Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series or any other trademarked or copyrighted work. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.
Chapter 17
She awoke in her own bed. Helena Andrews looked around at the familiar room. She struggled to sit up, a small noise escaping her which woke the dark man lounging in the chair beside her.
"Hello," he said.
"Hi," she replied weakly, smiling. "Did we do it?"
He smiled, lighting up the world. "Of course."
He looked into her eyes, and muttered Legilimens. Helena felt herself drowning in those bottomless orbs of blackness, and her eyes drifted shut until...
Hermione Granger awoke in her own bed. As it was she who awoke this time, there was little need for an assessment of the surroundings – either she was dead, or they had done it and Severus had removed the blocks he had added to her mind, separating her from the past and making her think of herself as Helena.
She opened her eyes once more, to find him sitting in a chair by her bedside, smiling wider than she had ever seen. Hermione felt her own mouth curving upwards, and she reached out to him and kissed him.
It was perfect. Everything was perfect.
That was, until the twinge in her left arm brought her back to reality. She looked down at her wrist – there, stark against her pale skin, was the Dark Mark, shadowed and black.
"Oh."
"I'm so sorry." He had followed her gaze.
"Don't be. It was the best possible outcome, I suppose. It's just..."
"The boy?"
"Yes."
"You did your best. Your way was far more merciful than Rodolphus would have been."
"Yes."
There was a pause.
"You couldn't have simply used Avada Kedavra. That would not have been the entertainment required."
"I know."
"But it doesn't help."
"No."
"It was for a greater cause, H. Remember that."
"I know, intellectually. But... God, how do you do it?"
He looked solemn. "I can only keep sane by hoping that one day, all these sacrifices will be worth it. In this case, his life for your membership of the Death Eater Inner Circle."
He motioned to her midnight black death eater robes and mask, which lay draped over the dresser. A very fine green piping on the hood and at the edge of the cloak was just visible.
Hermione started. "Inner circle? I thought I'd joined the organisation as a whole! Doesn't it take years to work up to that?"
"Usually, yes."
"Then..."
"I think that you impressed him last night. To cast two unforgiveables in the space of fifteen minutes – most wizards require twenty-four hours to recover from one. Also, at a guess, I'd say that he has plans for your golems. Those are just my impressions, but I've been reading him for nigh on thirty years."
She nodded, then looked away, pensive. Her mind felt... not quite her own, and she was strangely aware of Severus next to her. His very presence seemed heightened.
"I can... feel you, Severus. I mean, your Mark. It's like they're connected."
He looked away. "Yes, H. That's how he calls us. As far as I can tell, the marks are all connected in a sort of web, ranging outwards from the Dark Lord at the centre. You will feel me most strongly, because I was your sponsor, but you'll always be able to tell if anyone you're talking to has the Dark Mark."
"Oh. That could come in handy, I suppose."
"Yes, it does. As an Inner Circle member, you can also apparate to the side of any other Death Eater, at any time. I would not, however, recommend it. Most of us have some rather nasty traps waiting for anyone who tries to catch us unawares. I've taken the liberty of adding them to your own Mark."
She nodded. "All right."
"Also, unlike the majority of the Death Eaters, the Inner Circle does have regular meetings, on the first Tuesday of every month."
Hermione was suddenly angry. "So why the hell didn't we just plan an assassination attempt at one of those then?"
"Because at the time, there was only one of me in the Inner Circle, if you'll remember. Also, these meetings are held at Malfoy Manor, which is the most heavily warded place in Britain. On meeting days, excess wards are added to keep out anyone who is not in the Inner Circle. That would include Draco, who is the only Malfoy among us, and thus the only non-loyal person with any chance at all of breaking the other wards on the house. That's not good odds."
"Oh." Hermione's sudden rage vanished as quickly as it had come.
"Precisely."
"When's the next meeting?"
"Not for three weeks – this month's was last Tuesday, and that was when he informed me that he wanted to see you. I'd expect to be called sooner, however. I'd wager he wants to discuss your golems."
"Very well."
Another awkward silence.
"Hermione," said Severus, sighing. "I know how you feel. Like you're aching all over, and your soul's been torn in two. That's because it has. But you just have to keep going, keep moving, and pray that one day it'll all be worth it."
Hermione turned away from him, suddenly and involuntarily losing control at his clear empathy. She began sobbing, tears coursing down her blotched red face.
"I know that intellectually, it's just..."
She could no longer speak, but let out unladylike wails of sadness at the world, tears for that poor boy, for herself, for Severus.
An awkward arm stretched around her waist, and then she felt Severus' comforting warmth behind her on the bed. They lay spooned like that for the rest of the day, until Hermione's quiet sobs of shame turned to snores.
X
Somehow, they made it to Harry's mansion by a quarter past eight, both smartened up and dressed, Hermione in wine red dress robes which she had not had a chance to wear for years (somehow, she felt like asserting her witchiness this evening) and Severus in his customary black. They made quite the imposing couple as they apparated to the manor and rang the doorbell.
This turned out to be a good thing.
The door opened with a bang, and Harry stood there, wand in hand, brandishing it at them. "What do you want? Who are you?"
Behind him was ranged the entire Order of the Phoenix, including Draco, all with their wands out, and in a battle stance.
"What? Harry, it's me, Hermione. Your best friend!"
"Liar!" he spat. She had not seen him this angry in years. "Hermione's never late, she'd have been here on time! You must be an impostor."
Hermione and Severus exchanged puzzled looks. "What? We're early! We were meant to meet at half eight, and now it's only quarter past."
"Yes, quarter past nine!"
Draco stepped forward.
"Harry, calm down. That's actually them. I can tell Severus through his mark, and..." he whispered something in Harry's ear.
The boy who lived turned to them. "Hermione, what was the first lie you ever told a teacher, and whom did you tell?"
She looked down, blushing slightly. "Um. In first year, I told Severus, Minerva and Dumbledore that I'd gone looking for the troll, instead of the truth – that I'd hidden in the bathroom to cry about Ron being rude about me and got cornered."
Severus raised an eyebrow. He'd thought at the time that it didn't fit, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes breaking so many rules at once. The fact that he felt a sudden inflammation in his chest at the thought that Weasley had insulted his Hermione... he wasn't examining that too closely.
Harry looked slightly less panicked and ruffled. "Right. You seem to be Hermione and Snape."
He stepped back to allow them into the hallway. They had hardly taken two steps when he rounded on them again. "But why the fuck are you so late?"
Hermione tried to placate him. "Genuinely, we thought we were early. That it was a quarter past eight – oh!" It suddenly dawned on her. "It's the solstice! The clocks went forward an hour, but because we were out last night, I missed the change, and then I slept through most of today, and completely forgot about it!"
Looking relieved, Harry laughed suddenly. "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard! You're saying that I called a full Order crisis meeting because you forgot to change the clock?"
"Oops?" she offered weakly.
"You... oh, of all the times to forget, Hermione! I was twenty minutes away from shipping everyone to South America!"
Hermione looked round. "Sorry, guys."
There was a series of exhalations and shaking of heads around the room. Then, Hannah stepped forward, and gave Hermione a hug, forcing her to take her hand out of Severus', where it had remained all the while.
"Just as long as you're OK," she said quietly.
Again, a series of nods, as Hannah stepped back. Ron's expression went apoplectic as Hermione's hand found Severus' once more. He was just about to say something, when Ernie interrupted:
"Can we discuss this over dinner? I'm starving now, and I really, really need a glass of wine after all this palaver."
As they went into the dining room, sitting around the long wooden table, plates with the first course, something which appeared to include shrimps and lime, appeared on the table. Dobby had refused to go anywhere without his Harry Potter after the battle, so now ran the mansion to an exacting standard, much to Hermione's disgust, though she was slightly mollified by the fact that Harry paid him a salary of fifteen pounds a month and all the socks he wanted. It was a standing joke in the British tabloid press that Sam "One-Sock" White seemed to need a new pair before each game.
As they took their seats, Draco whispered to Hermione and Severus, "We explained about you, Severus. Sorry, but your memories had to do a few more rounds." Severus looked discomfited, but acquiescent. Hermione squeezed his hand in support.
"They took some persuading, MacMillan and Weasley particularly, but we did it. Everyone got a bit of a shock when we said where you'd gone and why, then when you didn't come back... They deserve to know the truth, I think, of what happened."
Dinner was a strained meal. It was rather difficult to make small talk with people whom you had not been expecting to see, and had expected to be dead all of half an hour ago. Hermione and Severus found it easier to eat in silence than try to pretend to be nice. Draco was doing enough talking for all of them, anyway, the consummate host, clearly trying to put them at their ease in preparation for the shocks to come. Harry was deep in thought, and quite useless, despite the obvious kicks under the table that Draco kept giving him.
As had become customary for the Order, by tacit agreement business was left until after the meal. Once the last pots of crème brulée had been vanished from the table, and everyone had acquired their tipple of choice, it began.
"So," said Harry, nursing his brandy. "I presume Flobberworm rather liked you, since you're still here."
Hermione winced. "Way to put it bluntly, Harry. Yes, I impressed him. Not only was I allowed into the Death Eaters, I'm an inner circle member."
There were gasps, and everyone looked shocked, including Draco. "Seriously? After one meeting? You must have really impressed him."
Severus interrupted smoothly. "I believe that the Dark Lord was quite taken with H's golems. It is my belief that he will want her to build an army."
Hermione squeezed his hand, thanking him silently for distracting everyone and not mentioning what else she had done to impress him. Severus nodded very slightly.
The notion of a golem army controlled by Hermione certainly seemed to have distracted the table. The room was suddenly loud with noise and chattering.
"What? Could you do that?" asked Ron angrily, voice rising above the nattering. "Why haven't you made one for us? We could have defeated Voldemort years ago!" There were murmurs of agreement from Ernie and Susan.
"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione looked quite cross. "I only perfected the design of the golems with Severus' help a few days ago. And no, I couldn't create an army in the way you're thinking."
The table had gone quiet again. They were all looking at her.
"In the Room, I can make the golems we fight seem almost like autonomous beings because there's a very complex set of instructions controlling their behaviour, but they cannot think. Life cannot be created in that way – it's the first thing we all learned in Charms in first year. It's just that the instructions are so complex that for the short time that any of us is in contact with a golem, they appear to be thinking as they fight, planning moves and things like that. They are not. They are simply following a series of pre-written instructions, like a game of chess which you would play on the computer. Are you all with me?"
There was a series of nods, though some faces remained puzzled, and Severus and Draco had gone completely blank at her mention of computerised chess. Ron's face, however, had cleared completely at the simile, and he was nodding most enthusiastically of all.
"Now," Hermione continued, "within the Room, there's only a certain amount of things you can do, places you can be. Therefore, it can be a very, very complex set of instructions. But if I were to create a golem here to send out into the world unrestricted, I could only probably give it one or two very simple instructions before it collapsed under the weight of too much magic. Also, the more golems, the simpler the instructions have to be. For example, if I put the instruction "kill", the golems would kill everything in their path indiscriminately until they got too far away from me and the magic failed."
Susan shuddered. "Sounds scary, but exactly the kind of thing that Voldemort would want! Indiscriminate murder."
Hermione shook her head. "His own people would be killed along with the others."
"What if he apparated them away?" asked Harry. "That's what I'd do, if I were an evil megalomaniac."
"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione. "But either way, the golems would always be under my control, so hopefully we'll never have to find out."