Unforgiven Isolation
The landscape blurred around them as Hermione and Theo Apparated back to the outskirts of Muriel's house. The familiar scent of fresh pine and damp earth greeted them, the small cottage nestled in the woods standing like a fragile beacon against the oppressive dark. But there was no comfort in coming home, no solace in returning. Not after everything that had happened.
Hermione glanced at Theo, who still looked ghostly pale from the ordeal. His eyes were hollow, staring ahead blankly as they approached the house. The wind tugged at his tousled hair, making him appear even more disheveled. She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand. He would only pull away.
"You should rest," she murmured softly, casting a wary glance at his hunched figure. "You've been through a lot."
Theo ignored her, his jaw clenched tight. He kept his gaze fixed on the front door as if looking anywhere else might break him. They stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the house enveloping them. The few remaining members of the Order turned to look, their faces tight with anxiety.
Harry was the first to approach, concern etched across his features. "What happened?" he asked quietly, his gaze darting between them.
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Theo beat her to it, his voice harsh. "Blaise is dead."
There was a collective intake of breath, the shock rippling through the room. Everyone stared at Theo, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief.
"But how?" Ginny whispered, stepping closer. "What—what do you mean?"
"It doesn't matter," Theo snapped, his voice raw. "He's gone. That's all that matters."
Hermione winced, her heart twisting painfully. She knew he was grieving, knew that the wound was still fresh and bleeding, but his bitterness cut deep.
"We found out he was the leak," she said quietly, drawing the others' attention. "He—he betrayed us. All this time, he was feeding information to the Death Eaters."
A murmur of shock and outrage swept through the group, disbelief etched on every face.
"And you killed him," Theo spat, his gaze boring into her. "You killed the only person I ever—" He broke off, his voice catching, and looked away, his hands trembling.
Hermione felt something inside her shatter. She had known this moment would come, known that Theo's anger would eventually spill over. But hearing it—hearing the raw pain and betrayal in his voice—was almost unbearable.
"I had to," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He was going to kill you, Theo. I didn't have a choice."
"I don't care," Theo snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. "I'll never forgive you for this. Never."
The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of her. She staggered back a step, her heart hammering in her chest. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something—anything—to make it right. But there was nothing. No words that could mend the rift between them.
"Write to them," Theo said suddenly, his voice flat. "Pansy. The Greengrass sisters. Tell them what happened. Tell them Blaise is gone."
Hermione blinked, caught off guard. "Theo, I—"
"Just do it," he snapped. "They deserve to know."
A heavy silence settled over the room, the weight of his command pressing down on her. She nodded slowly, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it."
Theo turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs without another word, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, feel their confusion and pity. But she couldn't bring herself to look at them.
"He needs time," Harry murmured, stepping up beside her. "He'll come around eventually."
"Maybe," Hermione whispered, her gaze fixed on the spot where Theo had disappeared. "Or maybe I really did lose him forever."
The thought sent a fresh wave of grief crashing over her, but she pushed it down, steeling herself. She couldn't afford to break—not now. There was too much at stake. Too much left to do.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to Harry, forcing herself to focus. "Theo's not going to help us anymore," she said quietly. "Not—not with finding the snake."
Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing. "But he's been our best shot at tracking it down. His contacts—"
"Are useless," Hermione interrupted sharply. "He won't forgive me, Harry. He won't help us."
Harry looked taken aback, but then his expression softened. "Hermione…"
"It doesn't matter," she continued, shaking her head. "We'll just have to do it ourselves. If—if you can get a tip on Voldemort's whereabouts, we'll go after it. Just the two of us."
Harry stared at her, his face a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Just us?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "We'll go after the snake ourselves. I'm done waiting. I'm done letting others get hurt while we sit here and plan."
"But Hermione—"
"No," she cut him off, her gaze hard and unyielding. "This is it, Harry. As soon as we know where he is, we're going."
Harry hesitated, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Okay," he murmured. "If that's what you want."
"It's what we need," she whispered, her gaze drifting towards the stairs. She could still hear Theo's words ringing in her ears, the anger and heartbreak in his voice cutting through her like a knife.
She had lost him. But she wouldn't lose anyone else. Not if she could help it.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Harry, determination burning in her chest. "Just—let me know the moment you hear anything," she said quietly.
Harry nodded, his expression grim. "I will."
With a final, lingering glance at the stairs, Hermione turned away and headed for the small study at the back of the house. She had letters to write. People to inform. And a war to win.
But as she sat down at the desk and dipped her quill in ink, her hands shook, the reality of everything crashing down around her. Theo's rage, Blaise's betrayal, and the crushing weight of guilt and sorrow—all of it pressed in on her, suffocating.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe. Just focus. One letter at a time.
But even as she began to write, the words blurring before her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end—if she would lose everything and everyone before the war was finally over.
The small study at Muriel's house was silent, the only sound was the soft scratching of Hermione's quill against parchment. She had been staring at the paper for what felt like hours, the ink swimming before her tired eyes. Theo's command replayed over and over in her mind—Tell them what happened. Tell them Blaise is gone.
With a deep breath, she wrote:
Pansy,
I don't even know where to begin. I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you this, but there's no easy way to say it: Blaise is dead. We found out he was the leak—the one passing information to the Death Eaters.
She hesitated, her hand trembling slightly. How could she put into words the agony of that moment? How could she convey Theo's devastation, the way everything seemed to collapse around them?
when we confronted him, he—he tried to kill Theo. I had to… I didn't want to, but I—
Hermione paused, staring at the unfinished sentence. Her quill hovered over the page, ink dripping onto the paper. She had killed him. She hadkilledBlaise Zabini, someone she had never truly known but who had been a friend to Theo. Someone who had been a part of their twisted, complicated web of allies and enemies.
I'm sorry,she wanted to write.I'm so sorry.
Instead, she closed her eyes, willing herself to continue.
He's gone, Pansy. And I'm so sorry for how it happened. Theo is—he's hurting. But he needs to know that we're still in this fight. That you and the Greengrasses are still with us. Please write back.
- Hermione
She stared at the letter, the words blurring together. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But she couldn't think about that now. Blinking rapidly, she folded the letter and set it aside before starting on another, addressed to the Greengrass sisters.
When she finally finished, she sat back, exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders. She had done what Theo asked. She had written to them. But it didn't change anything. Blaise was still dead. Theo was still broken. And she was still lost.
With a shaky sigh, Hermione rose from the desk and made her way back to the main room. Harry was waiting for her, his expression grim.
"Did you do it?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "I wrote to them. Now we just have to wait and see if they respond."
Harry's eyes darkened. "And Theo?"
Hermione hesitated, her gaze drifting towards the staircase. "He's… not okay. He might never be okay."
A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on their shoulders. They were losing people—friends, allies—one by one. And it felt like the war was slipping through their fingers, spiraling out of control.
"We need to find the snake," Harry said quietly, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but there was a desperation in his eyes. "It's the only way to end this."
Hermione's chest tightened. "I know. But Theo's not going to help us anymore. He made that clear."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He blames me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "For killing Blaise. He'll never forgive me for it."
Harry reached out, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "You did what you had to do. You saved his life."
"Did I?" Hermione asked bitterly. "Or did I just destroy what little hope he had left?"
Harry didn't respond, his silence speaking volumes. She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. Everything was unraveling, slipping through her grasp. And no matter what she did, it never seemed to be enough.
"We'll have to do it ourselves, then," she said softly, staring at the floor. "As soon as we get any information on Voldemort's location, we go after the snake. Just the two of us."
"Hermione—"
"No, Harry," she interrupted, her voice firm. "This is it. We can't wait any longer. If we wait, more people will die."
Harry's jaw clenched, but he nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll do it your way."
Relief and fear washed over her in equal measure. She had made her choice. Now all that was left was to see it through.
Before she could say anything else, a door slammed upstairs, and Theo appeared at the top of the staircase. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.
"I'm going to find the snake," Hermione said suddenly, her gaze locked on his. "With or without you."
Theo's expression darkened. "Good luck," he said coldly. "You'll need it."
The words cut deep, but she refused to show it. Lifting her chin, she turned to Harry. "Let me know the second we get a lead. I'm going to check on the letters."
She brushed past Theo, her heart aching as he turned his back on her. But she kept her head high, refusing to look back. This was her decision. Her fight.
And she would see it through, no matter what.
It wasn't until late that night that the letters arrived, carried in by a small brown owl. Hermione's hands shook as she tore open the first one, her eyes scanning the elegant script.
Hermione,
I don't know what to say. This is… shocking. I didn't think Blaise would—he never said anything to us. He never hinted that he was… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for what you had to do.
But we're still with you. Both Daphne and I. We'll keep looking, keep listening. Just… take care of Theo, okay? He needs you.
- Astoria
Hermione's chest tightened, the guilt twisting inside her like a knife. She set the letter aside and reached for the next one.
Hermione,
I can't believe it. I just—I don't know what to say. Blaise was always so careful, so… But I suppose that's what makes it worse, doesn't it? That he fooled all of us. I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to be the one to do it.
We'll keep an ear out for any news. But be careful, Hermione. This war is breaking us all.
- Daphne
Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, her heart heavy. They were still with her. Still on their side. But it didn't change anything. It didn't bring Blaise back. It didn't heal the rift between her and Theo.
With trembling hands, she folded the letters and tucked them away. Then she turned to Harry, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
"We have to end this," she whispered. "Before it destroys everything."
Harry nodded, his expression hard. "We will."
And for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt a flicker of hope. Because no matter how broken they were, no matter how much they had lost, they were still fighting.
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Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the owl circle down from the darkened sky and land on the windowsill. It ruffled its feathers, looking almost disgruntled to be carrying the letter with Pansy Parkinson's unmistakable seal. She hadn't expected Pansy to write back so quickly—or at all, really. Her fingers trembled as she untied the letter and carefully unrolled it, dreading what might be inside.
The parchment was a deep, crimson red, and the words looked like they'd been written in a feverish haste. Even from the first few lines, Hermione's blood ran cold.
Granger,
So Blaise is dead. I should have known it would end like this. Should have known that once you and your precious Order got involved, things would fall apart.
Hermione flinched, swallowing hard as she continued reading.
But do you want to know the worst part? The absolute worst part? I'm not even surprised. I knew something was off about him—knew it for years. But I let it slide. Because that's what you do for the people you love, isn't it? You look the other way. You forgive.
Forgive.Hermione's eyes stung at the word. Did she forgive Blaise for what he'd done? Did Theo? Would any of them ever be able to?
But now it's over. He's gone, and I can't decide if I should thank you for finally ending it, or curse you for being the one to do it. Because that's the thing, Granger—now there's a hole. A gaping, bloody hole where he used to be. And no amount of 'I'm sorry's' is going to fix that.
A chill ran down Hermione's spine. The words were seething, raw, and jagged around the edges, like a wound torn open.
Do you know what hurts the most? the letter continued. It's that, even though he betrayed us, even though he hurt all of us, part of me is glad. Because at least now I know. There are no more lies. No more pretending. But here's the thing, Granger—
Hermione braced herself, her heart hammering against her ribs.
—there's more. There's always more. And if Blaise was willing to risk it all, to throw everything away, then it means you missed something. It means there's something out there, something bigger, that he was trying to protect. I don't know what it is. Maybe I never will. But whatever it is, you can bet that it's the reason I'm writing this instead of burning you to the ground.
Hermione's hands shook as she clutched the parchment, the room spinning around her. She forced herself to keep reading, every word like a punch to the gut.
So this is what I'm going to do: I'm going to keep my mouth shut, for now. Because I'm not going to let his death mean nothing. But if you think I'm on your side now, think again. I'm not doing this for you, or for your bloody Order. I'm doing it because I want to find out why.
Why Blaise did what he did. Why he chose to betray us. And if it's something worth dying for, then I'm going to find it. And I'm going to make sure that every single one of you knows exactly what it was before this is over.
Hermione's breath caught. What had Pansy meant?Something worth dying for? What could Blaise possibly have been hiding?
The letter ended abruptly, signed with a single line that chilled her to her core:
If you want to stop this from happening again, Granger, you'd better figure out what he was protecting.
- Pansy
The parchment slipped from Hermione's numb fingers, fluttering to the floor. Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. She stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall as she struggled to process what she had just read.
There was more. More than betrayal. More than lies. More than death.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "There's—there's something we missed. Blaise was hiding something."
Harry looked up sharply from across the room, worry flashing in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Pansy—she—" Hermione broke off, scrambling to pick up the letter. "She said Blaise's betrayal wasn't just about the information he gave to the Death Eaters. There's something else. Something he was protecting. I don't know what it is, but—"
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "If that's true—if there's something else—"
Hermione nodded, her heart pounding. "We have to find it, Harry. Before it's too late."
"But how?" he asked, his voice low and tense. "We don't even know where to start."
Hermione took a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to think. "We start by figuring out what he was protecting. Who he was protecting. If Pansy's right, then whatever it is, it's the reason he turned against us. It's the reason he died."
A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of it suffocating. Harry looked down at the letter, his expression hardening.
"Then we find it," he said quietly, his voice fierce. "Whatever it takes, Hermione. We find out what he was hiding."
Hermione swallowed, nodding slowly. "But first… we have to deal with Theo."
Harry's gaze softened. "Is he… is he going to be okay?"
"I don't know," Hermione admitted, her voice breaking. "I don't know if he'll ever be okay again."
They both fell silent, the enormity of what they were facing pressing down on them. But even as the fear and uncertainty gnawed at her, a flicker of determination sparked to life.
She would find out what Blaise had been hiding. She would uncover the truth, no matter what it cost her.
Because if there was one thing Hermione Granger knew, it was that the truth always had a way of coming to light.
And this time, she would be the one to find it.
With shaking hands, Hermione tucked Pansy's letter into her pocket and turned back to Harry. "There's more to this than we thought," she whispered.