August 2002
Everyone looked sharply over toward Hermione.
She laid the knife on the table and cast a quick spell to unwrap it.
"The mission wasn't entirely pointless. I think I've figured out how we can destroy the horcruxes, assuming we can find them. I've been studying how goblin-wrought weapons absorb anything that makes them more powerful. I wasn't sure exactly how the absorption worked; whether it involved a spell or not. But when I was healing Ginny, I noticed that the spots where the necrosis was still spreading had slight nicks in the bone. It gave me an idea, so afterward, I went and found the knife that was used to remove the curse."
She lifted the knife up carefully.
"This goblin-wrought knife has the necrosis curse in its blade now. I confirmed in the kitchen and I can demonstrate it if anyone needs to see it. When the curse was cut off Ginny, the blade must have touched the necrosis somewhere and absorbed the magic. So when it touched the bones of Ginny's skull it spread the necrosis to new locations."
Ron paled and looked ready to be sick. Hermione shot him an apologetic glance.
"Ginny is going to be fine. And no one could have known that would happen. A goblin-wrought blade was a logical choice because it would cut more reliably than a non-magical knife," she said firmly to him.
"But it gave me an idea," she continued, "about how we might be able to destroy the horcruxes. We know they're dangerous and hard to destroy because even Dumbledore got terminally cursed destroying one. Harry destroyed the journal with a basilisk fang, but we can't access those unless we can break into Hogwarts and get down into the Chamber of Secrets. But we have the sword of Gryffindor, and I think it might be able to destroy the horcruxes if we used it."
The room was staring at Hermione blankly.
"It's goblin-wrought," she pointed out, "and Harry used it to kill the basilisk. So, that means it should be infused with basilisk venom."
She glanced around trying to gauge the reactions. Moody and Kingsley both looked thoughtful. Ron still looked ashen.
"It could be true," Remus said slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What you said about goblin-wrought materials is certainly accurate."
"Do we know where the sword of Gryffindor is?" asked Bill.
"I think Minerva has it," Neville said. "I think I saw it when I was helping with the garden at Caithness."
"We'll ask Severus about the venom," said Moody. "He'll know if anyone does."
Harry and Charlie's faces soured visibly at mention of Snape.
"I can meet with him." Hermione volunteered. "I need to discuss some details regarding potions and curses anyway."
"Alright. Report to me afterward. We won't reconvene until next week," Moody said with a nod.
"We should do something with that knife," Remus said. "It won't be safe, someone might pick it up."
Hermione pushed it into the middle of the table.
"It has some protective wards on it, but I'm not sure how well they stick."
"I'll deal with it," Moody said, summoning it over to himself. "I'll send word to Severus."
Moody turned and stumped out.
When Hermione returned to the hospital ward after a late dinner, Harry was sitting beside Ginny again. All the lights dancing around Ginny's body were in normal, reassuring hues, but Hermione paused to cast a diagnostic to make sure everything was still alright.
"You shouldn't have done that," Harry said, while she was in the midst of casting.
"What do you mean?" she asked, pausing mid-spell to look at him. Her breath caught slightly in her chest and her grip on her wand tightened.
"Using Ginny's injury like that." Harry's voice hard and tight. "You made it sound like it was somehow a good thing she got hurt."
Hermione sighed, and fought against an urge to roll her eyes.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said. "You know I hate it when anyone gets hurt."
"You should have waited. You could have brought it up at the next meeting when Ron wasn't feeling so awful. Did you even comfort him because you cared, or just because you wanted to know where the knife was?"
Hermione's hands dropped to her sides and her eyes narrowed as her irritation with Harry bloomed into offense.
"I wanted to make sure he hadn't cut himself with it. I wanted to make sure no one else found it and got injured with it," she said in a steely voice.
Harry sighed and glanced over toward her sharply.
"But that's what you were thinking about. When Ginny was hurt and you were healing her, what you were thinking about was 'Oh look, nicks in her skull. I wonder if this information will be useful for destroying horcruxes.' Your roommate was lying there while you treated her, and that's what you were thinking about. One of your best friends was crying in your arms because he had to cut up his baby sister's face, and all you were thinking about was that fucking knife."
Hermione balled her left hand into a fist so tight she could feel her nails biting into her palm and the shape of her metacarpal bones under her fingertips.
"I am capable of thinking of multiple things at once, Harry." Her tone was icy. "Or would you rather that the mission had been entirely pointless? That Ginny got hurt and it didn't mean anything?"
"Don't treat it like that, Hermione. Don't treat people like they're nothing but an equation to you."
Harry stood up abruptly and stared angrily at her.
Hermione twitched slightly. She couldn't understand the emotional reasoning that Harry employed. It was exhausting to try to figure out where he was coming from. It ate into mental resources she couldn't afford to give him.
"Either this all happens for a reason or it doesn't," she said with cold rage. "You can't have it both ways. If this is all supposed to be meaningful then you can't get offended when I point it out and accuse me of being callous."
Harry paled further and dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. He stared at her with his eyes flashing for a moment before turning away, his lips curled slightly.
"The way you treat people... sometimes, I feel like I don't even know you anymore," he said.
"Maybe you don't," she said in a clipped tone, staring down at her wand, finishing the diagnostic on Ginny.
"You should have waited, you shouldn't have talked about the knife tonight. It's not like we have a horcrux. You could have waited," he said again as though it were the final conclusion of their conversation.
Hermione pursed her lips slightly and took a breath before responding.
"The war isn't going to wait for us to grieve, I'm sorry you disagree with my decision. I didn't mean for it to hurt anyone."
Harry turned away from her.
Hermione walked into the next room and leaned against the wall, feeling somewhat frozen.
Her hands were trembling slightly. Her stomach felt as though it had been twisted viciously. She regretted eating anything.
She took several deep breaths through her nose and pressed the palms of her hands hard against the wall as she tried to recentre.
She shook her head and tried not to let herself dwell on what Harry had said.
After another minute she straightened and glanced down at her watch to check the time. Ginny's bones still had hours to regrow.
Hermione mulled over the procedure. She should have Padma watch her perform it.
After Malfoy demanded her, Moody and Kingsley had decided to pull one of the field healers and have them trained to help with hospital shifts. Padma was the best field healer they had and a fair hand at potions; she was chosen to apprentice under both Hermione and Poppy.
When Kingsley informed Hermione that Padma was being assigned to the hospital, he framed it as support for Hermione because she was stretched too thin. But Hermione had been stretched too thin for years. She knew why they had reassigned Padma. They needed the redundancy because Hermione's function as healer had become secondary to her status as Malfoy's possession.
Padma was her replacement.
Now, with all the prisoners the Order had broken free recently, they could afford to give up a few more fighters to specialise in healing. Poppy was in charge of training fifty new field healers. Padma was slowly taking over Hermione's assigned hospital shifts and all the basic potions with the goal of Hermione only being on call in case of emergencies and advanced potion making; freeing her up to research and work on Malfoy.
When Hermione had informed Moody of Malfoy's intention to train her, Moody reminded her to do anything Malfoy required.
Hermione had felt slightly ill as she had agreed.
It wasn't as though she didn't agree. It was just—hard sometimes. Deep down, she wanted Moody to still seem conflicted; to show remorse over what he was steering her toward.
She wanted someone to care. To object for her. So that she wouldn't feel like such a whore as she did it.
It wasn't really rational. Strategically she knew Moody was right. Even if he didn't order her to do whatever Draco wanted, she was still intending to.
That was the bargain.
But sometimes she still wished someone would try to say no for her. So that Hermione could be reassured that the sick, clawing sensation inside of her was reasonable. That it was indeed as horrible as it felt to be sold to a Death Eater in exchange for information. Because, while Malfoy wasn't generally abusing Hermione or forcing her to have sex with him, if he were, Moody would give her the same instructions.
After all, they'd all expected Draco rape her when they'd sent her.
Somehow Hermione hadn't been prepared for how devastatingly lonely it would be to process everything alone. How her solitary mission would slowly eat her inside. Like a sinkhole inside her chest.
Of course, she could go to Minerva. Minerva would care. She'd object on behalf of Hermione. But it would be selfish of Hermione to turn to her for solace. It would just make her former Head grieve more. Hermione wasn't going to stop. She wasn't going to be dissuaded. Even if by some miracle Moody and Kingsley were.
She just wanted to stop feeling alone. To have someone tell her that what she was doing was meaningful. That it was alright that it hurt.
It was silly. Emotional. Wishing other people would be emotionally tortured on her behalf. She tried to squash it. But it kept rising up inside her.
She'd always been too desperate for verbal affirmation. To have someone tell her that she was clever, to reassure herself of her value with grades and praise.
She bit her lip. No one would ever praise her for what she was doing.
If most members of the Resistance were to learn, they'd probably accuse her of corrupting the war effort.
The war between Good and Evil was won by Good's refusal to compromise. Not by using Dark Magic. Not by selling a healer to a Death Eater for information.
Moody and Kingsley played along by allowing the Resistance's policy against Dark Art to remain in place in accordance with the Weasleys' and Harry's wishes. The public face of the Resistance was still Goodness and Light.
Hermione wondered just how many things Moody and Kingsley were doing without most of the Order knowing. Things that Hermione had also grown complicit in. Such as how Kingsley intercepted some of the snatchers and Death Eaters that Hermione was occasionally called in to heal before they were interrogated. How Bill and Fleur kept the the Order's prisoners. How prisoners were sometimes interrogated. Where certain supplies came from.
There were so many logistical details that the rest of the Order never seemed to ask about. Much in the way they never asked about where all the new information was coming from. How, after so many months and years of decreasing intel, they suddenly had much better information regarding Death Eater prisons, impending attacks in Muggle Britain, and raids against the Order. How they'd known to evacuate Caithness or that Voldemort was traveling.
Everyone seemed eager to ignore details like that.
The only thing they couldn't ignore was having Severus as a spy; even after five years, they still hated it. There was a recurring argument put forth by Charlie or Ron or Harry to have Severus cut out.
Hermione sighed and went to find Padma. Even if she could sleep, it was going to be a long night.
Late the next morning she placed the final enchantments on the healing spells she used to repair Ginny's face and then administered a vial of Wiggenwald potion.
That room in the hospital ward was currently empty. Hermione had kicked everyone out over the furious objections of Harry and Ron.
Ginny's body was still for a moment and then gradually stirred. She cracked one eye and glanced around blearily.
"Ngghhh," Ginny groaned and rolled over and buried her head in her pillow.
After another moment she lifted her head and glanced around. Her hand immediately darted up to touch her bald scalp and then moved to her face. She fingered the wide scar that now lay there.
"What happened?" Ginny asked. Her voice sounded dry.
Hermione handed her a glass of water.
"Lucius Malfoy hit you with a necrosis curse on your cheek," Hermione said as gently as she could. "Ron saved you by cutting it off before it could reach your brain."
Ginny's fingers ran along the length of the scar. It started near her hairline. The gash's topmost edge began at the top of her forehead and all the way down to her jaw. It was wide and cruel looking, and it caused certain spots on her face to divot and pucker slightly.
Ginny sat up slowly and put her hands in her lap. Staring down at them as she clenched them into fists and then opened them. She was quiet for a minute.
"Can I have a mirror?" Ginny finally asked.
Hermione had a mirror ready for Ginny, but she paused before handing it over.
"It will fade. In a few months, with treatment, it will fade to silver."
Ginny's lower lip trembled, and she pressed her mouth into a hard line. She held her hand out for the mirror.
"Do you want me to go while you look? Or stay with you?" Hermione asked.
Ginny hesitated. "Stay..." she finally said.
Hermione handed the mirror over and said nothing while Ginny took a deep breath and then turned it over to survey her face.
There was a long silence.
Ginny stared, growing paler, turning her head slowly to take in the entirety of it. Her fingers rose up slowly, tracing over it, as though she couldn't believe it was her face she saw reflected.
After a few seconds, Ginny pressed her lips together and jerked her head as her eyes welled up with tears. She stared for a moment longer, running her fingers along the scar before pushing the mirror away.
Then Ginny took a sharp breath in through her nose like she was trying not to cry. Her lips twisted slightly and she kept pressing them together harder as she rocked in the bed.
Ginny kept drawing sharp, quick breaths through her nose. Her head jerked up with each one.
Finally her shoulders slumped.
"Oh Merlin, I'm so shallow!" she said with a slight sob. "I'm alive but I'm crying because I've got a scar."
Hermione felt her own jaw tremble as she rested a hand on Ginny's shoulder.
"Scars are hard..." Hermione said, and her voice faded away as it tightened in her throat. "Anything that changes how we see ourselves is hard. You can be sad about it. You're allowed to grieve for yourself. You don't need to pretend it's okay."
"I know," said Ginny in a thick voice. "I just want to be. I want to be fine with it. I don't want to care. Or see it as changing me. But—I feel like part of me has died. Like I'm ruined somehow. And that feels so shallow and selfish. George lost his whole leg and I'm crying because I have a cut on my face."
Tears streamed from Ginny's eyes and she smeared them away with the backs of her hands.
Hermione waited for several minutes and when Ginny's breathing and trembling finally started to ease slightly, she reached out and took Ginny's hand.
"Harry and Ron are waiting outside," Hermione said. "But you can take as long as you want before you see anyone."
Ginny jerked.
"Have they—did—, Ginny stuttered and shifted uncomfortably. "Has Harry already seen it?"
Hermione nodded.
"Harry has been with you the whole time. I forced him to leave. I thought—you might want some time."
Ginny nodded.
"Maybe five more minutes," said Ginny after a moment.
Hermione sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed.
"You're still one of the prettiest girls I know," Hermione told her.
Ginny snorted. "Shut up. You'd say that even if Ron had cut off my nose."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't. The redness will fade. If you let me treat it regularly. And use a few potions. It will become more elastic so you won't feel it. And it will fade a lot. But if you'd like, I can help you glamour it."
"It's fine. I always wanted to be a badass when I was little. Can you imagine how scary I'll look now on a battlefield? All bald and with this crazy thing on my face," Ginny joked weakly. The frozen hospital smile curled across her face for a moment. Then the forced humor faded from her expression and she looked almost childlike.
"I miss Mum," Ginny said in a small voice.
Even when her children were injured, Molly could rarely afford to come see them.
Hermione hugged Ginny and Ginny sniffled into her shoulder.
"Do you want to go there today?" Hermione said.
"No. She'll just feel awful," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I'll go see her when it's faded a bit. Do you have a hair regrowth potion?"
"Sorry. Not on hand. I had Padma start brewing some though. It will be done in the next hour."
"Well, that's a relief. At least I won't have to be both bald and ugly forever."
Hermione shook her head and hugged Ginny again. Ginny always tended to break out terrible jokes about herself when she was in the hospital.
When Hermione departed, Ginny was fully ensconced in the attentions of Harry and her brothers and under the watchful eye of Poppy and Padma.
Moody sent word that Severus would be home at two o'clock so Hermione apparated there a few minutes early and then approached Spinner's End carefully. How any place could be so dreary even in summer never ceased to baffle Hermione. It was as though Severus' personality were contagious.
The door was shut. Hermione rapped quietly and then waited. Since he was no longer a professor, even Severus' most basic courtesy had entirely vanished. He would occasionally leave Order members waiting at his doorstep for an hour. Fred and George had once tried to just break in and came back to Grimmauld Place sporting boils across their entire bodies.
Hermione stood waiting for two minutes before pulling a book out and resigning herself.
She had made it through two chapters of her psychology book before the door abruptly jerked open. She stood up quickly and followed the billowing robes that were already vanishing around the corner into the sitting room.
Severus was already seated in one of his agonisingly uncomfortable armchairs when Hermione arrived. She perched on the very edge of another chair and looked at him
"A goblin-wrought blade infused with basilisk venom. Would it be enough to destroy a horcrux?" she asked, similarly choosing to skip the basic courtesies of small talk.
Severus blinked, his onyx eyes always inscrutable. She could almost see the occlumency walls behind them.
"The sword of Gryffindor," he said after a moment.
Hermione nodded.
"I believe it would," he said slowly, steepling his fingers and looking thoughtful. "Although we won't know for sure unless we find a horcrux."
Hermione nodded with a faint sigh. Severus' lip curled slightly and he snorted faintly.
"At times like this... I wonder just how much Albus manipulated events over the years," he said.
Hermione stared at him in surprise. "You think second year was intentional?"
He waved her off with a flick of his wrist.
"With Albus, it's impossible to say. But it is mysteriously convenient that we happen to have such a weapon within our grasp," Severus said, then his expression grew harsh. "He was always quite confident about his skills of manipulation. Perhaps if he had been less opaque we would not be losing the war."
"What do you mean?"
Severus looked at her.
"You are aware his injury from the ring was terminal. I had been preparing potions to keep the curse at bay, but his death was inevitable the moment he placed it on his hand. He planned his demise for the end of sixth year. He even requested that I kill him, rather than leave him to the final ravages of the curse. He also suspected before the term began that Draco had been assigned to try killing him as well."
Hermione stared in shock.
"Albus was so confident that he had everything in hand that he didn't take sufficient precautions," Severus continued, "I cannot imagine that he would have neglected to mention the horcruxes after being cursed by one. He likely intended to inform Potter through a series of vague hints. He knew far more about the Dark Lord's early years than anyone, but he never deigned to confide such things to others."
Severus' expression grew bitter and far away as he fell silent.
"He knew Draco was going to try to kill him?" Hermione asked, floored by the revelation.
"Knew. Suspected," Severus said with a faint nod. "It was hard to differentiate when it came to Albus, but yes, he was anticipating it. Unfortunately for all his plans, Draco acted much more quickly and decisively than even Albus anticipated. You would think a wizard so old would have been more meticulous, but clearly not. His overconfidence was to the detriment of all who survived him."
Severus glanced at Hermione.
"What made you suddenly think of the sword of Gryffindor?" he inquired, his tone suspiciously casual.
Hermione met his eyes.
"An injury that I encountered gave me the idea," Hermione said.
"Indeed," Severus said with an arch expression.
Hermione gave him a look. "You know about Draco's punishment.".
"Of course. I had the delightful task of milking Nagini for the venom. Alastor mentioned that you've been treating him. I was surprised to hear it."
"It's not as though he could hide the injury. Did you realise how severe it is? Tom intended to poison his magic with it. By the time I found out—," Hermione fell silent for a minute. "I wish you would have informed me, so I could have started sooner."
Severus was silent and appraising as he studied Hermione.
"You're using it," he finally said.
Hermione flushed faintly and met his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "It seemed like the logical thing to do. You were right, he is isolated. He nearly jumped out of his skin the first time I put my hands on him to heal him."
"If you had been trained by Bellatrix Lestrange for years, you would probably flinch when touched too," Severus said dryly.
Hermione paused to consider. "What do you know about his training? He's said things that—I don't understand. The cruelty employed seems excessive. Even by Death Eater standards."
Severus' mouth twitched. "He was initially recruited as punishment for Lucius' failure. Consequently, I believe the Dark Lord gave Bella a rather free hand in choosing training methods. She was suspicious of my loyalty, so it was not a process I was consulted over. I do know that despite the brutality, Draco was determined. He took it and he kept coming back, even when it was no longer necessary. He was determined to climb rank. He was the youngest person to ever take the Mark. Being the lowest tier does not sit well with Malfoys."
"Was there anyone he was particularly close to in the past? Someone who died? That he cared about? His motive—it feels like atonement for something, at times."
Severus steepled his fingers and pressed them against his lips thoughtfully.
"Not that I ever observed. At least, not among his housemates," he said after a minute.
Hermione sighed.
"What about his mother? He mentioned her when he first made the offer."
"Narcissa became reclusive following Lucius' arrest. I rarely saw her, and when she did appear she was quite withdrawn. If she ever had objections, I never heard her make them."
"She seemed doting back in Hogwarts," Hermione said, tilting her head to the side as she tried to remember details about Narcissa Malfoy. "But that was all by Owl Post. It doesn't seem like she intervened on his behalf at all during his training."
"Lucius' imprisonment seemed to have a rather profound effect on her. Much in the way her death affected him."
Hermione shivered slightly at the thought of Lucius.
"So Draco just fell to the wayside for them both," she concluded, feeling sorry for him. She stifled the pity and changed the subject. "Lucius nearly killed Ginny last night. We still don't know how he tracked them down."
"There are genetic trace spells," said Severus thoughtfully. "They are extremely Dark Magic, and they take quite a toll. However, I would not underestimate Lucius' determination."
"Are there ways to evade them?"
"I'll send a book to Moody. I don't imagine the Weasleys will be receptive to any protective rituals recommended by myself—or you, for that matter."
Hermione's mouth tightened and she looked away, feeling stung by the fair assessment. Her advocacy for Dark Magic and her defense of Severus had cost her a great deal of credibility among her friends.
She swallowed the hurt and changed the subject abruptly.
"I finally neutralised the venom in the runes. I'm going to close the incisions tomorrow night. Do you have any suggestions?"
Severus snorted. "I'm sure your planned treatment will be the best he can hope for."
Hermione stared at Severus and felt as though she were missing something.
"Alright," she said, standing up.
"Tell me, what do you think of Draco now?"
Hermione paused and looked back at Severus. His eyes were narrowed. Almost suspicious. Her lips twitched to move before she felt ready to speak, and she pressed them together for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear.
"He's lonely. And angry about something. I think he wants to be better than he is. You were right that there's something about me that draws him in. He tries not to, but he can't seem to help giving in when he has a chance to."
Severus studied her, and Hermione wondered what her expression betrayed.
"Don't interpret that as loyalty," he said after a moment.
"I don't," she said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I realise that it's not meaningful yet. It's not any kind of leverage. But I'm hopeful that if I'm careful, eventually I may be able to capitalise on it. Emotionally—he's vulnerable. There's no one he can trust. I don't think he has anyone who cares about him at all. I think with time, he won't be able to stop himself from feeling like he needs me. He mentioned that because of the runes, when he wants things now—it's harder to dissuade himself. I think—I might be able to use that eventually."
Severus' mouth twitched, the suspicion faded from his eyes but his expression tensed. "In that case, if you manage to succeed you're as likely to destroy the Order as save it. I hope you realise by now how dangerous he is. If you superseded whatever his current ambition is in that manner—"
Severus paused for a moment. "If the Dark Lord could not leash him, I would not advise deluding yourself into thinking you can master him."
Hermione jerked slightly and she stared into the cold fireplace, tensing until her legs trembled while she struggled not to snap. Anger flared through her like an explosion.
" You told me to make him loyal. You are the one who recommended exploiting his interest," she said in a clipped voice. "Now you're calling me delusional and accusing me of endangering the Order."
"I said to hold his interest. You are trying to make him depend on you," Severus said, his tone suddenly icy. "The difference is profound. In some respects, the Malfoys are closer to being dragons than they are wizards. They do not share. They are obsessive about what they regard to be theirs. Do you know who Lucius needed? Narcissa. If you succeed in what you are attempting, he will never let you go. And he will not be content with being secondary to anyone or anything in your regard."
Hermione's heart shuddered slightly. She could feel cold terror slide down from the nape of her neck and bleed across her trapezius muscles. She squared her shoulders, and met Severus' eyes. She took in a sharp breath.
"He already owns me," she said in a bitter voice. "'Now and after the war.' Those were the terms. Barring his death, when exactly was I ever intended to be let go? We need the intelligence. I can't hold him with half-hearted effort. It was all in for me from the moment you all agreed to sell me to him. Did you really think I was going to get to come back from it?"
Her shoulders shook slightly. "I don't know how to keep his interest without connecting with him. It's the only vulnerability he has. If you believe it to be that much of a risk you should speak to Moody because I—don't—see—another—way ."
Her voice was shaking and cracked repeatedly as she forced out the last words. She breathed sharply through her teeth as she tried to steady herself.
"He's a natural occlumens. And far better at it than me. There's no halfway option in the cards," she added.
Severus looked startled.
"That does change things," he said after a moment.
"Now you understand my difficulty," she said, looking down at the floor. "There isn't an option of doing something I can back out of later. If you think I'm making the wrong choice you should tell Moody now."
He said nothing.
"I'd best be going then."
As she left Spinner's End, she felt dazed and unsteady. It was too warm and enclosed. She needed space to breathe. She closed her eyes and apparated to the stream in Whitecroft.
She hopped down the bank and seated herself on a large boulder among the thickly growing reeds, slipping her shoes off and dipping her toes into the cold water. The sharp sensation of the water felt like clarity.
She didn't know why she kept ending up here. She supposed it was the only place where she didn't feel like she was hiding anything.
She stared at the flowing water, replaying Severus' warning. She felt at a loss. All her hope from earlier in the week felt as though it had died somewhere inside her and started to decay. She pressed her hands against her eyes and fought to breathe evenly.
She couldn't waver now. If Severus had any alternatives or objections, he could raise them with Moody. She couldn't change tactics now that she'd finally found one that worked.
She stared down at her fallen prayer tower.
She felt so... angry.
Angry with the whole world until she felt like she'd shatter from it.
She was angry at Severus for accusing her of endangering the Order; at Moody and Kingsley, for deciding to ask her to become a whore, knowing she'd feel she had no choice; at Harry and the Weasleys, for refusing to use Dark Magic and bringing the war to the point where Hermione felt she couldn't refuse; at her parents, for being helpless and needing her to protect and give them up; and even at Minerva, for being so distraught on Hermione's behalf that Hermione felt she had to protect Minerva from Hermione's own grief.
Hermione had always thought that she could do anything for her friends. Anything to protect them.
Somehow all the things she had done had left her all alone until she felt as though she was dying of a broken heart.
There should be a limit. A point at which it stopped hurting at least.
But it never seemed to stop. It just kept growing and when someone fractured the facade the way Harry and Severus each had...
She didn't know how to fix herself anymore, and no one else seemed inclined to even notice she was breaking.
She let herself cry for five minutes before using her occlumency to cram the distracting emotions into a corner of her mind. The crying made her feel light-headed and made her temples ache. She pulled a pain relief potion out of her satchel and downed it.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking about other people.
The afternoon sunshine had seeped into the stone and felt warm under her hands. The smell of the creek water and mud and the green biting scent of the reeds filled the air. After several minutes, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to soak in the rays. She couldn't remember when she'd last felt warm sunshine on her face. The light from sunrise was always cold, despite its beauty.
Everything in her life was cold.
After a few minutes, she roused herself. She pulled her feet from the water and flicked the droplets away before heading back to Grimmauld Place.