Chapter Sixteen

A great deal occupied Hermione's thoughts in the quiet moments when she was alone in her bed or nothing of any interest was happening inside the country house that had become the new unofficial headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. With very little else to do, she felt as if her brain never fully shut itself off. Even in the late night hours when she was asleep in the small bedroom she had been given, she dreamed about horcruxes. Her biggest fantasy had become fixating on the moment when all of Voldemort's damned evil trinkets were destroyed and his homicidal arse was eradicated from their world. Nothing else seemed important beyond that.

Others in the Order continued to worry about the future, what would happen when it was all over. She couldn't afford to think like that. Staying in the here and now was her only plan. When Voldemort was dead, she could make other plans. They hardly seemed necessary if she wouldn't be able to enjoy them. Until her mission was complete, she could think only about the mission. Anything else was a distraction and distractions got people killed. Enough people had already died. She didn't want to become just another statistic.

Thinking about how she was going to be able to break into the high security vault that belonged to the Lestrange family became another obsession that she couldn't stop. Maybe it was a dead end, a lead that would end up inevitably being worthless, but at the very least she thought she had to try to find out if there was anything inside the vault. She didn't have a mental connection to Voldemort like Harry did. That would have come in handy. Her late best friend understood the evil wizard in a way that it was impossible for anyone else. She could've used his expertise.

More than once while they were sitting in Number Twelve making plans for the horcrux hunt after they recovered the locket and then again when they were huddled in the freezing tent starving and demoralized, Harry stated that Voldemort would want to store his despicable treasures inside iconic places within the wizarding world that held some meaning for him. She didn't understand it, but he was adamant. It had been a little disturbing to listen to her friend rattle off a list of the places he would personally hide his own horcruxes if he was ever inclined to make them for his own soul. To grasp that he did indeed possess a connection with the madman was upsetting.

Harry just knew Gringotts Bank would be a prime place for Voldemort to store a piece of his soul. Sure, the location was impressive to Hermione when she entered it the first time as a brand new witch, but she didn't have the same connection. Trying to think like the two wizards inevitably made her brain hurt. She just couldn't do it. But, she trusted Harry. If he said there was a horcrux in Gringotts, she thought he must be right. Adding in the bit Snape told her about Bellatrix Lestrange being disturbed by the thought that someone was able to get into her vault made it a more plausible theory.

Breaking into the bank was madness. She wasn't even sure it was possible. The goblins were very protective of the treasures they were in charge of caring for and they distrusted witches and wizards. Not that she could blame them. All of the goblin rebellions she'd learned about in History of Magic proved why. Wizardkind hadn't been the benevolent rulers of the magical world that they claimed to be. Remembering the disgusting fountain in the Ministry of Magic's Atrium that she had the misfortune of seeing months earlier when they were on a mission to steal the locket horcrux from around Umbridge's neck made her sick to her stomach. Given the opportunity to do so again, there would be plenty of those willing and excited to subjugate the goblins again.

The more she thought about breaking into the vault to try to steal the possible horcrux, the more she worried about what she would do with one if she was ever to get one in her possession. Simple spells wouldn't destroy a horcrux. Harry destroyed one with a basilisk fang. Professor Dumbledore destroyed another with the Sword of Gryffindor that had been imbued with the basilisk venom. The night Ron returned to them in the Forest of Dean he destroyed the locket with the Sword too. For many reasons she wished she had been able to keep her temper under control that night and remained in the tent. She wanted to know where the Sword came from, how he found it in the middle of a lake.

Where did it end up when Harry and Ron were killed? She couldn't imagine that they would have allowed the Sword of Gryffindor out of their possession for even a second if they could. Did they still have it when they were attacked and dragged in front of Voldemort to suffer their painful, tortuous deaths? She thought they must have. If they had it, then one of their captors would have recovered it. No matter where it ended up, she knew that they needed it back. It was the only way she knew of to destroy a horcrux within her power. Basilisk fangs weren't exactly easy items to come by.

One person existed in their fucked up world who she thought would know about stolen goods. Over and over again Mundungus Fletcher proved himself to be the worst sort of thief. She highly doubted that he had given up his life as a petty criminal just because the bad side was in charge. If anything, he was probably less worried about being arrested.

It was a long shot, one that she would probably regret when she attempted to get the information she could out of him. The wizard couldn't be trusted. After abandoning the Order the night Moody was killed, he proved that he wasn't the wizard Dumbledore seemed to believe he was. Or, perhaps more likely, he was exactly the same wizard he had always been but no longer had any reason to fight against his nature with Dumbledore gone. All she knew was she didn't like anything about the wretched little man and knew he would betray her for a bowl of lukewarm soup.

There had been rumors about where he could be found. Not daring to tell anyone else in the safe house what she was up to, she slipped out of the ornate front door that few of the Order members ever used. Before anyone could ask a single question about what she was thinking, Hermione Disapparated to London. It was dangerous, likely even foolish to head straight for a heavily populated wizarding district. She wasn't just a known Undesirable thanks to her friendship with Harry, but she was also a Muggle-Born who had refused to register with the Muggle-Born Registration Committee. If she was captured, she might be dragged to Azkaban to spend the rest of her natural life or she might be taken in front of Voldemort to be eaten by his fucking snake. None of the prospects were attractive.

She remembered a conversation she overheard Fletcher have with the Weasley twins one night over dinner at Number Twelve. No matter how much their mother tried to keep her sons away from the shady wizard, they kept finding their way back to him for ever more increasingly dubious business advice. There was a shop she remembered him talking about in one of the side streets just off of Diagon Alley. Known for turning a blind eye to the true origins of some of the items he had available, he told the Weasley twins that they could find some of the less common items they needed for their products in the small shop. It was the only place she knew he frequented. Maybe she would get lucky.

There had never been a reason for her to walk down Horizont Alley. Less conspicuously dark than Knockturn Alley, it still gave her the distinct impression that she wasn't welcome. Few people stood outside the shops on the narrow lane. It was far less fashionable than Diagon Alley. Unsure where exactly she was headed, Hermione covered as much of her face up with her scarf as she could to walk down the alley. Even with few people outside, she felt eyes on her every second she walked out in the open. It would be foolish to stay too long.

Almost at the very end of the alley she found the shop she was looking for. A glance through the window showed no one inside except for a single clerk. Anxious to get out of the open where she felt exposed, she found a dark corner that easily hid her from view of anyone on the street. Maybe if she was patient and waited, he would drop by. It was the only option she had without returning to Number Twelve and begging Kreacher to find the wizard for her like he had Harry. She highly doubted the elderly house-elf would put aside his distaste for her even long enough to track the thief again.

No one bothered her in the dark corner. The longer she remained in the shadows, the more confident she felt. As long as no one came near her, she thought she could linger in the dark. From her vantage point, she had a clear view of the shop and most of the rest of the Alley. If Mundungus chose to go to one of his spots that day, she didn't mind waiting.

Perhaps only a quarter of an hour passed before she saw a familiar figure at the end of the Alley. It seemed like it was all too easy. Did anyone possess that good of luck? She certainly never had before. Despite feeling a tightening knot in her stomach that something wasn't right, when he was close enough, she stepped out of the shadows with her wand outstretched.

"We need to talk, Fletcher."

Recognizing he was in a dangerous position, Mundungus held up his hands to show he was unarmed. There was a flicker of fear in his eyes that she almost missed before he tried to disarm her with what he must've assumed was a charming smile. Did she unnerve him so? Or did he fear that she wasn't alone? A number of Order members would be glad to make him pay for his part in Moody's death.

"Okay, but not here. I don't want to be seen with you."

It was fair. Certainly not offended by his choice of words, she didn't want to be seen with him either. Only desperation and a crippling boredom encouraged her to seek the horrible man out. If she had any other option, she would've gone in the other direction.

"Fine. Where?"

With just a nod of his head towards the shop, he crossed the narrow lane. Instead of going inside the shop through the front door, he led her down a dark path on the side of the building. It was madness to go that far, she thought with each step she took. He could be taking her to her death or worse. Just when she thought she might have to utter her first killing curse, he pushed open a door that led to a staircase down into a cellar.

She didn't like the space. Every second she was in the confined room alone with the pungent wizard, she feared she'd made a terrible mistake. Had she learned nothing watching all of the terrible movies her ridiculous second cousins made her watch when they were younger? Horror had never been her favorite genre. Especially when she joined the wizarding world and she learned how much she didn't know about the world, it became even less of something she wanted to watch. There was plenty of horror in reality to contend with.

Wanting to get the experience over with as quickly as possible, she made certain that her wand was visible in her hand every single moment. If he tried anything, she would be ready for him. The man might be older, but considering how he ran in terror during the night they were moving Harry to the Burrow, she would bet galleons that her dueling skills were much more effective. Still, just to be safe, she moved so that a wall was against her back. It wouldn't do her any good to be caught unaware if he had an accomplice down there with him.

"It's dangerous for you to seek me out, girl. You must have a good reason."

"Of course I do."

"Death Eaters are all over London. You were probably seen when you walked here."

"Then I suppose we should get this conversation with over as quickly as possible."

Mundungus held up his empty hands to try to prove that he wasn't a threat. She was no fool. Even without a visible wand in his hand, she knew that he wasn't toothless. Even if he managed to just throw his body physically against hers, he might knock her out just with the pungent odor emanating from his unwashed clothes. How did one person manage to get themselves so filthy in modern days? There was no reason, especially not when magic was available.

"I want to know what happened to Harry's and Ron's belongings when they were captured."

The smile that crept up on the horrible man's face was enough to make the knots that were already twisting in her gut twist harder. She didn't like how he could find any amusement at all in remembering what happened to her best friends. Wasn't he supposed to have been on their side at one point? Of course he also had no problem stealing from his allies when the opportunity presented itself. He was the lowest of the low. Even just being in his presence made her long for a fiery hot shower to rub off the top layer of her skin.

"What makes you think that I would know?"

"Because you're a thief. I imagine that the possessions of those two would catch a pretty Knut on the market if you were able to get your grubby, little hands on them."

His laughter was even worse than his smile. She was making a mistake standing there in the cellar. Never should she have put herself in such a vulnerable position with a man who had no true loyalties to anyone but himself. Each second she remained she felt more and more like she was in grave danger. Maybe it wasn't worth it to find out what happened to their belongings. How could they help her if they weren't able to keep her best friends from dying?

"I wish I knew where they were. You're right. A trinket that belonged to the Boy-Who-Didn't-Live could fetch quite a high sum in the right markets. I suppose it's a good thing I cleared out most of what I could find in his house. That should be worth something later."

She had to clench her fists to keep from launching her entire body in his direction. How dare he be so callous and hateful about her best friend? Had he never loved someone and then lost them in a horrific, tragic manner? Evidently not. He didn't seem the sort to have ever had anyone care about him, not even his own mother. She might have found that fact to be terribly sad if he had been just a little less awful.

"Your friends' belongings were taken by Death Eaters. You'd have to ask one of them what happened. Maybe you'll even get your chance soon."

Under no circumstances did Hermione want to go seeking out a Death Eater. That seemed far more dangerous than what she was already doing and that was dangerous enough. Besides, she had had her fill of being near Death Eaters thanks to her captivity. Given the opportunity, she would burn them all to ash.

"I took quite a risk meeting with you. We could've been seen. I can't afford to be thought of as fighting on the wrong side."

Fletcher took a step closer to Hermione. The confined room felt even more so with him so near. She could hardly breathe, both out of disgust and a healthy dose of fear. All of her instincts had been ignored to meet him there. She should've run the first chance she had. Why did she have to continually prove herself to be a reckless Gryffindor?

"What are you going to give me in return for what I told you?"

"You told me nothing of value. I owe you nothing."

"You put me at risk."

"We're all at risk every single moment."

"But you are a special kind of danger."

His touch of her arm made his meaning explicitly clear. Using the back of two fingers, he ran them up from her elbow to her shoulder. Disgusted, she pulled her arm back. There was absolutely no way that was going to happen. Offering her body to Thorfinn as a means of survival had been difficult enough and she found the wizard attractive. There was nothing the least bit desirable about Mundungus Fletcher. She hadn't fallen quite so low yet.

"I deserve some compensation."

There was a struggle to get away from him. Putting her back up against a wall turned out to be a terrible idea. She wasn't surprised. The entire trip to London had been a terrible idea. Far from being upset she was able to get far enough away that he couldn't easily grab her again, Fletcher only laughed. The chilling sound went straight to her bones.

"The Death Eater I sold you to will probably let me have a go at you whether you like it or not."

Unsure what he could possibly mean, Hermione felt suddenly terrified. How much worse was the day going to get for her? Seeing the expression of sheer confusion and horror on her face, Fletcher laughed again.

"I saw you standing out there before you saw me. Gave me plenty of time to send an owl. Lots of enemies out there who are anxious to find you. You should've stayed wherever you were hiding."

Desperate to get away before she learned any more, Hermione tried to spin in place. No matter how much determination she had, she couldn't Disapparate out of the room. Of course he would lure her into a building with anti-Apparition wards. How could she have been so foolish? She was human and therefore prone to making all sorts of stupid mistakes from time to time especially when under a great deal of emotional pressure, but this was too much. Fletcher was a member of the Order! She should've been able to trust that he wouldn't betray her when they were supposed to be on the same side. How much more fucked up was the world going to get before it all ended?

"The big one has been looking for you for weeks. He'll reward me for finding you."

A door opened loudly followed immediately by heavy footsteps going down a rickety wooden staircase. Knowing it was Thorfinn without even seeing him, Hermione panicked. She couldn't allow him to catch her again. One escape was difficult enough. A second one would be impossible.

Operating entirely on instinct and relying on her natural urge to choose "flight" inside of "fight, she sent a stunner straight to Fletcher's leering face. Once he was no longer an immediate issue to concern herself with, she blasted a massive hole into the side of the building. Rubble and debris flew all over Horizont Alley but she didn't have time to consider any innocent passersby who may have gotten caught up in the destruction. She climbed out of the hole and ran as fast as she could in whatever direction was open.

"Princess, wait!"

She heard the concern and fear in Thorfinn's voice. Any other time, if they weren't on opposite sides of a fucking war, his pleading would've made her stop. It was too dangerous. He would overpower her physically in a second. No matter what he shouted, she had to keep moving. Her life depended on it.

"Princess, please! I'm not going to hurt you."

Did he really believe she would be dumb enough to trust his promises? She had to keep running. Ignoring everyone and everything around her, she kept running until she found a dark corner she could Disapparate from.

By the time she reached the back garden of the Order's safe house, her lungs burned and she couldn't breathe. She fell to her knees to try to catch her breath. Part of her worried her heart was about to burst inside her chest. It had all been far too close. She almost couldn't believe she made it out of London.

"Hermione!"

Moments after landing she heard Kingsley's voice shout at her across the garden. He ran towards her. Still unable to catch her breath, she let him do a quick examination of her body for any obvious wounds.

"I'm not… hurt… Just… can't breathe… Need… to exercise more."

Kingsley didn't seem as if he fully believed her when she looked up into his concerned face. He needed to stop looking at her that way or his handsome face was going to develop wrinkles in all the wrong places.

"Hermione, what happened? Where were you?"

She waited to answer his question until she was back on her feet and her breathing back under control. It was important that he not listen to what she did while she was in a weak position. His opinion of her mattered more to her than everyone else's combined. In truth, his was the only one she truly cared about. Fuck everyone else.

"We need the Sword of Gryffindor. I tried to track it down."

"How? Why didn't you tell me?"

Because you would've tried to stop me. Instead of lying about why she kept her actions to herself, she chose to explain what happened and hope he forgot the question he asked.

"I tracked down a thief. They usually know where to find what you're looking for."

"A thief? Who..?" He groaned. "Mundungus."

"Yes, and it was a terrible idea so you don't have to lecture me. He trapped me in a cellar. Not only was he unhelpful, he tried to sell me to a Death Eater."

Seeing the immediate rage on Kingsley's face at that horrible nugget of knowledge was both terrifying and exhilarating. Only a fool would make an enemy out of a man like him. She hoped she was never reckless enough to put herself in that position. Fletcher would need to watch his back from then on. The pungent fool was making powerful foes everywhere he went.

"I never did trust that worthless arsehole. Never understood why Albus was so certain he could be trusted."

Neither could she. There was a lot about the late Headmaster that would never be explained.

"Was it to a specific Death Eater? Or just any random one he could find?"

"Rowle has been looking for me ever since I escaped."

"I see."

"I think he might… I think he might believe he is in love with me."

It was a humiliating thought. Even if it kept her alive and gave her a loyal ally when she needed one most, the longer she was away from the Shrieking Shack, the more guilt Hermione felt. Snape and Kingsley both might have been correct that she did nothing wrong and therefore should feel no guilt, but she couldn't help it.

"First of all, Little Witch, you are not to blame. You stayed alive and that's all that matters. But, you need to be very, very careful any time you leave this house. If he's desperate enough, Rowle will be dangerous. It's also not unheard of for Death Eaters to ask their Dark Lord for war prizes. You could very well end up Rowle's if you are ever captured."

Hearing Kingsley say those awful words out loud filled her with even more fear. Until that moment she hadn't really believed that was a possibility. More than that, what if she had the misfortune to be the prize Dolohov requested? She would be far better off with Thorfinn. At least he wasn't likely to murder her.