Off the Cornish coast, an island that had since lost its name due to a fidelius charm was almost lost under a blizzard. Snow piled against its lone structure, built once to be a fishing outpost. The grizzled fisherman who owned the hut rather conveniently forgot that he even owned such a place. A mysterious instance of amnesia wiped out the memory including the bizarre family that he'd rented it out to back in 1991. Such a place was inhabitable, remote and treacherous. The hut itself had fallen into disrepair, the neglect over the years causing much of it to collapse while exposed to extreme elements. Yet it still stood, stubborn against the frost and snow. For those who could see it, anyway. Its existence had been wiped out by complex magic etched into the stone with spell and blood.
The ones responsible for turning the hut into a safehouse suddenly reappeared on the outcrop of icy stone. Snow rendered their invisible profile visible as the flurries of snow battered into them. With a wrench, they removed their shroud, the absence of the Invisibility Cloak revealing them. Wrapped up in coats, scarfs, hats and gloves, the couple hunched over together, clutching each other as they fought through the blizzard to get to safety.
The door that barely hung on its hinges creaked open at their approach. It slammed against the wall as the wind caught it. The pair hurried forwards, boots crunching on the stone as the snow in front of them melted and thawed before them. Wands wielded before them, they cleared the path, faces bowed against the merciless wind and snow.
Once inside, the door crashed behind them. Some snow had gusted inside behind them. The door rattled as the wind assaulted the hut.
"C-come on, we need to get warm right away." The man said, not stopping his pace. Inside the hut, there wasn't any furniture save for an old fireplace. Anything that had once been inside had been cleared away. Instead, within the shelter of the stones, there was a single canvas tent pegged into the solid ground.
Both hurried for their tent, shivering head-to-toe. Even inside, it was freezing. Their breaths clouded before them as they rushed for the flap. Their sighs of relief once through were hoarse. They parted, pulling at their multiple layers as they stood at the coat stand.
It was completely normal for there to be a coat stand in their tent because it wasn't a normal tent - just as their hut wasn't a normal hut. The tent was three times the size it was inside than it was outside. Assorted furniture was scattered throughout, all mismatched like they were living in an antique shop. The chairs in the living area were like old lounge chairs, three set up around a coffee table. The dining table had seen better days, battered and notched with four wooden chairs set around. The kitchen, fully serviceable, had a working magical stove and cupboards packed with food and cooking equipment. All the while, the space was illuminated with floating flames that twinkled like candlelights, hanging in the air while casting the home in warm, golden light.
Once their coats were hanging up, they both suddenly turned to each other and brought their gloved hands to each other's faces.
"Oh, um… we're still polyjuiced," the man said with a hint of surprise. The woman smiled and placed a gloved finger on his lips.
"You'll have to wait for it to wear off," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "I'm not kissing someone twenty years older than me." The man huffed in response, amused. The pair then walked together over to the table in their living room, taking with them two plastic carrier bags that they'd been holding under their coats. The table appeared on the verge of collapse under all the books that were sprawled out over the surface, some in stacks, some left open. Parchment and notepaper were strewn in piles, giving off a sense of organised chaos. As they reached the table, they opened their bags and emptied out their contents. Two receipts flittered out.
"I'm glad that we don't have to do that again in a while," the woman remarked as she started to take inventory of what they'd risked to acquire. Trips out into mainland Britain brought them peril if they were ever discovered by those who were hunting them down. Disguised among the non-magical population, they could blend in, but even the world outside of magic was steadily becoming under threat. Magic was leaking out, the war no longer contained by a Ministry of Magic that wished to keep their world a secret.
"Unless we find a way to replenish our polyjuice potion, we aren't."
As he regarded their table, his face started to change. Under a mop of blonde curls, a scar started to spread under his hairline, thin lines spreading out like forks of lightning. They spread from a thicker line, one that cut down in angles, ending where the tip cut into his blackening eyebrow. His brown eyes shifted to a startling green, going unfocused as he then blinked and squinted.
"Oh, it's worn off," he said, reaching under his jumper where he pulled out a fluffy pouch that was hanging around his neck and a silver medallion that glinted in the lights above them. He pulled the pouch open, fishing inside, pushing his full hand into the small pouch. He unearthed a pair of glasses, restoring them to his face.
His face was plastered on wanted posters in the magical districts of Great Britain. It was the face of Harry Potter, Undesirable Number One, The Boy Who Lived and also known as The Chosen One.
"Transfiguration will just have to be enough from now on." The woman said and as she did, her appearance started to change. Her short black hair turned brown. It grew out from her, blooming around her face in golden brown curls. Her blue eyes darkened to brown. Her face had since joined Harry's on the walls of Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic. Since they were known to be on the run together, her picture had circulated, becoming just as recognisable, as was her name, Hermione Granger, the notorious mudblood, thief of magic and Undesirable Number Two.
"And old-fashioned methods." Harry reached across the table to pick up one of the purchases that they risked a venture out into a muggle shop to procure. Hermione's gaze went onto the box in his hand. It was makeup, foundation to be precise, and it wasn't for Hermione. No amount of human transfiguration would conceal Harry's scar. It resisted all their attempts to magically conceal it and, after their last trip disguised as muggles, they were out of polyjuice potion.
"We can change enough to make you unrecognisable." Hermione said as she considered their assorted items on the table. Harry put the makeup back down on the table then ran his fingers over his scar.
"Covering it up will stop people looking too close but… it's not perfect." Harry sighed, rubbing his scar, frustration threatening to break his streak of keeping his composure intact. He instead looked to their more frivolous purchases. Disguised as middle-aged muggles, it hadn't been difficult for them to buy alcohol on their final supply run before their adventures abroad.
"If you sort out the bits for Operation Nurmengard, I'll make a start on dinner." Harry then said, changing the subject. He could feel Hermione's concern ebbing off her, but he moved back into action before they got more into how he was the liability for their plans infiltrating Nurmengard. Her fingers lingered on his hand before he drew away, going to collect the groceries they'd bought with the dwindling budget of pounds that Hermione had emptied from her savings.
While the weather raged against their small hut upon the rock, they set about their business. Magic surrounded them, protected them and shielded them from the bitter cold. Within their cocoon of enchantments and charms, they had the luxury of a small slice of normality. Warmed by their own combined magic, they were safe from harm and could enjoy a moment of calm. For they had soon come to cherish such moments because the dangers they faced were very real. Just a single mistake could tear their lives asunder. They held the entire hope of a nation on their shoulders but while they were in their bubble of candlelight, alone in their tent, it was just them.
Two people in love.
Harry soon set about fixing up their dinner. Before long, he had his pot of stew bubbling on the stove. Steam rose up from his cauldron of savoury scents. He took his time preparing everything, chopping and peeling everything by hand. Harry couldn't keep thoughts of the Dursleys from bothering him as he scooped his chopped carrots into the pot. Winters at Privet Drive involved many stews, casseroles and roast dinners. Harry had to prepare them all, diligently working in the kitchen. Cooking developed quickly into his favourite chore. Memories that he thought he squashed down still lingered, memories that left him wanting to throw things at the walls.
Once he added the potatoes, he set the lid on his pot. Resting his hands on the work surface, he closed his eyes. It was the first time he really wondered where his relatives even were. Not for the first time in his life, he pondered if they ever regretted how they treated him. He pushed himself out of such a trap, pinching the bridge of his nose, the smells of all the combined ingredients he just handled slamming into his senses as he did.
Harry left his stew to simmer and cook, stuffing his wand back into the loop that he'd made in his belt. He brought himself over to the table where Hermione still remained, confronting all the plans and pieces of research that they had compiled since they started to fully realise their plan to infiltrate Nurmengard.
Harry was drawn over to the stack of notes that he'd most recently added to, his scrawl covering the lined paper of the top sheet. He'd written the heading at the top of the page in capital letters.
OPERATION NURMENGARD
Hermione's fingers threaded through his as she came to stand at his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
"All this for a wand that we don't know for certain still exists…" Harry murmured.
"It's a lead… the only lead we have." Hermione said quietly although Harry heard the uncertainty in her voice. "This clearly mattered enough to Dumbledore for him to put us on this quest when we already had an impossible task to complete."
Harry winced at his name, something that definitely didn't go unnoticed. Hermione sighed, turning so she faced him. He lifted his gaze, meeting hers.
"There is something I wanted to do before we leave for Austria. I wanted to check in on Bathilda and… if possible… visit Dumbledore's grave."
Hermione immediately chewed on her lip nervously at his request. Worry tightened in the corners of her eyes. He knew that she'd try to talk him out of it. She took her time to find the best way to talk him around, but he knew she understood why he felt compelled to go. She knew what weighed on his heart, the anger and betrayal that he just couldn't reason away.
"You aren't going to get any answers from his graveside, Harry," she said softly when she eventually decided how best to let him down.
"It's the way we're going about getting answers that I feel the need to go," he then looked away from her. Hermione's breath puffed out past her parted lips, her eyes softening with understanding.
"You want to ask for his forgiveness?"
"I know how silly it sounds," Harry said at once, "but I just feel in my heart that it's the right thing to do." .
"It isn't silly at all." Hermione said as she reached up a hand, her fingers lightly brushing over Harry's cheek tenderly. He beheld the warmth in her gaze, feeling it glow within himself as she looked upon him with such love and understanding. "I admit I feel conflicted as well. Whatever direction Dumbledore wanted you to take, I'm certain he wouldn't want you anywhere near Grindelwald."
Harry closed his eyes, conflicted himself.
"Are we making the right decision here?" He asked quietly. "If Remus and Kingsley had any idea what we actually plan to do… this is insane even for us, Hermione."
"W-we might not go ahead with it yet," Hermione said haltingly, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Grindelwald has been in solitary confinement for over sixty years. For all we know, he could well be mad. We follow Kingsley's plan for the moment… as this is our best way actually into the prison. As for what we do next…"
Harry ducked his head down, headache throbbing between his eyes as the stress of his mental plan returned. They weren't going to risk travelling all the way to Austria and return empty-handed. Once they got in a room with Grindelwald and had the guards there fooled, they would start the interview. No one would be any the wiser of the true reason why they were there.
Not until they broke their cover, broke Grindelwald out of prison and took him back to Britain with them using their Ministry-authorised portkey.
"I can't believe that this is something we are seriously considering."
Hermione drew in a long breath. "Bathilda is adamant that she is the only one who could bring him around to helping you. We can't bring her to him so…"
"We have to bring him to her." Harry finished then blew out his lips, shoulders sagging. "This could go so wrong in so many ways…"
A gleam of blue light then provided a convenient distraction as the charm linking his silver medallion to various others flashed. Harry lowered his hand and once, snatching the coin that hung around his neck at all times. The etching of a phoenix that remained when the spell was inactive disappeared as the protean charm triggered. In its place, there was a small etching of a wolf's head along with scratches set into the smooth surface below. Tight script had been packed into the small space. Harry brought it close to his face to read.
"Who is it?" Hermione asked.
"Remus." Harry squinted as he read the message. "'Papers done. Need to drop them off. Send patronus if clear to come now.'"
The message then cleared, restoring the coin to its former state with the phoenix on one side, Harry's stag on the other.
"'Papers done'." Hermione repeated. "Ah, that must mean that they've got our fake identities." She drew back from him. "Shall I respond to him?"
Harry blinked, refocusing, looking up at her. "Sure."
Hermione hurried away from him, going to fetch her coat so she could cast her patronus out into the winter blizzard. Once she'd disappeared through the canvas flap, Harry brought his hands up to his face, pushing his fingers under his glasses to move them up out of the way.
The weight of his burdens felt unbearably heavy as he waited alone. So much was at stake. Set upon an impossible path that could either lead to his own death or him having to bloody his hands, he knew he had to make questionable choices. He wasn't in school any more. He wasn't a child, his innocence long since torn from him.
The nightmares were as bad as ever. It didn't take long for his subconscious to play out his feelings of helplessness and fear while vulnerable in Voldemort's clutches, reliving the tortures he'd endured, his memories overlapping. He dreamt of the graveyard, of Cedric's death, of how his wand saved him and how he no longer had that protection. Then he dreamt of his wand splintering before his eyes as he felt his own spine splinter, pulled to a point where he could just as easily snap.
In a way, the nightmares helped him. It toughened his resolve and his determination. He simply could not allow himself to be as helpless ever again. He needed to get smarter, stronger and more dangerous. Too much was on the line for him to be soft and weak. His lesson had been learned… and for the people who risked their lives to save him, he owed it to them to be the person that he'd been prophesied to be. He had to be the Chosen One.
Hermione soon returned, snow in her hair as she hurried back into the warmth. She shook her curls out and took off her coat.
"If we're going to have guests, we should clear the table." Harry said, coming fully to his senses as he realised that Remus Lupin was on his way to their hideaway.
In the weeks since Harry had handed Rita Skeeter over to Remus and Kingsley to handle, Harry and Hermione brought Remus and Tonks to their safehouse to allow them through their fidelius. If ever their home was compromised, they would need somewhere safe to flee. Their hideout was incredibly secure and completely untraceable to them. Their hut joined the few safehouses that the Order had access to which were still safe.
They had their separate groups in hiding, each connected to the medallion network with Harry in the centre. The responsibility of leadership was never something he truly expected to be handed after Dumbledore fell. The Weasleys were safe with their extended family, well-versed in coping with hardship and making ends meet where possible. Shell Cottage served as a safehouse where Bill, Fleur, Ron and Luna resided. Remus and Tonks remained safe at their home with the widowed Andromeda. Right under the noses of the Death Eaters, Bathilda had been put up as a guest in The Hog's Head with the grumpy Aberforth Dumbledore keeping her well-looked after. Between them and Dobby, they created a safe harbour for students needing to escape the school and the Death Eaters that ran it. The Room of Requirement itself fought back against the oppressors, creating a secret passageway so students could be smuggled food. Neville and a number of DA members had already taken up refuge.
The alarm that Harry had set up outside wailed the moment they just removed the last stack of books from the table. Harry hurried off to disable it, ears ringing with the shrill shrieks as he pushed through the canvas flap. He shivered in the immediate chill, striding to the door as he drew his wand, pushing the knackered door open. The wind howled, blasting him with its icy rage. He raised his arm, shielding his face as he spied two figures in the blizzard getting close.
He backed up to let them get in quickly. The rock was dangerous at the best of times. Both men cleared through the doorway and Harry wrenched the door shut. Remus pulled down the hood of his travel cloak, his face pink from the cold. Harry gaped in surprise to see Kingsley with him, dressed in practical muggle attire, rubbing his hands together.
"Terrible weather, huh?" Harry found himself saying before shutting his mouth. Kingsley's laugh was low and sonorous. He turned to Harry, immediately gripping his arm in a firm hold. His teeth flashed in a crooked grin as he looked around the hut in astonishment. By opening the door, Harry had allowed him through.
"Who in their right mind built something all the way out here?" Kingsley asked incredulously. "This is some find, Harry."
"Come on through - it's much warmer in the tent."
Remus greeted Harry with a grasp of his shoulder but then allowed Harry to lead them both into their tent. Passing through the flap, they walked into the wall of warmth and the growing aromas of Harry's bubbling beef stew in the kitchen.
Hermione was waiting at the entrance to greet them, beaming when she saw the surprise addition of Kingsley. While Hermione said her hellos, Harry quickly gave Remus an assessing look to make sure that he was in good health. He found Remus eyeing him back, running his stare up and down, doing the exact same.
"Did you… um… want anything to drink?" Harry asked him, feeling awkward all of a sudden.
"No, thank you, Harry. We won't be staying long." Remus smiled, meeting his gaze. "From what my nose detects, you have dinner plans that we're intruding on."
Harry flushed a little, not certain if he was being teased or not. He dipped his head in response and then gestured over to the table. He saw Kingsley looking around, staring up at the candlelights that Harry had conjured to keep their living space illuminated.
"The fugitive life seems to suit you both if you can adapt this well," Kingsley remarked as he took in their furniture and then their stacked up books with their research all stuffed into folders. "How long have you been camped here?"
"Since November." Harry said as he pulled out chairs for their guest. "We were changing locations regularly before then, never staying more than a couple of days in one spot. Once we learned how to create stronger enchantments to conceal ourselves, we chose to stay here. We're protected by fidelius runes… the ones Bathilda taught Hermione."
Kingsley appeared fascinated as he settled down, unbuttoning his thick winter coat as his dark scalp shone in the lights floating above him.
"Yes! I saw them myself at Professor Bagshot's home. Remarkable - I had no idea that runes could be used in such a way. The moment you opened the door, the secret revealed itself to me. There is no need for the secret keeper to pass the secret on."
"No, it works slightly differently from what I understand because it's tied to a physical place rather than to a concept," Hermione said as she joined them at the table, picking the seat opposite Kingsley.
Remus took the pew next to Kingsley, who nodded in response to Hermione's answer. He then reached inside his coat, hands going deep into what had to be magically expanded inside pockets. The files he drew out were certainly too large to fit in a normal pocket. He placed them onto the table top, turning them around so that they were facing Harry and Hermione's side of the table.
Harry's eyes widened a little when he saw that both folders had the Ministry's stamp on the corners. He'd seen folders like it before. Back when he'd been searching Umbridge's office during the heist at the Ministry of Magic.
"These are fake, of course. You're not impersonating real people under Polyjuice so we have invented covers. As we've talked about before, there is only so much we can do with transfiguration and ageing you both up will require potions which we don't have."
"These are our identities?" Harry was astonished as he lifted up from his seat to get a better look. He lifted the purple card cover of the one closest to him, finding the documents to be just like the ones he saw about Arthur Weasley.
"They're very good forgeries. Rita's contact at Knockturn Alley did a good job." Kingsley said meaningfully. "But they won't fool Aurors so you're going to have to keep your heads down and let Rita do all the talking. Her press licence and diplomatic immunity are the real thing. They are what will get you into foreign territory. You both are just going to have to act the parts."
"If she's made these identities then… does that mean that she's got permission to talk to Grindelwald?" Hermione asked as she opened her own file, her eyes zooming left and right as she scanned the fake documents.
"From the Ministry? Yes - everything this end is working perfectly. It's now down to the Department of International Magical Cooperation to liaise with the Deutscher Bund. They'll be the ones who decide whether or not to let you and Rita into Nurmengard to speak with Grindelwald."
"But don't they know that our Ministry has been taken over?"
"We don't know." Remus said heavily. "If they do, nothing is being done about it."
Harry raised his gaze to look at Kingsley, seeking his confirmation for that grim truth. He was rubbing his nose, frowning.
"For the moment, he is just interested in taking over here. I expect things will change if he becomes confident and powerful enough to deliver ultimatums to Ministries abroad. That time may come soon. For the moment, he has no one standing in his way." Kingsley swept a hand around, indicating the four of them. "We are hardly an army."
Harry brought his hands up around the back of his head, knitting his fingers together there as he stared at the folder in front of him.
"No, we aren't, but we're still here." Harry said softly. "As long as we are alive, there is hope."
He repeated the words that Luna imparted to him when he needed hope desperately as he faced pain and death at Malfoy Manor. He wasn't sure why they came to him, but as they left him, he looked up, finding both men regarding him appraisingly. It left him self-conscious, heat flooding his cheeks.
He cleared his throat and regarded Kingsley.
"Are we still sure that they won't question Rita needing two assistants? If both of us being with her makes this less believable, I'd rather we know now than we turn up and it causes a big issue."
Kingsley made a little grimace and leaned forwards, resting his hand on Harry's folder.
"For someone of fairly known repute to travel with two helpers, it's not suspicious - especially not when staying abroad. Two 'assistants' however… one of you will have to pose as the personal assistant and the other as, well, someone to carry out more… menial tasks."
Harry sat back in his chair, looking at Kingsley's hand and understanding then why he'd put it there.
"Wh-what do you mean? Like a servant?" He asked, a little baffled.
"For us to make you as dismissable as possible, you'll have to pose as someone below notice." Kingsley said carefully. "No one will suspect you but it does mean that you won't be able to join Rita when she does get to speak with Grindelwald." He nodded over to Hermione. "Whoever the Germanic Confederation provides as an aide to Rita, he or she will expect there to be a scribe present - but no one else."
Harry's arms flopped down to his sides. He didn't like it at all. He didn't much care what his cover was, as long as it worked. The thought of him not being with Hermione while she was in a room with a man like Grindelwald made him immediately against the idea.
"Harry, I know it's a bitter potion to stomach but your roles need to suit your skills. Hermione can pose as a very good scribe, we both can attest to that." Remus spoke at once when he immediately picked up Harry's disagreeable reaction. Harry laughed in response, looking directly up at him.
"Oh, I'll be the first to say that I would be hopeless as a scribe and I'd rather I did any menial labour than Hermione. My problem is us being separated."
He glanced over to Hermione, seeing that she had gone pale, her eyes briefly widening as she understood. If they both weren't in the room, it made their plans for breaking Grindelwald out next to impossible. They were going to have to rethink their strategy, something that would become a challenge when they would soon be undercover and working for Rita Skeeter in rented accommodation within the magical district of Silberplatz in Munich.
"But that means that Harry will have to stay in Munich while we are in Nurmengard," Hermione said nervously as she then spoke to Kingsley. "If anything happens, if our cover is blown, Harry will be none-the-wiser… in Germany while we're in Austria."
Remus looked over to Kingsley. "Perhaps Harry could go alone under his Cloak and be a lookout? Hermione is right. Harry will be unable to help if something does go wrong."
Relief swelled through Harry. Being on watch outside still meant he wouldn't be with Hermione, but it was better than being a whole country away with a mountain range between them.
"It's risky." Kingsley then looked over to Harry. "Even for someone who has been apparating for years, going that distance without having travelled to the location before would be challenging. At best, you could end up somewhere else or worst, stranded and splinched."
"I can do it," Harry said, then winced at himself coming across as sounding cocky. "We looked into the distance. It's only really just over a hundred miles away. I've managed much further without splinching myself."
"It's not so much the distance, Harry. It's being able to visualise the destination," Remus said patiently.
"But it's possible, right?" Harry turned to look at Remus, who sighed.
"Yes, it's possible. I'll admit that you're a natural at apparation, having been a passenger of yours myself." He gave Harry a proud look, eyes softening. Harry felt his cheeks warm up once more at the praise. Kingsley wasn't as convinced, glancing between Remus and Harry warily, but then he sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"The decision is ultimately yours, Harry. If you feel confident in your abilities, then I do agree that you are much better placed as a lookout than isolated while safely undercover."
Harry frowned a little and then placed his hand on the table, pushing his fingers towards Hermione. She let out a sigh, holding his gaze, her concern and nerves both in conflict within the depths of her eyes. She brought her hand to his, her fingers curling his hand.
"We should stick together as much as we can. We're going to be strangers in a foreign land and need to watch each other's backs." He said softly, trying to communicate with his eyes that they needed to reassess their plans. Hermione dipped her chin in response, understanding and agreeing.
"Alright…" Kingsley then nodded solemnly. "You both have time to get familiar with your covers and work on your disguises. Then next week, you need to be ready for when I take you to Rita."
A week! The thought blared in Harry's mind. Hermione's hand clenched around his in response. So little time…
"That will be when we start working?" Hermione asked. "At Rita's office?"
"You'll have a day to get used to each other and get assimilated into your cover. If I could give you more time, I would…" Kingsley said, sighing. "Rita is under every magical vow and compulsion I could think of applying without crushing her mind under too many bindings. She will cooperate… and she has had ample opportunity to betray us all."
It had been his call to have her so bound to their service. It sat a little uncomfortably with him, even though he told himself that she deserved far worse.
"Now that's all I have to report for Operation Nurmengard for the moment," Kingsley said, his eyes darting between Harry and Hermione. "Is there anything from your side of things?"
Harry shared a look with Hermione, then looked back at the former Auror, nodding.
"We've been working on finding some way to protect my mind from any future mental attacks from Tom." He reported back, a little hesitant as their methods hadn't exactly been conventional. "He is still using occlumency against me, as far as I can tell. His control did slip when he found my message and followed the trail to Bathilda's house but I… I'm getting better at staying out of his head."
Kingsley sat up. "You've been practising occlumency?"
Harry let out a long breath, flush blooming back into life.
"Er… well, no. I don't know how to do occlumency but we found a method that keeps our minds separate."
His face grew hot. The method involved lots of skin contact, perhaps more than was actually necessary. And they hadn't really needed to take it as far as they had done, though it had worked.
"Interesting… is it a technique that you can share?" Kingsley asked, curious. Harry then looked over to Remus, who then worked it out and covered his mouth, laughing.
"I don't think it's a technique that is necessary textbook, Kingsley." He said, causing Hermione to give a small splutter. Kingsley's gaze went on their joined hands and then he burst into laughter, surprising everyone.
"Well, that would do it. Probably not very practical in a duel, however."
Remus's shoulders started to shake as he laughed. Harry then found himself laughing as well.
"It definitely throws him off the scent of what we're really up to, if he did try to take a look," Harry managed to say despite his embarrassment. Kingsley barked out a loud laugh, hitting the table with his hand, genuinely amused.
"If only I could share this with the Weasley twins. It would be priceless on Potterwatch for them to announce that you're tormenting You-know-who with too much insight in how you both are keeping warm during this winter."
"I'd really appreciate it if you kept that one between us," Harry mumbled then. Hermione squeezed his hand and let go. Kingsley then pushed his hands into the table and stood up, his chair scraping behind him. Remus did the same, groaning and rolling his shoulders.
"We ought to get moving." Kingsley said, causing Harry and Hermione to both get on their feet. He nodded down at the files he delivered to them. "I appreciate that espionage isn't covered in the Hogwarts curriculum. Learn your covers, practice calling each other by your aliases, get as comfortable as you can, then when I come next week, you'll be two strangers."
His tone was neutral, but the firmness and authority in his voice wasn't lost on Harry. He cleared his throat, understanding that Kingsley wasn't being patronising. He was the trained auror present, one who had been in disguise as the muggle Prime Minister's bodyguard and had likely done many undercover jobs that Harry had no knowledge about. They needed his guidance and experience to pull off such a mission. It left Harry very conscious of how green they really were and how much was expected of them. He stepped from his chair, moving up to Kingsley.
"Thank you for all that you're doing…" He let out a breath. "I just hope that all this is worth it."
"As do I," Kingsley then put his hand on his shoulder, "but I trust your instincts. Whatever your reasons are for going to speak with Grindelwald, I can't deny that there is logic to seeking out a dark wizard's advice for how to take down another."
Trying to not give himself away, Harry just smirked in response. "Unfortunately that's not covered in the Hogwarts curriculum either."
Kingsley chuckled, giving him another appraising look. He let Harry go, striding off towards the exit. He waited for Remus who drew towards Harry, looking over for Hermione, who joined them.
"We'll have a meeting before we go." Harry said to him, glancing over to Hermione who nodded in agreement. "I understand if you think it's too dangerous for all of us to gather in one place but… I just feel like we should."
"No, I agree." Remus said softly, fixing Harry with a look of growing concern. "Now that we can communicate without risking discovery, we should meet when we can. Every time that we do, it's a small victory."
He smiled over at Hermione, then drew himself up, giving himself a shake as he came over suddenly emotional.
"Give our love to Tonks," Hermione said. Remus's smile shifted, his eyes shining.
"I will." He assured her before he parted from them, heading out with Kingsley. "Take care."
Both men stepped out of their tent, their footsteps echoing in the hut outside. As they used the door, the blizzard howled for a moment, blasting its fury into their shelter. Then with a clatter, they were gone, disappearing into the snow and ice.
Around five hours after they were alone once more, music frazzled out of an ancient-looking wireless perched upon the coffee table. The blizzard clearly was affecting the signal as static buzzed over the record currently being aired. When Bathilda had been relocated to The Hog's Head, she no longer needed her wireless and so lent it to the pair so they would be able to listen to Potterwatch broadcasts wherever they ended up. No such broadcast graced the airwaves that night. The volume had been set low, the sound just intended to serve as background noise while two teenagers cuddled in an expanded seat in the living room.
Set aside the wireless were two mugs. They stuck to their hot chocolate hour policy, but their warm beverages were nearly forgotten as they lay lounged together. Both had since exhausted themselves from stress, Hermione staring upwards at the dancing charmed flames above them where her head rested against Harry, his arms around her. She relished in his attention as his fingers played with one of her curls, his touch gentle, slight and significant. There weren't any words needed as she breathed deeply, comforted by his silent admiration.
Their moment of stillness would soon break when their temperance would become tested. Their bodies craved one another, the desire fighting to be satisfied. Hormones started to build in their blood streams, unfulfilled sexual tension leading to the inevitable detonation. Hermione could feel it burning in Harry's eyes in the edges of her attention, almost as if it was giving off heat of its own, her skin basking in it.
"Do you want… something stronger to drink?" Harry asked. Hermione glanced over to their mugs of hot chocolate, half-finished and mostly forgotten. At the thought of the rather frivolous purchases they made during their dangerous endeavour for supplies, she chewed a little on her lip.
"We can make a night of this. One night for us - as us."
"I take it that is a 'yes'." Harry said softly, his smile roguish. He then got up, his absence immediately leaving Hermione with a chill as he had to extract himself from under her to get up. He went to fetch one of the bottles of wine they acquired. Once he was in there, he clattered about fetching them glasses that they hadn't used yet, not having had the previous need. She watched him retrieve a bottle of red wine, then hesitate as he checked it over. He looked back over his shoulder, spotting her watching him.
"Do we even have a corkscrew?"
Hermione clambered up, gathering their half-drunk mugs of hot chocolate as she did. Harry had turned, pulling open the drawer to search.
"Aha!" Harry triumphantly straightened, wielding a corkscrew. Hermione's comment to just use a summoning charm to remove the cork died as Harry proceeded to open the bottle. She began to wonder why there was a corkscrew in the magical tent in the first place before she reminded herself where she had gotten the tent from in the first place. Arthur Weasley did like his muggle artefacts, after all. As she watched Harry's brow furrowed in concentration, her thoughts then went to why Harry knew how to open a bottle of wine. Hermione knew from watching her parents but she'd never done it herself. Harry didn't appear awkward in the slightest, having clearly done it multiple times before.
When the cork cleared with a pop, Harry set the corkscrew aside, looking a little proud of himself. He looked over his shoulder, seeing her just hovering there. She then approached, bringing their mugs.
"We're done with these, right?"
"Yeah, I think so." Harry said as he moved aside to give her room. He gathered the glasses in one hand while he picked up the wine in the other. He left as she emptied the mugs, leaving them in the sink. She looked over to the corkscrew, knowing that she was seeing evidence of a very unhealthy childhood. It didn't take her much to piece together that along with Harry's culinary skills, he'd learned how to use a corkscrew from a young age as well.
Not eager in any way to ruin the mood with bringing up the topic of Harry's past, she headed back into the living room where Harry was pouring out wine. Harry smiled at her, blissfully unaware of what had crossed her mind in the kitchen. He passed her a glass. Taking it, she returned back to their chair. They would eventually end up in the bedroom, though more often than not, they didn't get that far and ended up using the same cushioning charms that they'd laid upon when taking each other's virginity under the stars outside. With the blizzard howling outside, things were much cosier inside and less life-threatening.
Harry joined her, then his smile broadened again. He lifted his glass in a toast.
"Here's to us, then."
Filled with contentedness, Hermione leaned forwards and clinked her glass next to his.
"Cheers," she responded in kind. They both sipped at their drinks, sharing looks as they shared in their joint self-awareness of how surreal their whole situation was. Yet they rationalised that moments of levity amid so much darkness and despair were incredibly precious. Despite it all, they weren't crushed to the point they couldn't live and love. That they were even alive at all was something to celebrate. Their continued existence in their secret hut on a secret island was a beacon of hope to themselves and to others who dared to dream that there could be an end to the darkness.
They didn't say much as they drank, listening to the music idly as the radio station put on some other song by The Weird Sisters.
"You know… I really am okay with being the one to act as the squib." Harry said out of nowhere, catching her by surprise. Hermione shifted against Harry, his arm draped over her shoulders as he drew himself closer to her. He rested his head against her shoulder, looking up at her, eyes a little wide as he conveyed his sincerity.
After Kingsley and Remus left, they both had read through their cover identities. Hermione's cover painted her out to be a home-schooled witch with ambitions to be a journalist and so had apprenticed with Rita, working as her assistant and scribe. Harry's had been less glamorous. Squibs within their society were second-class citizens, those lucky enough to even have a place. A young squib who hadn't been disowned by his family would be grateful to have a home at all. Harry's cover was as Rita's cousin's son, working as her 'help' like a house elf. His cover was mortifyingly accurate to how he grew up.
"I'm more annoyed that I have to pose as her relation and act all grateful that she's given me a job." Harry said and Hermione knew it was to make light of the situation. "But it's a good cover and from the sounds of things, equality is just as behind in Germanic societies than it is in ours… well… maybe not as much as it is now. They'll just want me out of sight like a house elf."
Hermione winced at his comparison even though she knew he was right.
"I'm conscious how close your cover story is to home," she said softly, braving to bring up her concerns and her worries for him. Harry hummed in agreement, obviously having drawn the parallels himself.
"It does mean I have experience to draw upon. If anything, it's going to be much easier for me to act. I'm more worried about you."
She looked up at him, puzzled.
"Why me?"
Harry swirled the contents of his glass, clearly giving himself a pause to consider his answer carefully.
"Don't take this the wrong way but… you aren't the best at controlling your emotions. I know I'm one to talk but I'm going to be acting like I'm invisible. You're going to have to actually act."
His words did get her back up a little but she knew he was right to be concerned. As she read through her cover story, she was filled with anger at the fake person she was reading about. How could anyone admire Rita Skeeter enough to want to work for her? The woman was despicable. Even before she revealed her true colours with the measures she went to with Bathilda, Hermione hated her. She didn't care who she hurt in her pursuit of so-called journalism, caring only that she sold stories - true or not.
As she then bristled with anger, she realised that in doing so had proved Harry's point. She swallowed down a mouthful of wine.
"When you're with Rita, you're going to have to act a bit like how Percy was around Mr Crouch." Harry said quietly. Hermione was very conscious of his attention. "That's the sort of thing that they'll expect to see. You'll need to appear like you'll do anything for her good word and her recognition. Like… you really want to be there."
She ran her tongue over her lip, listening to what Harry was saying. Nerves rose back to life.
"I see what you mean."
Harry then sighed softly, his hand coming around to caress her neck. The comforting touch helped to soothe the nerves a little.
"Rita's life is on the line for making this as convincing as possible and Kingsley will help. At least the part about being a competent writer will come easy to you," he reassured.
"Transcribing will keep me preoccupied but that's not all I'll have to do as her personal assistant. Any meetings she has with the Germanic Confederation… I'll have to be there."
"I know," Harry whispered and leaned in. "We have time to do as Kingsley told us. We can practice being these people, rehearse it even. For me… the hardest part will be the separation while we're undercover. I have no idea what arrangements are being sorted at Silberplatz but to keep up appearances, we'll have to sleep separately. In separate rooms."
Hermione finished her wine, looking down into Harry's eyes, sighing at the thought that they'd not only have to act like they weren't together but like they weren't even friendly at all.
"It'll be easier when we change our appearances… when we're unrecognisable." Hermione said, trying to reassure herself.
"You'll have to treat me like a servant whenever we're around other people." Harry then said, leaning back from her, appearing thoughtful. "When we're acting as these people, you're going to have to treat me like I'm below you. Not just boss me around. You're going to expect me to carry your things just as much as Rita will expect me to follow her around as well."
Hermione's eyes widened as she realised what he was saying. She would have to treat him abysmally.
"I don't think there will be many times when we have to interact out in public and I'm not going to be around in Nurmengard so I suppose that helps you keep your cover there. Though we need to rethink our plans with Grindelwald…"
"Not tonight," Hermione breathed out quickly. "Let's… let's just take on one thing at a time." Harry smiled in response and leaned over, clinking his glass against hers.
"No, not tonight." He then settled back, relaxing against the back of the chair. His fingers brushed through her curls as he resettled his arms around her. He then lowered his head down, bringing it close to her right cheek, his stubble rubbing against her face. The contact stirred her. "And as for how you and Rita treat me when we're undercover, I can take it so don't worry about me. I can handle being bossed around."
As Harry spoke, his lips brushed over her skin.
"I'll be there to be useful and I won't be able to use any magic. If or when someone says something about me in your presence, you can't respond to it. I'm going to have to be meek and humble… and you can't show any sympathy."
Just the vibrations of his voice alone, resonating through her body, was enough. Her every being yearned for him, her carnal nature thrumming into life with every touch of his skin against hers. Harry brought himself around, his lips close to hers.
"You're going to be the boss of me and I'll do anything to please you."
Harry then moved in closer, his lips pressing against her bottom lip. Hermione couldn't hold back, pushing her face into his. Their lips pressed together. Harry parted his mouth, her tongue seeking his, tasting the same tastes as she had in her own mouth, the residue of the same stew, the taste of the wine they were drinking. None of that mattered. The warmth, the texture and the touch… that was what she sought.
They parted and Hermione drew back from him, as always taken by surprise at how powerful their desires were. Harry drew his arm back from her shoulders, shifting forwards to take the empty glass from her hand. He set it on the table and went to grab the bottle of wine, topping up her glass.
Wordlessly, he passed her glass to her. She accepted it, staring into his eyes as his words played on her. She didn't understand why they had such an effect, why she felt as if he'd seduced her and lured her in.
"Wh-what was that?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Why did you say all that? And why…?" She stared into his eyes, seeing how they were darkened with his desire. "Why did that affect me so much?"
Harry just smiled in response, leaning forwards to kiss her on the nose.
"I know you enjoy taking charge of things… especially taking charge of me." He then considered her carefully for a moment, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "I know it's not on the same level as wanting me to wait on you hand and foot… but I know you like it when I please you."
She didn't look away, staring into his beautiful eyes, and she said honestly, "I do and I'm not sure I like what that says about me."
"Well… I'm not bothered by it." Harry said with a shrug, taking a sip of wine. Hermione wasn't sure if he was being serious then or if it was the wine talking.
"You enjoy me bossing you around?"
Harry then laughed. "Hermione, you know I enjoy it." He sat up a little. "Do you remember how I reacted when we were out there-," he gestured to the general direction of outside, "-and you stuck my hands above my head so you could have your way with me?"
A wave of heat rushed through her at the memory. A wild moment of intense passion had robbed her of reason when Harry had such a stroke of genius, all she could think about was rewarding him and giving him as much pleasure as she just gave him. She didn't want him to interfere with her plan and locked his arms out of the way. In hindsight, she felt that she'd gone too far, especially as she now had the mental image of Harry being trapped on that table in Malfoy Manor, straining to get free.
"I can't believe I did that to you," she said quietly, a little horrified. "I didn't even ask you."
Harry then shrugged. "No but you did check if I was okay and I was more than okay. I barely lasted a minute."
Hermione felt her blood flush up to her face as she recalled exactly how she rewarded him. It had been a frenzied filled moment between them.
"I just never thought I'd actually like doing that to you."
"Well, who's going to judge you?" Harry looked around the tent. "I don't see anyone. And as for me? Hermione, I think it's hot… really hot… when you take the initiative with me. It's incredible when you take charge."
She took another sip of her drink, her gaze drifting down to his mouth. She very much wanted to take the initiative there and then, but she didn't want the tension between them to snap too soon. The longer they could resist, the more enjoyable it was when they started to relish in each other, body part by body part. They lapsed off into thoughtful silence, sipping at their wine as Celestina Warbeck then warbled out of Bathilda's old wireless next.
Hermione soon found herself reclining against Harry properly. She was enveloped in his warmth, his free arm draped over her, his hand resting on her arm. He'd positioned himself so she was sitting more on him than the chair. He sighed after the song had finished, bringing his head down to hers.
"Not falling asleep on me, are you?" Harry asked, amused.
"It's not my fault you're so cosy."
Harry took her glass out of her hand, the vessel emptied, shifting as he placed it down on the table. She scrunched her face in annoyance as he dislodged her from the comfortable position, huffing out. She heard him topping up their glasses and looked over, seeing that they'd already finished the bottle. She eased her weight off from where she'd been treating Harry like a massive pillow, all too aware that she was feeling the effects of the wine. Her face felt lazy as she gave Harry a grin, accepting the glass from him.
"Thank you," she murmured softly. "I think… I might be a bit drunk."
In response, Harry rather clumsily slumped over to her, closing the distance, his lips finding her mouth. Hermione nearly tipped her glass of wine over him in surprise. She caught herself in time, pulling out of the kiss.
"Oops," she gasped, then paused, her nose nearly touching Harry's. His cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering under the lights of his charmed lights.
"I think I might be a bit drunk too." He remarked then he started laughing. The way his body jolted as he did set Hermione off, even though she had no idea what was funny. Yet to laugh… it felt so momentous, that freeing feeling, that buoyancy as mirth and happiness lifted the spirits. The feeling was just as intoxicating as the wine that was most definitely the cause.
A far more primal form of intoxication enthralled Hermione once their giddy giggles tapered off. Her breath expelled out her nostrils as she writhed on the seat next to Harry, the cravings for contact impossible to ignore. Harry gave a low laugh and he brought his hand up to her wine glass, catching her grip.
He took her glass from her then kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Bed or floor?" He asked, voice husky in her ear.
Understanding exactly what he was asking, Hermione turned her head, finding Harry's ear. She brought her lips to his earlobe and gave a little nip. Harry gasped sharply in response.
"I don't think we're going to make it to the bed."
Harry, taking her wine glass and her own, moved to place them safely out of the way on the coffee table. As he brought both unhindered hands towards her, cupping her face, she reached up, taking his precious glasses off his face, reaching over to place them just as safely out of the way. Harry then rested his forehead against hers, his gaze intense.
His mouth quirked up at the corner.
"I'm all yours, boss."