Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens... ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Heartbreak wanders throughout the body — it's a lack of oxygen to the soul, a chain dragging from the mind, a poisoning of the blood, a sorrowful symphony drowning out all else. ~Terri Guillemets
There comes a point in a relationship when you realize that you trust someone enough to let them keep their secrets. ~Robert Brault
Nothing will ever be attempted if all possible objections must be first overcome. ~Samuel Johnson
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Hermione descended the final stair in time to see Kingsley staring at an empty spot on the floor, while Dumbledore's portrait let out a defeated sigh. "You really must trust him, Kingsley. You needn't have reminded him of the optics. He's always been well aware, and frequently uses them for his own purposes. I think you'll find you have no real say in the matter. He is a member of the Order, an unmatched potions master, and a rather brilliant political operative. Give him the chance to redeem himself."
Kingsley noticed her standing at the foot of the stairs, and straightened, somewhat guiltily. Hermione felt the presence of Minerva behind her, who cleared her throat as she brushed past.
"What on earth did you say to him?" The Scottish witch demanded, as Hermione's own question, "Where has he gone?" left her mouth as nothing more than a whisper.
Minerva was shooting Kingsley a look that she had given to errant 14 year olds for over fifty years. However potent, it did not work on the calm wizard.
"I wanted to know how he managed to track down Hermione in Paris, and why the Malfoy family were now seeking her out." Kingsley stated calmly, ignoring Hermione entirely, and yet she felt palpably aware of everyone in the room. Minerva, Kingsley, Dumbledore's portrait, and when she relinquished these memories, Rita Skeeter.
Remind him of the optics. What on earth had Kingsley said, and had he deliberately done so privately, so the topic would not be part of her memories? Her thoughts ran away with her, swamped by the overwhelming crush of her emotions, and yet the moment demanded a response. Hermione projected her voice, to make it into the room properly this time, as she asked:
"How did he find me in Paris?"
Because Hermione Granger would ask such a question, and no one in the room needed to know how winded she suddenly felt, and how her hands were clammy, or how she rather feared, for once in her academic career, that she didn't actually want to know the answer to her question.
"Apparently, you're using a note-copying quill, and George Weasley gave him the copy."
Hermione dimly filtered through the information, and moved to her bag, slung on the chair before the headmistress's desk.
"Oh."
She fought to keep her voice level, as though Severus' underhanded methods were of little consequence to her. As if she didn't care that he had left.
"That makes sense, he's working on patents for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He said he's particularly interested in the research into memory restoration and amplification that I helped George with."
Minerva stared at her, then back to Kingsley with a now challenging eye, drawing herself up to full stance behind the Headmistress desk, with Albus' portrait square behind her.
"Well then. Perhaps, Kingsley, you would be better to ask Hermione, herself, how the Malfoy's got involved. She is capable of expanding I am sure, if you deign to ask." The Scottish brogue was, despite its stern delivery, filled with irrepressible pride as she stared down the former auror, and nodded towards Hermione, who was now holding onto the offending quill.
Kingsley raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I am sorry Severus left, that wasn't my intention. I merely want to understand the present situation. Hermione…" He paused here, with a glance to Minerva, and clearly thought through his next words carefully: "You've said Draco Malfoy is purchasing Caligula under direct instructions from Teddy Burges. It makes me question, therefore, why a close associate of the family, as well as the boy's mother, would seek you out and admit it."
Hermione clenched the quill in her hand, much as she would a wand, before willing herself to relax.
"Either to learn of what I plan to do, or to somehow hand me over to Teddy Burges I imagine. Narcissa would, at least. But Severus alerted me to Malfoy's plans, then organised a meeting in neutral, public, and yet private territory, so they are now 'on the record'. He was the one who delivered her invitation, along with other information on the plant. He has secured me a viable specimen to research."
She was emotional enough, but when Kingsley looked at her, in the frankly unfamiliar way that suggested she was in fact, an idiot, her temper soared.
"Yes, I am entirely aware that any association with the Malfoy's is risky and ridiculous, and not to be entertained lightly. But Kingsley, imagine if we could prove Draco was illegally importing the plant, and that he was acting on Burges' orders. This paints the marriage law as positively Machiavellian. It would overturn the law immediately."
Dumbledore chuckled, and the tension of the room broke.
"Kingsley, I think you will find that Severus often inspires trust in only the most brilliant of minds." Hermione saw the blue eyes sparkle down at her, and damn him, despite everything he had done and put her through, she felt a rush of gratitude towards the elderly, deceased Headmaster. He continued, gesturing towards the Headmistress:
"Minerva, though irritated by the man, has learnt to trust him. You risked your entire career to ensure he was treated like the hero he is, not the villain. Hermione, it seems, clearly understands the current situation. It appears rather evident that she trusts him."
Kingsley looked at her, Minerva looked at her, and the ever present specter of Rita Skeeter hovered at the back of her mind. She took a calm breath, before turning to Kingsley.
"I do, and I need his help. Just like I need yours, Kingsley. Narcissa has invited me to a dinner party at her French estate, I could go, make use of her contacts and even talk to Draco myself."
"Absolutely not."
It was not Kingsley, who spoke, but Minerva.
"Hermione, that woman lived with Voldemort for a year, her husband was a Death Eater and her son, not that it was his choice, is not untouched by his experiences with dark magic. I fear, your trust of Severus, cannot extend to the Malfoys."
Hermione felt the air leave her lungs, and before she could draw breath, Kingsley was speaking.
"She's right Hermione. We don't have time for dinner parties at any rate, you need to brief the governors, and organise Dennis' immigration to France. And be seen doing so. We need to control the story, Hermione."
She struggled with the urge to keep arguing, to yell and scream, even as she focused on breathing, ignoring the nagging thoughts that kept intruding, with Skeeters scandalised tones. Betrayed and besotted Gryffindor defends the Reformed Death Eater. Former Ministers career-ending pardon is not a true proclamation of trust. Malfoys manipulate foolish Muggleborn cover-girl.
But Kingsley was right about what needed to be done right now. Minerva's concern was just as valid and came from a place of concern. What's more, she did not have time to ask for permission.
Logic battled with the defiant stance of her body and the urge to fight, to convince both of them that they were wrong. To make it clear that Severus had no intention of working against her, and he wanted to help, and maybe, by doing so she could convince herself. Because even if he hadn't disclosed some rather underhanded information, he had done nothing else to deserve their distrust, and it was insulting and unfair and wrong.
But she needed their help, and somehow, she had to hold herself together, and ignore the horrible feeling in her gut and the grip that threatened to snap the small quill that had caused so much trouble, that Severus had never once mentioned.
"You're right. I'm sure you need your office, Minerva. Would it be acceptable if I was to use the library, with Kingsley, possibly Percy Weasley, and Dennis? Kingsley, can you get them here as quickly as possible, and meet me in the legal section? There are a few things I'd like to look through in the meantime."
Her voice was controlled and steady, and the swift change of direction left both Order members staring at her, while she doggedly looked up at Dumbledore's portrait to avoid their gaze. The silence held for a beat as those blue eyes twinkled down at her, and Minerva broke it with a brisk "Yes of course. The governors arrive at 2pm. You may use the castle as you wish until then."
Kingsley clapped his hands together and seemed eager to move the conversation to lighter waters now he had her acquiescence.
"I'll floo to Gringotts, their fireplaces won't be tracked, and make sure to be seen by the press with Dennis leaving the joke shop. It would be best to send word to Percy through his brother, can't wait for an owl or risk a Patronus. He's at perfect liberty to leave for a long lunch. It shouldn't be more than an hour, all up."
Hermione nodded and collected her bag, placing the strap on her shoulder and looking down to the quill in her hand once more.
She slipped it into her bag, letting it fall to the bottom unceremoniously. She did her best not to think of the research diary beside it. Minerva watched her and, as the green flare of the floo lit the room and swallowed Kingsley's bent form, the two women stood in silence.
"Do you want to floo to the library?"
Hermione felt a deep seated pang as she remembered Severus had related to Minerva how she had so completely broken down in front of him, and words didn't make it past the dam in her throat, so she nodded. Minerva passed her the powder, kindly and quietly, to allow Hermione to exit through the floo. If the green light of the flames seemed more blurry than usual, she did her best to pull herself together, and stepped out of the spinning flames into the calm respite that was the Hogwarts Library, wiping quickly at her eyes.
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A/N: It's a short chapter, but I'm doing my best to get back into the swing of things.
