familiar potions textbook- Advanced Potion Making- with a frown. "I don't believe he knows what's in Wales," he said carefully, "but I agree with Ron that it's weird that he doesn't."
"I'll be sure to ask him the next time I see him," she muttered. "'Oh sir, just one more question, if you wouldn't mind. Why do you think the dark lord didn't trust you enough to tell you about Wales?' That'll go over well."
"You don't talk about any Order business when you're with him?" asked Harry with what she knew was innocent curiosity. She sighed.
"The closest we came to talking about Order business was when I told him about Grimmauld Place being destroyed." As Ron opened his mouth she quickly added, "No, he wasn't here. He told me he assured them there was nothing worthwhile in the house and when they wanted to come anyway, he didn't wish to return."
"He said that," Ron replied, "but that doesn't mean he was telling the truth."
"Ron," said Harry sternly, "I trust Snape. If he says he wasn't here, he wasn't here."
Ron stayed quiet, his face showing his disagreement where his words couldn't.
"I don't know about you two," said Hermione as she stood, "but I'm exhausted. I'm going back to the Burrow. Are you staying?"
"No," Harry answered as he stood as well. "I think we've done enough today. And after everything that's happened..."
A silence trailed the three as they made their way out of the house and disapparated back to the Burrow.
Three hours later, Hermione was annoyingly wide awake in bed, her thoughts a whirlwind. The attack that signaled the return of the death eaters weighed on her, the all too familiar dread of the future constantly in the back of her mind, urging her to look over her shoulder and second-guess everything she heard, everything she saw- but there was nothing she could do about that, so she took as much comfort as she could in the fact that her parents were still well hidden and the Order was working against the threat, and pushed those thoughts aside to focus on other things. Namely, Ron.
She was still fuming over his insinuations from earlier. Out of the three of them, Ron knew the least about Snape, refusing to see more of him than his history as their least liked professor. Her boyfriend's inability to see past his personal experiences infuriated her, not to mention the fact that his assumptions were clearly rooted in the juvenile comforts of hating the man. He didn't understand the former spy on a more personal level like Harry and herself did, and made it apparent that he had no interest in doing so.
She paused to consider that. The idea that she knew Snape on any sort of level was a new and surprising experience, but she knew that as their professional relationship blurred into something more personal, she was seeing the real man even more than Harry had experienced. Harry saw what had formed Snape into who he was today; Hermione saw the shape of the man for who he really was.
At least, as much as he'd let her see. Which was far more than she had expected, but she knew she was barely scraping the surface. She recalled the snippets of conversations she had with him earlier at the meeting; there was a level of unprofessionalism in their interactions lately, something she had picked up on in the lesson that followed her first shield creation. The two that had followed were equally amiable, with him being far more open to her daring responses to his cutting remarks, even seeming to find some level of enjoyment in her retorts. She was the last person to expect it, but Snape made her laugh quite frequently, and she took pleasure in the little signs of amusement he ocassionally displayed.
She had teases into the mind of Severus Snape, but he was very careful to only show her so much. The few times he had slipped, the times he had opened up a bit more than he had cared to, he had pulled back immediately, leaning back on their old relationship as Professor and Student as a comfort. She wasn't offended; she understood how much it cost him to trust anyone. And as she considered the idea of trust, her thoughts turned back to Ron, and her anger rose again.
Since she wasn't sleeping, she figured that now was as good a time as any to continue breaking down her emotional responses. The shield training was going well, but while she wasn't locking away every one of her emotions anymore, she had a difficult time honing in on the specific ones she was attempting to put behind the door. So Snape had pushed her to continue to practice, and so she stared at the ceiling, evaluating what she was feeling.
Anger wasn't specific enough; she was indignant. She was familiar with this feeling, as her very existence had been called into question for nearly a decade, and she had found plenty of ways to express it on behalf of herself and others- most notably the House Elves and other poorly-treated sentient beings. Now, as it flared in the light of a snarky former professor, she felt a heat rise to her face.
How dare Ron assume such awful things about Snape! He had no logical standing in his mind, and was basing the entire situation on his personal dislike for the potions master. It was obvious to everyone but him that Snape had no benefit of withholding information anymore; he'd been outed. There was no double agency in his life, now that the truth of his allegiance was exposed. What possible gain could he harbor from holding onto any knowledge he may have been privy to?
Indignation was most assuredly the prime emotion she was feeling, but something else lingered in the background, and as she focused on it, it became clear that she was utterly and overwhelmingly disappointed in him. Ron was supposed to mean the world to her, but more and more frequently she felt let down by him, whether it was his immaturity, his lack of communication, or his debasement of her struggles and her ways of coping- and especially her association with Snape. She knew he loved her, he'd admitted that to her in private, and she thought that she loved him, but could she love someone that made her feel this way, again and again?
Perhaps it was her trauma making her see him so negatively. She had spent the last few years looking past his flaws and pining for him in private, and she knew he had been doing the same. He'd made an effort to better himself over the years, and truly he had grown into his own sort of maturity, even if she was still put off by his occasional childishness. She was no fool; she knew she was struggling with the after-effects of the war more than him or even Harry, and Ron had lost a brother in the battle. How he was managing to handle everything better than her was not something to brush past. That took a strength she hadn't been aware of before.
Although, maybe he was struggling just as much as she was, but quietly, trying to maintain the exterior of a man who knew what to do next, when in reality he was drowning alongside her. Maybe that's why he lashed out at Snape; there were no constants in his life anymore, but he could still hate this man, and he could find comfort in that. It didn't make his actions right and she wasn't about to just accept that mindset, but she was willing to concede that it could be part of the puzzle that was Ron. Perhaps she would make more of an effort to pay attention to these things, to see if there was any truth to her contemplations.
With a quiet groan, she rolled onto her side, burying her face in her pillow. She had made sense of some of her feelings, but somehow came up with more questions. But she was far too tired to break things down further, and as the tendrils of sleep teased her thoughts, she decided to set those concerns aside for the moment. Taking a deep breath, she began the process of clearing her mind, and felt her body settle alongside it.
She fell asleep quickly, and did not dream.
A/N: I don't love this chapter, but I'm done fighting it. I hope you all like it though! Thank you for the reviews I've gotten so far, and please leave more if you feel so inclined!
