March 2003
Hermione apparated to Grimmauld Place. Her protean charm bracelet had not burned for the entire day; she assumed it meant that she was not urgently required anywhere.
"Hail the conquering hero!" Angelina shouted as Hermione hurried past the sitting room. Hermione paused awkwardly while Angelina jumped up from her seat, and Angelina, Katie, Parvati, Susan, Neville, Dean and Seamus all crowded around, patting Hermione admiringly on the shoulders.
"I can't believe you went on a mission again."
"I nearly slapped Fred when I found out he went without me."
"Fuckin' unbelievable the lot of you got Ron back."
"Moody and Kingsley are pissed," Neville said, giving her a serious look. "Kingsley spent ten minutes yelling at Remus when he came to report about the mission."
Hermione nodded, cringing inwardly. "I need to go report. Where is he?"
"War room."
Hermione nodded. "Alright. Thanks everyone. It was-," she grasped for something positive sounding to say, "-quite a thrill being in the field again. I'm just glad we got Ron back."
Kingsley was standing over a table covered with scrolls. Hermione stopped at the door and waited for him to look up.
"You're back then?"
"I'm back. I needed some recovery time."
"Will I finally get a version of events that doesn't involve a deathtrap in which everyone but the intended victims somehow died?" Kingsley looked up, and Hermione could see the rage in his expression. He whipped his wand out and cast a privacy charm over the room.
Hermione stepped in and pushed the door shut behind her, leaning back against the frame. "I couldn't send word. I didn't know the location or anything else concrete. Harry didn't tell me why he was taking me from Grimmauld Place until we were at the Tonks house. I think he suspected I might warn you. I was only given fifteen minutes to get my healing kit. You were gone. Moody was gone. There wasn't anyone to warn who wouldn't have just wanted to come too."
"You went to Malfoy." Kingsley walked around the table as he stared at her.
"The information Harry had came from Snatchers. I tried to warn him it was a trap, but he was going to go. I considered revealing Malfoy, but I didn't think it would stop them. I thought if I could contact Dra-Malfoy, he might be able to offer new information I could take back to Harry and Remus. I thought if there were conflicting reports, it might buy time. But Malfoy didn't come while I was there. I left him a note with all the information I had."
"It was a trap."
Hermione gave a short nod. "Apparently they didn't even expect us to fall for it."
"And then?"
"We were outnumbered. I don't think many of the Death Eaters there were experienced in combat. Draco said it was mostly trainees. But there was a werewolf, and the numbers were absurd."
Hermione looked down and gave a low sigh before looking back up. "Rabastan Lestrange is dead. The trap was his idea. Malfoy showed up a few minutes after Ron was mauled."
Kingsley's expression showed no surprise. "How did he kill everyone?"
"He killed at least a third of them dueling. Then he-he had some kind of vacuum curse contained in an artifact. He came across the field and activated it once he had hold of me. The curse didn't affect the wielder, and the protection was extended to me through contact. He suffocated everyone, revived and obliviated Harry and the others, and then left them outside the wards. He didn't let me stay to check any of them."
"What happened to you?" Kingsley was studying her carefully; his eyes landed on her scarred wrist.
Hermione pulled her sleeve down. "Nothing that couldn't be healed. I used the Carbonescere curse to kill the werewolf. When I was dealing with the initial backlash in my magic, someone stabbed me." She looked away and pressed her lips together for a moment. "Harry hadn't expected it to be a trap, so I wasn't given a partner. I think he thought Ron would be with me, but-well, Ron is Harry's partner. As soon as the Death Eaters appeared, everyone got into their default pairings, so I was fighting solo." Hurt cut into her tone as she said it, and she looked down at her feet. "Which was probably for the best. Draco never trained me to fight with a partner anyway."
There was still blood on her shoes. She drew a deep breath. "Draco-Malfoy said to tell Moody that his aid is conditional on my survival."
"I am already aware of that." Kingsley's voice was hard. "You will not ever go on another mission; I don't care if someone asks you to go save Harry himself. You will not forage. You will not leave the safe houses unless it's to liaise. Your job, Granger, is to stay alive and keep Malfoy in line."
Hermione drew a short breath and felt rebellious rage burn across her chest. She glared at him for several seconds before she forced her occlumency walls into place and swallowed all she wanted to spit at him.
She rolled her jaw and looked away. "Tonks is asking questions about my disappearance and training. I told her to speak to Moody."
"I'll take care of it." Kingsley straightened his robes.
Hermione gave a small, resigned nod and gripped the door frame, feeling the grain of the wood under her fingers. "Ron was badly mauled. He needs to be isolated tonight."
"We're dealing with a larger situation. He was tagged. There's a trace on his right wrist that we can't remove."
Hermione's skin prickled, and there was a dropping sensation in her stomach. "The shackle? It's the shackle on him, isn't it? I tried to remove it when I was healing him. Is that-do you think that's what Sussex has been developing?"
"It seems likely. It explains why they had him there rather than luring Harry to an empty building. It's fortunate we knew there was a chance of it, and Remus at least had the sense not to bring Ron to Grimmauld Place. Alastor is monitoring the situation. It seems the Death Eaters know the approximate location of the Tonks house because of it. Until we can get the trace off, we'll be compromising our safe houses. If they're somehow using dark beings to break through Fidelius, we're on borrowed time."
Hermione swallowed hard. "Have you contacted Severus? Who's run analysis on the shackle? I didn't-yesterday. I should have. It was careless of me. I can go back."
Kingsley shook his head sharply. "You will not go near that house again. Severus is on shift in the labs. He'll be here in an hour for an Order meeting."
"Alright. Do you need anything else?"
Kingsley looked back down at the table. "No. You can give a full report to Alastor later."
Hermione turned to leave. She was halfway through the door when Kingsley spoke.
"Granger."
She turned and found Kingsley staring at her.
"You're alright?"
She shrugged. "I'm alright."
"I'm glad to hear it. I would never have forgiven Harry if he'd gotten you killed to save Ron."
Hermione gave a bitter smile, and her hold on the doorknob tightened. "Draco is vital, I know. I'll be more careful."
Kingsley's expression flickered. "That's not what I mean. When Remus reported that they thought you'd been captured-" Kingsley drew a deep breath and looked away from her. "I would have mourned your loss; more than I would have mourned anyone else in the Order."
Hermione tilted her head to the side and didn't believe him. The corner of her mouth quirked slightly, and she raised an eyebrow. "Would you now?" She snorted, shaking her head. "Is that why you call me Granger then? Because I'm so important to you?"
Kingsley gave her a sad smile. "I call you Granger to remind myself that I am responsible for more people than simply the ones that I like." He sighed and stared down at the table for a moment before looking back up at her. "It would have been a privilege to have been friends with you in another life, Hermione Granger."
Hermione studied him for several seconds. "Maybe-in another life we could have been friends. But-I don't think I'll ever forgive you in this one."
Kingsley nodded slowly and looked away from her. "In case the opportunity never comes to say it later, I am sorry-for everything I've asked of you."
Hermione was silent for several seconds before she gave a low sigh. "If you hadn't asked, I would have offered." She shrugged. "You never forced me. I am culpable for my choices."
She stepped through the door and headed down the hall.
Severus brought a report on the shackle a few hours later. It was a new prototype. It required a Dark Mark to remove. There were more complex designs being developed.
There was a long silence at the revelation.
"Well, that's not-it could be worse," Charlie said after a minute. "Snape can get it off then. Or one of our prisoners. A few of them are marked, right?"
"I can remove Ron Weasley's, but when I do, Sussex will know, and the next shackle they release may require a more elaborate mechanism." Severus sneered contemptuously at Charlie.
"Got a better idea?" Charlie jutted his chin up and glared at Severus.
"We'll remove the trace on Ron." Kingsley said, resting his fingers on the edge and tapping thoughtfully. "However, until we have better information on the shackles, there will be no further rescues. We can't afford to lose more safe houses."
"Well, shouldn't Snape know? Since he works there? I thought that was the whole reason we kept him."
"I do not run the entire lab." Severus' tone was vicious. "I operate within the potion and curse divisions. I'm not the one running experiments on dark creatures or developing traced shackles. There are limitations to how much information I can provide without warning." His dark eyes rested briefly on Hermione. "I may have better intelligence next week."
"We'll take a team to the Tonks cottage and get the shackle off Ron." Kingsley rolled up the scroll of information Severus had brought and handed it to Hermione and Fleur to look over. "According to Alastor, the Death Eaters only have a vague idea of where the cottage is at this point. We'll take a group of twenty and split into smaller teams. Fred and Charlie will escort Severus and I through the Fidelius to remove the trace. Everyone else will act as decoys. We'll likely have to fight our way out. We'll go polyjuiced. That will cause confusion over who to target. I'll send word to Potter and Moody to expect us. Granger, get the Polyjuice doses ready."
"I'll need identities and a time limit," Hermione said as she stood up.
"Two hour dose." Kingsley paused in thought for a moment before adding "Use Harry's hair. They'll expect him there. They won't expect there to be twenty-four of him. The confusion will buy us time. We'll have to isolate both Remus and Ron once they get back to Grimmauld Place. Fleur, get two rooms warded in the basement."
Hermione gave a short nod and headed to her potion cabinet, leaving the rest of the Order to strategise and debate the remaining logistics for the mission.
Hermione readied the potions and watched a roomful of people transform into her best friend before disillusioning themselves and departing Grimmauld Place.
The waiting was the worst. Hermione stood in the foyer and watched the hands on the clock journey slowly across its face.
She hated waiting.
Kingsley and Moody, Harry, Ron, Severus, and most of the Weasleys and the Order. They were all at the Tonks cottage. Hermione was left behind. Maybe Draco was there, trapped between maintaining his cover and preserving the Order.
Anything could be happening.
Growing up, she would never have thought she'd be the kind of person who'd ever agree to be left behind when others were fighting. Gryffindor. She'd thought bravery would always place her at the front lines.
Pragmatism had stolen away any lustre of heroism from her.
She pressed her hand against the window and stared out at the dimming street. The full moon would be out in half an hour.
The clock continued to measure out the relentless passage of time.
She braced herself with occlumency. She gathered up all her recent memories, sorted them neatly, and then pushed them away until her mind was clear.
The Death Eaters waiting at the Tonks cottage were not trainees. Fred stumbled through the door with his hand pressed to the side of his head. His ear had been sliced off by a curse. Moody returned with an arm and shoulder so badly maimed that Hermione initially feared he'd lose it. Remus was in the process of transforming when Tonks burst through the door and dragged him down into the basement.
Two Harrys came through the door a few minutes later. One was groaning and leaning heavily on the other.
"Come on, Ron. We're here. Someone, get him a pain potion!" the real Harry said, half-falling as he dragged the Harry-who-was-Ron further into the foyer.
Hermione dropped next to them and whipped out her wand. Ron was burning up and only half lucid. The combination of latent lycanthropy and the full moon had him writhing in agony.
"Fuck!! Fucking hell." Ron was sobbing as he arched backward until it looked like his spine would snap. "Make it stop. Make it stop!!!"
He buried his nails in his shoulder, clawing at himself. Harry struggled to pin Ron's arms down and prevent him from maiming himself.
Ron's arms, legs, and body kept rippling and snapping as the polyjuice wore off. Even once his features re-emerged, the popping and rippling of his body didn't cease. The bones in his shoulders and arms keep breaking and stretching and then snapping back into place. His fingers were curled into claws, and he dragged them through the hardwood floor, screaming, tearing his nails off. Snarling in agony as his body fought against the partial transformation.
Hermione and Harry both shot stunners at his head. Ron barely flinched. He whirled and swiped at Hermione's throat, but she cast a shield a moment before he struck.
"Stun him! Everyone stun him!"
Hermione scrambled back as quickly as she could as Ron twisted and lurched and lunged again.
It took ten stunners to knock him out.
Hermione sat in the middle of the floor, panting, as Neville and Seamus and several others took Ron's unconscious body down into the basement.
Harry was on the floor beside her, gripping her hand so tightly she thought the bones might crack.
"I didn't know. I didn't know it would be like that." Harry sounded lost.
Hermione looked down at their hands. "It can't get out. The wolf can't get out." She stared at the blood and gouges on the floor. "We may need to discuss having Remus actually bite him."
They were still sitting on the floor together when Kingsley came through the door, looking weary.
"We lost at least three," Kingsley said. "We won't know who until everyone has reported back."
Sturgis Podmore, Susan Bones, and five other Resistance fighters failed to return to Grimmauld Place. They were presumed dead.
It was easier to hope for their deaths than fear they'd been captured.
Hermione ran into Tonks after the Order debriefing. Their eyes met and Hermione studied Tonks' expression. The concern and suspicion that had been visible the day before had vanished.
Moody or Kingsley had obliviated her before she'd left the cottage.
Hermione lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. Kingsley had brought back a classified scroll of analysis on the shackle removed from Ron. They couldn't bring the shackle back without bringing the trace.
Hermione had done a preliminary study of the magic. It was solid spellwork. The shackle was made of tungsten, strong but magically conductive. The spell detail for how the shackle recognized a caster as bearing a Dark Mark was based on an ingeniously complex arithmantical formula and a charmwork technique Hermione had never encountered before.
She turned the information over and over in her mind and didn't know what to do. The information was already partly obsolete. The next shackle would be updated. More difficult or even impossible for the Order to remove.
Even if she found a fault to exploit, the Order wouldn't necessarily be able to take advantage of it. They'd have to decide whether to sit on the information until a vital point, or use it immediately. Any flaw they exploited would result in Sussex redesigning the shackles again.
It was like the Enigma code; if the Order managed to break through the enchantments, it would only result in the Death Eaters perfecting it more quickly.
She rolled onto her side and wondered if the shackles would have been invented if Draco hadn't enabled the Order to stage so many prison break-ins; if the Order hadn't made such an elaborate attack in June and destroyed the original curse division.
Was it inevitable? Or had they caused it? If they hadn't, would there have been any other way for the Resistance to have lasted so long? Or would the war have already ended?
She didn't know.
She could only wonder.
Her bed felt colder than it ever had before.
She slept for two hours before she couldn't any longer. She went down to the kitchen in Grimmauld Place and made tea.
She looked at the scroll of analysis again and then stared out the window at the full moon. Luminous, cold silver. She had loved the moon as a child. The monthly evolution and subtle beauty had always entranced her. Since meeting Remus in third year, the moon had grown tragic and ominous. Its beauty a harbinger of pain.
Ron would grow to hate the moon.
She wrapped her hands around her mug and felt the heat seep into her hands.
She felt cold. On the outside. On the inside. She felt cold.
She would always feel cold now. There would always be a trace of it in her.
She laid her head on the table and traced grain of the wood under her fingertips. She missed Draco. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to bury herself in his arms and forget her whole life.
The war had eaten her until she felt as though there were only the meagrest shreds left. As though its claws had sunk into her chest, and she could no more tear herself free than she could rip out her lungs and expect to survive. With Draco, she felt alive. Like she was breathing again after years of forgetting how to do anything but survive.
She held the mug tighter until the heat began to fade.
She didn't even know how to contact him. Not unless it was on behalf of the Order. She'd given him her word that she wouldn't summon him otherwise.
She spun the ring around her finger.
She wondered if he'd been at the Tonks cottage. If he'd been injured or injured anyone.
She started slightly and made a mental note. He'd used his analgesic potion on her wrist. Even if he could replace everything else, it was unlikely that Severus had shared that potion with the Death Eater army. She'd have to take him a replacement vial when she saw him again.
She also needed more fluxweed. She began cataloguing places she'd be able to find it growing. Then she paused, her heart sinking.
No more foraging.
Hermione bit her lip and looked down at her hands. Foraging had been hers. It had been terrifying and dangerous, but it had been hers. A chance to escape Grimmauld Place for a few hours; to feel the wind on her face and the cold of the early morning dew on her hands; to notice the seasons slowly emerging.
She looked wistfully out the window of Grimmauld Place.
She felt like bird whose wings had been slowly clipped shorter and shorter until they were nearly shorn away.
She sighed and turned away from the window. She stared at the scroll again, marking notes about potential resources to look up.
The next Tuesday she went to the shack without foraging beforehand for the first time. She felt nervous as she stared up at the door. She wasn't sure-
It was always impossible to predict what Draco would do next.
Her jaw trembled and her fingers wavered a breath away from door knob. She withdrew her hand, curling it into a fist and forcing herself to take a deep breath.
This was her job, she reminded herself. It didn't matter what happened from one week to the next. It never mattered. It was still her job.
She swallowed and pressed her lips tightly together as she reached out and opened the door.
Draco appeared as she stepped inside.
He apparated in, nearly on top of her, grabbed her firmly, and backed her into the wall as his lips crashed into hers. She could feel his hunger; in his hands as he dragged them along her body; in his breath as he drew a ragged gasp against her mouth.
Hermione's eyes widened with surprise as she was crushed against him. Her fingers caught his robes. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed him back.
His hand came up and captured her jaw, just below her ear. His fingers curled around to the base of her neck, arching her head back as he kissed her more deeply.
She clung to him, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. The whole world dropped away. Hermione kissed him ravenously. She wanted to pour herself into him.
He pulled her up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she felt his teeth against her lips and tongue.
It was like falling. He had her pinned against the wall. She hardly knew where she ended and he began. Her lungs were catching fire but she wouldn't tear her mouth from his.
Then she really was falling. The wall behind her vanished, and she was on a mattress somewhere canopied. She'd barely felt the apparition.
She only pulled her mouth from Draco's for a moment to glance around before crashing their lips together once more. He wrenched her shirt off, and she jerked his trousers open.
Quick. Hard. She was ready for him. She raked her nails across his back as he sank into her.
There wasn't space in her mind for anything else. Touching him. Moving against him. Feeling him. The world had reduced itself to a single point: Draco, his hands and eyes, the beating of his heart. She wrapped her arms around him as she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.
Afterwards they lay entwined for several minutes, their foreheads pressed together as they panted.
He kissed between her eyes, and his palm brushed against her face. Then he drew back and ran his hands along her body, looking over her arms and torso carefully. She lifted her head to see what he was doing.
"You weren't at the battle at the cottage, were you? I didn't think any of the Potters there dueled the way you do, but it was impossible to be sure." He brushed his fingers along the shell of her ear and then down along her shoulder.
Hermione dropped back and shook her head, looking him over as well, trailing her hand along his torso. He had no visible injuries.
"I wasn't there. It was a proper raid; Kingsley wouldn't bring me out." Her jaw trembled, and she looked away. "You won't need to worry. I'm not-," the words twisted in her mouth, "I'm not permitted to leave the safe houses anymore, aside from liaising. So you won't need to worry."
Draco gave an audible sigh of relief and sank down against her, brushing another kiss on her forehead.
Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.
"What's wrong?"
She looked up and found Draco staring intently down at her, his expression closed.
The corner of her mouth quirked. "I liked foraging. It was-the only bearable thing I got to do sometimes." Her eyes dropped down, and she entwined her fingers with his. She stared at his hand in hers. "My life just keeps getting smaller and darker."
There was a pause.
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged under him. "It's not like you ordered it. You said stay alive; Kingsley is the one who decided that meant I wasn't allowed to forage or leave the safe houses. I understand. He's responsible for an entire war effort. I'm not going to ask him to structure it around my personal feelings. I just-" she paused, inhaling. "I'm still coming to terms with it."
"I didn't realise it was important to you."
She was silent for a moment, hesitating. "Some days-it was the closest thing to freedom I still had."
She felt his whole body freeze.
"Just-just until the end of the war," he said in a tone that was half plea and half vow.
Hermione snorted. "Just till then? When will that be?" She gave him a bitter smile. "What end of the war do you think will somehow go well for either of us? If the Order somehow wins, I'm sure the International Confederation will suddenly be eager to be involved. They'll preside over all the trials. I already told you, a lot of my activity has been largely unsanctioned, and the Order is supposed to be democratic. When it all comes out-" she looked away, unable to meet his eyes, "-it won't paint a very pretty picture." She raised her eyebrows and gave a small sigh. "If I'm lucky they'll just take my wand away for a few years. There are certain things-"
Her chest tightened as she thought about the small room within the cave at the beach. The blood. Flayed hands and feet. Over the course of a year, Gabrielle had gotten crueler and more creative. Injuries were rarely reversible now, and Kingsley did not rein her in because the Order needed the information.
Hermione's name sat beside Kingsley's in every prisoner file. Her handwriting neatly cataloguing in precise, clinical terms the injuries she'd healed, the exact condition of each prisoner when she placed them in stasis.
I was there. I knew. I was complicit.
She swallowed. "I'm not as good a person as you think. I-I could very well end up in Azkaban."
Draco was silent for a moment as he stared at her. His fingers twitched and tightened around her. "Run. Say the word, and I'll get you out. You don't have to stay here."
A craven part of herself rose up and unfurled at his words. Out. Free. Far away from the war.
She didn't know how much she wanted it until she heard it offered by someone who meant it.
The idea of living without the war-she wanted to.
"You know I won't," she said, looking up into his eyes.
His expression was bitter, and his eyes flickered, showing tired resignation. He nodded. "The offer stands. Give the word, I'll get you out."
She studied him. "What about you?"
He gave a bitter laugh. "If I could run, I would have vanished while my mother was alive."
Hermione nodded slowly. He would never be there if he had any choice. "Of course. Would you go now, if you could?"
He stared at her, his eyes were molten silver and unwavering. "With you, I would."
"Then-we'll go together. After the war." She pressed his hand against her chest and felt her heart beat against it. "When the war is over. We'll both run somewhere no one knows us. We'll-disappear. When it's over."
His eyes flickered for a moment before he met her gaze and smiled faintly. "Of course, Granger."
He was lying.
They both were.
It was a fairytale to think they could run together. That things would end neatly enough for that.
She squeezed his hand tighter and met his eyes until the illusion faded away.
"There was a trace on Ron," she said after a minute. "From Sussex. Would you be able to get us more information about how they work? And what other prototypes they're working on?"
"I'll see what I can do." His tone was clipped. He drew away and rolled his neck so that it cracked.
Hermione stared at him. He was impossibly elegant but too thin. Nearly gaunt. His skin was pale as marble, and in the dim morning light, he could have been a figure in a painting. His scars made the scene macabre.
She couldn't look at him and not see the war. It was carved into him.
She sat up and fixed the pins in her hair.
"I hate your hair like that," he said abruptly.
Hermione glanced over and arched an eyebrow. "I could crop it instead."
His expression grew offended. She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. "I have to keep it out of the way when working. I'm always on call. It makes the most sense to keep it this way."
He looked away for several minutes. "I want to see you more."
The corner of her mouth quirked as her heart caught with relief. "Alright. Do you have a time?"
He turned to look at her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes. Possessive. Ravenous.
He would drag her from the war and hide her the instant she let him. She could see the conflict in his eyes. The sight of Draco restraining himself as he stared at her and weighed his options was familiar.
Want. Want. Want. She felt it like her heartbeat.
If he couldn't hide her, he would hoard her to himself as much as he was able.
She'd fallen for a dragon.
"I've always been on call for you too. I have a six hour shift in the hospital ward every afternoon, but the rest of my work is flexible. You can call me, and I'll come as soon as I can."
"I'll call you then, when I can. If the ring activates once, it's not Order related."
Draco pulled his cloak off the floor and pulled out a scroll.
"Any new orders this week?" he asked as he offered it to her. His mouth twisted derisively as he asked the question. "Aside from information on the trace?"
She shook her head. "It's the main priority."
As she reached and took hold of the scroll, he pulled it back, drawing her towards him. He closed a hand around her wrist.
She felt the parchment slip from her fingers as his other hand slid up her throat, and he kissed her.
He kissed her, and she kissed him.