Hermione jumped awake to the sensation of someone plopping down on her bed. She was on her feet, wand in hand and pointed to Fred Weasley's throat before she could comprehend what was going on.
He was leant to the side, propped up on one elbow and reading a muggle magazine that had a 'teen heart throb' singer plastered on the cover. He didn't even blink as her wand prodded his jugular.
"One slicing hex and you'd be dead." She lowered her arm and pulled self consciously at her night shirt. She wasn't wearing any pants.
"I've entered your room in the middle of the night enough times to know that you always gather your bearings before attempting to kill someone." He still hadn't glanced up from the magazine, flipping through the pages nonchalantly. He made an "oooh" sound as his eyes glazed one of the articles.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, turning to her dresser in search of proper attire to hide in.
"What do you want, Fred?"
She still wasn't facing him, but the gasp of feigned hurt had her envisioning his hand placed on his chest, dramatically. She shook her head as she pulled on a pair of athletic pants.
"Can't come to you for a good shag anymore?"
She rolled her eyes, shucking her shirt over her head and pulling on a long sleeved jumper, charmed with protection spells to guard against basic slicing and bruising hexes.
"You've not come here for that in months. Did you and Angelina break up?" She kept her tone casual, but didn't turn to face him until she was sure her expression was schooled into one of complete indifference.
Fred smiled, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, head tilted back in arrogance.
"Jealous, are we?"
Hermione began braiding her hair in lieu of tightening her hands into fists. Fred was too observant.
"Disappointed, mostly. I guess I'll have to cancel my dick appointment with George."
Fred's eyes narrowed. "I'd know if you were shagging my brother, Hermione. Besides, George is the one dating Angelina."
Hermione furrowed her brows. "Odd. I never could keep you two separate," she murmured before turning into her bathroom.
Fred followed her. She rolled her eyes again, making sure his gaze caught it in the mirror.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here again?"
"You're here for a shag, Fred." She opened the cabinet and reached for her toothbrush.
"Impossible," he concluded. "We haven't shagged in months."
Hermione turned the sink on. "We haven't had a raid this dangerous in months."
"So?"
"So," she began, wetting the toothbrush before sticking it in her mouth, "you always come for sex right before we leave for life threatening a raid."
He raised his eyebrows. "I am not that easily read."
"You are. You're looking death in the face right now and realizing you've been avoiding all those you love in the hopes of distancing yourself in case they die, that way it hurts a bit less. You now know that's foolish and futile. You're seeking intimacy in its most potent form." She spit into the sink.
"Interesting," he mused, leaning against the door and crossing his feet. "Why do I choose you, then?"
Hermione pursed her lips and dried her hand on the towel hanging on the rack. "I've yet to figure that out."
Fred shrugged. "Are you in, then?"
She hesitated, checking her watch, hoping there wasn't enough time. There was.
"You'll feel guilty after. You always do."
Fred raised his eyebrows, a sad smile pulling at the edge of his lips. "You don't?"
She walked past him, already pulling her shirt over her head. "We've got twenty minutes."
---
After, while they're redressing in a blur of limbs and fabric, rushing because while there was plenty of time for the first orgasm, the second one— the one Fred always insisted on— had to be squeezed out of her in a haze of euphoria and adrenaline, he asked her the one question she had always been able to avoid.
"Why do you always say yes?"
She was casting charms on his neck and chest to cover the love bites. "What do you mean?"
"We've established why I come and seek you out. But this thing we do, it's so unlike you." He ran his hands through her now loose hair, attempting to tame the mussed curls.
She turned away, walking swiftly towards the door. "Maybe I need this as much as you do." She reached for the handle.
"For the same reasons?"
She paused. Doesn't say a word, just threw a desperate glance over her shoulder. She was pleading with him.
He pressed his lips together and walked slowly past her. She could practically feel the guilt radiating off of him. It always hits him late.
She doesn't need to say it out loud. Her answer bounces off her tousled sheets and his scratched back. Malfoy's eyes flashed before her. Ron's red hair. Harry's crooked glasses. Theo's gruesome jokes. It echoed loudly— so deafening that she slams the door shut on her way out.
For the same reasons.
---
When the pair reached the roof, everyone else was gathered and discussing battle plans. Fred broke off from her side and went to stand by George. Ron patted him on the back in the form of a greeting. Fred gave a soft smile, but averted his eyes.
The guilt brewed in her stomach, bubbling and overflowing as she watched the brother's relationship splinter right before her. A chasm that was never there before— in the form of Ron's confused stare— all thanks to her.
Ron would never forgive Fred. It would be a betrayal to the umpteenth degree. When he turned to her, all the warmth and happiness he could muster pasted on his face, she let him pull her into a spine crushing hug and choked down her guilt, for the sake of him.
Now wasn't the time. It probably never would be.
When Ron moved to stand by Dean, Hermione was left to her own devices. Everyone else was with their bound partner, going over strategy, while she was alone.
Malfoy was anxious. She could feel his Occlumency walls standing strong and hard, but his nervous energy overflowed off the top and flowed into their bind. It made her hands tremble and she stuffed them behind her back to try and ease the sensation.
Kingsley appeared at the head of the group, announcing it was two minutes until midnight. He passed out copies of a photo of the building they were apparating to. It was an unfamiliar one— a new hideout.
The idea was to take down as many Death Eaters as possible tonight. They were weakened and it was the perfect chance to catch Voldemort off guard.
"No Unforgivables," Shackelbolt declared, but didn't specify any further. These days, those were the only spells that were truly off limits. Anything else was fair game, as long as it could be properly justified.
Not quite Dark Magic.
Moody raised his wand at the stroke of midnight, and as Hermione turned on the spot she could hear the resounding crack as dozens of people apparated at once.
When she landed, her feet were soaked in water. She looked down to see that she was standing thigh deep in a small lake. Around her she could hear the sloshing as other Order members crept through the tall grass towards the decrepit building that was alive with noise.
She could feel Malfoy's presence here. Her bind thrummed with the closeness of him. It made her throat go dry and she bit back a cough.
As always, Harry was the first one to cast a spell. His patronus lit up the sky, flying around the group before scurrying off into the woods. The rest of the Order followed his lead, until the sky was alight with their animals, all flying to counteract the presence of the dementors.
Everything moved quickly after that.
Before long, the house was on fire and Hermione found herself battling three Death Eaters at once, while they laughed and slurred out insults at her.
"Look at this, it's the mudblood," the tall one, as she had taken to calling him, tripped over his own feet and threw a sloppy cruciatus her way. She dodged it easily and followed up with a contusion hex, aiming for his chest. She turned away as he fell into the water.
Thank Merlin they were all plastered, or this might have taken longer.
The other two— the short one and the skinny one— let their Slytherin self-preservation shine through and began running in the opposite direction. She shot two jelly legs jinxes at them and didn't stay to watch the rest. The water was too deep. If they couldn't stand, they couldn't breathe.
Her mind was whirring with thoughts of Malfoy and it was so distracting. She didn't have time to be worried about anyone but herself as hexes, jinxes and Unforgivables flew around her in fast flashes. She was running towards the house now, because that's where Malfoy would be. She couldn't fight the compulsion to be close to him anymore.
She shot down over a dozen Death Eaters on her way. She didn't even glance at some of them. A part of her— the most human part— reminded her that she was killing these people. Some of them died slowly, too. She took that thought and pushed it behind the highest and thickest of her shields. Now was not the time.
Thick smoke billowed around her and the entire frame swayed dangerously. It wouldn't be standing for much longer, but still her feet propelled her forward, forcing her to enter the death trap.
There were several other Order members inside. As well as over a dozen Death Eaters. The higher profile ones seemed to have taken shelter in the building. It was large, containing at least three floors from what she could see from the entrance.
Judging by the danger of the situation, it couldn't be a coincidence. They were hiding something. Hermione was going to find out why.
She began climbing the stairs, casting an air cleansing charm around herself as the cough spasms started. Malfoy was upstairs, and she suspected the answer to all this was, as well.
Two figures came barreling down towards her, and she stowed her wand, dodged three killing curses and planted her feet firmly on the fifth step from the top. As the first figure came at her, she raised her leg and used all her force to kick out at the body. It fell back, and Hermione shoved the body with all her might into the railing. The weak wood gave way and the faceless man fell victim to the flames below.
The other man continued to throw hexes, and for a brief moment a cruciatus filled with so much hatred grazed her arm and she felt blinding pain. She focused all her energy on staying aware of her surroundings and thrashed out, her fist making contact with the man's nose. He stepped backwards, tripping on the stairs and it was all the chance she needed.
"You filthy bitch," he spat.
Hermione merely shrugged before kicking him in the groin and shoving him off the side as well.
At the top, she was met with three different doors. She headed left, paused, and then turned and doubled back towards the right.
She threw open the door and was met with Draco Malfoy's wand pointed at her chest. He couldn't have been surprised, must have known where she was headed, but still his shoulders stiffened.
"Draco, why don't you invite our guest in?"
And suddenly all of Malfoy's apprehension and nervousness she'd felt since waking up made sense.
Because off to the side, with a vicious grin and evil eyes, stood Lucius Malfoy.
Hermione's wand hand was hanging at her side and her eyes were glued on the man. No, they were glued on the delicate box in his hand.
It was grey, with intricate swirls etched into it. It looked important. She reached out to Malfoy, but he remained blank.
Lucius raised his wand, quicker than she thought possible and suddenly a green curse was flying at her. Malfoy was poised, ready to deflect but she was quicker. She threw him a dirty look, gritting her teeth before firing a stinging hex at him. He didn't dodge, but the pain seemed to ease him out of his trance.
He fired back with the Cruciatus.
Oh, she was going to kill him later.
"Dark Magic," she bit out, "will taint your soul. I hope there's nothing important in there."
Malfoy sneered. "Nothing important, though there is something rather annoying buzzing around. I'm hoping the increase in Unforgivables will kill it."
"If that doesn't, then I surely will." She fired five hexes in a row, but was dismayed to see his dueling ability was actually something to brag about.
She shook herself and turned back to Lucius. Her feet beneath her were beginning to burn as the flames below licked at the floorboards. She needed to complete this quickly, and a pissing contest with Malfoy could be rescheduled.
Lucius was standing with his arms crossed, apparently content to be on the sidelines and watch his son claim all the glory of torturing and killing the Golden Girl.
"Miss Granger, you'll have to forgive my son. The youth are so rude."
She fired a jinx at him and her protego was barely thrown up in time to block the retaliating Avada from hitting her square in the chest.
They engaged in battle for a while longer, Lucius casting with all his might and Malfoy throwing half hearted spells at the appropriate intervals, enough to keep Lucius from becoming suspicious.
Dueling without Malfoy at her side felt like an open wound, festering and slowly killing her. Every spell being dragged from her wand ached and her magic was being drained at a far faster rate than normal. She was breathing heavily, sweating through her shirt.
Malfoy's panic was rising. She could feel it building in her chest and stretching to her appendages, leaving her hands and knees shaking.
Lucius was only growing stronger and more confident. She had stopped playing the offensive completely now, left to only defensive magic that threw her back to the Battle of Hogwarts, back when they had been in denial about what they needed to do to survive.
She was hit with a spell she didn't recognize, one that caused a giant welt to break out on her forearm. She hissed through her teeth, and was too distracted to block the next spell, which had a bruise blossoming on her collarbone. The pressure built and built until the bone cracked. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She was too used to torture. Too used to the practice of silencing herself.
There was a thud as Lucius fell to the ground. She looked up to see Malfoy's wand pointed at him, his lips pressed together.
"How—"
"You stupid bint, why would you come up here?"
He stormed over to her, shaking her violently. She grunted as the sensation traveled to her injuries.
"You're going to get yourself killed pulling tricks like that." She attempted to pull her arms out of his grasp, but his fingers tightened. Her body ached so deeply, vision going fuzzy at the edges.
"You were going to be dead if I didn't intervene—"
"I've pulled myself out of worse—"
"Practically have a death wish—"
"Would never let the likes of Lucius take my life—"
The house groaned dangerously. They stopped bickering and listened as crashes happened around them. Their time was up. The house was surrendering to the flames.
Hermione wrenched herself from his grip and ran towards the unconscious figure on the ground. She snatched the box out of his hand and turned towards the door, prepared to run through the flames towards safety.
"Granger."
She turned. Malfoy had his father's arm around his neck. His face was a mask and his shields were solid.
"I'll take care of Lucius."
She nodded, then turned to scamper down what remained of the stairs.
The flames were unbearable. She choked on them, unable to cast a charm strong enough to prevent herself from doing so. The stairs were rickety and she fell through them twice, hot splinters entering her legs with painful precision before she made it to the bottom.
There were no other voices in the house as she ran out of the front door. On the lawn, she saw scattered bodies and she couldn't find it in herself to look down and check for any Order members. She ran past all of them, back towards the lake where she knew the anti-apparition wards ended. There were no other standing bodies left, and she knew she had stayed longer than they had agreed upon.
Once she reached the end, she turned and with a nauseating pull she was thrown into the chaos of Grimmauld place. People were screaming, blood was smeared on the walls and bodies were lying unconscious on the carpet.
She searched for Ron, Harry or Ginny. Theo, Neville or Pansy. Luna or Dean or Seamus. Anyone that could inform her of what had happened. Who had died. The good news or bad news or—
She ran into Ginny on the stairs. She was running down them, blankets stacked in her arms and tears running steadily down her cheeks.
Hermione tried to stop her, arms reaching out for her elbows to slow her down, but she shook her off harshly and with a growl.
"Ginny!" Hermione called after her. Her stomach was twisting painfully.
Ginny never cried. Ginny was tougher than anyone here, emotions always kept behind closed doors unless she was making a joke or letting her easy to rise temper shine through.
She caught up with her in an instant.
"Ginny, what's happened?"
"It's Theo," she choked out.
"Is he okay? Has he—" she couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. She was thrown back to the moment Hannah died, sitting on the floor outside of their shared room for days, feeling absolutely gutted.
Ginny shook her head. Relief flooded through Hermione's veins.
They entered the living room, which was currently being used as a makeshift infirmary. Ginny headed towards a cot that had a large group surrounded by it.
She saw the faces, and counted each head three times before she let herself be sure.
They were all there. No one had died.
She finally let her eyes fall to Theo. He was bleeding profusely out of his neck. Hermione's breathing stuttered
"What happened?" Her voice wasn't above a whisper, but all eyes turned to meet hers.
"Werewolf," Ginny murmured, working to staunch the bleeding. Her shirt was soaked through with the glimmering red substance.
Her eyes met Hermione's.
"Theo was bitten by a werewolf."