Chapter Five: Not So Bad
"Echo" -Jason Walker (Hermione)
"Not Alone" -Linkin Park (Draco)
"Just Luna? No letters from the others?" Harry asked, looking up from the parchment in his hand. Kingsley shook his head.
"Sorry, Potter. From what Lovegood says, they're not being harmed. They're just being kept. They're fed, they have beds to sleep in, they're safe. Just as we thought."
Ron growled. "So, what happenes when they get fed up with your refusals? What happens then?"
Kingsley didn't flinch at the harsh tone of Ron's words. He simply shrugged and said, "We hope to have a location before that happens. We'll keep them dangling, loosely. They'll let something slip eventually."
"Eventually?" Ron asked, incredulously.
Kingsley held up a hand, "I didn't mean it like that, Ron. We're not going to let this continue forever. But they're not in immediate danger, so you can relax just a bit.."
"How do we know she wasn't under the Imperius curse?"
Harry snorted and held out the letter. "Somehow I doubt that the Death Eaters would have known to warn us about an increase in the population of Blibbering Humdingers as a p.s."
Ron scowled, but didn't say anything more. Harry rubbed his scar, his head aching from stress.
"Keep us informed, yeah?" Harry asked Kingsely, standing and handing him back the letter.
"Of course, Harry. I'll let you know immediately if anything changes."
Ron followed him out of the office, scowling in his wake.
Hermione's head was pounding when she opened her eyes. The sun was low in the sky, dusk was falling. She sat up quickly. Too quickly, she realised as she swayed on the spot, falling back against the pillows.
"Take it easy, Granger."
A small shriek escaped her lips as she realised she wasn't alone. Malfoy moved from the chair in the corner of the room to stalk over and sit down on the edge of the bed. He reached over onto the bedside table and handed her a glass of water. She took it hesitantly, bringing it to her chapped lips to take a small sip, before placing it back on the table.
"How long have I been asleep?" she croaked out hoarsely.
Malfoy shrugged, "Almost a full twenty four hours."
"What?" she exclaimed.
"You needed the sleep, Hermione. Your body was exhausted, not to mention your mind."
Her mind. Yes, her mind. Everything was a bit foggy. Her memories felt as though there were a haze over them, like looking through a sheet of saran wrap. She frowned.
"You called me Hermione."
"That's your sodding name, isn't it?" Draco snapped,
She flinched, "I don't think I've ever heard you say it before. Sounds weird."
He gave a soft chuckle, his eyes lightening slightly. "Yeah, it sounded weird when you called me Draco at first."
She frowned. "What do you mean 'at first'?"
"I mean, you've said my name a lot over the last twenty four hours."
"I've been asleep..." she protested, her brow furrowing.
He rolled his eyes, "Obviously."
"I've been... saying your name? In my sleep?"
He nodded, quirking an eyebrow at her as he smirked. She was quiet as she mulled that over, her thoughts still a bit jumbled from the hell her mind and body had been put through the night before. "You stayed with me."
He nodded, though it wasn't a question.
"Thank you," she breathed, hugging her knees to her chest as she leaned back against the pillows. "For stopping them. And for staying." He looked distictly uncomfortable and gave a simple nod of awknowledgement. "How are Dean and Neville? And Luna... Why didn't you tell me that they were here?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.
He shrugged, "They're upset, obviously. They had to watch you be tortured and almost raped-" Hermione flinched at that, "-but physically they're fine. Looney is more than fine, she wrote the bloody letter no coersion necessary."
"Why?"
"You'll have to be a bit more specific, Granger."
"Why did she write the letter?"
"Theo said she told him that she didn't believe in any one being truly evil. That she thought every one had some good in them."
Hermione chewed her lip as she thought about it. It was true to an extent. Most people who did bad things were not bad people. Her brown eyes flickered up to catch Draco's steely grey and the corner of her lip tugged up almost imperceptibly. On the other hand, there were people like Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange who were so far gone into the dark side that there was barely any resemblance left to human nature. They had no conscience, no thought for right or wrong, they just did and took whatever they felt they wanted or needed to at the time. They were monsters.
"Theodore Nott?" She asked, steering the conversation in a different direction entirely. "He's here, too?"
Draco nodded slowly, "He, Pansy and Blaise helped me break through the wards Yaxley had put on the door last night. You don't remember them being there? They came in right behind me."
She thought there might be a vague memory, floating just out of her reach but she couldn't quite grasp it. She shook her head and sighed. "What's going to happen now? If we don't write the letters for them?"
He ignored her, turning his face away so that he wouldn't have to meet her eyes. "Draco..." she said, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm. He flinched but he didn't pull away and he turned to face her again.
"Looney's letter didn't work. The Ministry has refused my father's terms twice now and he's growing impatient."
"What exactly does he want?" she asked, her hand still resting on his arm.
"Immunity. Freedom. A full pardon for his crimes, and the rest of ours as well."
"You haven't done anything," Hermione protested, realising he was including himself in with the rest of them.
He gave a humorless chuckle and jerked his sleeve up, knocking her hand away from his arm. "This says differently, Granger." The Morsmordre mark stood out distictly against his pale skin and she found herself leaning forward to examine it more closely. She had never seen one in such close proximity. She reached out to tentatively trace it with her fingers and she felt him stiffen before he jerked his sleeve back down.
"Just because you have a Dark Mark, doesn't mean you deserve the same fate as the rest of them." she said, leaning back.
"You're being held prisoner here, with me as your guard and you are defending my choices?"
She shrugged, considering. "Have you ever killed any one?"
He glared at her suspiciously. "No. But I've tried."
She ignored that last bit, completely aware of his task from the previous year. Harry had told her that he wouldn't have gone through with it. He had lowered his wand, before Snape stepped in to take his place. "I bet the rest of them couldn't say that, could they?"
"No, they couldn't. Granger, where are you going with this?"
"No where. I just feel like you don't give yourself enough credit. Your not a bad person, Draco, even if you have done bad things."
He scoffed. "Now you sound like Looney Lovegood."
Hermione sighed. "Well, she was right... partially, anyway."
"I'm not a good person, Granger." Draco said, his eyes hard as he glowered at her.
"I think you are. You've saved me. Several times, actually."
"They were going to rape you!" he exclaimed.
She smiled softly, trying not to flinch at his words. "I know. And you stopped Yaxley the night before, as well."
He didn't say anything else, just glared.
"You tried to stop Crabbe from killing us in the Room of Requirement..."
Draco flinched at the mention of his late friend and turned away.
"And at the Quidditch World Cup, our fourth year, you warned us to get away from the campsite. Because you knew they'd torture me if I stuck around."
He rolled his eyes. "Do you have a point, Granger, because I'm getting bloody tired of the monologue."
She shrugged. "You won't convince me that you're a bad person, Draco. I know better."
"I didn't stop Bellatrix," he said in a harsh whisper, clenching his jaw and avoiding her eyes.
"You were scared. I can't say that I blame you." She said, her hand automatically clasping around the scar hidden under her shirt sleeve.
"You don't know everything," he snapped.
"I know enough."
"How have your parents put up with such an insufferable know-it-all all these years? They're probably relieved not to have you home, you know. They might beg us to keep you if we tried to return yo-"
"-My parents are in Australia, blissfully unaware that they ever even had an insufferable know-it-all for a daughter!" she snapped, her eyes pricking with unshed tears. How had he hit the one chink in her armor, the one weakness in her resolve? A sob escaped her and she mentally kicked herself for letting him get to her.
He was staring at her with eyes wide with shock, as he realised the implications of her words. "You Obliviated your parents." It wasn't a question and she felt no need to answer. "Why?"
She sniffled. "Voldemort was rounding up relatives of muggle-borns, torturing them for information. I wanted to make sure they didn't have any information to give even if he could track them down."
"Are you going to find them? When this is over?" Draco asked quietly, leaning towards her slightly.
She shook her head. "I- I don't know... Maybe they w-would be happier without me."
"No. No, I don't think they would."
Hermione looked up at him in confusion, his grey eyes set in steely resolve.
"That was a nice thing to say for some one who hates me," she sniffled, a weak smile playing at her lips.
He smirked. "I don't hate you, Granger. I'm just not necessarily thrilled about your existence."
She laughed, really laughed, at that. "Because that's so much better."
"Of course it is. You're... tolerable, decent even, when you're not blathering on and shoving your intelligence in my face."
She bit her lip. Did she do that? It wasn't her intention. She had always had good marks, even before she had received her Hogwarts letter. She loved school, learning, reading... all things academic. She wanted to know everything, to store every bit as much information as she could in case a situation arose where she needed it one day. Her studying had definitely helped them out of some tricky situations in the past. Maybe she did show off a bit. She hadn't meant to be obnoxious about it...
"I can practically see the cogs in your head turning. What's going on in there?"
Hermione was pulled off of her train of thought and looked up to meet Draco's grey eyes sheepishly. "I don't mean to be an abhorent wise arse. I just... like knowing things."
Draco gave a snort of laughter. "A wise arse, huh?"
She scowled and reached around to throw a pillow at him. He blocked it easily, causing it to fall to the floor with a muffled plop.
"It's kind of cute when you get violent, Granger." Malfoy smirked at her and quirked an eyebrow.
"Give me your wand and I'll show you just how adorable I can be, Malfoy." She laughed, tossing a few stray curls over her shoulder.
His smile only lasted for a few seconds before it slipped from his face and he stood slowly, turning and heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" Hermione called after him in alarm.
"Things to do," he said without turning around.
"Are you... will you come back?" She asked, hesitantly. She wouldn't tell him that she was scared, terrified really, to be left alone.
He paused, his hand on the door knob, before opening it and stepping out into the hallway without answering.
Draco ran his hands through his blonde locks, coming to a stop at the end of the hallway. Damn Hermione Granger for making him think and feel things that had been long since buried inside him. He wished the damn Aurors would find them already and lock him up in Azkaban, safely away from those doe brown eyes. What was wrong with her? He was a terrible person. He'd made her life a living hell, though mostly because of his harbored hatred of her two closest friends, but still.
Speaking of those friends, he doubted they shared her sentiments about him being inately 'good'. Especially the weasel. Were they dating? The way he'd acted back at Malfoy Manor had sure made it seem like a definite possibility. Of course, if he was a decent person, he probably would have reacted the same way. He kicked out, his foot connecting with the stone wall, sending a soothing ache up his leg.
He started for his room, pausing halfway down the staircase, torn. He didn't want to go back in there, but if he left there was the possibility that Yaxley or one of the others would try something. "Fuck," he grumbled silently, sinking down onto the stone step he'd been standing on. Being chivalrous was for the birds.
He hadn't meant to doze off but he soon found himself being nudged awake. Blaise stood above him, a plate of food balanced precariosly on top of a glass of water. "Interesting place for a nap."
"Time s'it?" Draco yawned, stretching his muscles that were aching slightly from leaning against the stone. His leg was numb from his position.
"Dunno. Late," Blaise said, hesitating before continuing. "Lucius is planning something for tomorrow."
"What do you mean 'planning something'," Draco asked, immediately alert.
Blaise shrugged. "He didn't go into detail. He wants the letters sent out. He's going to do whatever it takes, Draco, you and I both know it. He's... He's bloody pissed about us stopping Yaxley and Dolohov, though I think they conveniently forgot to mention that he was about to- well, you know. How's Granger?"
He grimaced, pushing himself up off the step. "Good as can be expected. Better, even. I better get her some food. Where are Pansy and Theo?"
"Pansy's gone to bed and Theo is upstairs with Looney, I'm guessing."
Draco nodded, continuing down the stairs and into the kichen. He quickly filled a plate with shepherd's pie and grabbed a glass of water, before heading back upstairs.
He hesitated outside of her door for several moments before sighing and pushing it wide. She was standing on the far side of the room, looking out of the window but spun around quickly at the sound of the door opening. She visibly relaxed upon seeing it was him, making his stomach feel queasy. He had no right to make her feel safe. She should cringe away from him, just as she did the others.
"I brought you some food. Maybe you could actually eat it this time instead of tossing it in the trash," he said, sitting the plate down on the bed and the water down on the bedside table alongside the now empty glass from earlier.
She crossed over to the bed so that they were standing on opposite sides facing each other. "How do I know you didn't poison it?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.
He rolled his eyes. "Granger, if I was going to kill you it wouldn't be by poisoning your food. You're too smart to fall for that."
She chuckled and climbed onto the bed, pulling the plate toward her. She glanced at him, picking the fork up and taking a tentative bite. "Of course, that's exactly what I would say if I had poisoned it to lull you into a false sense of security."
She choked, coughing and spluttering. He rolled his eyes, reaching out and smacking her on the back a few times before reaching over and handing her the glass of water. "Fucking hell, Granger, it's a joke, not a cock. Don't take it so damn hard." She had just taken a sip of the water and promptly choked again, her brown eyes glowering at him over flushed cheeks.
"Stop talking before you accidentally do kill me," she muttered, leaning over and placing the water back on the table. He smirked and remained silent, walking over to the chair in the corner of the room and settling into it, leaning his head back against the wall. It was quiet for a while, only the sound of fork clinking against plate broke the silence, and eventually that stopped too.
"Bathroom?" she asked. He opened one eye, to find her standing between the chair and the door.
He sighed, standing and removing his wand before gesturing her forward.
"Honestly," she muttered, rolling her eyes when he pointed the wand at her, leading her out into the hallway. "I learned my lesson the first time. I'm not going to try anything."
He laughed. "I don't believe that any more than I believe in those blibbering hum-di-ma-what-chits, Lovegood is always on about."
Hermione cracked a smile, stopping in front of the bathroom door. She disappeared inside, and he stood sentinal, waiting. It was taking her forever, and he could hear the water of the sink running constantly. He knocked on the door, "You planning on sleeping in there, Granger?"
The door cracked open and she narrowed her eyes at him. "There's no shower and I'm filthy. Can I use your wand to Scourgify my clothes? I think I've had this outfit on for a week now and just the thought grosses me out."
"You're not getting my wand, Granger. Step back."
She did as she was told and he pointed his wand at her, muttering the spell under his breath. It didn't do much good. She sighed, looking down at the tattered shirt she wore.
"Write the letter and you can go home and shower..." He murmured, grabbing her arm and pulling gently to get her to start moving back down the hallway.
"Oh, so now you want me to write it? What happened to 'they deserve what they get'?"
He narrowed his eyes and huffed a sigh. "Blaise just told me a little bit ago that Lucius plans to help you make your decision tomorrow. I have no doubt that he will use whatever means necessary."
She frowned, chewing her lip and Draco felt an unbidden twitch in his groin. "Don't do that." He snapped.
She turned as she entered the doorway to her room. "Do what?" she demanded, her eyebrows knitting in confusion as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
He shook his head, frustrated, with himself more than anything."Nothing. So, do you need a quill or would you like a repeat of yesterday?"
She glowered at him, pursing her lips together before turning her face pointedly away from him.
"Granger... I won't be able to stop them this time. Whatever they have planned, if you don't cooperate, I won't be able to stop it. Do you understand?"
She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes briefly and then looked away again. "I'm tired."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he snapped, turning for the door.
"Wait!" She cried, and suddenly her hands were wrapping around his arm. He stiffened, turning to face her, his breathing hitching as he acclimatised to her closeness. "Please don't leave me alone again." She whispered, her breath wafting over his face. Her brown eyes were watery and he hated it. He wanted to tell her to fuck off. He wanted to jerk his arm from her grip and high tail it out of there, back to the saftey of his room. He wanted to get far away from Hermione Granger.
Instead he simply said, "I'm not sleeping in that chair again. You'll be fine, Gran-"
"-You can have the bed!" She said hurriedly, tugging on his arm forcing him to take a step forward. "I'll sleep in the chair, I don't mind. Just stay. I- I feel safer- with you here."
He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You shouldn't."
"I do." She said firmly.
"I'm just as bad as them, Granger. I may not have killed any one, but I've done my fair share of terrible things. I've tortured people, listened to them plead and scream and still tortured them some more. I never finished them off, but I watched the others do it. I'm... a monster, Granger."
She studied him, her eyes roving over his face, making him feel distictly uncomfortable, all the while keeping the death grip she had on his sleeve.
"You might have been... once," she said cautiously, "but if that were still true, then you would just let them do whatever they wanted to us. You wouldn't care if we wrote the letters or not. You wouldn't willingly take a place in Azkaban because you think that it's what you deserve."
He frowned, reaching down to pry her fingers from his sleeve. She grabbed his hand instead, her brown eyes pleading. "I'll see you in the morning, Granger," he said, pulling his hand out of hers.
He had his hand on the doorknob when he heard her sob. Fuck it all, he thought, turning around and striding past her snivelling frame and flopping down on the bed. He didn't look at her, instead he said, "Enough with the water works, I can't sleep with you snivelling away like that."
He heard her give a last sniffle, a relieved sigh and she padded over to the chair in the corner. The springs of the cushion squeaked slightly as she sat down and he relaxed a bit. How the fuck had she gotten her claws in him? He was tempted to write and anoymous letter to the ministry, letting them know exactly where to find them, but he didn't think that was the wisest idea. If he was caught or the plan backfired, the Death Eaters wouldn't go easy on him, his father especially, no matter how much his mother might plead. They were as bad as the sodding Gryffindor's with the whole loyalty spiel.
His eyelids started weighing heavy, and his thoughts were becoming sluggish. Tomorrow was sure to be terrible, so he might as well try to get a good nights sleep.
Hermione watched as his shoulders relaxed slowly and his breathing evened out. She waited until she was certain that he was sleeping deeply before crossing over to the bed. An idea had occurred to her, and she was going to give it a go.
The quill and parchment Yaxley had pulled from his pocket the night before had slid off of the bed, settling under the edge on the floor. She snatched them up, heading back over to the chair only to realise that she didn't have any ink. She frowned. Her eyes flitted over to Draco's sleeping form and she bit her lip, deciding she would have to if she was going to write this letter tonight.
She crossed over to the bed once more and leaned over him, pausing to stare at his face, so peaceful in slumber. She shook her head, no distractions. His wand was barely peaking out of the pocket of his trousers. She carefully reached out, pinching the handle between her thumb and forefinger, easing it out gently. He stirred and she froze, anticipating his anger, but he rolled onto his back and didn't wake. With a quiet sigh of relief she padded over to the door, removing the locking charm and cracking it. She held the wand up, "Accio ink." There had to be ink in the house if Luna had written a letter already. She waited for a few moments, straining her ears to listen. Finally she heard the slight whistle of an object zooming toward her, holding her hand out to catch it just in time.
She shut the door back, replacing the locking charm and strode over to the chair. "Lumos," she murmured, laying the wand on the arm of the chair to cast a light on the parchment in her lap. She dipped her quill in the ink and paused, chewing the tip of the feather before pressing the tip into the paper and penning out what she'd been working over in her mind.
She finished quickly, blowing on the ink to dry it before folding it up. She placed the letter, quill, bottle of ink and Draco's wand on the bedside table before settling back into the chair.
She tossed and turned, trying her best to get comfortable enough to sleep, to no avail. She stood sighing, crossing over to the window to stare out at the starry sky. She missed her friends. She needed one of Mrs. Weasley's bone crushing hugs. Was Ron thinking about her? She couldn't help but wonder, bringing her hand up to press absentmindedly against her lips. She had kissed him, the night of the battle, adrenaline and hormones had been raging. She had been terrified that they were going to die, and hadn't thought twice about the repercussions of her actions. She loved Ron. Of course, she loved Ron. But she didn't know if that love extended past the boundaries of friendship. And now she was being held hostage and he was probably worried sick, and there was no way for her to talk to him about it. She had a feeling that the more time that passed, the more complicated things were going to be when they did have the chance.
She sighed, turning to head back for the chair, her eyes drifting to the bed. She paused. Draco was blissfully oblivious, taking up only the right side of the bed. Maybe she could get away with sleeping on the bed, as well, if she kept enough space between them... She looked over at the chair, and back to the bed.
She pulled the blanket back, sliding underneath, teetering right on the edge, ensuring that there was no possibilty of her touching him by accident and waking him. The last thing she wanted was for him to get angry and leave her alone. She bunched the pillow up, settling her head on it and was out in seconds.
Something was tickling his face. He shook his head, pressing it harder against the pillow, clenching his hand attempting to hang on to sleep for just a little while longer. His fingers grazed warm skin and his eyes shot open. It took him only a moment to remember where he was. His face was pressed into a mass of brown curls, his arm resting around her waist. He jerked away quickly, wondering when she'd gotten in the bed.
She gave a soft moan in her sleep, rolling onto her stomach and sighing. Draco threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He caught sight of his wand on the table, immediately grabbing it up and glaring back over his shoulder at the still sleeping brunette. What the fuck had she been doing with his wand? That was when he'd noticed the parchment, quill and ink. He snatched up the paper, unfolding it quickly and reading it over. She'd actually written it. He had expected her to hold out until they'd killed her. He shook his head in disbelief, stood quickly and left the room.
He flung the door to the dining room wide, ignoring the withering look his father gave him, striding right up to him and dropping the letter on his plate.
"What's this?" He asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
Draco shrugged. "See for yourself."
Lucius pulled his gaze away from him, his smirk sliding from his face as his eyes drifted down to the paper in his hand. He unfolded it slowly and read, his expression brightening slightly. His eyes shot back to Draco.
"Excellent. I'll get this sent out immediately. Thank you, Draco."
Draco nodded once, ignoring the curious gazes of his friends.
"Miss Granger," Lucius said, "has requested that we be aquitted of all charges and allowed to the same rights as non-death eaters coming through the war."
Draco kept his eyes on the toast he was picking apart with his long, pale fingers.
"That is wonderful news," Narcissa crooned. "Draco, I'm so proud of you."
Draco scoffed at his mother's words. "I didn't do anything, Mother. She was simply terrified that if she refused, Yaxley and his sidekick would try to rape her again."
Yaxley's face hardened as he glared daggers at Draco. Narcissa whipped around to scowl at him. "Yaxley... You... Is that true?"
He shrugged. "It was a scare tactic. I only told them I was going to. I wouldn't have gone through with it."
Theo rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Yeah. Right," under his breath.
At the same time Draco snapped, "That's why you were pulling her fucking pants off, while Dolohov held her down, huh?" He didn't miss the fact that Dolohov's fingers tightened around his wand resting against the table top.
"It matters not," Lucius said, calmly. "I have the letter now, a letter written by one of the Golden Trio. This is sure to sway their decision."
Draco met his mother's eyes across the table, barely picking up on her well concealed concern. She could fool the rest of them, but not him. She didn't want to be here any more than he did. She didn't like this situation at all.
Harry was still sleeping when Ron burst through his bedroom door, jerking him upright. "Harry," he shouted as he shook him, though he was already wide away, "Get up! Kinglsey's on the way over."
Harry pried Ron's hands off the front of his t-shirt, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses. "What's happened," he demanded. "Why's Kingsley coming here?"
"There's a letter," Ron said, and Harry could tell by the way he was bouncing from foot to foot exactly who it was from.
"Do you know anything?" Harry asked, hurriedly jumping up and pulling on his jeans and trainers.
Ron shook his head, "Nothing, other than it's from Hermione."
Seeing as how Harry had already figured that much out for himself, it wasn't much comfort. They pretty much ran down the stairs, catching disapproving looks from Mrs. Weasely as they barreled into the kitchen.
Harry sat down at the kitchen table. It couldn't be more than 6 a.m. The sky was just beginning to turn pink. Mrs. Weasley slipped a mug of coffee onto the table in front of him with a tense smile. She pressed a second cup into Ron's shaking hands, effectively stopping his pacing for approximately 3 seconds. He shot anxious glances out of the kitchen window each time he passed, until finally he stopped in front of it.
"He's here," he said. Harry sat his mug of coffee down, pushing his chair back and standing from the table just as a knock sounded against the door, cut short when Ron immediately yanked it open.
Kingsley stood, fist still poised to knock again. He lowered his arm and stepped inside. "Good morning, Kingsley. Care for some coffee? Tea? I've got breakfast going now." Mrs. Weasley said, rushing forward.
Kingsley nodded, thankfully. "Tea would be lovely, Molly. Thank you."
"Well?" Ron all but shouted, not able to hold it back any longer. "Let's see it, then." Kingsley pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it over. Ron sank into a kitchen chair, unfolding the parchment and spreading the wrinkles out across the table. Harry leaned over his shoulder to read:
To Whom It May Concern,
I, Hermione Jean Granger, believe that the Death Eaters housing my friends and myself should be aquitted of all charges against them. I believe WE should All be able to pREss forward From thIs point with cleaN slatEs. It isn't fair of us to juDge them based sOlely off of their past actioNs. Terrible circumstances Warrant questiOnable actions, HaRRY and RonalD can atest tO that, as Well as I. Give my friends my love, and tell tHem thAT I hope to see them soon. I hope that YOUr Decision comes spEEdily, so that we can all Move oN with rEbuilding our lives.
Yours most sinCErely, Hermione Granger.
p.S. We have been Shown nothing other thAn kindness by ouR hosts. TheiR hospitalitY abounds.
Harry read the letter over several times. He had seen Hermione's writing thousands of times, copying off of it quite frequently during school, especially during Quidditch season and something was off. It took him three times reading through it to realise that she had thrown in random capital letters, keeping them symmetrical in size with the lowercase letters so that they didn't jump out. No one would think it looked out of the ordinary, unless they had made a habit of studying her writing before. He and Ron should be experts on her writing by now.
"I need a quill," Harry murmured, sinking into the chair beside Ron's, who looked up at him now, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion over his ocean blue eyes. "Her writing's different. Did you notice?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, I figured she was just stressed. They had to force her to write this. She would never say those things of her own accord."
Harry nodded, "I think it might be more than stress. I think she's sending us a message."
Kingsley stayed silent, pulling a self-inking quill from his robes and handing it to Harry. Harry scooted the letter closer to him, making quick note of anything that was capitalised that technically shouldn't have been. When he was finished he held the paper back to read what he'd wrote and let out a disbelieving chuckle. He passed the paper over to Ron, and Kingsely leaned over to read along.
WE ARE FINE. DONT WORRY. DO WHAT YOU DEEM NECESSARY.
Ron smiled for a moment, before frowning. He looked up at Kingsley. "How long do you plan to let this go on? I don't believe a word of that 'Oh, the Death Eaters are little cupcakes who shite rainbows now. They treat us like royalty, blah, blah,' horse shite."
Kingsley stood with a solemn expression on his face. "If we let them walk free, what kind of message does that send?"
"So lie. Tell them what they want to hear, and when Hermione and the others are safely returned, 'Just kidding, you wankers. Off to Azkaban with you'."
"I sincerely doubt that they are going to return them without a magically binding agreement."
"Then what the fuck are you going to do, Kingsley? You're no closer to finding them than you were a week ago!"
Mrs. Weasley spun 'round, a tea kettle in one hand, a spoon in the other. She brandished the latter like a weapon, jabbing it in the direction of her youngest son. "Ronald Weasley, you watch your language! You'll speak to him with respect, he is the Minister! The Ministry is doing everything they can. This is hard for every body, Ron, not just you."
Ron's face was blood red from holding in whatever string of profanities wanted to spill from his mouth, but he kept his lips pressed tightly shut and stared down at his trainers.
Harry frowned, his eyes dragging from Kingsley to Ron, waiting for some one to speak. When no one did, he cleared his throat and said, "So, what's our next move?"
Kinglsey sighed, reaching up to rub his chin. "I suppose, we could offer to meet them, to discuss terms. Maybe they would let something slip in person..."
"Excellent. I'd like to be there," Harry said, picking up his mug and knocking back the remaining dregs of his coffee.
"Me, too," Ron said, quietly leaning back against the kitchen table.
Harry had been prepared for an argument, but instead Kingsley simply gave a swift nod, saying, "I'll let you both know once I've heard something." He started for the door, paused and turned back toward them. "I know this is hard on you both. Your friends are strong. I don't think you're giving them the credit they're due. Yes, you fought and won a war, but you didn't do it alone. Remember that and hold on to it." And with that he turned and left, his robe whipped behind him as the door creaked shut.
"He's right, you know."
Harry looked up, startled to find Ginny watching from the top of the stairs. She tugged her blue robe tighter around her and started down the steps. "They are strong. Every one of them. Neville stood up to Voldemort, even when we all believed you dead... He never let the Carrows push him around when the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts, nor did Dean. They were always standing up to them, protecting the younger students. And Luna, she came back to Hogwarts, knowing exactly what it would be like because she wanted to help. I shouldn't have to say a word about Hermione, because if she hasn't proved to you both, time and time again that she is more than capable of handling herself in less than ideal situations, then nothing I can say will change that. You just need to have a little faith in them."
Harry smiled, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. "You're right, Gin." She winked, and murmured, "Am I ever wrong?"
"When did you become a bloody motivational speaker?" Ron grumbled, still looking dejected, though his face brightened significantly when Mrs. Weasley sat breakfast on the table before him.
After he'd finished most of his plate, Ron pointed his fork, complete with speared sausage at Ginny and said, "I know you're right, Ginny, but it doesn't make me feel any better about this."