Chapter Three: To Terms

Hermione was absolutely exhausted, and was having a very hard time not letting on. She'd been a very busy woman the night before, and had spent several hours attempting to figure out what the proper combination of charms and spells was to get free of Lupin's house. She'd learned that apparating wasn't a possibility, and when she'd tried using some leftover floo powder that she had in her pocket, the fireplace all but exploded, and she had to put out the flames hastily before any smoke drifted up and alerted Lupin to what she had tried to do.

Time and again Hermione had tried everything she could think of. She'd tried vanishing spells, and transparency charms, she'd tried bursting a hole through the wall itself. Nothing worked. It wasn't until three o'clock in the morning that she'd finally been forced to admit that no matter what she did, she was going to be staying here for as long as Lupin decided was best.

All that was left, then, was to decide what she was going to do about it. Hermione had toyed with the idea of being viciously angry, with the full-fledged power of a wrathful woman. She'd discovered very quickly that she wasn't able to do even that, as, to be completely honest, she couldn't fault Lupin for trying to prevent her from capture. He was, after all, doing his best for the Order, and she could very easily be the same kind of weapon that Sirius Black had been two years ago. It had occurred to Hermione as well that he could hardly be in love with the idea of locking himself away from humanity, from his friends, and from the war raging through their world. He was making a sacrifice for her, and she was behaving like a spoilt muggle brat.

Despite all of those rational, reasonable explanations, however, Hermione couldn't quite force herself to be pleased with the idea that her parents were fending for themselves against some of the darkest wizards ever born, because she, Hermione, was a witch. That was her fault, not Lupin's, and she was to blame for anything that might befall them. It was her responsibility to protect them, and she simply didn't know how to do it. Lupin kept insisting that she'd protect them much better by being far away from them, but she knew that it wasn't that simple.

Her mind roiling with all of this disturbed conflict, Hermione had not gotten a moment of sleep, and had spent the entire night either beating futilely against the walls of her magical prison, or knitting comforters, lost in unpleasant thought.

Lupin, she thought, didn't look much better off. The circles under his eyes were even more pronounced, if that was possible, and his fingers twitched nervously against the surface of the table as he laid out cracked plates and silverware for lunch. She realized he must have been worried about her, and she softened towards him, thinking of him sitting up, in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of her footsteps on the basement floor. Lupin was a very good man, and he'd come to her aid, to Harry's aid too, more times than she could possibly innumerate. She was wrong to fault him for this, and she had been wrong to be the cause of his losing sleep.

"Professor," she murmured, as Lupin waved his wand through the air, summoning a plate of bread from the other end of the kitchen. She wanted to tell him how badly she felt about all of it, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand, laying out some bread and cheese in front of her.

"I think," he said, looking dubiously down at the food, "that I'd better do some shopping one of these days. It's all right for me to eat like this, but I should be a little kinder to my guests."

"It's fine," insisted Hermione, reaching down to take a bite of the bread, to add conviction to her words. "Really, I'm not picky." She wasn't picky. She wasn't thinking of food at all, and was surprised to discover that she honestly wasn't hungry, even after a full night of angry pacing and stressful realizations.

"Be that as it may," Lupin replied, "you're not used to living quite as Spartan as I am, and you'll get hungry. We've got some work to do today, and I imagine that you'll work up an appetite."

"Work?" Hermione gave him a curious look. What could she possibly do for the order, locked away like this?

"Yes," Lupin repeated, "work. I've arranged for us to have a little conference with Kingsley, who is, at the moment, standing, disillusioned, in your backyard. Before we do that ,however, you've got to help me with a bit of magic, so that this place is more secure from eavesdroppers and prying eyes. We'll need to make every single window impervious to outside watchers, and disable the outgoing floo network in the upstairs fireplaces. Those still work, as I imagine you would have found out last night if you'd looked a little harder."

Hermione was too incredulous to be angry about that last comment. "You're…you're not serious," she said. "We can talk to my Mum and Dad? We can see them?"

Lupin shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid that no, we can't talk to them in person. But we can find out how they're doing from Kingsley, which I think should be sufficient to ease your mind a bit."

Hermione beamed at him. She could check up on her parents after all, and she wasn't abandoning them. Lupin smiled back at her, and patted her on the shoulder, before turning away to start in on his own meager lunch. "Why," she asked, "didn't you tell me about this last night, when I was…um…well, before I went downstairs?"

Lupin didn't respond, and Hermione had the distinct impression that it hadn't been a possibility last night. He must have arranged it this morning, she thought, so that she could relax a bit more about the situation. "Thanks," she said, very gently. "Thanks so much, Professor."

They ate in silence. The more Hermione ate, the hungrier she got, and before long she'd finished off most of the bread and cheese. Abashed at her greed, she glanced over at Lupin, but he didn't look too upset. A little smile was playing at the corners of his lips, and he cut some more for her, nodding at her to continue eating. He picked up his own plate, and carried it over to the sink, depositing it there to be dealt with later. He pointed his wand at one of the windows, and drew a large box around it in thin air, muttering, "Prohibitus" as he completed the square. Something flashed, and Hermione saw, for a fraction of a second, a glowing outline of magical sparks framing the window and windowpane. Almost immediately it was gone, but Lupin, looking satisfied, moved on to the next of the kitchen windows, performing the same charm.

Hermione got up, and started in on the window right next to her chair. "Prohibitus," she whispered, and was pleased when her attempt produced the same results. Lupin, looking over, nodded with approval.

"You were always a quick learner," he said.

Together they moved from window to window, with Hermione taking those near the table, and Lupin focusing on the ones across from the kitchen cabinets. Before very long, they'd sound and sight-proofed each and every one of the kitchen windows, and Lupin, straightening up in some satisfaction, gestured for Hermione to follow him upstairs.

She couldn't help being somewhat appalled by Lupin's bedroom. Much as she respected the man, the state in which he lived was absolutely pitiable. She'd been able to handle the kitchen all right, and the guest room, being so rarely used, could be excused. She could not, however, handle the sight of the room in which Lupin slept. It was absolutely barren of any wall hanging or decorative touch, and the paint was peeling off of some of the walls, where there should at least have been paper. The covers and pillows on the bed were falling apart before her very eyes. The only part of the room that was in any kind of repair was a curiously ornate mirror, that, in contrast to everything else, looked too gaudy to make sense.

"I was going to ask you," said Lupin, noticing the way her gaze swept over all of his possessions, "if I could have one of those blankets that you've knitted for the rooms downstairs. It would be…a nice touch."
"Yes!" agreed Hermione, so emphatically that the color rose slightly in Lupin's cheeks, and he looked away from her, turning his attention to charming one of the windows. "Oh, no, I mean," she started, watching as the window glowed and then faded again, "I just…you've been so good to me, and everything, I'd be glad to do one for you if you want."

"I'd like that." Lupin finished a second window, and motioned towards the third, across from the bedroom door. "If you could just charm that one, we'll be done with the upstairs level."

Hermione blinked at him. "What about the bathroom windows?"

"There aren't any," he said, still not looking at her. "The bathroom was a bit of an experiment in architecture, on my part."

"Oh," said Hermione, wondering just how much her obvious incredulity had offended the man. "Did you build this house, then?"

Lupin shook his head quickly. "Not at all," he said, "I bought it from its previous owner. I just fixed it up a bit."

Hermione stepped over to the window, and pointed her wand at it. "Prohibitus," she said, and the window shimmered obligingly. "Well, that's easier for us, then," she added, resolutely. "I'll just go downstairs and do the basement windows, and then you can let me know what else needs to be done."

As soon as Hermione was in the guest room again, she set her knitting needles to making a third blanket. Artistically, she decided to weave in some gold thread along with the purple, giving the blanket a thoroughly royal, much more decorative feel. It would help the bedroom, she thought, if the mirror matched some of the rest of the furnishings at least a little bit.

After finishing all of the windows, she returned to the bedroom, to find Lupin sitting on the edge of he bed, fingering the blankets thoughtfully. He looked up when he saw her, and, getting to his feet, gestured at the nearby fireplace. "We need to disable this," he said, "so that no one can monitor us through the floo network while we're speaking to Kingsley. It doesn't take incoming wizards or calls, but it does send them out, so all we have to do is prevent it from doing that."

This time, Hermione didn't need to be instructed. She flicked her wand at the fireplace, saying, "Atrumpo fireplace!" The fireplace emitted a half-hearted puff of dusty pink smoke, which dissolved into the air. To test the results of the spell, she took another pinch of floo powder out of her pocket, and tossed it into the grate. As the basement fireplace had the night before, it immediately caught fire, and Hermione put it out with a squirt of water from her wand.

"Excellent," said Lupin, looking impressed. "Where did you learn that from?"

"I just read about it," she said, blushing unaccountably under his eyes. "I saw it in Stealth and Secrecy – A Basic Household Guide."

"Very wise," nodded Lupin, "for someone in your position to know basic security spells like that. Actually, I'm surprised that no one taught them to you at school. It should be part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum."

"I hardly think," muttered Hermione, "that we've received anything close to a good education on that score."

Lupin snorted. "It doesn't seem to matter in you case," he said. "You seem to be able to pick things up without even practicing them, the way the rest of us mere mortal wizards have to. A formidable witch like you doesn't even need to take school courses."

Hermione stared at him, somewhat scandalized, and Lupin, seeing the expression on her face, burst into a bout of silent laughter. He leaned up against the wall for support, shaking with mirth, his eyes shut as Hermione regarded him, confused. What was so funny? She hadn't even said anything. Maybe Professor Lupin had been under too much stress for a little bit too long…

"You're a treasure, Hermione," he said, unexpectedly, and Hermione went bright red. Seemingly aware that he'd said something to make her uncomfortable, Lupin sobered up almost immediately, and, coughing, pointed with his wand at the doorway into the hall. "There's a fireplace just around the corner of the stairwell too," he told her, all business now. "Why don't you go and close that one up, and then we'll be ready to check in on Kingsley."