Hermione's head was splitting.
It was currently cradled in her palms, her mane of bushy brown curls spilling forward and obscuring her face from view, and this was no accident. She was hiding behind her hair.
Hiding wasn't something that Hermione Granger often did; it ran directly contrary to her bold Gryffindor nature. But as anyone who's ever been in this particular situation can attest, it is supremely uncomfortable to have to witness a row within another family- and that was exactly the situation that Hermione, her elbows planted on the scrubbed-wood table of the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place- found herself in the middle of now.
The gloomy kitchen of the late Sirius Black had been transformed into a whirlwind of flying red hair, shouted obscenities and tears as the two youngest Weasleys engaged in their latest battle royal. These had been coming with increasing frequency lately, as all Order members were under a great deal of stress since the death of their founder and leader, Albus Dumbledore- but none more so than the Weasley family, whose home, the Burrow, had been burned to the ground only a few short weeks after Dumbledore's funeral.
Thankfully, no one had been home at the time- only Arthur, Molly, Ron and Ginny had been living there during the summer, and they had all been out the night their house had been set ablaze and the Dark Mark cast into the sky overhead. Arthur had been on Order business, Molly and Ginny away for several days in France with Fleur, having their gowns made for the upcoming wedding, and Ron had been on a date with Hermione. But no matter how fortunate it was that no one had been injured, the entire large Weasley clan now found itself officially homeless- baseless- and Hermione knew it had to be a terrible way to feel. Arthur and Molly had moved to 12 Grimmauld Place with Ron and Ginny, who, like their parents, hated having to rely on Harry's charity no matter how freely given and no matter how they loved Harry himself- and since taking up residence there, the formidable tempers of the two youngest Weasleys had been at a constant high simmer, and were giving to boiling over often, and at only the slightest provocation.
Added to this recipe for disaster were two new stress factors; the fact that Hagrid had recently left for a suicidally dangerous assignment, accompanied only by his "little brother" Grawp, who was unpredictable at best… and even worse, the fact that Harry, who'd been expected to arrive at 12 Grimmauld Place from the Dursleys'over two weeks ago, seemed to have opted instead to drop off the face of the earth; he had neither shown up nor made contact with any Order member whatsoever. The Dursleys, when confronted, had confirmed that Harry had left their home on exactly the day he'd been expected to arrive at Grimmauld Place. Out of all possible scenarios, the best one was that he'd rethought his decision to include Ron and Hermione on his quest to find and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes, and had set off on this nearly impossible mission alone and friendless; that being the most optimistic explanation for his disappearance, Hermione didn't like to speculate on the others- and there were many others, each more horrific than the last.
For his part, Ron's reaction to Harry's absence could be described less as anxiety and more as a state of perpetual high piss-off. Not allowing himself to dwell on the darker possibilities any more than Hermione was, he preferred to assume, just as she did, that Harry had deliberately gone off without them- and he was mad as hell about it.
Today, with the three teenagers being the only ones currently at Grimmauld Place, he had taken the opportunity of his parents' absence to vent some of his anger on his younger sister, resulting in a rapidly accelerating screaming match, with each of them- completely ridiculously, in Hermione's opinion- accusing the other of having had the ability to prevent Harry's departure if they had just done, or said, or written something differently in a letter. It was absurd, and utterly counter-productive, to be assigning blame this way. But something about the Weasley temperament, it seemed, embraced this sort of scream-fest as a form of stress-relief. It had degenerated, by this point, to an endless cycle of, "well, you should have known something was up! You're his best mate!" And- "well, you should have known something was up! You're the one who's meant to be in love with him!"
Merlin, Hermione's head was splitting.
She had attempted to make for the kitchen door once, but had only succeeded in drawing attention to herself- both of the volatile redheads suddenly rounding on her, each quite vocally demanding her allegiance; Ginny based on their shared femininity, and Ron on the fact that he was her boyfriend. (They had started dating only a couple of weeks into the summer.) Before she'd been forced into a position where she'd have had no choice but to alienate one of them, however, they'd rounded on each other again, this time fighting over her.
"Leave my girlfriend out of this, Ginny! She'd never side against me anyway!"
'Oh, bollocks, Ron! Hermione's an intelligent witch and she sides with the one who's right! And you're NOT!"
It was then that Hermione had resorted to hiding behind her hair.
Now, through the filter of her bushy, molasses-colored curls came the sound of a tremendous CRASH, followed by Ginny's voice, shrill and close to hysterics by this point, berating her brother. "Ron, how could you? That was mum's favorite platter from home, you know it was, it was the only thing out of the whole kitchen she salvaged, and you- how could you, you bastard-"
"ENOUGH!" Hermione screamed, having finally reached her own breaking point. She shot to her feet, unable to endure even one more moment. "That's enough, both of you! I- Can't- Take it- anymore! I don't know what's happened to Harry, but I do know he cares about all of us, and the last thing he'd want is for us to rip each other apart, so just stop it! Stop it right now!"
Ron and Ginny gaped at her from amid the shards of Molly's broken platter, open-mouthed. Raising shaking fingers to her cheek, Hermione realized it was wet- at some point she had started to cry without being aware of doing so.
And in that moment of silence, the screams from outside on the street finally penetrated the basement kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.
And then the Muggle car came crashing through the ceiling.
And then Hermione's headache really got bad.
XOXOX
Ron's reflexes were astounding. Perhaps it had something to do with diving hither and thither to catch Quaffles and save goals in his Quidditch position of Keeper, for he made quite a spectacular dive now, managing to catch Ginny with one arm and Hermione with the other, and knocking them backward into a corner of the room, falling on top of them in the process; shielding them both with his body.
In the end, it was an unnecessary gesture, though not unappreciated by his sister and girlfriend. The car never actually hit the kitchen floor at all, but rather came to rest suspended halfway through the hole it had made in the ceiling, tilted at a severe downward angle. There were creaking, groaning, popping noises- though it was unclear whether they came from the car or were, in fact, sounds of protest from the house itself.
Up in the entry hall, the portrait of Sirius' mother began to scream its manic head off.
Getting to her feet, it was, unsurprisingly, Hermione who managed to actually register what she was seeing first. Not only the car itself, suspended there, halfway through the kitchen ceiling of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, where no such piece of the Muggle world should have been able to intrude, but even worse, what the car contained- for the driver was still inside.
"Oh my… God…" Hermione whispered, in a voice made rough by horror.
The driver was a teenage Muggle girl, no older than Hermione herself, and at first glance it appeared that her long hair was the same crimson color as Ginny's, whom Ron was even now helping to her feet (their screaming match of only seconds before now forgotten as completely as if it had been a lifetime ago)… but upon closer inspection she was actually blonde. Bore a disturbing resemblance to Luna Lovegood, as a matter of fact.
It was only the enormous quantities of blood that made it seem as if she were a redhead; she was drenched in it.
Her head hung at an odd angle.
And she wasn't moving.
Hermione, raising first one shaking hand and then the other to cover her mouth, stumbled backward and fetched up against the wall. Beside her, Ginny was making little choking, gagging sounds. Ron, as usual the last to cotton on in situations such as these, looked up from dusting himself off, rubbing a knee that had sustained a painful bump. "Wha-" he began, then trailed off. A moment later he managed a strangled sounding "bloody hell."
More screams came from above, out on the street. Crashes and bangs and great rending, tearing sounds, and people wailing, calling to each other, children shrieking.
"Oh my God," Ginny was saying now, her eyes huge and fixed on the girl- the corpse- in the car. Her voice was a low, shock-dulled monotone. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…"
Hermione swallowed back the bile that was rising in her throat. Wrenching one hand away from her mouth, she groped blindly to the side and found Ginny's shoulder. She squeezed hard, and Ginny quieted.
"Ron," Hermione managed, "we need to get up there and see what's going on."
"There's a car in here," Ron said, from the other side of Ginny. "There's a car in here, Hermione."
"I see it," Hermione said, speaking through lips that felt so numbed they barely moved. "I see it, Ron. We need to get up on the street and find out what's going on."
Ron, characteristically, disagreed. "Are you- out of your- ever loving- mind? There is a CAR in here, Hermione! A car! In here! And in case you haven't noticed, it came from the bloody street! We're not going up there."
Hermione pressed her eyes closed, blocking out the gruesome sight of Luna's look-alike, and raised the fingertips of both hands to her temples. It was a gesture she often employed late at night when she'd been studying hard, when the text, in whatever book she was poring over, all started to run together; to blur, to cease making any kind of sense. Sometimes at that point she would call it a night, but as often as not she would do this- make this gesture, which was a sort of plea from her body to her mind for focus, for calm, for rational thought. Once achieved, the studying could recommence.
Or, in this case, once achieved, she could hopefully think her, Ron's, and Ginny's way out of this mess.
She pulled in a deep, steadying breath, preparing herself for what would doubtless be the most difficult obstacle she'd face to getting out of here- reasoning with Ron. Finally, "Ron?" she said.
"Yes, Hermione?" Ron's voice was brittle- as brittle as Hermione's control felt.
"You noticed that there is a car in here."
"Why yes, I did."
"Right. Well then, you will realize what this means."
"Yeah- it means that car came from up there-" he shoved a finger toward the ceiling and, as if on cue, a fresh chorus of screams broke out from above- "and so that's the last bloody place on this bloody planet that I am taking my girlfriend and my baby sister."
"Ron, what this means," Hermione said in mounting exasperation (tinged by just the smallest flush of endearment for Ron's protectiveness) "is that at least some of the wards on this place have failed. No matter what's going on up there, a Muggle car should not have managed to land down here. We're no longer safe here. We need to get of here and figure out what's going on so we can decide what to do about it."
Ron chewed this over, looking doubtful. Ginny was quiet, leaning partially against the wall and partially against her brother, her eyes still glued on the dead girl in the car. "I still don't see why we have to go up there," he said at last. Something big is going on-" there was another crash, this one actually shaking the ground- "we should apparate someplace safe. Hogsmeade or St. Mungo's or… something. I know Gin's too young, but she can side-along with one of us, or… what?"
It was costing Hermione a great deal of control not to slap her forehead in frustration, but some of what she was feeling must have come across in her expression, causing Ron to trail off. Now, "God, Ron," she burst out, "don't you ever pay attention? This house is like Hogwarts- you can't apparate from inside it!"
"But you just said the wards are down!" Ron challenged angrily.
"I said it's obvious that some of the wards are down! We don't know if they all are. The anti-apparition ward might be down, and it might not. I don't really care to splinch myself finding out! We have to get up on the street. Then we can apparate, once we find out what the hell is going on around here!"
Ron took a deep breath, about to argue some more. Then, abruptly, he let it out, defeated. "All right," he said, and raked a hand through his coppery hair. "All right. Let's go. Wands out, and stick close."
Hermione hmph'ed a little. Yes, Ron's protectiveness was mildly endearing, but she really didn't care for being treated like a child. Stick close, indeed. Well, obviously. She made for the stairs and, warily, began to climb.
XOXOX
Nothing in their wildest imaginations (and the imaginations of wizarding youth can be pretty wild) could have prepared Hermione, Ron and Ginny for the carnage they encountered the instant they set foot outside- or for the source of that carnage.
The pair of giants had moved on down the street by the time the three teenagers edged out onto the sidewalk, wands held in front of them like talismans. The destruction that met their eyes was incredible. Buildings ripped open like houses-of-cards, trees uprooted, cars smashed, many lying on their sides in such as way as suggested they had been picked up and thrown. Broken bodies littering the pavement, the small front yards of the houses lining the block, the decrepit little square that sat opposite the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place- some still moving feebly; most not.
It was staggering. And Hermione had only just had time to mouth the words "oh, my God," when one of the giants, now at the far end of the next block, paused in the act of swinging a taxi cab in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, because in themidst of doing so it had happened to glance back in their direction- and saw them.
Three figures standing, aghast, amidst the desolation of what had been a quiet residential street… unharmed, and more, holding wands.
A bolt of sick fear shot through Hermione as she realized that they had been spotted. The giant's face- an intelligent face; a remarkably human face, not a grotesque, misshapen boulder like the one that sat atop Grawp's neck- showed first annoyance, then, taking in the wands clutched in the three teenagers' hands, an expression of cold calculation followed by grim resolve. It reached out and caught its companion by the arm. Bile rose in Hermione's throat, and, swallowing it back, she came to the unhappy realization that it had been a mistake to come up here.
A big mistake.
And more than that- her big mistake.
And one that might end up costing not only her own life, but the lives of two of her best friends as well.
Both of the giants were staring at them now.
"Er, Hermione?" Ron said quietly, as the giants conferred at the end of the street in voices like rolling thunder.
"Yes, Ron?" Hermione's throat was painfully dry.
"I think we should leave now."
"I agree," Ginny spoke up in a strangled voice.
The giants had begun to move toward them. The one that had been holding the taxi cab still held it, and appeared to be once again revving up to throw it- this time straight at them.
"Ron, take Ginny and go," Hermione said.
The second giant bent and effortlessly swept up a tree mid-stride.
"Where?" Ron asked. "Hermione, where?"
But for once, due to sheer volume of horror, Hermione's much-celebrated brain was failing her.
"Away from here," was all she could manage. "Someplace safe. Ron, take Ginny and go!"
"But how will we find each oth-"
The pair of giants were closing fast.
"Merlin, Ron, GO!"
The giant brandishing the car let it go. It arced through the air, hurtling toward the near-petrified teenagers. "Go," Hermione whispered, her eyes huge and locked on the yellow-and-black checkered taxi cab of doom bearing down on her, until it filled her whole field of vision.
Then there was a -pop- from beside her and she became aware of the sudden absence of Ginny and Ron. They'd apparated. They'd made it. They'd gone. And this knowledge was all that it took to galvanize her into action, with not a millisecond to spare.
She slammed her eyes closed, thought SOMEPLACE SAFE! (it was still, in her shocked and mind-numbing panic, the best she could do, and really, anyplace on earth was likely better than where she was standing right at that moment, or so it seemed to her at the time)-
And apparated.