creativelymundane

AN: Hello all!

Chapter Three: To Go Home Again

March, 1999

The Burrow

Hermione picked up a charred piece of wood and studied it closely. It was hard to imagine that a few lengths of lumber were all that was left of the place Hermione had always considered a second home. It had been her only home since she had hidden her parents in Australia, safe and blithely unaware of their daughter's existence. Now what did she have? A few Muggle safe houses and the ruins of Hogwarts?

"She wouldn't leave."

George was standing next to her, tears making tracks through the soot on his face. Hermione hadn't cried in months. She wished she could, if only to relieve the horrible pressure building behind her ribs. It made her heart ache every time it pumped. Hermione thought that if anyone deserved her tears, it would be Molly Weasley. And yet, she had none.

"Mum!" Ginny was screaming somewhere behind her, clasped in Harry's arms. The sound throbbed against her ear drums.

"Let's kill all of those bastards," Hermione took George's hand and squeezed it. "Shall we?"

The Portkey was an old shovel propped up against the side of the garden shed. Early the next morning, it would light up with a bright blue glow, and not a moment too soon. The first day at the safe house had been bad enough, but Kingsley had kept them there an additional two days before giving her permission to activate the Portkey. He had also sent his Patronus with strict instructions to leave Malfoy out of her Veritaserum sessions. The smug look on the blonde man's face was infuriating. In the end, she gained almost nothing from her interrogations of the other five captives. The Purebloods were obviously inoculated against the truth serum. What bothered Hermione most was how well they had hidden their tolerance. If she hadn't already been suspicious of their ability to withstand enhanced questioning, she probably would have assumed every word they said was true.

Hermione was seated on the back steps of the safe house. By the flickering blue light of a Muggle bug lamp, she examined her choices carefully, cigarette dangling from her fingertips. It was a filthy habit she had picked up a few years ago to calm her nerves. She inhaled a warm cloud of smoke as she argued with herself. They were all hiding their motivations for defecting, of that she was certain. The safest option would be to bind Malfoy as a prisoner and cut the others loose. Her conscience poked her. They had all helped the Order in one way or another over the years. They had done nothing to indicate that they had nefarious plans, and leaving them behind would certainly condemn them to death. Or worse.

Oliver and Seamus- who had woken after the first day- had made their opinions clear. It was too risky. None of them could be trusted. Bringing them home would mean putting everyone in danger. Hermione thought that many of her people back at Headquarters would agree with their assessment. But something was nudging her. The practical side of her hesitated to call it intuition, but the feeling she often got in her gut had saved her life more than once. And now it was telling her to trust these people.

Luna stepped out the back door and sat beside her. There was plenty of room on the step for both of them, but Luna squished herself next to Hermione, their sides pressed together. Neither of them was overly fond of casual physical contact since their time as captives at Legion Headquarters. Luna could hardly stand to be touched by anyone but Hermione. After a moment, Luna reached over and plucked the cigarette out of Hermione's hand and took a drag.

"I know you've already decided to take them back with us," she said, the smoke tumbling from her mouth. "But be careful."

"I'm always careful, Luna."

The blonde woman had nodded in agreement. "You also like to see the best in people. Some people don't warrant that kind of faith."

Hermione sighed. "I know. I've just got a hunch."

Luna hummed her acceptance. They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the crickets singing. "What do you think he has?"

"More than just information." Hermione had thought about it a lot over the past few days. Even momentous information could be passed through the usual channels. Whatever it was, Hermione was sure Malfoy was bringing with him and end to the war, one way or another.

"I think he's carrying something. An object." Luna passed the cigarette back to Hermione. "He keeps touching his jacket as if he's reassuring himself it's still in his pocket."

"Whatever it is must be important."

"I hope he loses it so we can throw them all the dungeons. He's useless to us without it."

Hermione considered that for a moment. "If whatever it is can help us, I'm willing to put up with them."

"Are you willing to publicly take their side? Because you're going to be their only advocate once we get back. I can count on one hand the number of people who will be willing to let them stay."

A deep, gusty sigh worked its way up from her belly. "I guess I'll do what I must so we can use whatever he has to our advantage. If that means angering a few people, then so be it."

Luna chuckled with no trace of amusement. They both understood that Hermione had stepped into a huge pile of dragon shit when she decided to take in the Purebloods. There was nothing stopping Kingsley from stringing every one of them up by their thumbs, and stripping Hermione of her rank in the process. The hardened witch inside her with years of battlefield experience was confident that Kingsley would never risk losing her when it came to fighting the enemy. She was far too valuable. But she still felt a deep sense of dread when she thought about having to explain her actions to the Minister of Magic, especially when she could hardly explain them to herself.

"He watches you." Luna's words brought her out of her reverie.

"Who does?"

"Malfoy."

Hermione scoffed. "He's probably waiting to see if I change my mind and throw them all in the dungeons." Hermione chuckled and ground the last of the cigarette into the dirt.

"Perhaps." She sounded unconvinced.

Hermione decided not to pursue it. She realized that Luna probably felt the most uncomfortable of anyone. Even Hermione had felt a moment of panic when Theodore Nott had thrown off his cloak to reveal the dragon rampant symbol of the Legion of Blood pinned to his robes. He had been a high level security officer for some of the Death Eaters, and even though he never fought in pitched battles, he had admitted to participating in smaller skirmishes. Malfoy had stalked forward and ripped the solid gold pin from the man's chest immediately, but the small moment had been enough to set Hermione's heart racing with adrenaline. Luna had fled the room, her wand clutched in her fist.

"I suppose we'll know one way or another eventually." Hermione sighed deeply.

At exactly 7:00 am the next morning, Hermione found herself squashed between Luna and Malfoy as ten people simultaneously took a hold of the old shovel's handle. There was much grumbling and shifting while they waited an awkward few moments for it to activate and pull them away. Luna's braids tickled her face. She felt Malfoy's body along her back, his breath in her hair. She had been right; she fit under his chin perfectly.

That was the last thought she had before being yanked forward. She clenched her eyes shut against the sickening sensation, then opened them to the bright morning light over Hogwarts. The circle of travelers broke up instantly, the shovel clattering to the ground. Hermione's back felt suddenly cold. She stood in place for a moment and tried to calm her aching stomach. Closing her eyes again, she inhaled the scents of home: dirt and vegetables, stone and water, smoke and trees, and felt some of her anxiety fade away.

Malfoy's voice broke her reverie. "What the bloody hell have you done, Granger?"

Hermione smiled and opened her eyes. Seamus and Oliver were talking quietly with the two scouts posted at the 'Key point named Thomas Collins and Cooper Lively. They were young, but competent. Luna had wandered away already, making her way towards the castle. The former Slytherins were lined up at the crest of the hill on which they stood, gaping at what used to be the foremost wizarding school in the world.

"Impressed?" Coming to stand next to him, she crossed her arms and took in the view with pride.

The castle had been rebuilt not long after the battle, but it looked much as it always did. The land around it, however, had been turned into a thriving rebel base, the living headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The land to the south and west had been cleared of trees to make way for fields of vegetables and a small fruit tree orchard. The nearby lake, with its endless underground source of water had been partially rerouted to irrigate the crops. Hermione herself had asked the permission of the merpeople to reroute the water, and had helped McGonagal translocate the giant squid to a very remote lake in Finland.

Next to the kitchens was the pasture for cows, goats and a few horses as well the chicken coops. To the north was a small village, complete with a village green, built for members whose families needed asylum from the Legion. It backed up to the Forbidden Forest, and it was not unusual to get a glimpse of the resident centaurs. To the east, and just visible beyond the castle from where they stood, were the training grounds they had integrated around the Quidditch pitch. The entirety was kept safe under a dome of nearly invisible wards and an atmospheric charm that would crack with white light when birds passed through.

"It's a fucking farm." Pansy Parkinson sneered.

"It is," Hermione confirmed defensively. "It keeps us fed. Gringott's isn't dealing with us anymore and we're running short on candlestick holders and paintings to sell for supplies."

Mrs. Parkinson choked.

"You're completely self-sustained?" This from Blaise Zabini.

"Not completely. We still purchase flour, rice, parchment, fabric and other such staples from Muggle companies."

"I knew this place was more than just a headquarters for the Order," he said smugly.

His interview had revealed his position as a logistics officer among Lestrange's ranks. Before the war, he had been a financial prodigy, and had continued to use his business acumen to keep the Legion of Blood running smoothly. He had fed Malfoy information on supply shipments and store houses, and in turn, Malfoy informed the Order if one was particularly vulnerable to attack.

Malfoy had yet to say anything since his original exclamation of disgust, but stood with his hands in his pockets, taking in the view.

"Welcome back," she said sweetly.

He glared at her. She shook her head and turned to see Dean Thomas approaching. He marched straight up to Seamus and pulled him in for a tight hug before beginning his tirade.

"Why is it always you that gets hit with the bloody curses—"

"It wasn't that bad, Shay—"

"—every time I let you out of my sight—"

"—not always me, anyway—"

"—break your bloody wand—"

"Get a room!" Oliver shouted over the argument. "Take this lover's quarrel elsewhere!"

Seamus looked embarrassed, but Dean planted a loud kiss right on his mouth before dragging him away.

"The Minister is waiting for you, Cap," Thomas said, approaching.

Hermione nodded with a feeling of dread. When she turned back to the people she had brought, not a single one of them appeared anxious. Malfoy looked bored. A single platinum eyebrow arched at her, and she realized she had been studying him again. It would be truly excellent if she could stop staring at the blonde prick for more than five minutes at a time. It was like looking at a puzzle she thought she had solved years ago, only to realize she had the picture all wrong. It was purely academic, but he always seemed to catch her at it.

"Follow me," she said.

She started down the hill, the wet grass slippery with morning dew.

"How many people are here?" Blaise asked curiously.

Hermione thought about it for a moment.

"One-hundred and seven single soldiers barracked at the castle. Around fifty Order of the Phoenix officers, either in the old professors' quarters or in the village if they've a family. With families and the odd refugee, we've got nearly three hundred people."

"And only one hundred and fifty are useful in a fight?" Malfoy stalked beside her, his lips turned down. Hermione ignored him. She had no intention of fueling his derision.

The ground was only slightly wet, but the Parkinsons picked through it as if it were quicksand, both of them going on about silk shoes and muddy hemlines. Hermione wondered how they would react when they were assigned their labor tasks. At Hogwarts everybody worked. No exceptions. She wondered even of what they might be capable. There were certainly no dinners to plan, no dresses to try on. Pansy groaned and stopped to adjust her shoe.

"Will you two please stop your bloody whining?" Narcissa snapped.

Nott and Zabini looked at each other with wide eyes and then grinned.

"I've never heard that word from you before, Mrs. Malfoy," Nott chuckled. "Well done."

Pansy glared at him, hopping on one foot as she adjusted one patent leather pump. "Fuck you, Theo."

"I have heard that word from you, however," he continued.

"I told you to wear sensible clothes, and you show up in designer slacks and bloody kitten heels," Malfoy admonished, neatly avoiding her hand when she tried to grab a hold of him for balance.

"Don't think I won't hex the lot of you," she cried as her heel sunk into the dirt.

Hermione slowed as they approached the fields. There were two or three people working near the tree line but no sign of anyone else. Oliver caught up to her and they looked at each other in consternation. Hermione spotted a tall form jogging towards them, his canvas trousers coated in flaky mud.

"Neville!" She shouted, waving.

"Morning." Neville slowed and fell in between Hermione and Oliver. "Got a bit worried when you didn't come straight back."

"We had a few surprises waiting for us." Oliver glared over his shoulder at the group following behind them.

"I see that."

Hermione lowered her voice. "Where is everyone?" Malfoy had fallen into step with them on her other side. She glanced at him with a frown, but he ignored her look as if he wasn't intentionally listening in.

"Outside Kingsley's office."

"I suppose they all know about our new additions?"

"You suppose correctly." Neville sounded positively distressed.

"How bad is it?" Hermione watched Neville clench his jaw as they all passed through the courtyard. There were still very few people around. "Tell me, is there a mob waiting for us?" She was only partially joking.

Neville sighed. "Word spread about who you were bringing back. Not everyone is happy."

"Should I be worried?" She saw Malfoy's hand brush his side, looking for a wand no doubt.

"I don't think there will be any actual violence. Ron's a lot of hot air, you know."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," she muttered.

If Ron was leading this movement of discontent, she could be assured that it would be rowdy. The bloody hot head could have waited to talk to her, instead of jumping to conclusions before he knew all the facts. They walked through the halls on their way to Kingsley's office without any more conversation. A pair of wizards stopped in their tracks as the group passed. One of them took off the way he had come; the other spit on the floor. Hermione stopped short and turned to face the man. She didn't recognize him.

"Did you just spit in my direction?"

He snapped to attention. "No captain, ma'am. Sorry captain."

"Clear out before I imprison you for disrespecting an officer."

He complied, a sneer of disgust on his face. She could hear the faint sounds of discontent float down the hall. Shit.

"What is going on?" Narcissa demanded.

"There's a bit of a welcoming party up ahead." She did her best to sound unconcerned.

"I'm guessing they're less than happy?" Pansy sounded tired.

"Didn't think the Weasel had it in him." Malfoy looked unconcerned, but his empty wand hand was twitching.

"He can be rather excitable," she replied under her breath, running through various scenarios in her head. Deciding on a course of action, she raised her voice. "So we are going to form a bit of a phalanx. You five without wands go two at a time in the middle. Oliver, you're at the back, Neville and Malfoy to the sides, and I'll be at the head."

"That's all well and good, but I don't have a wand either." Malfoy snapped.

"You do now," she said, pulling her spare wand from her side and offering it to him. It was oak, thirteen inches with a dragon heart-string core. She didn't remember the wizard she had taken it from. He looked at her as if she had just punched him in the gut. Neville cleared his throat nervously.

"Take it before I change my mind," she demanded, poking him with the end.

"Seeing me with a wand might make it worse," he warned.

"You're one of us whether they like it or not," she argued. "Whether you like it or not. Might as well get used to the idea." She paused uncomfortably. "Also, I need the back up."

He took it. They formed up in pairs as instructed, Theodore taking hold of Pansy's hand, Persia and Narcissa locking elbows, and Blaise just behind them. Hermione looked at Malfoy, her spare wand held negligently in his hand.

"Just defensive charms," she warned him. "Nobody gets hurt."

He looked down at her. "Yes Captain, ma'am."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Let's go."

They turned the corner and there, blocking the entrance to the office of the Minister of Magic, was a crowd of angry wizards. The group shifted like a swarm of bees, ready to descend upon their enemy. When they caught sight of the group walking towards them, they began to mutter, then to rage. Hermione saw wands raised above their heads as they shouted their discontent.

"Murderers!"

"Death Eater Scum!"

"Curse them!"

Hermione put her wand to her throat and cast a sonorous charm. "STAND DOWN AND DISPERSE."

The noise quieted. A few days ago, if you had asked Hermione whether a few words from her could clear a room, she would have replied in the affirmative. She was one of the highest ranking and most respected officers within the Order of the Phoenix, and frankly, she felt like she had more than earned the respect of her soldiers. As she stood in front of this angry mob, however, the smallest bit of doubt pricked her. She had said the words that should have sent them scrambling to the sides of the hallway, making room for her to pass, and yet they all just stood there, glaring at her.

"I SAID STAND DOWN!"

The order echoed down the hall, rattling the doors. One by one, the men in front of her parted, making a narrow path through which she could pass. They group behind her followed closely while the mob hissed and spit their displeasure. Hermione stepped to the side of the door and let the group of Purebloods pass by her as she watched. When Oliver had passed through the door, she addressed the crowd again, this time with her normal speaking voice.

"I understand your concern with the recent additions to our ranks." There were grumbles and boos. "You don't have to trust these people. You just have to trust me. I would never make any decision that would put the people under my charge in danger. I consider Hogwarts to be my home, and the people here to be family. Having said that, I don't need your approval to make decisions about who we trust, and who we recruit. You have no right to form a mob and threaten violence in the halls. Go back to your work." Hermione paused. "If anything like this happens again, I'll throw you all out on your arses, make no mistake."

The door shuddered in its frame when she slammed it shut behind her. Immediately, her eyes went to the tall redhead leaning negligently against the Minister's desk. Hermione prudently tucked her wand into its holster and took a deep breath.

"You have some nerve, Ronald Weasley."