If I seem lost

Well, I weighed the cost

And I chose my crime

Now it's mine.

all mine.


The Dead Dog?

With a nod Arthur gives one of those warm and fuzzy paternal smiles, haven't had one given to me in a while. "Yes, The Dead Dog, in divination, the dead dog symbolizes the loss of someone dear to you. And the Overlord has taken many of those whom we hold dear. On the outside it's just a pub, but within these walls is the last safe haven in Wizarding London. Far enough away from the eyes of the Overlord, people can be themselves, regardless of Blood status. Come let's get you a change of clothes and join Molly and the others downstairs; there's much to discuss, and no doubt you must be famished."

They take away my jumpsuit and give me some of Fleur's clothes to swim in. Incidentally everyone present seems to not recall that I don't have a wand at my disposal. They've got a muggle in their midst now. The jeans sag around my hips and drag on the floor. The neckline of her shirt shows off my ribs pretty well though. I think you'd like it.

I'm not too worried at the moment, you'll find me. You love me.

Arthur leads me down into this shanty dining room, where a bunch of familiar faces are sitting around a table. All of them are gaping at me with their stupid jaws hanging down.

"Granger's got tattoos!" Someone whispers as I round the table. I hate that. People talking about you as if you weren't standing right there.

Ever the gentleman Arthur pulls out a chair for me at the head of the table. His river delta laugh lines expand with a smile.

"We 'ad been planning to break you out for some time now 'Ermione." Fleur says fidgeting with a paper napkin, methodically reducing it to confetti.

Molly orbits around the massive kitchen table the resistance has decided to congregate around. Neville with his beaver teeth is sitting next to Arthur. Neville's eyes zero in on me as I'm descending these rickety steps. He springs up nearly knocking his chair to the ground in his elation of seeing me in my emaciated glory.

"H-H-Hermione, good to see that you're awake." He's stumbling toward a chair to pull it out. The chairs legs leave a ski trail of dust, and I just stand there watching the gentlemanly display. I'll admit, I'm not used to men being particularly nice to me as of late. Arthur reassures me that they won't bite. Well not in those terms exactly. I join them and let him push in my chair.

A hodgepodge of people I vaguely remember and frankly don't really care all that much for are seated around it. Arthur, Neville, Fleur, a few remaining Weasleys (Charlie and Bill) and Cormac McClaggin? Why the hell is he here?

He's smirking at me raising an eyebrow, muttering nonsense words about 'the good old days' at Hogwarts. No matter how much time goes by, some things don't change. Pig. He tells me that despite being in Azkaban so long, he still thinks I'm pretty. And Neville chokes on his drink.

I could tell Cormac to be quiet. You might hear and come to rescue me.

Molly returns seconds later with a tray covered with a landscape of food. A mountain of mashed potatoes, mutton boulders, with a string bean valley sitting along the bank of a chicken soup lake. I've even got tools at my disposal; a fork, a spoon and a sharpened steak knife.

"Eat up dear, we've got much to do." Molly says.

They all watch me intensely, as if I'm an animal in the zoo at feeding time. The only time the depressed captives do anything worth watching in their enclosures is feeding time.

I tug the tray closer and reach for my fork stabbing it into a group of string beans. Not one word is said as I bring the rigid legumes to my mouth and chew them. It's like biting into pure butter, the sickly taste fills my mouth instantly.

Shit I think I want to throw up.

This wad of chewed beans doesn't seem to want to go down my throat. This food lacks your precision mastication that I'm so accustomed to.

"Molly dear, perhaps you've made it a bit too rich?" Arthur says.

My esophagus quivers a few more times before the buttery green mass finally slides into my throat. And so goes my first bite of real food in three years.

No shit. No leftovers. A real meal, and it leaves me feeling like I want to vomit. I push the plate away, but not too far. Just need a few minutes to recoup.

Cormac reaches toward my plate with a fork while commenting on me. "Never took you for the type of girl wanting tattoos Hermione. How're you able to get 'em in prison?" He extracts a piece of mutton.

Fuck him.

Grabbing the steak knife I stab it hard though his sleeve, pinning his arm down on the wooden table. The glob of meat flops onto the table with a splat. He gapes back at me in shock and I slide my plate closer. He should know better. I shovel some potatoes in my mouth. Cormac struggles to pull his arm off of the table before settling on ripping his sleeve free from the blade.

The steak knife is still vibrating in the fibers of the table. I brandish it in order to eat a bit of mutton, and as the blade slices through the flesh I'm taken back.

The knife blade dances across my torso as you suckle on my neck some more. Your fingers twirl the knife's hilt, leaving a tiny nick next to my bellybutton.

"A knife can penetrate deeper than any bullet or spell…" You coo in my ear. "It never jams…no misfires…no incantation…just a quick thrust…" Hips grind against mine and you whisper. "And you can puncture your victim's heart."

Your fingernail grazes my breastplate, and you press against the thin skin leaving an indentation on it. Our mouths flesh over.

"Wicked!" Seamus says and Molly's eyes go wide.

"Cormac!" She hisses at him as if I can't hear her. "She's been in prison three bloody years! Let her eat her food at her own pace!"

Cormac's stupid smug face curls into a smirk as he readjusts his sleeve, "An eye tattoo? Who gets an eye tattoo? And what's that bloody triangle mean anyway?" My hand that's holding the knife is shaking, and the hallows under my eye is twitching.

"Oy! Mudgirl!" The guard barks at me from across the yard. He's sitting at a picnic table with a couple other guards, with you, Draco, and your fat husband. Clutched in the guard's hand is a particularly juicy looking turkey leg. "Sing for your supper!"

He lobs the bone at a group of prisoners and it rolls across the dirt. A frazzled guy with equally frazzled blonde hair snatches it off of the ground and he holds it like an infant against his chest. I know him. Can't pronounce his ridiculous name but it won't matter. He sent me to your sister's manor.

My eyes catch yours and your lips curl into a knowing smirk, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Just for me. I stride toward him and he tries to shred the meat off the turkey leg but I get there faster. My arm goes around his neck placing him into a chokehold and a necklace charm falls out the collar of his jumpsuit. It's a symbol I'm all too familiar with.

A line within a circle within a triangle. The symbol of what landed us here in the first place. Now the symbol of the Overlord. I shove the charm into his left eye.

Arthur clears his throat, "Well then, now that we've got some food in our bellies...we've got things to discuss."

My stomach hurts. Food sitting like a pile of boulders inside it.

Before Arthur can start talking two women enter through the far door and I cant help but drop my spoon. It's you! Well…sort of you. A blonde-you, and brunette-you.

Molly rushes toward you as you've raised your hand to your chest in apparent shock.

"Andy, Cissy she only just got here hours ago...she's been completely mute."

Well now I'm just disappointed.

Blonde-you approaches slowly, her eyes fixated upon your signature on my forearm, "Hermione...whatever our deranged sister has done to you..."

Love me?

Brunette-you goes to the other side of my chair, "Know that we aren't like her. We don't condone her behavior...or of the Overlord for that matter."

"I joined Molly and the resistance to save my family. The Dark Lord has done enough to sully my family's name, enough to tear us apart with bigotry and hatred. Once I was deluded into believing that purity would cure the ills of society. Now all around us squalor is ubiquitous, people are dying, society crumbles. Draco tells me of the horrors of Azkaban daily. And of our sister's tyranny." Narcissa Malfoy. I remember her. Her face always looked like she stepped in a pile of dog shit, but wasn't aware of it.

Now she just looks tired.

The brunette-you starts to sob. "My darling Ted...have you seen him? He was taken to Azkaban shortly after the war ended..." She's trying to take my hands in her own, and I let her…I can't help it…she looks so much like you. "Please Hermione...is Ted alright?"

Ted? Ted who?

Narcissa hugs brunette-you, squeezing the tears from her eyes. "Andromeda…she'll tell you when she is ready to." Narcissa guides Andromeda to a pair of chairs at the far end of the table. It's so strange seeing your sisters here. Especially Narcissa. She fits in here like a banker at a soup kitchen. Arthur pushes his chair out to stand and speak.

"Everyone, I'm glad you could all make it to this meeting tonight. As you can undeniably see, we've been successful in rescuing the last of the trio. Though she has yet to really say anything, know that you are safe here with us, Hermione. The resistance needs hope and you are the embodiment of that hope."

"We brought you here to rouse the people." Narcissa says. "Many didn't believe that the Overlord was actually keeping you alive Hermione."

"And those things you were searching for, with Ron and Harry." Arthur says. "The…horcruxes…you're the only hope we have for unearthing the identity of the final one. If we have any hope to assassinate the Overlord, we must know the identity of it."

The real reason why they brought me to this shithole pub. The big why.

Horcruxes.

I would be so happy if I could live out the rest of my miserable existence without ever having to hear the word uttered again. But if my track record is any indication, I'm never that lucky.

It's like a doctor's telling me, 'It's metastasized.'

"Please Hermione, time is short…can you remember the final Horcrux?" Arthur probes me again.

"The first was the diary, then came the ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup, and…Harry." Narcissa recounts on her fingers.

"So the Overlord willingly destroyed on of his own Horcruxes then?" Neville asks.

Andromeda sighs. "Yes, but the populace likely doesn't understand that…we're lucky that we're even privy to the existence of such objects."

It is unbearably cold out here tonight. The fire I made a few hours ago is slowly dying and Harry is too caught up in his thoughts to fix it. I rub my hands for warmth over the embers and turn to look at my friend, hunched over on his cot, his head buried in his hands. It has been months…

I walk toward him and sit beside him, the only thing I can think to do is rub his back for reassurance. He looks up at me through his ragged hair and smiles at me.

"Do...Do you miss Ron?" He asks, catching me off guard. I nod, I do miss him somewhat, though not his brusque behavior when he abandoned us. Harry turns his head to look forward. "I'd give anything to see Ginny again. To hug her, especially to kiss her. I keep feeling that we're fighting a losing battle. Death awaits us at every turn…"

"Kisses, touches…I wish." I heave a sigh, my shoulders slump forward. "We're seventeen, instead of discovering ourselves in love and relationships…we're out here. I know I'm here with you Harry…but I've never felt so alone in my life."

Quickly he pecks me on the cheek, and instantly I feel my face burn up in a blush. My hand rests on my cheek. "Harry what..."

"Sorry 'Mione, couldn't resist. Like you said, it's been a while…" Both of us are looking deep into the others eyes, I'm not sure what's about to happen, and more importantly if this is even right! I dive in and kiss him, he kisses me back. This is so strange. I don't really love him that way..

I just love feeling wanted. I know deep inside this is wrong. But I've heard about people acting in desperation...

Gently he lays me down on the bed and everything that follows is a hormonal blur. We're both starved. Not for each other really…just the contact. Carnal instinct taking over. We're both scared of death, but mostly we don't wish to die a virgin either. My fingertips loop into his jeans and the liner of his boxer shorts and I tug them down, revealing the most I've ever seen of the boy-who-lived…

It's the snake, I finally say between a huge bite of mutton and a soup chaser. Nagini.


A/N: Lyrics from "The Well & Lighthouse" by Arcade Fire.