Chapter Twenty-Three
Once the bedroom door closed behind them, Kingsley became a different man. Pushing aside all of his earlier concerns and worries that he was too old and she was too young, he grew far bolder than Hermione expected. It was evident just in the first few seconds alone in his bedroom that he was a very passionate man. She was absolutely there to enjoy every moment. Too few opportunities presented themselves for a true distraction when one was stressed and unsure how to move forward with the inanity of their existence.
Given the chance to show the witch just what he felt, Kingsley was up to the task. His hands sought out her waist just as his lips sought out hers. Carefully, never removing his mouth from hers for even a second, he walked her backwards towards his comfortable bed. When she felt the back of her knees hit the mattress, he tossed her on top of it with almost no effort. There would've no doubt been a cheeky grin on his skillful lips if she'd dared to look.
She should have been able to knock all of her upsetting thoughts out of her brain while his lips were on hers or on the sensitive skin at her neck. The man knew what he was doing and if she had been any other woman at any other time, she wouldn't have been able to focus on anything but the feel of his hands, the weight of his body on top of hers, the shivers that went up and down her skin. If there was one place where a woman should be able to get lost in pleasant sensations and tune everything else in the world out, it was in bed with Kingsley Shacklebolt.
It was unfortunate that no matter how hard she tried, all she could think about while they kissed on top of his bed and she felt his hands wander to parts they hadn't been before was how it had been less than forty-eight hours since she was last with Thorfinn in her own bed. The two men could not have been more different in their technique and feel. She knew that if the clothing came off and she went even further, she would discover a lot more differences. But it still felt wrong. Even though she wanted Kingsley and couldn't deny she had been curious for a very long time what it would be like to finally take a 'ride on his broomstick', her heart wasn't in it.
"What's wrong?"
Thankfully, Kingsley was a perceptive man who could tell when his potential lover was no longer as invested in the experience. It was embarrassing to her that he noticed something was off at all. She tried to pretend like her feelings were nothing. When she leaned up to kiss him again, he stopped her immediately.
"Tell me, Hermione."
Knowing they would have to have a very uncomfortable discussion she didn't want to have, she laid her head back down on the mattress with a heavy sigh. He was not the sort of wizard who would just brush off his concerns, especially in such an intimate moment. Until he was satisfied that she was both fully invested and wanted to be there, he wouldn't kiss her again.
"It's nothing."
"Obviously it's not. Something I did upset you."
"No, that's not it at all. You did nothing to upset me. It's… it's… all right, I'm the one who did something that upset me."
Maybe it would be better for both of them if she just blurted out the awkward thoughts and feelings she had. Time was precious those days. Any moment they could run out of it. Kingsley was the person she respected the most. If there was anyone who deserved to know the full truth, it was him.
"Do you remember what you said to me the night we moved Harry out of his aunt's house?"
He nodded his head. There had been a lot of great advice given out that night. She wanted to make sure that he knew just what she most remembered.
"You told me to do whatever I had to to survive, no matter how devious or deceitful."
"Yes, I did. And I would say it again to you today. There's nothing fair about war."
"It was my decision to go to bed with Thorfinn Rowle. He never forced me. He wouldn't force me. I don't know how I know that about him, but I do."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Little Witch. You survived. You made it through a terrible situation that could've been the end to most other people."
How could she explain that she didn't really feel shame? She did, but she didn't. It was difficult to explain. One moment she would be completely fine with every decision she ever made with regards to Thorfinn and the next she wanted to burn the outer layer of her skin off. Why did she have to feel so contradictory? Was she looking for logic in an illogical place?
"I used my body to manipulate Rowle into helping me get into the vault. More than once. The reason I was so late getting back here the other morning…"
Kingsley held up his hand to stop here from elaborating any further.
"Was it your decision to manipulate Rowle?"
"Yes, it was."
"Then, again, I have to tell you that you have nothing that you need to feel ashamed for. You're allowed to sleep with whomever you want for any reason you want."
As much as she appreciated his statement, it felt too easy. A few times she tried to rationalize her behavior by telling herself that there were female agents in Muggle intelligence agencies who frequently did what she had lowered herself to do to get necessary information from a target. She believed the term was 'honeypot'. Even some men did it too. Sex could be a powerful weapon in the right person's hand. No matter how many times she told herself that it was all her decision and she was actually attracted to Thorfinn, it still felt very, very wrong.
"Until you're married to your beloved fiancé…"
Kingsley pulled gently on her ring finger that held the diamond engagement ring she never wanted. The reminder that she was in fact technically engaged made her roll her eyes and laugh. What a bizarre day it turned out to be.
"…you're free to do whatever and whomever you want. There's no shame at all."
Most men weren't like Kingsley. She could appreciate his kindness and his understanding. Not everyone would be so quick to forgive her what she had done.
"Now I would very much like you to choose to do me, but this isn't the right time."
"I'm sorry."
"There's no reason for you to be."
Hermione started to get up off the bed. Before she got very far, he stopped her with the touch of his hand.
"I should go back to my room. Remus saw me come in here and he didn't look pleased."
"So? Stay here with me. Let him strain his werewolf ears listening for sounds that aren't there. Every time one of us moves in our sleep and a bed spring squeaks, it'll drive him mad."
There was no reason to argue with his plan. It did feel nice to not be alone. Underneath the covers and in the warm embrace of Kingsley's strong arms, she felt surprisingly safe. She knew she could get used to being right there.
The tension in the Order safe house only grew higher in the days following the successful capture and destruction of another of Voldemort's horcruxes. While there had been a celebration that first day, it didn't last long. The reality that there were still more out there to find and destroy was difficult to process. Not to mention the final task of somehow murdering the dark wizard who was a formidable foe even without his multiple horcruxes was a daunting thought. No one would even begin to plan how that would be accomplished. One impossible task at a time was all they should focus on. Anything more seemed to be too much for their minds to handle.
Spending too much time in the house was miserable. Hermione found the tension within stifling. Whenever possible she ignored the judgmental looks she received in her direction from Remus. Why did he care so much what she was up to behind closed doors he wasn't invited to enter? He wasn't her father and besides, she wasn't doing anything wrong. Each night she returned to Kingsley's bed but they still hadn't done anything more than kiss. He was waiting until she was ready for more.
The world outside their false sense of security had grown quiet. Silent almost. Many were convinced the war was really over and Voldemort won. Maybe they were even right, but she wasn't ready to just accept it. She couldn't. There would be no future for her in that world. Giving up wasn't an option.
In the middle of a fairly unremarkable day in the first week of April, Hermione sat in her usual reception room trying to distract her mind with a book. It wasn't helping. Months had gone by since she was rescued from the Shrieking Shack and they had only been able to find one horcrux. At the rate they were going, they would never win. It sickened her to imagine that possibility. Would it have made a difference if Harry and Ron were still alive? She couldn't help but think it would. They'd made a good team since first year. Some days she missed them so much she couldn't breathe. It was easier to not think about them.
A paper airplane flew gracefully into her line of sight. Taking the opportunity to perform a few barrel rolls, the charmed airplane flew around her head a couple of times actually managing to draw a smile out of her. The interruption was most welcome. When it landed in her lap, she looked up to catch Fred watching from the doorway.
"Fascinating article about using dragon dung to liven up your petunias. I knew you'd want to read it as soon as you could."
With a conspiratorial wink, Fred left the room. She unfolded the airplane to see what he was up to. While there was indeed an article about dragon dung, it was the note scribbled in the corner that was more interesting. Written in the same script as the last one, she knew it was Scabior. There wasn't an opportunity for her to ask Fred how he got the message before he disappeared. Not that he was likely to tell her if she asked again. He valued his secrets. She respected that.
Cloak. Leicester Square. Noon. I'll find you.
Reading his message excited Hermione far more than she expected it would when she first unfolded it. Had Scabior found the cloak? Maybe that was too much to hope for but it was possible he had some idea where it ended up. It was strange that he didn't want to meet her at his house again. Was he becoming more paranoid as the war continued on? She couldn't blame him. It would be too easy for the wrong person to see her entering or leaving his house. Spies were everywhere. He could fear he was being watched. Maybe he was. Meeting her in what was arguably one of the busiest tourist spots in London was also an odd choice. Did he think they would stand less of a chance of being spotted by the wrong sort if they were surrounded by crowds of Muggles? It would be easier to blend in with all of the tourists on holiday provided Scabior made an effort with his clothing. Of course there were also eccentric Muggles who made even the boldest of wizards look like boring dressers.
She checked the clock over the fireplace. If she left then, she would only be about half an hour early. Checking out the location first wouldn't be a bad move. Even in the middle of the day there could be a number of dangers. Nowhere was safe yet. That was an uncomfortable fact she needed to keep reminding herself. It was possible one day she could change all that. Or at least be part of it.
When she felt confident no one was looking, Hermione snuck out of the front door. It was exhausting having to explain herself every time she left like she was some sort of rebellious child wanting out past curfew. She was of-age and also growing weary of the overly-cautious attitudes of those around her who were ready to give up. It was just easier on everyone if she could exit without anyone knowing. Fred would keep her secret. She had no doubts about his loyalty.
Choosing Leicester Square was either a brilliant move on Scabior's part or a terrible mistake on hers. The location made some sense. As she looked around the large crowd of Muggles going about their lives ignorant about the awful, dangerous war going on in the shadows, she did feel safer. They were less likely to be seen amongst the Muggles by those who meant them harm and far less likely to be ambushed in public.
The International Statute of Secrecy was still in place even for Voldemort. Maybe one day when he'd amassed enough followers and power he would boldly break it and proclaim himself ruler of the entire world, but mercifully it wasn't yet. Even Voldemort understood magic wasn't more powerful than a nuclear bomb. Muggles weren't toothless.
Arriving early didn't seem to give her any advantage at all. There was no sign of the Snatcher. As time progressed, she grew more nervous. Had it all been a setup? Did Fred unknowingly lure her into some awful trap? Not knowing how he was able to get messages to and from Scabior put her at a distinct disadvantage. Was there a problem? Scabior had never left her waiting before, but she also had never met him outside of his home. Had he been uncovered?
A million different scenarios, each one more horrible than the last, rushed through her mind. Standing around waiting for trouble had never been a good idea. She had to leave. Whatever the message was couldn't be more valuable than her life. Just as she prepared herself to exit the busy area without drawing attention to herself, she felt a very small but distinct poke in her back and the presence of someone behind her standing far too close for comfort.
"The problem with trusting someone that can be bought is there is usually someone who can afford to pay more."
Hearing Dolohov's voice behind her again brought her back to those hellish weeks she spent as his prisoner in the Shrieking Shack. She was fucked. How had she not noticed him approach her? She thought she had been doing a good job of surveying her surroundings. Was she getting too reckless, too flippant about her own safety? Of course she was.
"Now, you and I are going to sit down and calmly have a conversation. We mustn't draw any attention to ourselves and frighten the Muggles."
"How can I trust that you're not about to curse me in my back anyway?"
"I'm not here to kill you. If I was, you'd already be dead."
It was a tired, repeated response, but she knew he wasn't lying. Dolohov really wasn't the type. He was confident enough in himself and his own cruelty that he didn't have to do anything but state the truth. Somehow she doubted he would even care all that much about the International Statute of Secrecy if he wanted to kill her.
"Move to that bench. If you try to run, you won't get far."
Just a few steps away from where they stood was an empty bench. Hermione tried to hide her own fear by confidently walking towards it like she had no cares in the world. Once she was seated with her hands where he could see them, he sat down next to her. Anyone who walked past them would have no idea how tense and uncomfortable their meeting was. She envied all of them their ignorance.
"If you're not here to kill me or take me back to your master, why are you here? Why would you have it look like I was meeting someone else?"
"I need information. While there are plenty of far more enjoyable methods to getting the information I needed, the easiest option seemed to be to just ask."
Dolohov's finger gently tapped the diamond ring on her left hand. That was certainly going to be a difficult item to explain away without inadvertently blurting out the truth.
"I knew you were the mystery witch that tricked Rabastan and the half-troll when I learned what happened in the bank. Excellent work on the memory charms. I dare say you are getting much better."
"Thank you."
"But you still have a lot to learn. They were still broken."
For the briefest of moments she worried that her failure in casting those charms could've brought real harm to Thorfinn. Once it was known he was a willing accomplice to her acts, he would not be treated well by his fellow Death Eaters. Likely he could even be executed by his Dark Lord for treason. The worry passed quickly. If he was murdered, that would just be one loose end she wouldn't have to eventually tie up. He was instrumental in getting inside the vault. What else did she need him for?
"What was so important inside the Lestrange vault that you needed to trick the overgrown child into helping you? He's fine, by the way. Not that I think you truly care all that much. He was suspected of being placed under the Imperius Curse too. A little Cruciatus for the trouble, but last I saw him he was up and walking around just like usual."
"They are a wealthy family. Everyone knows that. I needed galleons and the jewelry was an unexpected bonus."
It was evident just looking at the expression on his face that he didn't fully believe what she said.
"Rabastan isn't pleased to know he's engaged to a stranger. Imagine how furious he'll be when he discovers you're a Mudblood."
Hearing the slur come out of Dolohov's mouth only annoyed Hermione. It didn't bother her coming from a monster like him. She knew he only said the word to get a reaction out of her, one she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of expressing.
"There are much simpler ways to get galleons and jewelry that don't involve an elaborate plan of breaking into Gringotts. I don't believe that's the only reason you were there."
"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not."
"I think you were really there to try to steal the Sword of Gryffindor."
For a brief moment when she realized he didn't really know why she wanted inside the vault, she almost relaxed. Clearly he didn't know anything about his master's horcruxes. Voldemort wasn't foolish enough to tell just anyone that he created them. Even his so-called loyal followers might be enticed to seek them out to destroy him if they could see the value in it.
"It wasn't a well-kept secret that Bellatrix was tasked with keeping the sword safe in her vault."
Hermione didn't see the harm in lying and saying that that was exactly why she was in the vault. Few knew the sword in the vault was a copy. If it kept him away from the knowledge that she had stolen and destroyed a horcrux, what would it matter if he thought she wanted to steal the sword?
"No, it wasn't. When I found out it was in there, I knew I had to have it."
"What's the appeal? It's just a sword."
His curiosity might have been as prodigious as hers. It was a character trait that she usually liked when she saw it in other people. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she knew that she had some similarities to the homicidal unhinged wizard sitting far too close to her on the bench for comfort.
"Albus Dumbledore left the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry in his will. It was wrong that he wasn't allowed to have it."
"I still say that's a lot of effort for a sword."
"The Founders were all very powerful."
If there was one thing she learned about Antonin Dolohov when she was forced to be alone with him in a room inside her former prison, it was the fact that he desired respect more than anything else. As much as he might have claimed that he preferred when others feared him, she knew respect was much more important. Making him feel like she respected him and his intellect would get her much further than she would without that knowledge.
"Of course I don't have to tell you that. You're an intelligent man. Having one of their personal items imbued with their magic could be useful. Maybe it was a foolish idea. You are probably right to believe so, but our side is growing rather desperate. Anything that might help give us an advantage is worth the risk."
"How did you think the sword might help? Even with Gryffindor's magic?"
There had been lots of conversations between the two of them inside the Shrieking Shack. Each time she appealed to his intelligence, he felt more open to talk. It might have been pathetic really if she gave it much thought. Just a little bit of the right sort of attention could get the man eager to talk. Some of the information he provided might even be useful.
"I wasn't sure, to be honest. Proximity to power can make us feel more powerful, don't you think? Sometimes that's all you need. Just a little boost, a little psychological trick to make yourself feel more powerful than you really are."
Dolohov nodded.
"The sword would have some of his power in it. You're right. I don't know how helpful that would be for anything more than a talisman, but yes, sometimes that helps."
For a brief moment she thought he might end the conversation right there. It was a relief that he took what she said for truth. She was glad she was able to think quickly on her feet. If he knew the real reason, he would've gladly dragged her back to Voldemort to throw at his feet. She would be dead before the day was over.
"I once held something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. You could feel the magic inside of it and she wasn't afraid to use dark magic."
Maybe meeting with Dolohov instead of Scabior wasn't going to be a complete waste of her time. Hermione perked up when he began talking about Ravenclaw's item. Could he be talking about a horcrux? He'd been following Voldemort since before she was born. It was possible he held it without knowing what it was.
"You did? That's fascinating. What was it?"
When he was comfortable, Dolohov liked to talk. She had to keep biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling. If he thought she was too eager for the information, he would stop sharing. The man enjoyed what little power he could exert over others. She also knew that when he felt respected, he was a little easier to manipulate. It was a fine line to walk.
"It was a silver diadem with a blue sapphire."
"A diadem? Owned by Rowena Ravenclaw?"
The corner of Dolohov's mouth curled up into a smug smirk. Clearly he understood the potential significance of the item his master allowed him to touch. Giving her the impression that he wasn't about to shut her down if she asked more questions, Hermione pressed her luck.
"Do you mean that you have held the Lost Diadem? I thought that was only a legend. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History about how Ravenclaw students for centuries have been trying to find it. That's incredible."
"The Dark Lord never confirmed that it was the Lost Diadem, but I believe it was. It felt powerful enough and she was supposed to have cast a number of enchantments on it."
"What happened to it? That would be a marvelous treasure to find. Even better than the Sword of Gryffindor."
Dolohov lifted one of his shoulders up slightly in a shrug.
"I only saw it the one time. A few of us were in a pub in Hogsmeade. He had a meeting in Hogwarts. He probably put it in his Gringotts vault or in a private vault somewhere I don't know about. That's hardly an item you just leave lying around."
During her sixth year when Albus Dumbledore was wasting valuable time by giving Harry private lessons about the horcruxes, he shared that he once had a meeting with Voldemort about applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. When he was refused, Voldemort cursed the position so no professor would ever remain in it longer than a year. Harry was convinced that he used that visit into the castle to hide one of his horcruxes. The more she heard about what Dolohov held, the more convinced she was that that was exactly what was hidden somewhere inside Hogwarts.
"I don't fully believe your explanation about wanting the sword, but I'm not surprised you're lying. Mostly I was curious why you convinced the overgrown child to break into a high security vault."
"He was under the Imperius Curse. He had to do what I told him to do."
She didn't understand why she was willing to lie to try to protect Thorfinn. It didn't matter. Dolohov just smirked again. Clearly he didn't believe her.
"It doesn't matter. You won't tell me the truth."
Dolohov stood up from the bench. She hardly dared to hope that he was about to let her go so easily.
"The next time I point my wand in your back, it won't be because I want to talk. Close your eyes and count to twenty."
There was no sense in even trying to duel Dolohov. He wouldn't care about hurting any Muggles or exposing entire crowds to the fact that magic was real. All trying to attack him as he tried to leave would accomplish would be bringing the Ministry of Magic to their location. She couldn't afford to get arrested. That would be a one-way ticket straight to Azkaban as a best scenario.
"Are you going to curse me when my eyes are closed?"
Dolohov scoffed.
"No. I don't have time to deal with you now. You're not in danger from me today."
There was an odd sense of honor to the dangerous wizard. Somehow knowing he was telling the truth, she did as he instructed. With her eyes closed she quickly counted to twenty. When she opened them back again, he was nowhere to be seen. It didn't matter. He wasn't the real concern in that moment.
A few minutes later her feet landed safely on the grass in the back garden of the Order's unofficial Headquarters.