Covet by Verity
Chapter Three: Trust
Standard disclaimers apply.
.o.o.o.
Harry came to see her in the week before she left them again.
"Harry-" she sputtered, seeing who lay behind the door to her room.
"I want to give you this," he said, presenting an awkwardly formed bundle to her. She recognized the silvery sheen of it immediately.
She took it from him and sat down heavily on her bed. "This is too much."
"I could not send you out into this with anything less. There's one more thing, inside it."
So she shook the small parcel free of the cloak's thin folds. It proved to be a small mirrored compact upon unwrapping. "Makeup?" she inquired skeptically.
A ghost of smile appeared on Harry's lips as he leaned against the bedpost. "It's actually a mirror much like the one Sirius once gave to me. It will allow you to contact us when you need us."
This earned a smile of relief from her, in turn. "That's good. Because I'm not taking my wand."
The silence before he spoke was deafening. "What?!"
"I can't explain." She could hardly justify the choice to herself, either, on the surface. But in her heart she knew that it had less to do with common sense and more to do with the fact that she was a supplicant to the mercy of one she did not know well. Unconsciously, she put a hand to the scarf which concealed her hair. "I know a little wandless magic."
"A little," Harry said scornfully.
She looked up at him. "I can't talk about what happened, Harry. Please trust me."
"You can't, or you won't?" he asked more gently.
For a long moment, she was quiet, and bit her lip. Then Harry straightened himself.
"All right, Hermione. I do trust you."
"Thank you," she said in a small voice.
He took her hand for a moment before he went out.
.o.o.o.
She told no one in advance, although she considered telling Ginny. But, after all, she thought, Ginny had been down this path - she already knew more than she herself could say.
McGonagall went with her to the gate. "I wish you'd tell me more about where you're going," she scolded, but the reproach was mild and she saw that the Headmistress looked tired.
"You know that I won't," she replied, looking off at the lake, still frozen in the cold.
"Are you protecting someone else?" the Headmistress asked her, her eyes kindly. "Or yourself?"
"Both, I think," she was surprised to hear herself answer.
In that moment, she understood why she was leaving, and would have gone anyway, in time.
.o.o.o.
The house had been different in her memory. Seeing it now with leisure, from the outside, it was smaller and more derelict than she recalled. It was not out of place amongst the other buildings of the old mill town, mostly abandoned to element and idle squatters.
She put her hand to the door, felt her way around the wards, which remained unchanged, and let herself in.
The house-elf came up to greet her, astonished, but she quieted her and told her not to disturb him. Of course, he was out, as it happened. This was a little disappointing, but not a terrible upset to her plans.
She put her rucksack with the cloak and the mirror in one of the little-used cabinets in the kitchen behind a small Glamour. It would not be hard to find it, if one was looking, which no one was.
The books looked recently tended to, to her surprise. Some had gone missing, but new ones were in their place - alchemical texts, mostly. As she tallied the little library's change in inventory, she felt a sick feeling in her stomach.
Was this - no - it couldn't be - well, it must –
At this, she curled up in her old place on the floor and decided it was too much to think on.
She did not question why, exactly, she felt she might have to work her way back up to the bed.
This is a short update; there will be a longer one early next week. My life has been full of boring chronic illness flare ups, which are, alas, rather time consuming.