Chapter One
Hermione stands facing her window. It's dark outside, but the street lamps cast golden light on the black pavement like yellow curtains. The clock in her room ticks quietly and rhythmically behind her in a constant reminder of the time slipping quickly away from her.
She turns around to face her barren room. Regretfully, she's been here all day, packing her things and going over every bit of the room to make sure there remains no signs of her existence. The lilac tinted walls are barren of any personal pictures or sentiments, the bed is fastened neatly with crisp plain sheets, the knick-knacks on the dresser hold no memory, the closet is empty save extra blankets, the whole room will soon come to forget Hermione Jean Granger ever existed.
A voice drifts up the stairs to her door. "Hermione! Dinner!" It's her mother, calling her to the last meal they'll have together.
Hermione presses her lips together for a moment and swallows hard. "Coming, Mum!" she yells back.
She moves to the bed where the last piece of her lays in the form of an enchanted beaded bag. It feels like a thousand tons in her hand as she slings it over her head. She walks to the door, her feet like lead, and rightens herself, plastering on an artificial smile before turning the handle and moving down the stairs to the dining room.
Her father is seated at the right end of the table, glasses on the tip of his nose, staring down them at the paper in his hands. She looks at him as she takes her seat, noticing for the first time the grey hairs highlighting his dark hair and the soft wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Her eyes burn. When had he gotten old? Though his birthdays would pass, she never imagined him to grow a day older.
Her mother comes in from the kitchen, setting the freshly tossed salad on the table. Hermione notices her hands which are wrinkled and embossed with veins and closes her eyes for a moment to keep herself calm.
They each fill their plates and eat. Hermione forces herself to act normally. Her father thumbs through the news. Her mother picks at her food. Their utensils clank noisily against the plates.
"Anything interesting in the news?" her mother asks her father.
He scans the page. "Oh, here's something. A man was found dead in his home, but the police can't seem to find his cause of death."
Her mother hums in slight interest and they go quiet again. Hermione tries to think of something to say without sounding like she's about to cry.
"This is really good, Mum," she says.
"Thank you. It's a new recipe."
"Yes, it's very good," her father agrees, his mouth full of food.
Hermione looks down at her plate. It is good, but her stomach clenches and she doesn't feel like eating anything.
When the last piece of food is gone from their plates, Hermione offers to clear the table and bring out the dessert. Her mother smiles at her thankfully as she takes her plate and goes to the kitchen.
The plates clatter into the sink loudly, making her wince. She digs her fingers into the counter, feeling light-headed and dizzy.
There is fruit salad for dessert and she goes to the refrigerator to get it, spooning some into three separate bowls. She reaches into her bag, summoning out the potion with her wand. She holds up the little glass flask in front of her, sighing. This is it. The cork comes off with a pop and she divides it evenly between two of the bowls. The clear liquid pours in like water and disappears when she stirs it as if it isn't there at all.
She balances the bowls in her hands and takes a deep breath before going back to the dining room.
"Thank you," her parents say as she sets the fruit salad down in front of them.
She watches them pick up their spoons and eat, oblivious to the serum inside.
When they are done, the bowls empty, Hermione can tell the potion is starting to work. Her father yawns and her mother's eyelids are heavy.
"Do you feel all right, Mum?" Hermione asks her.
She nods, yawning hugely which she tries to stifle with her hand. "Yes, I feel fine. I'm just... so tired suddenly. I think I'm going to go lie down."
She stands up, her father does the same, stretching. "You know, I think I'll turn in too. Hermione, would you mind clearing the table?"
"Sure. I love you!" she calls after them as they leave the room.
"I love you too, darling."
Her eyes pool over and she's finally able to cry now that she's alone. She's done it. When Mr. and Mrs. Granger wake tomorrow they won't remember one bit of the evening before. They'll feel a little funny, like they maybe had one too many drinks the night before, but they'll brush it off and eat breakfast, take a shower, read a book, do some cleaning. And they won't remember that the bedroom upstairs wasn't always a guest bedroom, or that the crack in Mrs. Granger's favourite teacup isn't there because she knocked it over one drowsy morning, or that the funny, empty feeling they suddenly both have isn't really a yearning to travel.
No. They won't remember one bit of their first and only child: Hermione Jean Granger.
The Weasleys know she's coming and have a place made up for her to sleep in Ginny's room. It's late when she apparates outside the wards of the burrow. The sky is inky and speckled with stars. The night is cool and moist. And the burrow looks like a crooked bolder, erecting from the ground and dotted with warm yellow windows that let escape the aroma of Mrs. Weasley's baking into the night air.
Her knuckles barely rap the door before it's open and she's thrown into the warm arms of Mrs. Weasley.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she manages, smiling softly when the hug is broken.
"Oh, it's so good to see you, dear!" Mrs. Weasley says, stepping aside to let her into the home.
"Hey, Hermione." Ron is standing a little to the side with his hands in his pocket.
"Ron!" she gasps and throws her arms around him, surprising him enough that he can't get his hands out of his pocket before she's pulling away. "Is Harry here?" She looks around, but the only other person is Ginny who's watching them from beside her mother.
"No. The Order is planning something to get him here. He still has The Trace, you know, and apparently You-Know-Who is waiting for him to make a move. I don't know. Something like that. We've sort'a been waiting for you. We need all the people we can get."
"When can we talk with The Order then?
"There'll be a meeting tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley interjects shortly. "For now, it's late and I think you should get to bed. I'm sure it's been a long day for all of us."
Hermione doesn't argue. She's not sure if Mrs. Weasley knows about her parents, she hadn't even told Ron or Harry, but she doesn't feel like talking about it now. Ginny leads her up to the room they'll be sharing and Hermione falls asleep only after what feels like hours of staring at the ceiling with puddled eyes.
It feels like the sun is barely up when Hermione wakes. Ginny is snoring softly in her bed, but the room is lit from the window.
She goes to the bathroom and takes the longest shower she's ever had. The water turns cold before she finally decides to get out, and by that time she can smell breakfast being cooked downstairs.
After breakfast, Alastor Moody shows up, quickly followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt, , Remus Lupin, and Tonks.
Mrs. Weasley clears the table and the guests plus Ron, Arthur, and the twins find seats around it.
Moody starts right in. "As we all know, Potter will become of age the end of this week and The Trace will be lifted."
"So we move him after that?" Tonks asks.
"Before," Kingsley says. "Getting him out after is exactly what You-Know-Who expects us to do. With The Trace lifted they have no way of tracking him and it's the perfect time for us to move him. Which is why it has to happen before."
Moody clears his throat and scratches the long scars on his face. "It's not going to be perfect. Death Eaters have already been detected lurking around Privet Drive. What we are getting by leaving before the boy's birthday is the element of surprise. They will still know, they just won't be expecting it."
"So, when then?" Mr. Weasley asks.
"I've told the others the thirtieth."
"Others?" Hermione asks. She isn't sure just how many people they should trust with this.
"Bill, Fleur, Hagrid, and Mundungus," Moody tells her. "The Dursleys are also set to move that day so it works out."
"How?" Tonks asks. "How are we going to get Harry out with all the Death Eaters right there?"
Moody looks at the twins who are now grinning widely. "The Weasley boys here have come up with something that might work if we all agree. I'll let them tell."
Fred starts in, a look of triumph upon both their faces. "It's really simple."
"Credit actually goes to Ronny boy," George says, patting Ron on the head. "He gave us the idea when he was telling us about the adventures him and Harry had at Hogwarts."
"Heard you're quite the potions mistress, Hermione," Fred says, nodding at Hermione.
She blushes as it hits her. Second year. Pollyjuice Potion in the girls' restroom. Not exactly something she wants two Ministry officials and a former Professor to know about.
"We figure the Death Eaters will have a pretty tough time getting Harry when they don't know which of us is really him," says George.
"Just get on with it!" Ron exclaims.
"Getting there, brother," Fred sings.
"Here's the plan," says George, more serious now.
"We all go to Harry's on the thirtieth. Six of us will have a change of clothes. The same jacket, shirt, pants, the whole shebang."
"Moody will have a flask of a little something called Pollyjuice Potion that we'll pop a lock of Harry's hair in and share between those of us who have a change of clothes."
"There'll be seven identical Harrys."
"The Trace will show that Harry is moving, but the Death Eaters won't know which of us is the real one."
"It's perfect if we do say so ourselves."
Hermione rolls her eyes at their vanity. "You two realize that Harry will never agree to this?"
"Good call, Hermione," George says. "But Potter isn't going to be given a choice."
"Then how do you expect to get his hair?" Ron asks.
"An excellent question!" Fred muses. "George and I suggest we hold him down and shave the back of his head."
"Enough jokes," Moody snaps. His voice is just sharp enough to silence the twins and bring the attention back to him. "Granger, you'll be in charge of getting his hair. Make sure it's enough for all six people. Yank it off his head when he isn't expecting it if you have to."
Hermione's mouth opens to protest, but Moody cuts her off.
"We need six people to be Harry," he says.
"We volunteer," George says. He and Fred are both holding up their hands.
"Granger, Weasley, you too?" Kingsley asks Hermione and Ron.
"Sure," Ron says and Hermione nods curtly.
Her stomach is starting to feel upset the more she thinks about the plan. There most certainly will be an attack. She knows people will die on both sides, and looking around the table, she can't help but wonder which of them will be the firsts to go.
"We'll ask Fleur and Mundungus to be the other two then," Kingsley says.
Moody half laughs. "Fletcher doesn't have a choice."
"Where will we be going?" Lupin asks.
"I believe the Weasleys have invited us here?" Moody says looking expectantly at Mr. Weasley.
Arthur nods. "Yes. Bill and I have set up wards already, and, God willing, we have a wedding to host yet."
"Bill and Fleur," Ron whispers to Hermione. She nods.
"At least we have something to look forward to," Tonks says. Her hair is a hue halfway between blue and purple so that you can't quite tell which colour it is. Hermione feels like the colour of her hair. Confused. A whole string of emotions dance around in her chest. She almost feels like she can't take the changing feelings. She can't tell what she's supposed to feel like with so many different things happening at once.
That night she thinks about Draco. For the first time, it occurs to her that he might be there when they go to get Harry. She tries to imagine what she'll do if he is. She wants to think that he'll take one look at her, deep in the eyes, and not be able to stand it any more. She wants to think that if he's there he'll be able to escape with them back to the burrow. She wants to think that. But she knows it isn't probable so she hopes he isn't there at all.
She rolls over, unable to sleep. So many thoughts crossing her mind. The plan plays constantly through her head and she can only imagine all the things that could go horribly wrong. Harry could die. She could die.
"Hermione?" Ginny whispers. Hermione thought she'd been asleep.
"Yes?"
"Are you scared?"
"Yes." She pauses for a moment, expecting Ginny to say something else. She doesn't. "Are you?"
"Yes." She's quiet again. Hermione thinks she's fallen asleep when she speaks, "I'm afraid I won't be able to help."
Hermione isn't sure what to say to that. She'd expected Ginny would be fearful of one of her family dying, or of the war.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to do anything. Mum won't let me help move Harry, Ron won't let me come with you when you go on whatever mission Dumbledore's sent Harry on. I feel powerless. I'm terrified I won't be able to do anything to help."
"Oh, Gin, you've helped so much already!" Ginny snorts in obvious disbelief. "And you can help more," Hermione quickly says. "At Hogwarts. Think of all the younger kids who don't know what's going on. They need someone to protect them."
Ginny doesn't say anything.
Hermione rolls over again, now thinking about Dumbledore's mission. Find the Horcruxes. She has no idea how they're supposed to do that. Where do they even start?
She realizes Ginny has a point. She's afraid she won't be able to help either. She's afraid that what they do won't make a difference. That it won't matter.
"I'm just afraid it won't be enough," Ginny suddenly says.
"I know, Gin." And she does.
TBC next Sunday...
A/N: Thank you for reading, following, favouriting, and reviewing! Quick little note about the first two chapters: This chapter and the next jump around a bit just so you can get a feel of what is going on before the meat of the story really comes in. They aren't my favourite, but they're necessary to get the ball rolling.
Tune in next Sunday for Chapter Two!