Chapter 39
There. Hermione looked at her creations with no uncertain satisfaction. Finally, she had two completed baby blankets for the little ones. It was a little unbelievable how long it had taken, but with wrist cramps and the days she just didn't do anything with them, three weeks for two blankets seemed pretty speedy.
And they were so cute! She'd made them different from each other in just a reversed kind of way. One had a white center with a thick green trim, the other with a green center and a thick white trim. Each had a set of multicoloured little tassels that she could already picture the twins chewing on. The baby names were stitched on the blankets themselves as she had assigned them, in a pretty golden yarn. A deliberate nod to herself even as the green spoke of their father.
There was a confident rapping on the door. "Come in!"
Emma's mousy head popped in with a smile. "Mail for you!"
The sealed parchment was in her hand so quickly she worried about giving Emma a cut before she got distracted by the familiar scrawl and the words inside the seal. Severus had written her once more, informing her of the state of the nation.
"Oooh, you finished!" Emma plucked the blanket from its place on the chest and held it up. It was a little big, sixty inches on both sides, but she wanted the baby to grow up with it a little before she replaced it. "Oh, these are darling. Just imagine wrapping the girls up in these one day, seeing them snuggled up in something you made them special. It makes the heart warm, doesn't it?"
It really did, Hermione agreed. She let the woman coo while she read, her heart losing its warmth as steadily as the words processed in her mind.
Miss Granger,
Final preparations are underway. Potter has arrived at Grimmauld Place and is receiving last-minute tutoring. Dumbledore has said that Potter will be brought to you, there in Nurmengard, to comfort you. I would not believe him. He is sending Potter to you with the Sword of Gryffindor, and has been having the boy practice with it these past few days. I have no doubt that Dumbledore believes the Dark Lord will find his way to you and he is prepared to have Potter kill him without magic in this gruesome manner. Be prepared.
Draco is still in good health. While Dumbledore does still live, contrary to orders, we allowed him to present information on the healer who has been attending you these past few weeks in exchange for his life. The Healer, of course, cannot provide your location but the Dark Lord has been comforted by the regular viewing of her memories of you. I apologize for this invasion of privacy, but Draco's compliance in this matter as well as your regard for him have kept my godson alive. I cannot apologize for that.
Fear not, the healer has not been harmed and will be able to return to you.
As I write, I'm preparing for my final orders. In the next day or two I will give the Dark Lord a location where he'll believe he can find you. You may think he will not come, or that he will not bring his Inner Circle with him. You would be wrong. He has been ruthless in hunting for you; when he learns of the location of the Order Camp near your supposed location, he will do what he can to destroy those hiding you from him. This will come to a head soon.
If the battle we predict occurs, it may last anywhere between a day to a few weeks. The Ministry will not mobilize to help the Order, nor will it call upon allies for the Order. It will be individuals against individuals.
I tell you this not to worry you, but in case you do not hear from me again. There is a chance I will die in the coming conflict, and I want to reassure you that one way or another, you will be free soon. Either we win and you are released, or … we both know the Dark Lord will find you should we fail. I've ensured it.
Just a while longer, lioness.
Yours, (this word was scrawled terribly, almost like he'd been struck while writing it)
Severus Snape
Droplets thudded against the parchment in her hand, it shaking as she tried to hold back those tears. Her own shaking had woken up the children in her belly and they kicked at her, just adding to the discomfort. She could hold back her croaking sobs.
"Hey, hey, you okay?" Emma was now sat on the yarn chest, holding her arm in comfort. "Hey, talk to me."
She shook her head. "It's starting. I'm here, and it's starting."
Emma knew there was nothing she could do and just sat by the weeping witch, watching as the peaceful witch once again descended into an insidious anxiety. Finally, Emma had to give up in order to check on the rest of the prison. With one final pat of the shoulder, she left the girl to her grief.
With tears and sobs, Hermione was stuck in her head. Everything was so … awful. Her midwife was regularly interrogated, Draco and Severus – the entire Order – were in danger, and she was stuck where she was.
The sound of her sobs were so loud she could hear the clunking of rock above her head. Not until she heard a heavily accented voice whisper down to her, "All right there, girl?"
She just about jumped. It took her eyes several blinks to clear enough to see the blue eyes looking down at her from a hole above. It was a small hole, looking like it came through four layers of rock and wood. Was that …?
"Grindelwald?"
The eyes squeezed together in mirth. "I like knowing the world has not forgotten me yet."
Hermione nodded. "No one has. Your name is legend, nearly as popular as the man who defeated you."
The man seemed to get comfortable, or at least his partial face shifted. Maybe she'd passed some sort of test and was interesting enough to talk to. With a few grunts at his new position, the conversation could continue.
"It is good to hear, good to hear, hexe. Now tell me … How is Albus Dumbledore?"
"He is dying," her voice was soft. "A dark curse on his hand. He has a few months left, at most."
The other wizard's eyes turned sharp. "Albus fell to a curse?"
Hermione nodded, waiting for the expression of glee that would come to the old nemesis' face. It never came. If anything, Grindelwald looked … sad.
"Do you think the old man will visit you?" he asked. Hermione shook her head. "But he locked you in here, yes?"
"For my own sake."
"Unglaublich," the man muttered in his home tongue. "What did you do?"
Weeks of silence, weeks of not being able to tell Emma what had happened or to have a sympathetic ear, and her defenses were down. The tears poured again, and she sobbed into her hands. Worse, this man was the predecessor for the man whose children rested inside her. He was probably the reason Tom Riddle became Voldemort.
"Verdammt nochmal," Grindelwald grumbled. "Be calm."
"Sorry."
He just huffed through the whole. "Shall I guess, then? It was something dark."
"No," Hermione sobbed. "Someone dark."
There was a silence. Then a light-hearted laugh.
"You would not be the first. Indulge an old man, will you? I haven't had a good story in too many years, and whatever brought you here must be an interesting one, hexe. Tell me what happened."
His elegant hands ran along the wooden beams, the tippy-tops of each of the cribs. He still couldn't do it without feeling, without those too many emotions she had left him with. Even now his hands shook in repressed anger, repressed loss.
Weeks. It had been weeks since Hermione Granger had left him. She had known what was happened, he knew she did. That was why she'd asked for them to name the children, why she'd seduced him into one last love-making. Hermione Granger had planned to betray him, to take the children and hide.
As a Dark Lord, he had every right to be angry at the witch. He wanted to throttle her, to strap her to the back of his throne and strike at her back like a disobedient little slave. To make her naked, bend her over the edge of the bed and -
His fists clenched. And that was the problem with whatever anger he mustered against the girl; it never lasted. As angry as he was, all he wanted was her back. He wanted to shake her, but he didn't want to truly harm her. He wanted her back in these rooms, her belly still filled and growing under his hand, her little actions there whenever he looked telling him what a guilty pleasure he was to her. He wanted to be there when his children were born and place them there, right in these cribs.
A knock interrupted his melancholy.
"What?!" He roared at the door.
"My Lord, the spy is here with news."
He moved quickly, apparating directly to the ballroom where Severus Snape was kneeling prostrate before his throne.
"What news have you, Severus?" Voldemort hissed. "I told you not to return until you had found her."
"I have, my Lord," Severus swore, his head still bowed. "The old man told me where Miss Granger could be found at last."
He was in front of Severus in a moment, face in his hands to force it upwards for meeting the spy's black eyes. "Show me. Legilimens!"
Dumbledore was bent over a map with a few trusted advisors, Severus included. Groups were represented by, oddly enough, candy, but Severus' knowledge of what they represented wasn't necessary since the final pile of caramels were being added to the far side of Romania.
"Why are you gathering the Order forces in Romania, or all places?" Severus asked the Headmaster. "There is no reason for this. The threat it here."
"It is more important to have them there to deter Tom," the old man twinkled.
Severus glared. "From what? I swear old man, you are holding too many secrets."
Dumbledore seemed to consider Severus' concerns, before nodding. "Very well. As you know, the old magics are exceptionally rare."
"Yes …"
"There are very few places to contain anyone of such power."
… "The girl. You're holding the girl with Grindelwald. You're putting all our allies between the Dark Lord and his goal."
"He will come for her," Dumbledore confirmed. "When he does, there will be us and the Black Sea between them. We'll finish this."
Voldemort thrust his spy's face from him and started pacing, thinking. Dumbledore wanted a fight, did he? That's why he took the girl, convinced her to leave him – Dumbledore wanted to draw him from England and kill him. Well, he would be expecting him to be along, to be no match for the small collection of riffraff he'd gathered.
"Your arm, Severus. We'll give the old fool what he wants. On my terms."
His loyal Death Eaters popped in all around him, their magic feeding his own through their marks. He felt invincible, he felt strong. And he. Felt. ANGRY.
"Dumbledore has challenged me!" Voldemort cried. "Well, if he thinks I will cower before him he is wrong! We will slither through the grass and into their camps, we will bite their ankles before their forces even wake from their beds! The old fool will die!"
"Things are coming to the head," Dumbledore stood as the head of the Black table, a picture of wizened authority. But it wasn't the Order he was speaking to – the Order was already gone – but the children. Harry was there with Ron and Ginny. Gryffindors as well who want to fight, friends of Hermione who wanted to help her. And then Severus was there, leaning against the wall. "Voldemort will be at the Romanian coast within the week. I would not have any of you there for the battle, but there is something I want to trust all of you with."
"What is it, Headmaster?" Ginny asked, naively.
He gave them all a sad smile. "As you know, Miss Granger is going to be where Voldemort goes first. I think she would feel better if she were protected by her friends."
"But … that's in the prison!" Neville interjected. "How can we protect her there?"
Severus saw his old hands, one rotting away even quicker than before, fold in front of him. "Take away a man's magic and all that is left is the body. You will not need to fear the killing curse while you are with him in those walls to retrieve her. Holding him off from her long enough for us to arrive is all I need from you."
Severus knew that wasn't true from the seriousness he was approaching this with. He wouldn't have Potter face the Dark Lord without magic, nor would the Dark Lord enter any place that would strip him of his power. Something, something was at work. He just didn't know what.
