Hermione

Professor McGonagall allowed Hermione to visit the Burrow on Sunday morning, just as Percy predicted. When she arrived at the end of the lane leading to the Weasleys' towering home, she felt a mixture of nostalgia and apprehension. She hadn't seen most of the Weasleys for over two months, including Ron. How could it be that seeing her best friend filled her with dread? How had she let her life turn into such a tangled mess when all she wanted to do was finish her N.E.W.T.s and find her parents?

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley squeaked when the bushy-haired Gryffindor walked into the kitchen. She rinsed her hands in the sink and towelled them off before she wrapped Hermione in a crushing hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Percy didn't tell you I was coming?"

Something flickered in Mrs. Weasley's eyes but it was gone before Hermione could identify the emotion. "No, I suppose he wanted you to be a surprise. How did you get here? You're supposed to be at Hogwarts!"

Hermione shrugged. "Professor McGonagall gave me permission to leave for the day as long as I'm back before dark."

"We can manage that." Mrs. Weasley bustled over to the stove, where something that looked like a white sauce was stirring itself. "Since you're here, do you mind shelling the eggs?"

"What are you making?"

"The usual, plus potato salad and something called 'biscuits and gravy'. Ron and Harry had it on their last trip to the States. Ron's been asking me to make it ever since, but I was only able to track down a decent recipe this week."

Hermione almost dropped the hard-boiled egg she was peeling. Who put gravy on biscuits? But more importantly— "Ron and Harry went to America? When?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned at Hermione. "They came back two weeks ago. They didn't tell you?" Hermione shook her head. "Hmm. I wasn't under the impression it was a secret. They'll be here in about an hour if you want to ask about it."

The young men walked in about an hour and a half later, which earned them a solid scolding for being late. "I have been slaving away over the breakfast YOU asked for!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked at Ron.

Harry managed to duck around the bickering Weasleys to join Hermione, Percy, George, Bill, Fleur, and Mr. Weasley at the dining table. "Good morning," he said with raised eyebrows and a sigh. He wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders in a half-hug. "We didn't know you were coming."

Hermione flamed red. "Apparently, someone kept it a surprise." She glared at Percy, who smirked.

"It's probably better, to be honest," Harry muttered as he dropped into the free seat to Hermione's right. "Ron probably wouldn't have—you know."

"I know." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't really blame him."

"Of course you can. He's being an idiot."

Those were Harry's final words on the matter as Mrs. Weasley and Ron joined them at the table. Ron immediately dug into what looked like scones and the grey-white sauce. "What on earth is that?" Hermione asked Harry.

"Biscuits and gravy. It's an American thing. Ron's been obsessed with it for weeks."

"Ever since you came back from the States," Hermione said, not bothering to hide the accusation in her tone. "Were you planning on telling me?"

Harry looked down at his plate rather than meet Hermione's scowl. "I'll explain after. Okay?"

"You'd better, otherwise 'The Boy-Who-Lived' will be past tense." She paused. "More past tense than it already is, anyway."

Said 'Boy-Who-Lived' chuckled. "I promise we'll tell you everything."

Hermione was barely placated, but turned her attention to the food. "Those are not biscuits. And that is not gravy."

Her best friend took her plate and put the not-biscuits and not-gravy on it. "Just try it."

She took a bite and wrinkled her brows. "This is bizarre."

"Says the girl who's eaten French food."

"Touché."

When brunch was over and Ron had tucked away the last of the American food, Hermione followed the Aurors-in-training to the front side of the Burrow after a brief explanation to Percy.

"Not as good as Waffle House," Hermione heard Ron whisper to Harry on their way out the door.

"At least she made it for you," Harry said back with exaggerated annoyance.

"Yeah, but—"

"If you wanted a proper version of whatever that was, why don't you just run back to the Yanks and have them make it?" Hermione snapped.

Ron's ears turned red and Harry held up his hands. "I swear we were going to tell you," the bespectacled man said.

"When, exactly? Because it seems it slipped your mind when you saw me in Hogsmeade last weekend."

"You know Ginny and I were busy with the Quidditch match—"

"You could have told me after! Or before! It wouldn't have killed you to spend some time with me."

Harry's eyes darted between Hermione and Ron. "But you were...busy." He mumbled the last word and stared resolutely at the ground.

"You could have joined us! I'm not going to apologize for spending time with someone who is able to carry on an intelligent conversation about the things that matter to me!"

"Are you saying we can't carry on intelligent conversations?" Ron demanded.

"Not about Memory Charms," Hermione said.

Ron roared. "You told Percy about your parents?"

"No! I'm not an idiot," she said quietly. "Percy is still Percy, and I know what the Ministry would say if they found out. You guys and Ginny are the only ones who know."

Harry kicked at the ground. "So you don't trust him?"

"With admitting I did something illegal? No. He realized my interest is deeper than academic, but he hasn't pushed to find out what's going on."

"You shouldn't be talking to him about anything," Ron snapped. "He betrayed our family."

Harry continued to look distinctly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Guys..."

"Which he admitted and he apologized for and has been working to make up ever since the battle!" Hermione stomped and folded her arms. "Just because you can't forgive someone doesn't mean they aren't worth forgiving."

"You—"

"We have a trace on Lucius Malfoy," Harry said over the arguing.

Hermione and Ron stopped. "You what?" Hermione asked. She couldn't have heard right.

"That's what Ron and I have been doing in America. We've been doing recon on the Malfoys, and we were right. It's just Lucius and Narcissa. We haven't see any sign of Draco."

"How did you find them?"

"Lucius has known associates in Washington. One of them recently started renting a rather expensive hotel room, and we confirmed that an Englishman and his wife were staying in it."

"Vanity strikes again," Ron muttered. "You'd think the Malfoys would try to keep their heads down. Maybe go somewhere a little less conspicuous."

"They're staying in a Muggle hotel," Harry reasoned. "They're probably counting on us ignoring the Muggle world since they were so outspoken against it."

"Do you have a plan to bring them in?"

Harry gave Hermione an apologetic look. "It's classified."

"It's technically all classified," Ron said. "You're lucky we're telling you anything."

Hermione felt a flare of annoyance but chose not to retort. She turned her back to Ron and addressed Harry. "What about the others? Nott supposedly went to America as well."

"He's disappeared. Best we can figure is he's got associates we don't know about or he's just better at blending in. He was never as well off as the Malfoys, so it's less likely we'll pick up a money trail."

"But we also think it's less likely that he entered the Muggle world. Remember the Quidditch World Cup? By all accounts, Nott enjoyed that even more than the Malfoys," Ron added darkly.

"If he has entered the Muggle world, we're likely looking for someone under the Imperius Curse. He wouldn't be able to stand them any other way." Harry shrugged. "That's what our profilers are telling us, anyway."

Hermione nodded. "It makes sense. What about the kids? Malfoy, Nott, Goyle?"

"Malfoy and Theodore Nott disappeared off the radar completely. Again, we're looking at known associates. Nott's best friend was Zabini, so we've looked into his mother's properties, but there's no activity at the villa in Italy and the house in France was destroyed when the Zabinis didn't pick a side during the war. Our next guess was Parkinson, but she's as clueless as anyone else. We have traces on both of them and Daphne Greengrass, though, just in case."

"Bulstrode managed to disappear, too, but Goyle turned up in Bulgaria with a cousin. He'll be standing trial in the next month or so." Ron looked pleased with this progress.

"That hasn't been in the papers," Hermione said, frowning.

"We're trying not to spook the ones we've found. Once we bring all of them in, we'll make an announcement and see if anyone else makes a rash move."

"How many have you found?"

"Total? We're tracking about nine of the thirty-two that are still missing." Harry frowned and shook his head. "We haven't made as much progress as we hoped we would by this point."

"You can't blame yourselves. You're still in training. They shouldn't even be sending you off on reconnaissance yet."

Ron scoffed and folded his arms. "What? You think we can't handle it? We spent all of last year hunting bloody Horcruxes. We can handle a few Death Eaters."

"You're still in training," Hermione said again through gritted teeth. How could someone take offence to everything she said and make it sound like her fault? "I have every faith that you and Harry can handle it, but they shouldn't be sending you off yet."

"We shouldn't have been sent off to find the Horcruxes, either," Ron countered.

Privately, Hermione agreed with Ron about the Horcruxes. They were too young and ill-prepared to be entrusted a mission like that, but they had survived. She woke up to nightmares of howling wind blowing against a tent and maniacal cackling and shooting pain in her left arm, but they had survived. "But we were," was all she said.

"And we are again," Harry said. "Too many Aurors died last year, Hermione. They need us to take on these responsibilities now."

"That's just asking for you to be killed! How can you protect yourself if you don't have everything you need?"

"We've never had everything we need. We fought Voldemort when we were first-years. Besides, they aren't sending us into life-threatening situations. Just recon. That's all."

Hermione threw her arms around Harry. "Just promise me that you'll always come home."

Harry patted her on the back. "I promise."

She pulled away and hugged Ron around the middle. "You too."

Ron wrapped his arms around her and put his lips in her hair. "I promise as long as you promise me that you won't tell Percy anything that'll get you in trouble."

Hermione pulled back and glowered at her friend. "I'm not an idiot," she said again.

"I know. That doesn't mean I'm not worried."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine."

Harry nodded. "And so will we."

After talking awhile longer about lighter subjects, Hermione wandered off to find the person who instigated her arrival in the first place.

"I cannot believe you didn't tell your mother I was coming," she said accusingly.

Percy looked up from his conversation with George and grinned. "Finally finished arguing with my brother, then?"

"For now."

George smirked and Hermione's breath caught. It was bizarre, seeing Fred's form in the flesh. Bizarre and uncomfortable. "He'll be right as rain soon enough. And if he's not, I have some products that can ease the transition along."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Okay, maybe they won't so much 'ease' the transition as much as they'll suggest he not piss you off."

Percy laughed at that. "I'm pretty sure Hermione can convince him of that without any of your jokes, Georgy."

"Which reminds me. How is that project I gave you going?" George asked. Percy looked politely interested, but didn't press for details.

"I haven't made much progress if I'm honest, but I have a lead." Hermione made a mental note that she needed to talk to Mr. Weasley before she got too distracted with anything else.

George gave frustrated sigh. "I was hoping this would be easier."

"Me too, but we'll figure it out."

"Just the attitude anyone would expect from the recipient of an Order of Merlin," Percy said with a hint of smugness.

Something about his tone made Hermione uncomfortable. No, it was just Fred getting into her head. There was nothing suspicious about Percy or the fact that he mentioned her Order of Merlin. Or the fact that he always mentioned her Order of Merlin. Or that he'd teased her about it before Kingsley made the announcement. More than a month before, if she recalled correctly.

"Have you seen your dad?" Hermione asked, trying to shake the feeling. "I'd like to have that chat about the tracking charm."

"Absolutely. He's in the drawing room, last I saw," Percy answered.

George gave a face-splitting grin. "Dad knows something about a tracking charm? That's brilliant. That might be useful for catching the light-fingered snot-rags that seem to come in." George gave a conspiratorial wink to Hermione and headed into the house.

"Will you walk with me after?" Percy asked, catching Hermione's elbow as she made to follow George.

She cursed the heat rising in her cheeks. "Of course." He let her go, but her feet wouldn't move. The gnawing in her stomach was becoming too much. "Percy," she said with a poorly hidden tremor. "When did you find out I would be getting an Order of Merlin?"

The man furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, it's been rumoured ever since the Ministry got back on its feet. You're a war heroine, Hermione. It was to be expected."

It was to be expected, her mind echoed. "Did you know Kingsley was announcing them at Christmas?"

Percy nodded, the look of confusion deepening. "A friend from the Ministry told me. I still have connections there, seeing as I was the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. What is this about?"

'He's still ambitious and you're a war hero with an Order of Merlin,' Fred's voice whispered.

And he already knew you were being awarded when he approached you during the holidays, her mind added.

The seeds of doubt were planted, and as much as she wanted to deny it, the damage was done. She had known Percy for nearly eight years, and Fred had known him for a lifetime before that. Aligning himself with someone who had a glamorous reputation was exactly something Percy would do.

"I don't think the American food is settling well," she lied, and clutched at her stomach, willing away the very real nausea. "I think I need to get back to the castle."

He stepped behind her and put his hands gently on her elbows as if guarding her from an unseen attack. "You shouldn't Apparate if you aren't feeling well."

Hermione felt cold at his touch and fought her instinct to shake him off. "I'll be fine, I just...please tell your mother thank you for me. I'll see you later." And without waiting for another word, she walked to the edge of the Weasleys' property, turned on the ball of her foot, and disappeared with a pop.