Love is hope: Life after sixth year

A Prologue

Frustrated, Hermione fled the party downstairs. She was all for keeping in contact with relatives, especially since she saw them so seldom, and since the times were so dire in her ‘own’ world; it might be the last time she saw them, after all. But she couldn’t take the mild hypocrisy long... They weren’t bad people, really, but over the years she had become a bit accustomed to the boisterous Weasleys, and the forward manners of most decent wizards, that she couldn’t appreciate the polite friendliness when she was unsure of how they really thought. Like when they tried to find out what she was doing at her boarding school; it was as if they wanted to find out what dirty little secret surrounded it, so that they could lament and show their support, etc... Why did they have to be so nosy!

Anyway, the party was at its end, so she could walk away to her room without seeming rude. Besides, Amélie, who was staying the night, was already asleep in the guest room... Amélie wasn’t really her cousin, but there was some distant family tie... she lived in France, and had come to stay with the Grangers in Great-Britain, sleeping over at various family houses. Hermione’s mother’s sister had had her the last three days since she was picked up from the airport, and now it was their turn, which meant Hermione was going to have to wait at least another week to get to leave for Headquarters.

Since they were as safe as they could be under the Fidelius Charm, and the Order had been notified that Amélie would stay over, Hermione didn’t foresee any problems about the ‘secret’ part of her life, other then keep it from her. That had always been the hardest thing to do. Though Hermione didn’t see Amélie much, if there was one person she recognised as a true friend before going to Hogwarts it would be her.

Amélie was a very shy, but very pretty sixteen year old girl, born just a day later then Hermione. Despite shunning people, she had a great knack for languages, and spoke French, Spanish and English fluently, once you got her to speak freely to you. She had the blackest hair, it shined blue, and the clearest blue eyes. She always hid her face behind the curtain of long sleek hair, and her eyes were downcast most of the times, which had as result very few people knew she had the most beautiful eyes.

Her mother had sent her to England with family to make her come out of her shell, but so far it didn’t work. Again tonight, she’d only really talked with Hermione, and left for bed rather early. Hermione felt like she had to help her, and sometimes itched to tell Amélie the truth. She could use someone to talk to, really talk...

Crookshanks was leading the way to her room. It wasn’t like he looked very magical to Muggles, so he didn’t need to be concealed for her family. But Hermione knew very well how looks could be deceiving. She had been very close to death this past year, closer then ever before, closer then she cared to think about for very long. It had been Crookshanks that had saved her from certain death, sacrificing one of his nine lives to do just that. She’d searched high and low in the Hogwarts library for more information about cats charmed with nine lives, but had found nothing. Hermione supposed she should just count herself lucky to have such a protector, which had translated to even more spoiling of the ginger furball.

Right now, climbing the stairs, she was just anxious to get back to her studying. At least that was one of the constant highlights in her life right now. Unlike last year, they did have assignments during the holidays, and she was having a great time with them. Especially the Transfiguration project: she’d always wanted to train to be an Animagus, but she’d had to postpone it time and again.

The first time she’d had the courage to ask had been almost a year ago. Professor McGonagall had then promised to give it more serious thought when they would cover the basics in class. Of course by the time that opportunity came, so much was happening, that there wasn’t room to include that into her curriculum. With the tight schedule she already had, the attendances to the DA duelling club, the Occlumency lessons, and the learning of the Fidelius charm... really, that would’ve been quite impossible to do.

But to her delight Professor McGonagall, who was charged with taking care of her protection while she stayed at her parents’ house anyway, had thought it useful to spend that time meaningful. Her transfiguration assignment had been to learn everything she could on Animagus, and McGonagall occasionally subjected her to altering spells to make her body adjust to shape-changing, so that they could start the real training right away, the moment she arrived back at Hogwarts.

Of course Harry and Ron had *somehow* found out about it -Ginny had talked, and it somehow made its way to Harry- and had been mad at her for not telling and not including them, because of course they wanted to participate, too! McGonagall hadn’t said anything to her, and neither did the rare owls she received from Dante reveal if they’d been included in the little project...

Since Hermione’s location was her parents’ ‘hide-out’, she could only use Dante for mail, not any other owl, and even then not too often. It was frustrating, and she was regretting not having joined the Weasleys at Grimmauld Place, or convinced her parents’ to make a trip to the Park like last year. But it was virtually impossible to let her parents come to the Order’s headquarters again, without jeopardising the Fidelius charm they were under. And it had become too dangerous to go away from the place where the Fidelius charm was the strongest, at her Muggle home...

Indeed, Voldemort didn’t held anything back anymore and with Galfadus as Minister things weren’t going in the right direction. He didn’t accept the work of the Order of the Phoenix, claiming they were getting in the way of the Aurors doing their jobs properly. So the Order worked more in secret, again, like in the beginning. He had used Sirius Black’s post-mortem clearing to his advantage, proclaiming that everyone would have a fair trial from now on, which meant Dolohov, Crabbe and Goyle were being kept with minor security, still awaiting their trial. Hermione supposed the only reason Voldemort hadn’t freed them yet, was to humiliate the captured Death Eaters for being caught.

Malfoy and Nott Junior were a whole other story... Both being still underaged, Malfoy’s crime had been explained as self-defence and Nott was discharged on the argument that he had been afraid for what his family would be put through if he’d refused to cooperate... So their only punishment had been that they had to do supervised, unpaid jobs during their vacation and that they wouldn’t be considered of age until they graduated from Hogwarts.

Now for most people this was seen as a harsh punishment, since they couldn’t perform magic outside of school even if they were now both 17. Combined with the job-deal, this was a supreme blast to their ‘Slytherin prestige’. But to Hermione this also meant, that whatever crimes they would commit at Hogwarts next year wouldn’t be handled as if they’d be of age, thus fully responsible for their actions, but as underaged wizards. So to her this wasn’t so much of a punishment, as an invitation to do whatever...

Meanwhile, the wizarding world was once again divided. While few protested openly on Galfadus’ reign, a lot of others were encouraging the low measure of protective precautions for Muggleborns, and Muggles in general. Besides, Voldemort was playing his cards right. He hadn’t killed anyone in a long time now, well, that the public knew off. He was ‘just’ torturing Muggles a lot, and a few Muggleborns, and when Aurors finally came at the place of the crime, Death Eaters didn’t put up a fight, they just disapparated...

Though the Aurors still didn’t really listen to all of what Fudge, their head of department, said, they couldn’t ignore Galfadus all the time, so their work started to suffer from it. Hermione could only hope Tonks was alright; last thing she heard it had leaked to her colleagues that she had a romantic involvement with a werewolf, and though Hermione didn’t have those narrow-minded views, she knew Tonks wouldn’t be promoted any time soon because of that. She only hoped it wouldn’t get worse then that.

Hermione felt, again, useless, a feeling she hated but had started to become familiar. The only thing she could do, really, was arm herself with as much knowledge as possible. Feeling slightly silly for doing so, she’d started to train a bit with the limited fitness equipment her parents had in the house. It had just been cathartic for all her frustrations this summer.

Not that it was all that bad... Studying was good. It was just that... last year she yearned to get to Harry to find out if he was ok, after what had happened with Sirius. She had wanted to be there for him, regardless if he wanted her there, and she’d found a way. This year, she was yearning to see him even more due to some interesting changes in their relationship, but couldn’t leave her home, any more then he could his. Tomorrow would be his birthday: he was going to be a wizard of age, which meant he was free to use magic whenever he wished to.

He was going to be able to get his Apparating license like Ron, and she would have to wait until Hogwarts allowed a trip to the Ministry, or even Christmas break. He was probably going to Grimmauld Place. He only had to stay a couple of weeks at his aunt’s; the previous summers he had stayed longer than the necessary weeks on order of Dumbledore to get his mother’s protective magic for him as strong as possible, but Hermione doubted very much if Harry was going to stay in Little Whining for very long after he turned seventeen...

Harry... She shouldn’t think about him right now, not if she wanted to get some quick studying done before she went to sleep. There had been some interesting developments in his magical abilities this past year; she’d read a lot about raw magic that was set off when a wizard or witch was experiencing a strong emotion, but nowhere had she found a reference on somehow controlling that pure power. Yet somehow she guessed that was what Harry had been doing on occasion. Even if this troubled her, next to the fact that she knew he was hiding important information from Ron and her, to her annoyance, this wasn’t the main topic of concern in her mind about Harry. Or maybe she should say, her heart didn’t put that first.

That was one of the main topics she wanted to talk to Amélie about. Hermione felt like she was the only one she could talk to about Harry. It was one of those strange gut-feelings. She couldn’t find a reason to not talk to her mother about her relationship with Harry, other then that it made her uncomfortable even thinking about it; and really, they’d kissed a grand total of three times in more then five months time, and had spent more time arguing or ignoring each other then ever before...

The happy cloud she’d been on after she’d seen Harry at the station, was now a vague memory. Reading what was going on in the wizarding world in the Daily Prophet wasn’t enough of a link for her, and she started to doubt everything. Harry’s rare letters to her hadn’t really changed in tone from the friendship letters she’d received from him the previous summers, then again, neither had hers; you never knew who’d manage to intercept the message... And it seemed now the unofficial ‘decision’ for keeping their changed relationship secret, had become final. But it was very disappointing to be cut off completely by that wonderful aching feeling she’d felt so strongly at the start of the summer, at the station...

It seemed like a distant dream, evaporating slowly in the reality of horror, the time of darkness... It was a strange feeling, as if she was existing in a Muggle bubble and the only tie she had to her other family were memories and her books, occasionally a visit from McGonagall, who brought copies of the Daily Prophet, and the letters with Dante. The certainty of her feelings being answered, in regard to Harry, was ebbing, and the intensity was wavering. Sometimes the feelings would hit her like it was only moments ago they’d last seen each other, last touched. Other times she was desperately trying to recall the way it made her feel when he used his intense gaze on her, how wonderful he made her feel, and she just felt more miserable when she realised she missed him like she’d never missed anyone before.

Realising she wasn’t absorbing much of the Arithmency text before her, she closed the book and placed it on her nightstand. Sighing she flicked her light out and resigned herself on not too much sleep during the hot night...

***

Ch 1 Harry's birthday

The morning of Harry’s birthday Hermione had sent a gift with Dante, her family owl. She had been franticly looking for the perfect gift, not knowing what to get him. Of course she’d already bought him some Quidditch stuff she knew he would like, even if the pleasure of owning some worn gloves from one or the other Quidditch player escaped her comprehension. But she wanted at least to get him something extra, more ‘not-just-friendly’. But that was not her speciality. So even though she very much doubted he’d ever use it, she’d bought him a very simple, but elegant and spell-secured diary.

Surprisingly Hermione had managed to drag Amélie all over London the whole day to show her the historic sights and tell her their stories. It kept the fact that it was Harry’s birthday and the fact that she couldn’t be with him today out of her mind, mostly. She’d done some pleading, well just nice asking, to her Head of House to have permission to stroll around London. Consequently *Minerva* -in Muggle clothing- had been introduced to Amélie as an old friend of her parents and was tagging along for their protection in the big bad city.

Hermione had first felt a bit awkward about it; besides the fact that she had to call her professor by her first name, and act towards her as a friend, she didn’t know how McGonagall was going to like strutting through Muggle London with two teenagers. Hermione knew the old witch wasn’t one for wasting time on trivial things... But it had gone marvellously well.

They were now at a little restaurant eating lunch, and Hermione was talking a mile an hour, Amélie listening with rapt attention, and McGonagall trying to fit in with the Muggles. Hermione felt at ease, and was startled when McGonagall’s posture suddenly changed into a defensive one. Turning her head around she followed the older witch’s gaze and saw a balding man in shaggy clothes glaring at them from the other side of the room. She didn’t recognise the man, but that hardly comforted her.

The man got up slowly -Hermione saw that he was quite tall- and stalked out of the door, looking extremely put out. McGonagall relaxed slightly. Amélie was looking confused and not a bit scared, like she wanted to ask what was going on, but nothing on earth could make her utter that question out loud. Hermione wanted to ask whom the man had been, but didn’t dare ask in front of Amélie.

They were supposed to continue their little excursion until late the afternoon, but Minerva claimed to have too much pain in her hip due to old age to walk any further, and asked to go back to the Grangers with the car. Neither of the girls protested and as soon as they arrived back, McGonagall bade them goodbye. Shaking their hands, an electric static snapped when McGonagall’s hands touched Amélie’s.

Not paying it too much attention, McGonagall disappeared, and Hermione was left with Amélie. The girl was looking off in space, like pondering something. Hermione laid her hand on her shoulder, and Amélie’s gaze snapped back to Hermione’s when she jumped from the contact.

“Hey, are you daydreaming?” Hermione asked with a bit of a smile.

Amélie just blushed, and let herself be dragged to Hermione’s room. Hermione looked at her friend, and pondered on the situation. It wasn’t like Amélie minded the silence: usually they’d both find themselves a book to read, and just enjoy each other’s company. Now Hermione knew she wouldn’t have the patience to go through that ritual. She’d exhausted her own patience all summer, already, and it had been too long since Professor McGonagall had given her a tiring session of Animagus-training. She supposed she could always retreat to her parents’ home trainer, but decided this could be the perfect timing to speak with Amélie.

“Hermione?” Hermione’s attention went back to the shy girl in her room, “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

Realising she was making the girl uncomfortable, Hermione quickly reassured her, making her sit on the edge of her bed. She didn’t know why Amélie blushed at that moment, but was too busy making last minute decisions, to care. She wouldn’t tell Amélie about her world, but that left her not so much room to talk about Harry, since the whole story was so connected to magic. Quickly making up her mind she tried to change the originally intended topic of conversation.

“So, do you have a special someone in your life?” Hermione cringed at the way she almost sounded like Lavender and Parvati right now, but she managed to not care too much. Amélie’s reaction, however was, to say the least, rather unexpected.

Paling first, she was reddening slowly. She got up and started mumbling while pacing. Hermione was confused and asked her what was wrong. Amélie looked up with a startled expression of realisation.

“Oh, so you don’t know?”

Hermione frowned: “Know what?”

It came out a bit more snappishly then she intended, but then again Hermione wasn’t one to take it lightly that she didn’t figure out that which was expected of her to figure out. What had been so queer about the question she’d asked? Ok, it wasn’t like her to put someone on the spot like that, and expect them to bare their souls to her, but she didn’t mean ‘girl-talk’ to have such results.

Amélie looked pale again, her hands were even shaking a little. Taking pity on her Hermione told her she could trust her, she could tell her anything, but if she didn’t want to, that was ok, too. Amélie looked at her with pleading eyes, almost afraid to believe her.

Taking a shaky breath Amélie said: “I thought maybe my mother had found out after all, and that that was the reason she’d sent me here, and that maybe she asked you to talk to me about it, or something. Not that I don’t like to be here with you, Hermione! But it’s just... No, mother wouldn’t do that, she’d just have her hysterics to me at home...”

Amélie paused a little while, and with the uncertainty that comes with lack of experience Hermione kept silent. Amélie sat back on the bed keeping a safe distance, while fidgeting nervously. Crookshanks decided to meddle then, when he nestled himself on Amélie’s lap and started purring as to put her more at ease. Her eyes had never seemed so blue before when she looked straight at Hermione before she continued.

“Yes, there is someone, or rather *was*... I liked that person very much, I think maybe I even loved... or maybe I was just in love with *being* in love, I don’t know... It’s just, it was the first time, you know... I mean, not like *that*, just, having someone... But it was just so complicated and confusing, and we had to hide it all the time because it was wrong, and then that person got sick of hiding and... it was just over”

Amélie looked miserable and on the verge of tears. Hermione, feeling dreadfully familiar with part of those emotions, took her hands: “What happened? Why is it over? Did he dump you? Why did you have to hide? Didn’t your mother approve of him?” Seeing as how she was overwhelming the distressed girl she quickly stopped firing questions at her. Hermione mumbled: “Sorry”

“It’s ok...” Amélie whispered, not very convincingly: “It’s just all so confusing...” her lower lip started to tremble.

Hermione did the only thing she could do in this situation: she hugged her. It took a while for the sobbing girl to calm down; in the meantime Hermione put her brain to good use. Puzzling things together, she got that sneaky suspicion. Normally this would be the time to head to the library and research the possibility to find a certain answer, but that particular tactic wouldn’t help here...

When Amélie had calmed down a bit, Hermione disentangled from the hug: “Amélie... What was her name?”

The French girl stiffened, looking at Hermione like a deer caught in headlights. But apparently she saw in Hermione’s eyes the assurance she needed to continue: “Sophie”

It was barely a whisper, but all the confirmation Hermione needed. Poor Amélie, she had grown up in a strict catholic household, and Hermione would bet a thousand galleons it wouldn’t be accepted by her mother to be ‘abnormal’. In that regard she could also relate. Hermione knew how it was to live a life not feeling like everyone else, and then discovering the reason is because you *aren’t* like everyone else. Ok, in most ways it was hardly comparable, but that didn’t mean she was going to let such a little thing bother her about Amélie: she was still the same girl, confused and hurt, unsure and lacking of self-confidence, and with a great burden to go with it. Frankly Hermione was even surprised she’d already admitted her sexual nature and had been through a relationship... She wouldn’t have found it peculiar for her to have waited and waited, scared of acting on her feelings...

When Amélie calmed down enough, the two girls spent their time talking softly. Amélie seemed so relieved Hermione wasn’t disgusted with her, and Hermione saw the other girl speaking more and more freely to her, though her composure was still fragile, and some tears did flow until it was time for dinner...

***

Hermione lay in her bed thinking about the events of today. It hadn’t only been the fact that she couldn’t go to Harry that day that had bugged her, but the idea that something was to happen, like last year with those poor babies, that Voldemort had something up his sleeve for today, was weighing on her. Though the trip to London and the Amélie’s confession followed by a deep conversation, had successfully kept it out of her mind, for a while anyway...

She had listened to Amélie talking about how she’d found out she had feelings for this new student at her school back in France. The whole angsty period before and after the first kiss, the first ‘I love you’s, the hiding, in fear of disproval, and then the end, when it doesn’t seem worth fighting for anymore, at least for one of them. Amélie’s first heartbreak... Hermione at first had been able to listen to the story without feeling the dread that maybe that would happen to her and Harry, too... Look at Tonks and Lupin, they hadn’t managed to keep it secret in the end... And now they were facing the consequences anyway...

But it was different for them, wasn’t it? They loved each other, and for the rest of the world they just pretended to be nothing more then friends to avoid having everything written about in the wizarding papers. And of course, a little bit because Voldemort could use... Well, he would do so even when she was just a friend, wouldn’t he? To Harry it wouldn’t exactly matter, best friend or girlfriend, he still cared very much, but maybe Voldemort didn’t see it that way? So maybe it was for the best to keep things hidden... It wasn’t like she needed Harry to give her a daily declaration of love, or having him send her roses all of the sudden, as long as she was sure he returned her feelings, she could live with pretending, couldn’t she?

She was frantically counting the seconds until midnight, fearing what would come before Harry’s birthday came to an end. Trying to distract herself, she imagined what Harry would be up to right now, what he had been doing to celebrate being able to do magic all the time. She hoped he didn’t curse his relatives, since he could still get in trouble with performing magic in front of Muggles.

Her digital clock showed 23.49, her eyes were drooping; she really should stop being paranoid... Sleep is good...

‘CRASH’

Glass shattering had Hermione up in no time. Judging the noise having originated from the kitchen, she got up as quietly as possible, reaching for her wand... When she went to open her door carefully, she froze, hearing footsteps bounding on the stairs. They were headed downstairs? Her parents! Don’t panic, yet, Hermione, they’re under the Fidelius, they’re safe.

The Gryffindor in her was hardly satisfied with that and she quickly followed. She was only halfway the stairs when she heard voices. “... put down...” “... Charles...” “What... ?” “... rifle...”

Especially the last word rang in her ears. Charles, the neighbour? What was he doing here at this hour? With a gun? Panic invaded her system when she ran for the kitchen. Her worst nightmare happened when she heard a gunshot, so loud an explosion that her heart seemed to stop beating in fright. The scream that followed was sure to haunt her for years to follow. Rounding the door opening she saw her father on the floor, his pyjama shirt soaked red, her mother’s hands pressing on his side. She had the fleeting memory of trying to stop the flow of blood out of the wound of wolf-Remus.

Tearing her eyes away from the horror when she heard a metallic click, she saw her neighbour Charles, with a strange gleam in his eyes pointing an ancient looking rifle at her mother. In despair Hermione looked on, sprinting to stand in front of her mother in protection, but everything seemed to go so fast, while she was moving too slowly!

She saw the finger triggering the release of a bullet out of the rifle: ‘CLICK’ The sound echoed in her brain, relief gripped her when she realised there weren’t any bullets left. Charles looked confused at his weapon, Hermione unable to move anymore. Her mother was talking to her father behind her, telling him to hang on. During Hermione’s indecisiveness Charles had walked towards the long kitchen knifes. Hermione felt like she was starring in a Muggle horror movie.

Charles started to speak in a monotone, advancing on her with the drawn knife: “Kill Grangers, kill Mudbloods...” At that last word Hermione suddenly remembered her wand. Whipping it out, she stunned him without thinking twice.

Behind her she heard someone applauding. Turning around so fast her head hurt slightly she saw the man who wouldn’t leave her nightmares: Dolohov.

“Quite impressive, little Mudblood! Don’t have any respect for the laws protecting Muggles? My, my...”

His sarcastic comment cut through her, but she stood before him with her wand drawn. The only reason she didn’t want to risk firing the first spell, was because he too had his wand drawn, and she wanted to avoid duelling with him as long as possible, preferably until the guards around her house alerted the rest and came to her rescue.

“How did you escape?” Hermione tried to ignore her mother’s cries and her father’s rasped breathing.

“I see what you’re thinking, dirty one. You’re buying time. You believe they’re coming to save you, because of the good old reliable wards” his cold voice chilled her to the bone, so did his smirk, “Let me tell you a little story. Buy all the time you want. They’re all too busy with your Boy Wonder at the moment. Your precious guard for tonight is out, and you’re all alone...” Dolohov cackled like evil men like to do.

“Why didn’t you join them? Why come bother little ol’ me?” Hermione tried to squash her fear for Harry, and concentrate on what was happening in front of her. And behind her: she was glad her mother had the sense of staying out of it, even if it felt so strange to stand in her kitchen, trying to protect her parents and herself, instead of her parents protecting her.

“Not happy to see me again, my mudblood? And here I was hoping you were waiting for me to re-enter your unworthy, too long life. Well, I guess I could always tell you, since you seem so eager to know... My Lord has granted me the pleasure of taking care of you. He doesn’t send his regards, but hopes you won’t enjoy it long and painfully. I see you’ve already encountered phase one of my plans,” Looking at Charles, his smirk grew wider, “Tell me? Are they dead?”

Dolohov ignored Hermione’s desperate glare full of hatred and continued without pause.

“No matter... Now, I have been thinking, what would my unworthy one prefer? I heard you already had the experience of a good nice Crucio!, so I won’t be able to be your first... which is a real shame... But oh, well, it *is* a classic”

Faster then Hermione could react he yelled the pain-curse, and she only managed to dodge it by a hair. The fabric of her nightshirt was singed. Sweat seemed to burst from her skin painfully when she escaped the pain only narrowly. Dolohov on the other hand didn’t seem perturbed in the least.

“No? Don’t want to play with that one? I’m sure we’ll find one we’ll both agree on. I have all the time and a lot more possibilities to show you. Let’s begin, shall we”

That was all the warning she got when he started pelting curse after curse at her, most of which she was able to dodge, and some block with a protection shield, or, when she was lucky, a counter-curse. Hermione had the distinct impression he was trying to tire her, that the real torture was yet to come, and the tiring bit was working, too. She started relying more on her protective magic, rather then dodge, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop the real dark curses he would choose to send her way, when he was ready to do so. He was like a cat, playing with the mouse before mealtime.

Just as suddenly as it started Dolohov stopped the attack. It had probably been only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Hermione. All air of sarcasm was gone now; he looked menacingly at her. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something cruel no doubt, but was stopped by an umbrella. Hermione blinked; Dolohov slumped, and revealed a trembling Amélie standing behind him, clutching the umbrella in question desperately. Avoiding Amélie’s gaze Hermione bound Dolohov as well as she could, took his wand away, and sent a few stunners his way, just to be sure. She didn’t want any surprises anymore.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard another shriek from her mother. Turning around, she saw Charles had gotten up again, and was stabbing the long kitchen knife at her mother, who was deflecting it with her now very bloody arm. Sending another stunner at Charles, she tried to reach her mother’s side as quickly as possible. Her mother was whimpering, and her father was unconsciously, but still breathing.

Amélie said in a monotonous voice: “Sorry it took a while, I sent Dante to McGonagall”

Hermione looked at her sharply: “How did you know to do that? How did you know her name? And how did you find Dante?” The owl was kept secret from other Muggles.

Amélie looked at her, scared out of her mind: “I don’t know, sometimes... I just *know* things... Hermione?... Are you a sorceress or something?”

Hermione just looked away, she didn’t have time to deal with this now. She saw Amélie fumble with the phone, undoubtedly calling an ambulance. Muggles? Hermione didn’t have the strength left to deal with these thoughts, and didn’t protest. If no one of the magical world had turned up around now, then there was a good chance they wouldn’t be coming in time.

Vaguely Hermione heard Amélie call her name. Looking up she saw the other girl shakily holding out the phone for her: “I dialled the emergency speed button...” The emergency? What?

Her mother answered painfully: “Dumbledore set it up for us, if we’d ever get in trouble when you were at school... I can’t believe we forgot to tell you”

Hermione took the phone from Amélie: “Who made that noise? This better not be some damn joke! Show yourselves!”

“Tonks!” Hermione almost wept from joy.

“Hermione,” the voice got from annoyed to worried in a moment, “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“Tonks, please come at my house, please, you have to come! Dolohov was here, and... Tonks?”

A ‘Plop’ made Amélie squeal

“I’m here, girl,” a voice sounded from behind her, “Holy Shit! Hermione, you should’ve told me there was another Muggle here! Now I’m going to be in so much trouble...”

Hermione couldn’t believe Tonks was worrying over that, when her parents were suffering, until she realised Tonks couldn’t see her parents...

“Tonks, this is Jack Granger, and this is Helen Guillard, you have to help them!”

The pink-haired Tonks dived in her Auror’s potions kit, the second her gaze was fixed on where the now for her visible Muggles lay. Hermione knew these medical attentions were only temporary, since Tonks wasn’t a Healer, but it would buy them some more time. Hermione couldn’t believe they could be as stupid as to believe the Fidelius charm was going to solve all troubles, that her parents couldn’t be anything but completely safe...

But this wasn’t the time to wonder about that. Tonks was muttering something, and suddenly gripped Hermione’s arms: “Listen to me carefully... you performed magic, as an underaged? Did a Ministry owl come?”

Hermione was confused, what did that have to do with anything, right now? They had to help her mother and father! Why were they not doing something? Her parents were Muggles, so they couldn’t go to St-Mungo’s, and they couldn’t lose unnecessary time! Suddenly something in her brain clicked.

“No, he must have put some kind of barrier; he... Dolohov said he had all the time in the world, and that... Oh, Heavens, Harry!” Hermione felt again a surge of panic, keeping the adrenalin pumping in her veins. Tonks just shook her head and gripped her harder.

“Hermione, listen to me! Harry’s fine! We aren’t! We have to get out of here! Pack as much as you need, as quickly as possible. I’ll make a Portkey, and we’ll take your folks up to Headquarters,” Tonks seemed to ponder her decision, finally seeming fully resolved, “Yes, it’s the only way...” Pushing Hermione in the direction of the stairs, she mumbled: “I’m so getting in trouble for this, but I’m done caring...”

With that Hermione went upstairs, throwing a last quick look at her parents. At least they seemed a little better with Tonks’ potions. Running up the stairs, she dragged Amélie with her. Something about Amélie telling her she somehow knew to get Dante to contact McGonagall made some bells ring at the back of her head. Muggle or not, Amélie *was* accompanying her to Grimmauld. Hermione’d briefly considered maybe Amélie was some kind of spy, or a Polyjuiced person, or anything, but she’d dismissed the idea almost as soon as she got it. It didn’t seem to fit, and they could figure it out later anyway. Right now she wasn’t letting the girl out of her sight.

Hermione didn’t have to drag Amélie long, while she prepared her trunk for Hogwarts, making sure there weren’t any magical objects left, she went to her parents’ room, and quickly shrank all of their things into one suitcase. Faintly she heard sirens draw nearer. The gunshot! Other neighbours must have heard it and called the police!

Quickly she stumbled downstairs, Amélie on her heals. Tonks just closed the kitchen door, Charlie was missing. Seeing Hermione’s questioning glance she said: “Memory charm. Took him off the Imperius first, but he should be fine” Hermione couldn’t muster a lot of sympathy for the man right now...

The sirens were getting louder, and Tonks pushed a spoon in Hermione’s hands: “You know the procedure with Muggles and the house, right?” At Hermione’s nod, Tonks turned to Dolohov’s limp body and growled: “I’m gonna take care of this one. Strayed from his cage, did he?”

Hermione handed Tonks’ the wand he’d used. On closer inspection of the wand, Tonks growled even more, but there wasn’t time to explain why... Policemen were already at the door. Hermione turned to Amélie, who looked scared, but resolved. The Fidelius on Grimmauld Place wasn’t a barrier for Muggles, it was the older illusion charm surrounding the house that kept them from seeing it. Since her parents had already been there, there weren’t any problems there, but for Amélie...

“Amélie, listen to me, this is very important. When I tell you to touch this spoon, I want you to believe, in every fibre of your being that you will land in an existing house. It will be there and you will believe it’s there, this is very important, do you understand?”

At first the French girl seemed hesitant, but with the increasing ruckus the policemen were making outside, she seemed to get her act together. Positioning her parents, so that everyone could hold on to the spoon, Hermione activated the Portkey under the watchful eye of Tonks.

The pull on her navel lurched her towards her destiny...

***

Ch 2 Grimmauld Place, again

The world of colours slowly dissipated. Hermione fell on her knees in the middle of the Headquarters’ kitchen. She knew Tonks was going to be in trouble for allowing this, and not only with the Order. Only Dumbledore and Harry had the authority to allow anyone new to the house. And the Ministry... Tonks wasn’t to harbour all the witnesses to a safe place... She was to bring them in to the Ministry for questioning...

Hermione didn’t want to waste energy worrying over how Tonks was going to solve this mess, and she didn’t even want to start thinking about how Dolohov had reached her house... There was another question pushing in her mind, a sensation of having forgotten something... Right now she pushed all those questions out of her head and concentrated on the present situation.

Looking around she didn’t see any changes in the kitchen since the last time she’d been here, apart from the fact that the Christmas decorations had been taken down. The kitchen was deserted, and Hermione started to worry about that. What was happening with Harry? Had Dolohov not lied about an attack on the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’?

“HELLO! Anyone still here?” Hermione had long stopped caring if she sounded desperate. “Winky! I know you have to be here somewhere! Please, Winky!”

A soft plop alerted Hermione of the arrival of the House-Elf.

“Oh, is you...” Winky had never really taken to Hermione, but Harry, as master of the house, had, despite Hermione’s pleas, ordered Winky to do as Hermione asked. Winky’s big eyes swivelled to her parents and then to Amélie: “More Muggles!!! Is not right! Missie has no right to bring impures in! No right at all!”

Hermione didn’t respond to the insults but put her principles of SPEW aside for a little moment.

“Listen to me, Winky! You’re going to tell me who else is still here, then you’re going to prepare the room for my parents, like at Christmas!”

Terribly put off, Winky answered: “Only Missies Red and Looney is here, all others has gone on busy-ness... Winky does not know where”

“Ginny’s here? Where is she?”

Winky frowned and turned up her nose: “In cellar”

Before Hermione could ask more questions the Elf disappeared, hopefully to arrange the room for her parents. Looking over, she saw her mother hunching over her father, cradling her own arm. Amélie was staring with huge eyes at the place where Winky had just disappeared. Hermione frantically thought of something to help her parents with; Ginny must know where all the apothecary tools were...

“Amélie? You ok? I’m just going to get Ginny, you, please stay here?”

Amélie just nodded her head vigorously, rooted on the spot she landed after the portkey trip... Hermione practically flew down the stairs, crept hurriedly through the secret passage, not caring she hurt her knees.

“Ginny!” Whatever Hermione had wanted to shout next, died on her lips. Ginny was in only her nightshirt, her robe discarded on the ground; tears and sweat were pouring down her face, because she was hitting Harry’s punchball like a maniac...

The redhead witch was startled; Ginny started wiping her tears quickly away: “Hermione?”

Hermione suppressed the urge to ask what was wrong; there would be time later... Right now she had to tend to her parents...

“Ginny, I don’t know what happened here, but we were attacked; my parents...”

Before Hermione could continue, she heard a scream from the kitchen... Amélie! Hermione ran up the stairs, only vaguely aware that Ginny was following. The sight that greeted her in the kitchen could have been hilarious if it would have happened at any other time. Snape had apparently just come in, and was threatening Amélie with his wand, and the Muggle girl was still clutching the umbrella she’d used to knock out Dolohov and pointing it back at the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape!”

“Stand back, Weasley, Granger! The house has been compromised!”

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Moving to stand in front of the French girl: “Professor! This is a relative of mine! She was staying at our house when we were attacked by Dolohov, my parents were hurt badly...” Hermione was looking around, realising something; panicking she demanded: “Where are my parents?”

A dreamy voice answered from the door: “Winky brought them upstairs. Gave me this to put away...” Luna entered carrying the bloody bandages Tonks had used to help her parents. As usual she was stoic, not caring about the total chaos around her... She, too was still wearing her sleep-attire: an orange pyjama from the Chudley Canons... Luna calmly walked up to the sink after putting the bandages into the bin, and rinsed her hands.

On the way she brushed past Amélie. A glassy look passed on the Muggle’s expression, and she gasped: “Hermione, your father!”

Hermione, not stopping to think about what Amélie meant exactly or how she knew, turned to her hated Professor: “Professor, please, I know you hate Muggles. But, please, you must help them...”

Snape curled his upper-lip in disgust: “I *must* certainly not. You already compromised all of our situations by bringing *that* in here (he pointed at Amélie) Now you want me to...”

He didn’t get to finish; something had snapped inside of Hermione. Whipping her wand under the crooked nose of the greasy git she hissed: “You are going to help my parents, or I’m going to inform Draco Malfoy personally that you’re having a secret affair with a Muggle woman and that you love her dearly... I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to bet Voldemort will refrain from punishing you before he believes it untrue...”

Snape glared down at her after shivering violently at his Dark Lord’s name, then glanced around briefly. Hermione could only imagine even a cold bastard as Snape couldn’t stay indifferent with four sixteen-year-old girls in their nightclothes looking at him expectantly, but he managed to just growl and scowl before stomping out of the kitchen whirling his black robes... The girls all followed him. In any other situation it would be ‘odd’, to see an older man proceeding four younger girls up the stairs to a bedroom, but Hermione’s thoughts had come to a sort of an impasse. She only allowed herself to think about her parents for the moment, she’d have time to find out what had been happening here, and how she was going to tell Amélie about all that had been happening...

They’d arrived in the room. After Hermione quickly gave up the secret of her parents identity, they were all able to the two Muggles in severe pain. Snape refused to touch her parents and made the girls examine them. He told Hermione which potions to give them and advised her to give them a sleeping draught... Before Hermione could ask him where she had to find the potions, he’d already gone swirling from the room, yelling over his shoulder:

“You better come find me when you’re done and explain this situation to me, Granger!”

Perplexed at his ruthlessness she heard Ginny murmur she and Luna knew where the house-apothecary was and would get the needed potions for her... Vaguely she saw the two younger witches leave the room. Hurrying to the side of her mother, she asked shakily: “Are you all right?”

“I should be the one asking you, honey... I’m supposed to be the adult here, protecting you! Hermione, honey, you were so strong. I don’t know if I ever felt so proud of you, you can’t imagine...”

Emotions were high and she held her mother. Maybe it looked like Hermione’s parents were just defenceless Muggles, but they were the strong ones. They had supported her all the way, allowing her to go to Hogwarts, even when it broke their hearts to let their only daughter go to a boarding school. They had never complained about her weirdness, the long separations, the missed vacations abroad when Voldemort was back in the picture... And most of all, right now, her mother had all the reasons to blame Hermione for her husband’s condition, and her pain, but she just sat there apologizing of not being able to protect Hermione, telling Hermione she made her proud... Hermione had never realised so strongly that they weren’t just Muggles, unable to understand her completely, they were her parents, the ones who’d raised her, who’d stood by the sidelines encouraging her, no matter what... She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost them...

The hug was interrupted by Ginny and Luna coming back. They attended to Hermione’s father first. He seemed to have lost a lot of blood, but hopefully with the potions he would recover from that. Hermione knew that this wasn’t really allowed. They needed special Ministry permission forms for administrating magical healing methods to Muggles, but she had gone well past caring about *that*... Soon, both her parents had clean bandages, and had been given sleeping draught, though her father hadn’t regained consciousness yet, it would help him relax...

Hermione was grateful for the help of the two younger witches; they had known better then her how to work with the bandages and magical potions. Leaving the room of her parents she felt the dread come back to her tenfold. She didn’t give a Sickle about what Snape had ordered, and since Amélie didn’t seem in a hurry to demand explanations she turned to Ginny.

“What’s happening? You’re all alone here? Where’s everyone?”

Ginny’s eyes clouded over, but it was Luna who answered: “Ron had apparated to Harry’s, like he’s been doing all summer at least once a week. But this time it was for his birthday. He’d promised Mrs. Weasley he wouldn’t be back too late in the evening, with or without Harry... But then he never showed, and then there were Order members suddenly swarming the house, only to get to Harry’s all at once. Tonks stayed here, but she left, too. And now we have Snape checking in on us...”

Hermione felt a cold feeling creeping in her bones... This couldn’t be happening! How? What *was* happening? An absurd thought stuck with her: Ron had been visiting Harry regularly over the summer? She didn’t know how to feel about that. Why hadn’t either of them written her about that? And had it been so bad, that even the guards around *her* house had had to join?

Ginny brought her out of her reverie: “Hermione, what happened at your house? You were protected, weren’t you? And with the Fidelius? You couldn’t have betrayed your parents?”

Hermione started telling the story, trying to be as brief as possible, while they moved to the girls’ bedroom. Hermione was glad to see that there had been placed an extra bed for Luna, so that she’d still have hers. Of course, Amélie would have to crash somewhere too... Amélie!

Voicing her thoughts, Luna asked the French girl, eying her interestedly: “So who are you? Are you a Muggle?”

Hermione quickly introduced them all, and suggested they’d first take the time to explain Amélie about everything. Ginny and Luna were surprised to learn Amélie hadn’t even known about Hermione being a witch before tonight. Amélie, from her side, seemed to have forgotten her own shyness, and asked many questions. It seemed to work for all of them. It was clear to Hermione Ginny was using the explanations about the wizarding world for the same mind-occupying reason. She wasn’t sure about Luna, you never could tell with her, but Hermione expected her to be as worried as the rest of them...

“So it wasn’t the first time you were faced with that evil wizard, Dolohov? And there are more of them? And one of them was killed by his own son, Malfoy, did you say? How awful! That was last year at your school? Do you think I’d be able to see that castle Hogwarts, too, if I really believed it?”

Hermione answered: “It’s not that easy, Amélie. In fact I’m still surprised you got into the house in the first place... But I suppose with the Portkey, that helped transferring the magic interference to this place, and...”

Ginny interrupted Hermione’s developing theory: “Please, Hermione, she got here, that’s what’s important. But, well, do you think she’s going to get to stay? I mean, maybe she’ll have to get a Memory Charm performed?”

Amélie looked up startled: “A memory charm? What’s that?”

Hermione quickly explained the procedure but reassured her relative as soon, saying that if Amélie was going to keep secret what she’d seen of this world, that there shouldn’t be a problem...

Luna suddenly asked: “You’re a Sentireader, aren’t you?”

Hermione tried to snap convincingly: “Don’t be ridiculous!” but it came out a lot less strong then she intended... Hermione didn’t believe in legends and myths, even if she’d seen enough in her life to know to keep an open mind. But Sentireaders were on the same level as were Luna’s Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. By touch Sentireaders were said to absorb *something* from other persons, but what exactly was a question of debate.

“What’s a Sentireader?” Amélie asked confused.

Ginny answered, shrugging: “It’s supposed to be a myth about some kind of being that extracts life force, or magical energy, or whatever, from other people. But don’t mind those two. Hermione only believes what she can see, and what’s been proven; Luna just believes...”

Amélie pondered for a minute, while Hermione tried to form a solid case as to why there could be no such thing as Sentireaders. Amélie spoke up: “So it would be like Rogue of the X-men, except I get to know stuff and feel stuff of the ones I touched? Like when I shook Minerva’s hand, I felt she was still anxious about the man in that bistro. I’ve always felt like some things I just knew, or like I could’ve predicted some things. I just thought it was because I’m shy and I like to observe people, that I got to see some things more clearly then when you’re in the middle. Because it never works for *me*, you know, I completely suck at knowing the right thing to say in most situations...”

Ignoring her babblings, Hermione decided to extract at least one point from the list of possibilities of being a Sentireader: “Here Amélie, hold this!” Trusting her wand in the girl’s hands she took her other hand with the both of her own: “Feel up to try some spell?”

Hermione from her side didn’t feel any power flowing, and indeed Amélie didn’t succeed. Ginny and Luna tried with their wands, too. After a quarter of an hour neither of them had any success in even making a little spark form at the top of the wand when Amélie was holding it...

That’s when Hermione noticed it was already morning... Light started to creep from behind the heavy curtains, but she didn’t feel tired in the least... Exhausted, yes, but not tired... Interrupting the ‘cosy pyjama party’ in the girls’ bedroom, the door blasted open. Minerva McGonagall strode into the room, looking very uncharacteristically in disarray.

“Hermione! Amélie! Thank Goddess”

Hermione was surprised to get engulfed into a brief hug from her Head of House... She was mumbling something about apologising and her fault and knowing something like this could happen... Needless to say the three Hogwarts witches were numb from surprise at the otherwise very composed Deputy Mistress.

Hermione recovered quickly enough and demanded to know what had happened, soon Ginny and Luna were also badgering the older witch. McGonagall, however, only told them what they already knew: there had been an emergency call to all Order members, and they’d left Hermione’s house to be guarded by only one of their operatives. McGonagall had received the owl Amélie sent, just at the end of whatever was happening at Harry’s place. She’d rushed over to Hermione’s, just to find the guard dead and the house unwarded and empty, save for Muggle police men. She’d rushed to the Grimmauld Place to alert everyone, but had come upon Snape... He’d told her about Hermione bringing in another Muggle.

After the older witch’s brief explication and evasiveness about what had happened to the others, Hermione was made to tell what had happened at her place. When she was relating how Tonks had made them pack and leave, she remembered something.

“Crookshanks! I left him there! How could I have forgotten him!” Crookshanks had saved her life last year, and all she could do to repay him was leave him behind?

McGonagall made the swift promise to go look for the ginger cat; she was to go inspect how the wards had been brought down, anyway... Before the older witch left the room, she turned abruptly on her heels.

“How did you get in here, Amélie? You just concentrated on imagining something to be real?” At seeing the French girl nod, McGonagall frowned.

Luna piped up: “It’s ok, Professor. It’s because she’s a Sentireader!”

The Gryffindor Head of House shot a bewildered look at the Ravenclaw. Trying to conceal her blatant disbelief, she exited the room, ordering the girls to stay in the room until breakfast was called.

As soon as the door fell closed, Ginny muttered under her breath: “Like hell we’re going to stay into this room! It’s bad enough I have to stay cooped up in the house all summer...”

But moving to the door only revealed that the door had been locked magically. It wasn’t hard to unlock it with a charm, but the fact was that none of them were allowed to use magic... Amélie looked scared, and Ginny downright furious, Luna, well... She was just looking at the door dreamily.

Hermione tried to calm them down: “Well we can start with cleaning up, and getting dressed” In her mind she added: “And if the door hasn’t been unlocked by then, we’ll just have to use drastic measures...”

As it turned out, the door was still locked when they were all freshened up and fully clothed. Pacing like caged animals, they started to hear voices and clattering in the halls. The Order members were returning! Ginny and Hermione shared one look and Hermione took out her wand. The hell with a warning from the Ministry! “Alohamora!”

Sprinting into the hallway, they heard Harry’s voice. Hermione shivered at how tired he sounded, almost defeated...

“Just leave him alone, Bill, leave him alone...”

“Bill!” Ginny sprinted down the stairs to hug her eldest brother: “Where’s the rest? ... Harry?”

Harry was momentarily incapable of speech since he couldn’t take a deep enough breath with Hermione’s arms surrounding him tightly. Looking up in his eyes, she saw the familiar pain. She couldn’t understand why life (she didn’t believe in fates) would place such a constant burden on him. Moreover, this was not how she’d hoped of reuniting with him, though she was aware that he didn’t let go of her yet, even if no one knew of the turn of events that had taken place on the train ride a little more than a month ago.

Bill and Harry’s silence, while the two other girls were descending was unsettling, what had happened to the Weasley’s? And to the other members of the Order? Ginny’s posture stiffened, she looked caught in inner panic.

Hermione looked back at Harry, the comfort and extreme relief of having him in her arms safe and sound was ebbing away a little looking at his haunted stare. Luna voiced the question she was unable to get past her own throat.

“Where’s Ronald?”

The question was rendered moot when they heard a crash followed by a pain filled cry from inside the boys’ bedroom. Though the sound was so foreign and downright scaring, the voice from which it had originated was unmistakably Ron’s...

This time Hermione did speak up, demanding: “What happened? If no one’s going to tell me soon,...”

Both boys, no... men... looked tired and pained, but couldn’t deny the girls. Bill looked down, straight into his baby sister’s eyes: “It’s mum...”

***

Ch 3 Amélie, who are you

Hermione felt her insides turn icy; you could’ve heard a pin drop after Ginny’s gasp. No, this can’t be happening: first her parents, now Mrs. Weasley... Is she ok, or is she... Oh Harry, how was he going to cope with this also? After loosing Sirius, Hermione wasn’t sure he could deal with loosing the woman who’d treated him as her long-lost son!

The tension was almost too much to bear. Any moment now *someone* was bound to talk... either the boys would start explaining or the girls would plead, threaten, beg for information...

“Miss Granger!”

Holy cricket! Jumping a foot into the air, she felt Harry’s arm tighten around her and Amélie squeal in the background. Dumbledore had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, glaring at her twinkle-free. She’d only seen him like this a few times before... Gulping she looked at him questioningly.

His gaze had moved to Amélie. He spoke importantly: “Come with me”

There was no doubt in her mind that he was speaking to her and Amélie. Glancing quickly at Harry she hoped to find an answer in his expression, but was surprised when she saw him glaring at Amélie, too.

The younger Muggle, in the mean time, seemed to have lost whatever little spontaneously found self-confidence from moments before. Keeping her gaze to the ground, her shoulders slumped, she walked quickly towards the old wizard, not daring to stand up for herself. Hermione found herself frowning and wanting to protest, but was led by Harry’s arm in a way that left no other option as to follow Amélie and her Headmaster.

Confused Hermione saw that they were heading towards the drawing room. Tonks was already there, together with McGonagall. Both older witches stood rigidly at the sight of Dumbledore entering. As soon as the door was shut Harry rounded on Amélie, drawing his wand:

“Who are you? Who do you work for?”

Amélie looked like the proverbial deer, caught in headlights. Scared out of her wits she looked into Harry’s eyes. Hermione knew how intense his stare was, especially when he was as angry as this. But what was going on? Anger at the unjust treatment Harry was giving Amélie she stood for her:

“Harry! What’s going on? I know she’s a Muggle, and she’s not supposed to be here, but she was in danger! We had to do some quick thinking and I’m sorry I brought her here...”

“She’s not a Muggle, Miss Granger”

Dumbledore might as well have shouted, Hermione felt like slapped in the face.

“Wha...”

Turning to look at Amélie, she saw terror in those blue eyes. But, Amélie couldn’t have betrayed her, did she? She was one of her only real childhood friends... They knew each other like sisters, almost. Well, as close as sisters as you could get if you saw the other less then a few weeks a year, tops...

Feeling Harry grab her shoulder and yanking her away from Amélie, Hermione’s thoughts jumbled over each other in rapid succession.

“No, she can’t be a witch, we all gave her our wands to try, and nothing happened...”

Harry spat: “She sends off Dark Magic, can’t you feel it?”

Hermione shook her head dumbly; no, this isn’t happening. But she trusted Harry beyond everything; he wouldn’t say this if he weren’t sure. Amélie, in the mean time was looking like she was about to be slaughtered any moment. In a quivering voice she asked:

“Hermione? What does this mean? What’s going on?”

McGonagall spoke now for the first time, they’d entered the room: “Miss Serkent, how did you know how to send Dante?”

Amélie looked embarrassed: “I... I don’t kn-know, Ms Mine-nerva. I... L-luna said I wa-was a Sentireader or something? I... I don’t know... I just sometimes... know s-stuff.”

Harry snorted at that, which caused Hermione to look at him sharply.

Harry: “What? You don’t even believe in Divination!”

“Aren’t you supposed to know whether she’s lying or not, Harry Potter! Do your Le... thing!” Realising she had almost spoken out of line in front of McGonagall and Tonks, Hermione had no clue as to whether or not they knew Harry practised a bit of Legilimency.

“She’s definitely hiding something!” Harry answered stubbornly.

Dumbledore, who had been calm but eerily twinkle-free for the whole time, spoke: “Miss Granger does have a point, there... However, this does nothing to undo the fact that the house’s wards recognised her as a witch, and that she does have an aura of Dark Magic about her. We must proceed with carefulness, we cannot just look into her mind unprepared...”

Hermione couldn’t believe that, there had to be another explanation. There had to be some logic to this...

Amélie finally found the courage to speak up: “But I’m not a witch! I didn’t even know about Hermione until today! Please, you have to believe me? Hermione, please, I’m telling the truth!” Tears streaming down her cheeks now.

Harry pulled Hermione behind him: “Don’t you dare speak to her! You’ve betrayed her trust enough already!”

“Harry! What’s gotten into you! Leave her alone! She’s terrified as it is!”

“But she’s lying, she’s just using you, don’t you see! She could be a spy for Voldemort!”

Tonks chose this moment to step into the conversation: “I know I’m kinda responsible for this mess, and all... but, can I just say: if that’s supposed to be a spy, then I’m Santa! Come on! She breaks down at the first sign of potential discovery, she gives herself away by knowing stuff only a witch is supposed to know... If you ask me, there’s only one way to know for sure...”

Dumbledore interrupted again: “Yes, Minerva, would you be so kind as to get Severus and tell him to bring his speciality. Nymphadora, I’ll talk to you later...”

With these instructions, both older witches left the room. Dumbledore sat down on the biggest chair in the room and transfigured three identical separate chairs out of the large couch for the youths. Amélie’s eyes almost popped out at the sight of the practical magic.

Dumbledore was watching Amélie like a hawk. Gesturing for the teenagers to take a seat, Hermione was very uncertain about what was to come next. Watching Amélie sit down hesitantly, looking as if she expected the chair to fall through any moment, something clicked in her mind.

“What happened to Mrs. Weasley? Is she all right?”

Harry’s posture stiffened and Dumbledore’s eyes conveyed their sadness to Hermione. But it was Amélie who answered: “She’s in a coma”

Hermione had stopped trying to make sense of Amélie’s blurt-outs. Maybe after she’d dealt with today’s happenings, she would feel up to research every possibility, but her brain was close to melt-down as it was... Dumbledore’s expression became one of extreme curiosity, whereas Harry still scowled...

Before anyone could respond vocally however, Snape strode into the room dramatically...

“Headmaster” bowing his head shortly to the old wizard, he proceeded to sneer at the rest of the company... McGonagall trailed after him. Snape took out a vial with a clear substance in it. Hermione jumped up:

“Veritasserum! But...”

Dumbledore, however, chose to ignore Hermione, as did Harry when she looked at him for help. Dumbledore spoke soothingly to Amélie:

“Miss Serkent? What we have here is a very strong potion. It will do nothing to harm you, it will just enable us to ask you questions, and you won’t be able to give us untrue answers. Do you understand?”

Amélie looked at him carefully: “It won’t be painful? And you won’t ask embarrassing questions?”

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly: “I won’t, and if you’re really not comfortable I could send some people away...”

Amélie shook her head rapidly: “I want Hermione with me!”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, and gestured for Snape to hand her the vial. Taking a shuddering breath, Amélie followed the instructions and let only one drop fall on her tongue. That would only last half an hour, and they could still administer more, if they suspected she was able to fight the effects... Slumping in the chair her eyes glanced over. The room was heavy with respectful silence, as it was a courtroom.

Dumbledore asked the first question: “What is your name?”

“Amélie Sérana Serkent” Amélie’s voice sounded extremely monotonous.

“What are your parents’ names?”

“My mother is Sérisé Maligna Serkent and my stepfather is Grégoire Paul Granger, Hermione’s father’s cousin”

“You do not know your real father?”

“No, my mother was raped”

Hermione was shocked, even she didn’t know this. Yes, she knew Amélie’s mother had already been pregnant by the time her parents got married, but she always assumed... Well, let’s just say, Hermione didn’t know this...

“Are you a witch?”

“No”

“Have you ever made something happen?”

“Not that I know of”

“How did you know about Mrs. Weasley?”

“I don’t know, sometimes information pops into my head and it’s true. It’s always a little more frequent when I’m visiting Hermione, but it’s never been as much as today. Most of the times I’m in close proximity of the people who already know what I’m about to receive, and sometimes I feel it come into me when I touch someone, but it isn’t until later that I *know*. It’s like I can read minds, but without meaning to; maybe like receiving thoughts and feelings? I don’t know. But I think Mr. Dumbledore knows...”

“Do you know anything about Voldemort?”

“Yes, Hermione, Ginny and Luna talked to me about him. He’s supposed to be the bad guy, a dark wizard who wants to kill Harry and a lot of other wizards and witches. The girls told me all about how Harry stopped him when he was a baby and everything”

Dumbledore briefly glanced at Hermione and seemed satisfied with the affirmative nod she gave him.

“Are you a spy?”

“No”

“Do you have any idea as to someone using you to bring you closer to the magical world?”

“No”

“Do you know why there’s an aura of Dark Magic around you?”

“No. I’m afraid you think it means I’m evil”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so”

Dumbledore was stroking his beard pensively, when Harry took over: “What do you mean, you don’t think you’re evil?”

Hermione was a bit peeved at Harry. Though he’d stopped scowling he still didn’t look like he trusted Amélie.

“I like to think I’m a good person, but I’m not a good Christian”

Hermione knew this was about her being lesbian. Amélie had been thought strictly that these feelings she had were wrong, so acting upon them would make her bad...

“Harry, leave her alone. She’s had a very strict catholic upbringing, so about everything in the modern Muggle world is considered as evil by her mother. Please don’t make her confess to something embarrassing...”

Harry relented and looked at Dumbledore.

“Well, I say this merits further investigation. But for now, I think it prudent to leave Amélie here, in this house” Dumbledore looked at Harry briefly, as if asking consent, after which he looked at Amélie.

“Harry, Hermione, I want you two to bring Amélie upstairs, and to, all three of you go sleep a bit. You all look like you need it”

To Hermione’s surprise Harry didn’t argue. Amélie who was slowly coming out of the daze the potion put her in, let herself be dragged out of the room. They past the big dining room where the noise of several people talking and mulling about could be heard. The three didn’t stop to look but went straight for the girls’ room. Arriving there Hermione saw there had already been placed a fourth bed for Amélie.

Amélie sat down on the bed. In a very shy and soft tone she asked: “Are we supposed to sleep right now?”

Hermione sat down on her bed and looked at Harry shuffle his feet: “I’m guessing I should apologize for being such a jerk right then...”

Hermione watched Harry with an aching heart. He had only been concerned for her safety... Not expecting Amélie to be so forward, Hermione saw her thrust her hand out to Harry:

“Amélie Serkent”

With a faint smile: “Harry Potter”

Shaking hands, Amélie returned a weak smile saying: “I’m afraid to tell you I already heard all about you”

That’s when that strange look flitted over Amélie’s face again. Looking startled at Harry, she suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. Harry, of course startled too, looked down at the top of her head, when she lifted her gaze. Cupping her hand next to his ear she whispered something before taking off muttering something about using the loo.

Hermione looked at Harry, then at the closed door of the now abandoned room (well, except for the two of them); throwing all conventions into the wind, she ran up to him and crushed herself into him. Relieved when she felt him hugging her back just as fiercely she couldn’t help but letting tears fall. All the tension, all the still unanswered questions, it all still hunted her, but it didn’t seem that important right now. Now that she was safe in his arms...

***

Hermione couldn’t say how long they’d been silent like that. They’d both drawn strength to continue from the proximity of their bodies. Harry’d ended up sitting on her bed, with his back to the headboard and Hermione leaning sideways on his chest. Finally daring to break the silence, Hermione said:

“I was so scared for you when Dolohov said you would have your hands full...”

Harry’s body stiffened underneath hers: “What! Dolohov? Wait a minute! Why exactly are you here?”

Hermione was surprised he didn’t know. She hesitantly talked about how their neighbour Charles had hurt her parents under the Imperious, and how Dolohov had played with her, until Amélie had hit him unconscious with an umbrella. She couldn’t lie about the seriousness of her parents’ condition, even when she saw he was planning to carry the burden of guilt about that too.

“Harry! It’s not your fault! I’m just so relieved you’re ok...”

...

“Harry? ... What did happen at Privet Drive?”

Harry looked at her with that haunted empty look again; not able to stand it she did something very un-Hermione-like: she launched a lip-attack... Hermione always loathed the expression snogging someone’s brains out, but this was what she was trying to do to Harry. Feeling the desperation in the kiss from his side too, she became more aggressive. Turning her body so that she was straddling him, she took his face firmly into her hands and shivered when she felt his on her hips. Both moaning a bit, they jumped apart when they heard a crash in the hallway.

Apparently it was nothing of significance, and Harry and Hermione settled onto her bed panting only slightly. Hermione forced herself to look up to Harry. His eyes weren’t empty anymore, there was a green turmoil of emotions seen there, touching Hermione to the core.

She braced herself for whatever was coming next. Though the exhaustion was felt to her bones, she’d never felt more awake in her life...

***

Please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

// ...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies... //

***

Ch 4 Harry talks, but has everything been said

It was the morning of Harry’s seventeenth birthday... The summer had been quite exceptional. The constant knowledge that it would be the last summer Harry would suffer the presence of his relatives, and vice versa... made things a little extra tolerable. Besides that it was a lot like it had been the previous year: the Dursleys gave him tasks to finish and after that Harry was free to do as he pleased. And Harry found some comfort in the mind-numbing physical work...

Of course the biggest plus this year had been Ron able to visit him occasionally. It’d been nice since they’d all been staying in the Grimmauld Place, which didn’t permit a telephone to work in, so he didn’t have that daily contact anymore: it was back to owl-post. Dumbledore didn’t come nearly as much as before, since he didn’t need assistance for Occlumency anymore. So the total of three visits this summer from the old wizard had been to bring him news from the Order and such.

Harry got up this morning half dreading, half anticipating this day. He had been awake since midnight of course, when the owls of friends had arrived. He was a bit disappointed when he’d seen Dante, this only confirmed Hermione wouldn’t be able to visit him today... He did perk up a bit when he saw Pig carrying packages from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, and nothing from Ron...

Harry grinned at the possibilities. He hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of trying a bit of magic the second he was permitted to do so, and had already levitated everything in his school trunk and shrunk some items to make it all fit. He’d proceeded to tidy up his room, even when the urge to leave everything as messy as possible was great, he grinned at the expression of his aunt when she realised it was this spotless because he’d used ‘useless magic’...

Harry didn’t know when he was to leave today, but he was leaving, nobody could stop him now: he’d been a little over a month at the Muggle house, which covered the condition for his mother’s protection nicely... Though Harry was adamant about leaving, he did plan to wait for someone of the Order, he wasn’t that stupid! Well...

And anyway, this was a day to revenge himself for the hell he’d been through all these years at the Dursleys... He didn’t plan on doing anything grave... But just letting them know he could use the magic, and have them sweat for a while would definitely be gratifying.

Going downstairs he settled himself at the breakfast table... Determined not to do any chores today, including making breakfast for anyone but himself, he settled on nibbling on the fudge Mrs. Weasley kept sending him...

His fat cousin had quickly joined him, not quite certain what to do or say... This summer, Harry and he had come to a few fights already. Of course never close around the house, but whenever Ron came to visit, the ‘gang’ would look them up and taunt them into fighting. Harry had to admit that for the likes of those brainless overweight troublemakers, they’d matured quite a bit: they didn’t consider it honourable anymore on picking on only one defenceless kid at the time, or kids that were more than three years younger...

Harry decided to pretend to make amends: offering him a sweet... It was a new invention of the twins: a truelove bonbon... It held just a little bit of a relatively weak, and therefore legal, truth serum, and was only activated by one certain question... Harry was able to fight its results effortlessly but he knew Dudley wouldn’t be able to...

Harry justified the action by telling himself he wasn’t really using magic, and anyway, Dudley shouldn’t be so gullible, even if Harry ate one of them in front of him to prove it wouldn’t make his tongue grow unstoppably...

When Harry’d asked Dudley who his true love of the moment was, he hadn’t in a million years expected to hear him blurt out the name of his first crony... Pierce ‘PeePee’ Polkiss! Dudley had squealed like a pig he was, and hightailed out of the kitchen as fast as his huge body permitted him. Harry’d had to fight to keep his breakfast down at the time, but had gotten over it by lunchtime.

Harry used his time waiting for Ron to get all his stuff downstairs and making sure to be careful when he used the Disillusionment charm on the trunk, Hedwig’s cage and his broom and levitated his stuff out the door to Mrs. Figgs. The old lady was just out feeding her cats and she let him in briefly... After one polite cup of tea, Harry made his excuses and left...

Finally, after lunch, Ron arrived, to Harry’s relief, since it had been quite dull without chores to do, and no Dudley to pester further... When he told Ron the cause of the mini-whale’s absence though, the youngest Weasley boy turned an interesting colour of green, having met the PeePee in question a few times this summer vacation...

“Yurghh, I’m never going to get that mental picture out of my mind! It’s almost as bad as imagining Crabbe and Goyle!”

Startling himself with the comment, Ron groaned and turned a paler green; Harry just laughed... Quickly changing the subject, though, Ron thrust a package in Harry’s hands.

“Here, it’s not much, mind you! But for once it isn’t something wizard related. You see I was at this store in Diagon Alley, and I didn’t really find something worthwhile, and I was considering just going to get you some Chocolate Frogs or something. But then I saw this shelf with Muggle stuff, and I thought, what the heck... I mean, you never really got something really Muggle, did you?”

They were walking towards the park and Ron was gesticulating madly. Harry considered telling him he was babbling like Hermione, but suspected this would be one of those things Ron would never forgive him for... Keeping quiet he looked at his best friend, amused...

“So this owner comes up to me and starts asking some questions, like what the person I was buying it for was like, what the occasion was, and so on... Obviously I couldn’t tell him the whole truth, ‘suspect last thing you want is knowing from the Daily Prophet what you’ll be getting for your birthday!! So he said this was perfect for a Muggleborn who had interests in law-enforcement or something...”

Ron frowned at that point: “Then he kind of winked and said you could use it with a lady friend too... I didn’t quite get what he meant by that, really. But I reckoned you’d be able to tell me... Go on, open it!”

Though Harry had kept all his other presents unopened, in the hope he could unwrap them in the presence of ‘family’ tonight, he also knew there was no way Ron would let him wait with his. Tearing away the paper Harry saw what was inside. Handcuffs...

Ron was looking at him expectantly, and Harry was thorn between bursting out in laughter, or blushing like mad and being uncomfortable...

Ron, impatient as ever: “Go on! Tell us what it is?”

“Uhm... Well, they’re called handcuffs... Uhmm... Look” seeing a key dangling from one of the locks he explain how Muggle policeman used these to restrain their criminals when they were being moved from one place to another...

A look of understanding flitted through Ron’s features: “Oh, so they’re like shackles but only smaller?”

Harry nodded, and expected Ron to catch on about the fact why they should be embarrassed by now... Unfortunately it was going to take a while, though.

Ron frowned again: “But what did that man mean by using it with a lady fr... Oh!” Ron’s expression was pricelessly red... Then a mischievous grin flitted on his lips: “I’d warn you to put them on Hermione before you ask her to play bondage games... She might scratch your eyes out if you don’t...”

Harry’s embarrassment only grew and he dove after Ron. Though Harry hadn’t said anything to Ron about what happened in the train, Ron seemed to have guessed what had been going on anyway... Harry supposed it was one of the best mates things to know without being told... Well, Ron did pester him about Hermione even before her and him finally got to really talk; but he’d changed from nagging to sort things out, to more playful teasing...

Ron was laughing his head off, and that was the only reason Harry could catch up to him so fast. As much as he’d finally grown the last year, he was still towered over by Ron... Well, at least he was taller then Hermione...

“You’re so going to die if Hermione ever hears what you just said, you know,” Harry said casually.

Ron flinched slightly, but recovered quickly: “Yeah, but you’re my best mate, you’ll never do something that endangers my perfect little bum, would you?” Ron was doing that weird thing with his eyelids, only women knew how to do gracefully; letting them flutter comically, while sticking out his tongue in concentration.

Harry just burst out laughing, and shoved him: “Who’s the mental one, now?”

Ron sobered quickly: “Ok, enough goofing, when are we going to Figgs’ to get back to the Headquarters? I know you’re just dying to go right now, but I gotta tell you mate: you better enjoy the fresh air while you can: we’re gonna be cooped up in that house for the rest of the summer, you know...”

They settled in the park in a not too crowded spot. Quickly looking around, Harry conjured up a nice football. He’d been dying to do that since Ron’s first visit. Since it wasn’t very manly to just hang around and talk, and they couldn’t very well play Quidditch, Harry had thought about playing a bit of soccer, since he didn’t want to risk having to play Muggle chess...

The first time he’d had a hard time making Ron conjure up the right type of ball... But in the end, Harry’s first attempt didn’t really seem perfect either... They got around to goofing with that football anyway, while discussing Quidditch tactics... Harry had forgotten how long they’d been playing, but it was really cathartic...

It wasn’t as mind-liberating as chasing the snitch on a Firebolt, but it took his mind of things, and he had a good laugh with Ron... This summer, apart from the ever-present threat of Voldemort, had been a little bit of regaining his childhood back. Though he was more then ever expected to partake in adult affairs concerning the war, he cherished these times when he learned alongside with Ron how to play a bit of soccer in the Muggle park... It was a different magic in its own...

Soon the park emptied, and Ron’s stomach started to growl. It was nearing dinnertime, though the summer sun was still giving enough light, and Harry decided it had been long enough, they’d better get started to depart for the Grimmauld Place... Just when Harry took out his wand to make the football disappear, he heard a blood stopping scream inside his head...

Quickly looking up is when he sensed it! Dementors! Again!

“Ron! It’s Dementors! Get to Mrs. Figgs! Quick!”

“Harry, you can’t do this yourself!”

“Which is exactly why you have to go to her fireplace! Get help! I have to see if there aren’t any Muggles still here!”

After fifth year, all squibs had a Floo-connection to the Ministry installed for emergencies... As they were targets for the Death Eaters the Ministry had to make this show of ‘mercy’...

Harry looked around quickly, feeling the despair rising within him. He didn’t see any Muggles around, but that didn’t change the fact that there could be lives in danger. His fears eating at him he tried to locate the Dementors. There must have been more then one, again, but they seemed to come from only one general direction...

Feeling every fibre in his body screaming at him to get out of there, he instead marched towards the place where he guessed they were... Exiting the park he walked towards the deserted dark street... Harry remembered that the absence of an abundance of light was just the Dementors effect on him.

No sooner that thought raised through him, and he saw three Dementors. Raising his wand he struggled to produce a Patronus, almost guiltily recollecting a dream concerning Hermione that had made him... well, happy... After the Dementors fled, Harry stayed on his guard... this was too easy.

Two years ago, it had been Umbridge to send him the Dementors... Now they didn’t obey the Ministry anymore, they were under Voldemort’s command... So what were they doing here? And how come they’d fled so easily? As much as Harry wanted to think the Dementors feared him because they knew he could produce a corporal Patronus, that couldn’t be it, because then they’d simply would have tried harder, come with more then three...

This was a diversion... Ron! With a hammering heart Harry ran back through the park to catch up after Ron. How could he have been this stupid! They’d separated them... and the guards? Someone of the Order was supposed to guard them! Where had they been? Harry doubted after Mundugus had made the mistake of leaving Harry alone for a while, that any other member would contemplate having Dumbledore’s wrath upon them by doing this again.

In Harry’s mind this could mean only one thing: whoever plans to attack him had managed to take out the guard... Pushing away the worry, he continued to run as quick as possible towards Mrs. Figgs. The street was also deserted, and the front door was wide open... Clutching his wand Harry carefully made his way inside, to the living room...

His stomach flipped over, but definitely not in a good way, when he saw Mrs. Figg, in front of the hearth, her eyes open with a vacant expression on them. The Avada Kedavra... Harry shivered, but quickly flooed the message Mrs. Figg was about to send to the Ministry in the fire. Thrown back into vigilance he heard voices outside... There was cackling... Running as quietly as he could, what he saw made his blood still for a minute...

Ron was there, with a cruel smile in his lips, firing painful hex after hex to someone balled on the grass. With much difficulty, Harry could discern the trademark silver hair... Malfoy... As much as Harry hated Draco Malfoy, he couldn’t believe his best mate was putting him under that much of torture... That’s when Harry comprehended the vacant glance in Ron’s eyes: the Imperius!

Rookwood was there, wearing Auror clothing that looked too big on him, pointing his wand steadily at Ron, muttering instructions with obvious glee… Two other Death Eaters stood beside him, but they wore their masks... A couple of paces beside them, Harry saw a motionless body; recognizing the peculiar hat he guessed that must’ve been Dedalus Diggle, his Order guard...

Without much second thought, Harry stepped out of the backdoor, pointing his wand as calm as possible to Rookwood.

“Expeliarmus!”

Of course, it couldn’t be that simple... They must’ve known he was coming, the only thing was that they obviously hadn’t expected him so soon... The short surprise Harry offered though was enough to break Rookwood’s concentration and have his wand sailing through the air towards Harry, and Ron slumped on his knees, cradling his head with both hands, free from the Imperius.

For now...

The two Death Eaters next to Rookwood, however had quickly accio’ed his wand back, before it could reach Harry and almost got his wand with a quick disarming spell of their own, had Harry not rolled out of the way of their spells...

It wasn’t meant to be that easy: the moment he stood upright he felt arms grabbing him from behind. A familiar voice whispered in his ear...

“Ickle Hawwy! Short time no see...”

No, it couldn’t be! She was dead! Harry’s inside were burning and cold as ice at the same time... He’d seen her lifeless body taken away to the Ministry... She’d been dead, Neville had taken her life! She and Malfoy Senior couldn’t be...

“Not glad to see Auntie Bella? Aw, now I’m so disappointed...”

Harry’s determination took over from his paralysing fear... He started to struggle... But found her grip to be much, much too strong, she barely flinched when he tried to get free from her... When he couldn’t turn to see her, his view was that of Ron being placed under the Imperius again, trying, but failing to fight it...

Harry was powerless and frustrated in his helplessness to do something when he saw his best mate, raise his wand at the quivering young Malfoy...

Rookwood’s sinister voice whispered harshly: “Kill him! Use the killing curse! You know you want him dead!”

Harry started to scream at Ron, trying to jolt him out of the hold the mind curse had on him, but Bellatrix, however she managed to pin him down with just one arm, brought up her hand to cover his mouth. Harry tried to bite her, anything to keep Ron from doing the curse, but found with a shock that those hands were almost translucent white, and very cold... and didn’t seem to mind getting almost ripped open by his teeth...

Harry watched with petrified shock Ron Weasley saying the fatal words...

“Avada...”

That’s when he heard a scream and something red flash by him... unable to comprehend why everything else seemed to go in slow-motion except that one image, Harry watched Ron’s wand create a green light:

“Kedavra!”

Harry could now see who had just whooshed past him: it was Mrs. Weasley! The woman screamed again and threw herself in the green light... Harry blinked, and saw Mrs. Weasley’s eyes roll back into her head... The grip Bellatrix had on him relaxed and he was able to free himself. Harry felt empty, almost floating when he shot forwards to the falling woman...

Why?

Harry barely registered that Rookwood had been surprised enough to let go of the Imperius, or maybe Ron had received enough shock to fight it off... His gaze went to Rookwood, the Death Eater seemed almost scared for a moment... Then he heard Bellatrix’ insane laughter... This seemed to galvanise all other Death Eaters into cackling malevolently...

Behind him Harry heard someone yell: “Lumos solem!”

A detached part of his brain questioned why anyone would cast that spell, there were more efficient spells to create artificial light. He heard Bellatrix scream, and to his horror saw her run and jump inhumanly in his side-vision. That’s when everything clicked inside his brain: she was a vampire!

How or why or how?

Harry saw Ministry officials run after her in vain: she was much too quick and they could obviously not continue shooting spells throughout an entire Muggle neighbourhood... Several people started pooling out of the house, Ministry officials and Order members alike... This seemed to be the signal for more hooded figures to come out and an all out battle issued... Harry first seemed petrified, in the middle of curses being shot off...

Then he felt arms grab him again. His first reaction was to throw them off, before he saw it was Remus who’d grabbed him. Looking around he saw one of the twins stunning Ron, who seemed petrified and wouldn’t have budged unless his brother stupified and wingarium-leviosa’ed him back into the house. Then he saw Mr. Weasley pick up his wife, moving her away from Harry.

Harry saw one of the masked men advancing on them, preparing to curse Mr. Weasley in the back. He quickly shot a defensive spell against the Death Eater and let Remus take care of him. Harry looked around quickly, everyone seemed to be fighting and duelling. When a few of the Death Eaters started getting stunned and incarcerated, the others Apparated out without much of a fight...

***

Hermione’s POV, again!

Hermione listened to Harry’s story, barely noticing the quiet tears that ran from her cheeks...

“That’s when we were all taken to the Ministry... That pompous git Fudge was there, trying to blame the death of one of his Aurors on me... You see, the Ministry had guards around my house also, and the Death Eaters had taken him out and polyjuiced Rookwood to stand guard. It wasn’t hard to take care of poor Diggle that way...”

Harry’s tone had been oddly devoid of emotion during the whole narration of his tale, but now some sarcasm finally crept back into it... To Hermione’s relief, because anything was better then that cold unwavering voice...

“So Fudge is creating a scene, and no one has the energy to care. It would’ve been quite funny, actually. I mean, I used to get so mad when I was attacked without reason, but now... I mean really: who is he trying to fool...”

Hermione adjusted herself on the bed. Harry seemed a little less immobile now, and she’d been quiet and like a statue through the whole thing, her legs started to hurt. Harry barely seemed to notice her moving, though.

“So eventually Dumbledore arrived... He’d been at a Wizengamot meeting, and the message of what had been going on had been intercepted... And we were able to piece the whole thing together... The Auror Rookwood impersonated had been killed because he was a member of a proud pure-blood family, engaged to a Muggle... who’s been, well... I’ll tell you some other time... So Rookwood gets my address and is ‘scheduled’ to patrol there in the afternoon. Everything’s getting set up, and no one’s the wiser... While I was busy playing hero with the Dementors, Ron got to Mrs. Figg. They must have thought Ron would go up to the Dursley’s and get help there, because otherwise they would’ve attacked her before that...”

Hermione frowned, did that mean his relatives... ? Harry must’ve seen her expression.

“Oh, no. They’re just fine... Apparently there was an emergency with Aunt Marge and they were all gone anyway... They’re going to look into it, but it could’ve been a set-up for me to be alone at the house, without the blood-relative-protection-thing... Though it’s not sure if that would’ve made the protection weaker, since it was still my aunt’s house... Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Harry shrugged. The rest was pretty obvious: they must’ve seen Ron run into Mrs. Figg’s house, and intercepted the message the old lady was about to send by killing her. Then they set up their twisted little game of punishing an already weak Draco Malfoy, torturing Ron Weasley in a sick game of letting him be the cruel one, and having Harry watch...

Hermione listened to the end of the tale stoically. They had been retained in the Ministry until just deep in the night, and upon finally coming to Grimmauld Place Harry’d only heard Snape announce Hermione was there. That’s all Harry’d heard before Ron had stalked off and locked himself in his room...

When Harry had first seen Amélie, there had been something about her that reminded him of the feeling he got when he saw Snape, or was around Death Eaters... Harry had long since linked that feeling to Dark Magic and then Dumbledore’s tone of voice had confirmed his suspicions...

At least Harry had the decency of looking embarrassed to have been jumping to conclusions, but he admitted not being really sure about her, yet... That’s when Hermione remembered something:

“What did she see, Harry? What did she say to you?”

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably... He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted when he heard a thumping noise in the corridor...

***

Ch 5 She's not dead She's in a coma

Hermione and Harry looked at each other briefly, before jumping out of Hermione’s bed. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong, they’d just been talking, but the call of reality reminded them that it was quite inappropriate to be there together with the door closed...

Exiting the girls’ bedroom, they found a heart-wrenching scene in the corridor. Ginny was standing in front of the boys’ bedroom looking dejected, trying to keep the tears from flowing, her face pale save for the violent red spots on her cheeks. Luna stood next to her, for the world looking off in space, like always, but Hermione could see the unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

Running up to them, Hermione asked what happened. Ginny hiccoughed that they’d tried to talk to Ron but that he’d shoved them outside, barricading the door. She choked on the rest of her statement so Luna finished for her:

“Ronald still believes he killed Mrs. Weasley. He doesn’t want to know that it wasn’t his fault. And he doesn’t want to know that she’s only in a coma”

Hermione’s heart ached, and she felt Harry standing behind her. Even before he spoke she knew what he was going to say.

“Just leave him alone, he just needs some time alone...”

Hermione whipped her head towards Harry, her anger fuelled by the desperation she felt.

“No, Harry! I won’t allow him to wallow in guilt like you do!” Seeing the hurt look on his face, her anger ebbed a little, and she continued soothingly: “Don’t you see Harry? He thinks he’s murdered his own mother! We can’t leave him to work it out himself! He’ll just go mad! Please, we have to talk with him, we’re his friends, and this really isn’t the time to leave him alone!”

“I know we’re his friends, Hermione! Do you think for a minute that I would forget that? But you know Ron as well as I do! He’s stubborn as hell, and if he doesn’t want to see anyone, he means just that. What do you want me to do? Burst into the room and put him in a full-body-bind so you can talk some logic into him? News-flash: logic won’t help here!”

“Stop arguing!”

Three stunned heads turned to Luna. Ginny had been sniffing, ignoring all of them, and Luna had seemed... well, elsewhere... But now all attention was on Luna, who’s expression had yet to change from absent-minded to angry, but the sparks in her eyes betrayed her mood not being indifferent.

“Look, you’re both right. Ronald needs his friends, but he doesn’t need someone telling him how he should or shouldn’t react! He just needs help sorting out what he’s feeling!”

Ginny seemed to have come out of her stupor and whispered: “She’s right you know”

While Hermione was contemplating all this, she barely noticed Harry frowning and taking out his wand. She was more then just a little surprised when she saw him blast the door of the boy’s dorm with a strong Alohamora! The door banged open loudly, making her wince slightly. Apparently the door hadn’t been as warded as they’d supposed…

This made Hermione think that maybe Ron really did want them to go talk with him... or maybe Ron just assumed he could trust his friends to leave him alone? Well, Hermione was not going to have a friend of hers plunging into depression, no way! At least not until she had done anything in her power to prevent something like that to happen...

Anyway...

They all stepped towards the entryway gingerly, expecting a raging Ron to throw anything he could get his hands on their way. But what greeted them, wasn’t what they expected in a million years…

Ron just sat there, at his desk. Calm, too calm… His stare was one that reached eternity… Empty, cold. He was so pale, he seemed like a statue. It was all Hermione could do, to not burst into tears, like Ginny. Even Luna looked disturbed. Harry, though, had developed the uncanny ability of showing a poker face… But Hermione could still see the swimming greenness in his eyes, that betrayed the multitude of emotions behind them…

Ron didn’t say anything, and Hermione had never heard a silence so loud. He didn’t even react to them being in the room… For one of the rare times in her life Hermione was at a total loss of what to do… They had to try something! Before anyone could choose a certain course of action, they were all startled by a huge commotion downstairs…

Even Ron seemed to show a little shift in posture, but remained nevertheless zombie-like… Deciding to go investigate the growing sounds of distress downstairs, Hermione and Harry left… Ginny was still sobbing, but Luna had an oddly determined look in her eyes, and the two other girls stayed put.

Racing downstairs, Hermione’s thoughts were again going one mile an hour. Couldn’t they catch a break? It had been- how many hours? -with too little sleep and too much situations and information to cope with all at once. What would they get on their plate now?

Bursting into the kitchen Hermione gasped when she saw a stretcher carrying Mrs. Weasley. She looked pale and medical amulets were levitating above her. A shallow rise and fall of her chest was the only visual evidence that she wasn’t dead. Around her still form the kitchen was in total chaos, the fire in the hearth was burning green, and Remus and Tonks were standing beside it from both sides, wands drawn, as if expecting Death Eaters to come through any moment.

Dimly Hermione realised Bill was ordering Winky to zap his mother to her room. And Mr. Weasley was apparating out of the kitchen, presumably to their room in Grimmauld Place, to take care of his wife. No sooner had the stretcher vanished, or the fire flared again. This time Snape came out with a limp body in his arms.

Hermione gasped. She could only recognise the body as a boy, possibly her age, but the side of his face that was in her line of vision was burned beyond recognition. Snape stumbled to the kitchen table and laid the boy on it.

Glaring at Harry, he grinded out: “You will have him accepted to this house, Potter! And he will get proper care. Put him in my room!”

With that he pulled his Death Eater mask over his head, making some of them gasp, and apparated out of there. Startled out of their wits, they heard someone enter the room: it was Ron! Before Hermione could have any triumphant ideas of him getting out of his stupor, she looked at his expression feeling mounting horror inside her.

Luna and Ginny were on either side of him, trying to restrain him at his arms. Ron’s face was set in an ugly, twisted scowl, so pale that even his freckles seemed to disappear. He hissed in a voice almost foreign: “What’s he doing, here!” pointing at the motionless body, “Get him out of my sight! Now!”

Everyone seemed petrified confronted with Ron’s hysteria, and confusion started making place for understanding. Tonks, who was the closest to the boy’s head, carefully turned his face the other way, and gasped. The blond, almost white hair, gave away his identity more then anything else. Burned, bloodied, unclean,… Malfoy was almost beyond recognition…

Hermione’s attention was back to Ron, who’s eyes seemed to almost budge out of their lids and his nose flared with taking great breaths. When he seemed ready to let out a new string of hysteric sentences, Amélie appeared from a corner of the kitchen.

It was clear she didn’t understand the situation fully, but she was looking at Ron with pain clear in her blue eyes. Her appearance did seem to startle Ron enough to calm down a little.

You could have heard a pin drop in the kitchen, when Amélie held Ron’s gaze and brought up her hand slowly, as if not wanting to frighten him in this state of mind. The tension came to a boiling point when she gently laid the palm of her hand against his cheek. First, it seemed like nothing would happen, but then Ron’s eyes widened suddenly, while Amélie’s mouth opened in a silent scream.

Before anyone could react to this strange turn of event, Ron’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and the boy fainted. Amélie fell to her knees clutching her head, tears streaming down her face.

Making all of the occupants in the kitchen jump, Moody’s voice boomed through barking orders.

Bill took his youngest brother to the boy’s dorm, with Luna and Ginny following them. Remus and Minerva took Draco Malfoy to Snape’s room at Grimmauld Place and had another Order member Hermione didn’t recognise follow them. From what Moody shouted, Hermione deduced that the witch was good at Healing Charms.

Tonks had to apparate back to the Ministry and from there on to the hospital to assist Shacklebolt and her other fellow Aurors. In the mean time Hermione knelt in front of Amélie, who’d been trembling on the ground.

As soon as Hermione had hugged the girl, she had returned the gesture clutching her like it was the only thing she could do to stay sane. While she was soothing the girl, she heard Harry come out of his stupor and demand an explanation from the ex-Auror.

Looking over Amélie’s head, she saw Moody’s magical eye swirling around the kitchen, and finally settle firmly on the girl in her arms. Noticing they were alone in the kitchen, she didn’t expect Moody to respond to Harry’s demand.

But to her great shock, Moody started explaining what had happened.

They had wanted to keep the fact that Mrs. Weasley wasn’t really dead a secret. It could’ve played into their favour to have the Dark think they were all thorn up about her dead at her youngest son’s hands and leave it like that. But she had to be treated at St-Mungos, and it was difficult to keep things contained there, so there had been a guard put up to ensure she was safe.

Young Malfoy had been brought in the hospital too, and there had been a ministerial guard at his room, considering the Dead Eaters had tried to kill him. But the Order hadn’t really bothered to look into the fact that he could use their protection as well.

So they had been none the wiser when Snape had burst into the secured area around Mrs. Weasley with the limp burnt body of the youth in his arms… Snape had been one of the Dead Eaters ordered to go finish off the young Malfoy, as an example of disobedience to the Dark Lord. His room had been set in Black Fire, Dark Magic. And it was all Snape could do, to save his student without being spotted by fellow Dead Eaters…

The spy had quickly put up an anti-apparating shield, and run to the Order guard, notifying them. That’s when they’d brought Mrs. Weasley up here, together with Malfoy and that’s why Snape had to get back as soon as possible. They couldn’t risk Snape’s exposure…

Moody concluded his story with a remark of how difficult it must have been for Snape to manage getting the boy’s body out of the malevolent flames, since they usually pulverise the body until nothing is left… So now this house was hiding two people who the rest of the world thought of as dead…

Silence met the wizards and witch in the kitchen after Moody’s story, and Hermione noticed Amélie had fallen asleep on her, tears still wet on her cheeks… Moody’s magical eye as well as the normal one, were fixed steadily on the Muggle girl.

“I wonder…”

Moody’s cryptic statement stayed without following explanation, because at that moment Dumbledore came into the room.

“Not now, Alastor. Could you go check if everything’s in order at St-Mungo’s with the remaining Order members? The Ministry is present, there”

Hermione asked herself briefly, why the Professor couldn’t go check everything himself, but then she noticed he looked extremely tired. After Moody had disapparated, Harry opened his mouth, but was stopped by Dumbledore’s raised hand.

“Please, Harry… I will gladly answer all your questions in a few hours, but I do need some sleep, as do you. I will be reinforcing the wards around the house, and I trust you will ensure the house accepts young Mister Malfoy… Miss Granger, you will see to it that Amélie here gets to a more comfortable place to continue her sleep, yes?”

With a tired nod, Dumbledore set off out of the kitchen. Hermione glanced at her watch and was startled to see it was only 7.30 am! Had it really been only that amount of time? Less then eight hours, and all of this had happened? She felt her head spin, but pushed those thoughts out of her head, and got to her feet gently.

Amélie woke up and allowed Hermione to pull her up. She hadn’t noticed Harry had left the kitchen, but now he was back, and helped her with the sleep-drunk Amélie. Hermione could only assume he’d somehow done what Snape demanded, and Dumbledore suggested. But how he was getting the house to ‘accept’ people, she didn’t know.

This, however was the furthest of her concerns for the moment. She supposed her body could do with a bit of sleep, as well as food, for that matter, but her appetite wasn’t up to normal, feeling sick just at the thought of food… Amélie broke through her thoughts:

“Can we go check on your parents first, ‘Mione?”

Hermione had planned to go over there after dropping Amélie off at their room, but she supposed she could make the detour with Amélie. Looking at Harry, she saw him looking insecure, and not wanting to part from him yet, she asked him to come with.

When they neared the room where her parents were, Winky plopped into the corridor.

“You is not to wake them! Winky just given them the potion to sleep. Madam Gillian told Winky to do that, so you is not supposed to wake them!”

Hermione vaguely recognised the name of the Order witch that had been ordered to take care of Malfoy. So that’s why she had been here in the first place, Dumbledore or maybe McGonagall must have summoned her to take care of her parents. Relief flooded her, now she could be certain they would make it…

Reassuring the House Elf, Amélie and Hermione tiptoed to the door and opened it quietly. Hermione walked in and saw her mother and father, both bandaged, sleeping relatively peacefully. They looked quite fine… Her father a bit pale, perhaps, but they lived…

Her father’s quiet sleep was disrupted when he frowned and started breathing a little heavier. His mumbling was barely audible, but she could hear the panic when he called out for his wife in his sleep… Hermione went over to her father and put one of her hands on his forehead. It was a bit warm and sweaty, but his temperature wasn’t too elevated…

Softly she tried to sooth the sleep of the man who must’ve done this a thousand times for her, when she was little… Before she could get too emotional, she stepped back, relieved when she saw her father sinking deeper in the mattress, calmer then moments before. She saw Amélie tuck her sleeping mother in, and together they walked out silently.

Joining Harry at the door, they turned the corridor to the stairs to go up their bedrooms. Just then Luna exited the boys’ room. Catching up with her, Hermione asked her, how things had been. Luna, her spacey self, explained the events after Amélie had ‘calmed’ Ron ‘down’.

“Bill had taken Ron up to his bed, here,” Luna nodded her head to the door, “and then Bill said to Ginny that he was going to check how their mother had been, and if maybe his dad needed anything to get her comfortable here… But he hadn’t seen that Ronald had just awoken…”

Hermione dreaded the rest of the story… The flitting emotion in Luna’s stare wasn’t all that comforting either…

“Ronald went hysterical again, shouting that his mother was dead, and that he should know since he killed her… Bill just stood there, and Ronald started yelling at him to go away, so he did… when Bill was gone he started yelling again, about him killing his mother and Ginny having to go away…”

Hermione cringed at that. The sheer torture of these emotions her friend must be going through… she couldn’t begin to imagine… And how Luna managed to sound so detached when she told them…

“And Ginny suddenly stopped crying, and she just slapped him. Real hard too… She started yelling too, telling him that their mother wasn’t dead, that she was in a coma. And that if he thought he was such a powerful wizard that he could perform the Avada on the first try, that he’d better start thinking again…”

Hermione started contemplating how they had managed to not alert anyone with all that shouting, since she knew all too well, that when a Weasley started bellowing… well, let’s just say the neighbours would have heard it… But then she feared for Ginny’s and Ron’s lives… Both of them explosive enough when they were mad, but this time they would’ve got enough fuel to disable the whole island with their tempers combined…

“It’s a good thing really that I placed a Silencing Charm on the room…” Luna continued, seeming a bit pensive when she said this, “Anyway, after shouting at each other, they both burst out in tears, and embraced and they just cried themselves asleep”

Luna shrugged and looked back at them from the ceiling, indicating that the narration had almost ended: “I just didn’t think I should wake them… I suppose they could both use the comfort of family… I was just staying to see that they didn’t kill each other, and then I was going to go to sleep myself”

With that Luna turned and went up the stairs, probably with every intention of getting some sleep after all. Amélie turned to Hermione and Harry:

“You probably should get in there and check on them. I’ll just go with Luna!” Turning away from them, she hurried to catch up with Luna, after she’d cast a quick look of assurance behind her shoulder.

After the younger girls were both out of sight, Hermione felt her fatigue overwhelm her. Looking at Harry, it was obvious he was tired also. They carefully entered the boys’ room. When Hermione’s eyes had become used to darkness inside, she saw that someone, probably Luna, had closed the curtains and pushed Harry’s bed, against Ron’s.

Presumably, she had done this redecorating, to give Ginny more space, if she would turn away from her brother in her sleep. But both Weasleys seemed pretty still, on Ron’s bed. They were both fully clothed, and on their sides. Ginny’s head faced with her brother’s chest. Both pairs of cheeks wore the streaks of their tears…

Hermione hadn’t the courage to ask, but didn’t want to leave Harry. So avoiding an awkward question, she just ignored common sense, and climbed on Harry’s bed, laying down on her side. Her back to Harry, she brought her hand up and pulled Ginny’s hair away from the girl’s clammy face. She closed her eyes and felt them prick. To her relief, though, she felt the bed sag a little when Harry climbed in behind her.

No words were exchanged, and she got as comfortable as she could, avoiding touch and too much noise… They were all fully clothed and they lay above the sheets, but Hermione couldn’t help but thinking that if their mothers knew… Silent tears slipped passed her closed eyelids: especially Mrs. Weasley… if she weren’t already in coma, she would have gotten there just fine, had she seen the four of them sleeping together.

Of course, her own father would have a few choice words to say also… More tears slipped down her cheeks, and she forced these nonsensical thoughts from her brain. There would be time later to think things through more thoroughly… once she’d have some sleep, and could hopefully think more straight…

***

It felt like she’d slipped into darkness only five minutes ago… Hermione didn’t open her eyes, but concentrated on the voices she could hear, and tried to identify what was being said…

“… difficult. How do you deal with almost killing your own mother?”

“Well, in my case… I just try not to think about it…”

“Huh?”

At this point, Hermione shot awake. Was Harry blaming himself for his mother’s death? Why? Was he taking blame again? This time he’d gone too far!

Before she could go into lecture-mode, however, Ron had yelped in surprise at her sudden movement. This brought her thoughts back to the previous events…

“Ron! Are you alright?” She couldn’t keep the concern out of her voice, and she knew he wouldn’t like it that she was coddling him, but she just couldn’t help it.

Before the wizard could respond, Ginny groaned:

“Do you guys always make such ruckus?” Stretching she yawned, then blinked: “Urgh! Remind me never to cry before sleeping again! Bloody headache!”

While Ginny grumbled, Hermione’d had more time to wake up properly. Glancing at her watch she saw it was almost noon.

Deciding she’d have to wait for any in-depth discussion for the moment, she suggested out loud to go down, and get something to eat…

***

Ch 6 Complicated

Four tension-filled days had passed since Harry’s birthday. Hermione had made a mental note to ensure that all future birthdays would be happy ones for Harry, even if she had to die trying. But especially after the two last ones he deserved a lifetime of splendid parties filled with carefree fun…

For the moment everything was still quite. The Prophet hadn’t printed a word about what had happened at Privet Drive, nor at her home, though they wouldn’t be too concerned about the death of a Squib and a little wizard named Diggle. As for the Auror, well, that was just the hazard of his job… Yesterday had been the burial of Mrs. Figg, and Harry had been permitted to go with the rest of the Order Members who had know the woman. The others had to stay at Headquarters.

The Weasleys were still at loss. They had developed a bit of a system so every one of them had been at Mrs. Weasleys bedside, taking turns. Nobody could tell for sure if there was any hope for her to ever wake up… Ron was visibly the most affected. Not his short-tempered self, he let most things slide, it was as if he’d become indifferent. Ginny was trying to care for her brother, but the dark circles under her eyes were telltale signs of the toll it took on her.

Harry had been meeting with Dumbledore once, but wasn’t telling what had been said, and even Amélie had been called to speak briefly with the old Professor. From her Hermione had gotten a full rapport on what had been said. Dumbledore had cautioned her about the exponential growth of her ability to absorb memories and knowledge from the wizards and witches around her. As proven by what happened when she tried to take Ron’s guilt and pain away: it could harm her.

Though he wasn’t really sure of the cause of her ability or even the nature of it…Since she received the strongest pulses by touch, Hermione and Amélie had been creative in finding a temporary solution. Basing their theory on a farfetched Muggle story, they tried making fine gloves, like Rogue’s from X-men. That way Amélie wouldn’t have to worry about direct skin to skin contact. It seemed to help a little bit, but she could still pick up things by just standing close to someone, or when emotions ran high…

Hermione’s parents were recovering slowly. Madam Gillian had taken the time to explain to Hermione about the complications of using wizarding medicine on Muggles. On short term, it worked like a charm. But healing spells generally worked on basis of the inner magic of the patient helping along. Kind of like the Muggle medicine helping along the inherited human immune system. All this meant that, in the long run, the wounds of her parents couldn’t be speed-healed with magic. They had to wait for the body to cope with the traumata.

Her mother was already doing fine, barely feeling any pain anymore if she didn’t make too sudden movements with her arm. Her father was still in a pretty bad shape, but he would pull through. He was awake now and then, and it still hurt him a great deal to have his bandages cleaned. But with enough rest and care he would be as good as new in a few months.

Hermione couldn’t tell what was happening with Malfoy Jr. since most didn’t even care about the wizard, and even if they did, Snape wouldn’t let them near the recovering youth. As far as Hermione could tell, he was in pretty bad shape…

The talk with Ginny had been the farthest of Hermione’s mind. Luna had been a silent little rock, taking care of mostly her Ronald, even though he stayed indifferent to her subtle support. It was strange, it wasn’t like there was much to do other then talk to each other, but even that didn’t occur often. Actually, these last four days had been like everyone had backed in his or her corner, licking their wounds.

Hermione wasn’t one to let them all get away with the depression much longer, but she hadn’t had the energy between caring for her parents, and digesting all the happenings herself…

As for the werewolf and the clumsy Auror, she didn’t know what had happened between them, but it must’ve been bad… Tonks had been in a gloomy mood the last time Hermione had seen her, now three days ago, and Remus was putting up a front of being the gentle helpful wizard, hiding all depressed feelings.

Mostly these past days had been about settling into a certain routine of coping and taking care of the injured.

This morning, though, word came that Dumbledore would come down from the Ministry mess to the Grimmauld Place. An Order meeting would take place that night, and Hermione couldn’t help but think that this time would be so different without Mrs. Weasley shooing them about, making sure they couldn’t hear what was said…

The thought actually filled her with sorrow, and she fled to her parents’ room, just to ease her mind on how things were there… Entering the room, she saw her father was awake, and it seemed like she interrupted a serious conversation…

It was kind of strange, really… In the Muggle world, you have clearly defined settings for the sick people, and the healthy ones. For example, it would be strange to walk in on your parents in the same bed all the time, forcing to make yourself remember that it’s a sickbed… It was just weird, in some ways… And it felt better now that her mother was more frequently up and about, taking care of her father, or writing in the diary Madam Gillian got her.

Hermione apologised for interrupting, but entered the room setting herself on the bed, facing her parents.

“So, are you alright? You look so serious…” Frowning, she thought of something: “Everything’s fine, isn’t it? Your wound healing fine?” Talking herself into worry, she continued, “You feel sick? Maybe there’s complications with the magical healing? Is it possible you could have an allergic reaction? I should look it up in the…”

“Hermione…”

The soft and breathy voice of her father was but a shadow of his usual confident low tone, but powerful enough to make Hermione stop nonetheless. Her mother took over:

“We’ve been talking, pumpkin… About what we’re supposed to do?” Hushing Hermione with a raised hand, she continued: “I know you probably have your own opinion young lady, and probably Professor Dumbledore has one too, but we are grown-ups perfectly capable of making our own decisions. We may be Muggles, but please don’t forget that!”

Nodding, feeling slightly ashamed, Hermione didn’t take offence at her mother’s stern tone. She indicated she would be silent for them to say their piece, and her mum resumed her speech:

“The way we see it, there’re two possibilities. With a little mumbo jumbo from the Order members, and the magical law-enforcement, we could easily be transferred to a Muggle Hospital for recovery…”

A quick glare from her mother told Hermione she better just let out the breath she’d taken, and not interject what she was going to.

“It wouldn’t be that hard to find some story to make it all seem sensible… We’d be back where we belonged and out of the way. Then there’s another possibility in our books, though we’re not sure it will be approved by these magical persons. But we could stay here. I know we’re just helpless Muggles, injured and overall useless to their eyes. But we feel like we should do more then just hide and try to stay alive…”

Hermione’s mother took a deep breath redirecting her gaze to her husband. She could see the two of them loved each other.

“We know they don’t really see it that way, but in all honesty, this war you have going on concerns us directly. Not only because we’re the parents of the great Hermione Granger,” here her parents glanced at her with sadly amused smiles, before turning their gazes to each other again, “But because we’re Muggles. And correct me if I’m wrong, but if this Voldemort-person doesn’t get beaten, the Muggle world’s in danger also?”

Her mother bit her lip, stopping for a moment. With a raspy voice her father took over: “You see, Hermione, we may be just dentists, but we won’t sit by and let things happen. And though I have no clue whether or not we could mean something in the organisation, there must be something we could do to help!”

Coughing, her father couldn’t continue. The two women in his life fussed over him telling him to take it easy, but he brushed them off. After sipping a bit of water, he said:

“Look, if we get sent back to where we supposedly belong, we would have to get guarded again, won’t we? And this time we could get someone killed trying to protect us, if it hasn’t already happened!”

With a jolt Hermione couldn’t remember if there had been a guard taken out by Dolohov that night. She felt horrible: just the possibility that someone could’ve died trying to protect her, and that she didn’t even care enough to think about the possibility! What if it had been someone she knew! Before she could get further on that train of thought, her father’s reasoning jerked her back to the then-and-there.

“Here we’re already nice and protected without extra need of guards, as long as they feed us, we’ll live. As for the practise… We’ll have to set some affairs in order, but I’ don’t foresee great problems… We can transfer our patients to some friends, and I’m sure we’ll manage to build up our clientele again after all of this is over? Or at least until we’re healthy again, and not in need of a lot of security?”

“Your dad’s right, Hermione. Besides, this may be a war in the ranks of the Magical community, but it affects the Muggle world, too. And if I understand correctly its outcome could have the most disastrous effect on our world…”

Hermione hadn’t even thought of that before, but they were right, as usual… If Voldemort would get much more stronger, the Muggles were in grave peril. Was it just to leave them out of it? but it was so dangerous, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves at all!

As if seeing her conflicted thoughts, her dad frowned:

“You know, it’s not really as if we’re asking you for permission. We just wanted to tell you first what we will be asking Dumbledore. It’s not as if we’re totally defenceless. I read in some of those books that dragonhide clothing would protect you against most spells, if you’re really that concerned, we can get some of those wizards get us that. Hell, we can even get them to buy us guns! But don’t tell us we’re useless, damnit! I even served my year in the army, and your mother and I did three years all over the world with MSF before you were born. We may not have seen what you have in your magical world, but we’ve seen enough misery to last a lifetime!”

Hermione’s dad worked himself in  coughing fit, again, and while her mother was soothing him, Hermione was busy feeling ashamed for betraying her parents’ strength. They were all surprised though, when they heard a subtle cough from the doorway.

Hermione turned to see Dumbledore twinkling away at the doorway: “If I may?”

The two female Grangers stood quickly and Hermione’s mother was quick to invite the old wizard in.

“Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to get Miss Serkent?”

With a quick look towards her parents, she left the room, in search for Amélie. The last thing she heard before closing the door, was Dumbledore offering her parents a Sherbert Lemon.

After browsing a few rooms she found Luna, Ginny and Amélie in the drawing room.

“Hey, where’re the boys?”

Luna looked up: “They’re in the basement. Ronald had been sitting at Mrs. Weasley’s bed all through this night. Harry dragged him away…”

Ginny shrugged: “I suppose he needs this more. It’s not like all the sisterly attention I provide is helping matters…”

Amélie was quicker to interject: “Ginny! You know that isn’t true! You help him loads! And it’s not like you don’t need the time to focus a bit on yourself too!”

“Whatever,” Ginny mumbled, turning her head away. She stood up suddenly, and nearly throttled Hermione on her way out of the room. Hermione could see the tears forming, and she would’ve gladly followed.

However Amélie getting up also to run after the young witch reminded her of Dumbledore’s request. Stopping Amélie with a hand on her arm, she explained:

“Dumbledore wants to see you. He asked me to get you…”

Before Amélie could respond, Luna had gotten up, and reassured the other two, that she would be checking on Ginny. So there was nothing left to do, but for Hermione to accompany Amélie.

The little trek along the stairs of Grimmauls Place went on in silence. Both girls were lost in thought, and barely paid attention when they saw Snape enter one of the rooms. The room where Malfoy Junior was supposed to recover in. Come to think of it, Hermione wasn’t even sure if Malfoy was still there, it was more of an assumption.

At last they were in front of the door. With a suspicious feeling Hermione knocked before opening the door.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Serkent. I wish to have a word with you in private if that’s alright with you? Dr. and Dr. Granger,” Dumbledore bowed his head to them, “It was a pleasure talking to you…”

With that the Professor strode calmly towards the door. Amélie’s gaze was pensive, and not just a little bit worried, but she nodded and proceeded the old wizard to the corridor. Hermione was left standing there in her parents’ bedroom. She turned to her mother with an inquisitive stare.

“Hermione, honey, you should sit down for a moment…”

Worried Hermione did as she was told by her mother. Knowing from experience now that when her parents wore the sad-worried face, without her knowing exactly what the cause was, it was better to stay silent until she knew all the facts. Then, afterwards, there would always be time to argue…

Her father cleared his throat and started, a bit sarcastically: “Well, I guess the bad news is, you’re stuck with us at least until the end of your vacation…”

Hermione frowned… This was good news wasn’t it?

“So Dumbeldore’s letting you stay? That’s brilliant! Why would that be bad news?”

“It isn’t bad news, per se, Hermione,” her mother hastened herself to explain, “It’s just he knew we would get bored doing nothing hanging around all day, and he asked us to do a task for him…”

Now Hermione really was confused: wasn’t this what they wanted? Why the glum faces then?

“It’s more complicated then that, Hermione,” her father said in a tired voice, “We don’t know the whole story yet, but Amélie is in danger…”

Seeing Hermione’s stricken expression her mother explained as clearly as possible: “Her so-called gift… It isn’t an innate characteristic… It’s more of a… symptom… if you will…”

“Yes, Mr. Dumbledore didn’t go in any detail, but he’s pretty sure Amélie was born a witch…”

Hermione frowned. She hadn’t ever read about something like that before? Squibs, yes, that must be it! Her parents had the terms confused.

“You mean she’s a squib?”

Hermione’s brain went to work. Did that mean Amélie’s mother was a witch? But that couldn’t be it, could it? Or was it the man who’d raped her that had been a wizard?

Her train of thought was interrupted by the soft, but firm “No” that came from her father.

Her mother shook her head and repeated: “No, honey, it’s much more… complicated then that. Dumbledore believes in a way she is a witch, but has some kind of binding spell on her powers…”

Binding spell for someone’s powers? But that meant… Dark Arts… Binding one’s magical power was supposed to be Dark Magic. Amélie, the house had identified her as a witch, and Harry felt Dark Magic coming from her… But, that didn’t make any sense! Even if the binding of power was highly considered a Dark Art, Hermione had read enough to know that one curse couldn’t have hold all of a witch’s powers during sixteen years!

And who would do that to Amélie, anyway?

“But…”

She was interrupted by her father again: “It’s bad magic, I know, but they don’t know which spell it could’ve been. Or even if it’s just one spell, or if it’s supposed to be cast anew every once in a while… I don’t even want to think about that, because that could mean a relative of mine was involved! All that’s known for now, is that being in a magical place has somehow disrupted the spell, or maybe it was just Amélie’s age, again, they don’t know. But what is known is that Amélie could be in grave danger if there isn’t any more information found out…”

Her mother continued while her father was shaking his head almost in defeat: “You see, the problem is, they don’t really know that much about it. And apparently it’s a dangerous thing to be reading up on dark spells… Something to do with easy corruption… And though the Order could make it a priority, they have more urgent need for their people’s skills, you know, the ones that can read Dark Arts texts… And since we are Muggles, we do not have any power to get corrupted…”

“Dumbledore asked you to research Dark Arts spellbooks!?”

Hermione didn’t know to be shocked, appalled, confused or even envious… This was majorly overlooking all kinds of the law, for one! Muggles weren’t supposed to be reading any spellbooks, let alone dark ones! Letting them stay in this house illegally was one thing, but this? What did Dumbledore think he was doing?

Granted, she was more then just relieved her parents would be allowed to stay at Grimmauld Place, but she was a bit anxious about them getting immersed in readings on the Dark Arts… Nobody could tell with absolute certainty that Muggles would not get affected by that? Didn’t these books have spells on them? Deadly ones?

Aside from the worry, Hermione felt a little envious, too. She had been researching all topics related to magic she could think of since first year of Hogwarts, and here her parents were getting to read the good stuff. Ok, that didn’t sound good, but it was just the exciting information, more knowledge…

And that was exactly the train of thought that was dangerous! Hermione knew just reading Dark spells sounded innocent enough, but it was but a small step to memorising them, and ultimately using them.

What seemed innocent little choices could grow out to be more… Especially for ones who revelled in gaining knowledge, the lure was recorded to be the greatest. When Hermione had come across that little bit of information, she remembered reading up about cults and how they attracted intelligent idealistic people most easily… And Hermione was no fool, she knew that there would be temptations were she ever to get around reading some of the Dark Arts…

Shaking her head, she tried to get back to the present matter.

“So, is that what Amélie is hearing from Dumbledore right now?” was the only thing Hermione’s brain could come up with at the moment.

“Well, yes,” her mother paused, “Maybe you should go check on her, she could get quite shaken up hearing that she actually is a witch, and has been cursed since birth…”

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, but remembered to ask: “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, Hermione, we’ll be fine. We’ll just discus this offer of your magical people over, and…”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Hermione’s mother interjected, “You’re going to take a nap! You’re still healing, and you haven’t been taking it easy today! Now Hermione’s on her way to Amélie right now, so you don’t have to worry about deciding just yet…”

While the mother was busy scolding her father, she waved her hand at her daughter, signalling that she could leave the room. Leaving her father’s protestations, Hermione found herself back in the hallway.

Having no idea where Dumbledore would’ve taken Amélie, Hermione started climbing the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.

On her way there, the calm was broken by the slamming of a door. Jumping a little in fright, Hermione looked up at the giant bat who was descending the stairs in what looked like a right fit of fury. She had seen Snape out of control once, a little more than three years ago, but this didn’t seem like ‘just’ anger. It seemed like he was in pain, and angry for being just that…

What was going on here?

Curious, Hermione went up to where Snape came from. Through an open door, she saw Dumbledore sitting in front of a fire, staring at it, seemingly deep in thought. Amélie was there, too, and when she noticed Hermione’s worried face, the girl who’d just found out she was supposed to be a witch tilted her head a little to the side.

Hermione couldn’t’ for the life of her read the expression Amélie wore, was it anger, surprise? Hell, was it good or bad? After a few excruciating seconds, Amélie said:

“The greasy git’s my dad…”

***

Ch 7 The greasy git's redemption

Hermione watched Amélie with growing horror… The greasy git? Snape? Snape’s her father? But that meant…

“Snape raped your mother? Amélie, I … I’m so sorry… But how? I mean I know he was …”

Hermione’s thoughts tumbled over each other fighting for making sense. She knew Snape had been a Death Eater, and as such he must’ve done terrible things… And she knew theoretically that during a war, women became toys for men more frequent then not.

And Death Eaters did raid Muggle families… But why would they attack Muggle families all the way in France? And Snape… urgh… that was one nasty picture in her mind… But Snape… He raped Amé-…

“No, he didn’t”

Hermione looked up at Amélie, thoroughly confused.

“She is correct Miss Granger,” Dumbledore startled Hermione for the umpteenth time, “Veritaserum brings out the truth like the person who’s taken it knows it… That is one of the potion’s crucial flaws. And even so, part of the truth is never the whole truth…”

Saying Hermione was lost was a gross understatement.

“I’ll take my leave now, Miss Granger, Miss Serkent,” with a slight inclination of the head to both girls, Dumbledore took his leave.

Hermione was still rooted on the spot in the middle of the hallway, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Amélie took her arm and guided her inside the room. Waving her hand in front of Hermione’s face.

“Hermione? … You know, it’s me who should be shocked into silence, not you…”

Amélie’s voice sounded mocking and jolted Hermione out of her stupor… Now she burned from curiosity, but in no way was she going to force the whole story out of Amélie. She had more respect for her than pestering her to spill a secret… Oh, to bloody hell with it!

“What in the world’s going on, Amélie? Did your mum lie to you? Did she just have a relationship with the greasy git and said he’d raped her or something? Mind you, I wouldn’t really blame her for not wanting everyone to know she had consented sex with him…”

Amélie’s expression broke away from the blankness. Scrunched up in irritation, her mouth let out:

“Hermione! That’s my father you’re talking about! And Mother didn’t lie to me: she was raped…”

“Ok, so she was raped by someone else, then? Not by Snape?”

Hermione didn’t really follow anymore. And Amélie started to get very agitated.

“No, not by your professor! He’s her brother!”

If Hermione thought she couldn’t tolerate any more severe shocks to her system, she was wrong, though she wouldn’t have minded fainting right now.

“What?! He had sex with his own sister, but he wasn’t raping her? And how can your mother be his sister? She’s a Muggle!”

Amélie started pacing.

“Ok, first of all, apparently, Mother isn’t a Muggle… Ok, I’m not prioritising the giving of this information very well. Listen, Mother isn’t my birthmother… Apparently my real mother was Severus’ fiancée, who’s been missing and thought dead for more then seventeen years…”

Hermione was overwhelmed. Pieces were starting to form a clearer puzzle right about now… She sat Amélie down and tried to calm both of them down. At last she had Amélie sitting in a chair, and having her tell the whole story…

Apparently Dumbledore had an Order member track down Amélie’s family as a part to control the situation of the Grangers and her being missing. Dumbledore was already suspicious about the whole thing with the house’s wards recognizing Amélie as a witch, and when he read the comment in the Order member’s report about that woman reminding him of Snape, Dumbldore went to investigate matters himself.

The woman Amélie had always thought about as her mother was Snape’s sister alright. Maligna Snape had always been a strange witch, and after her Hogwarts’ years she had changed for the worse… How she had come in contact with Catholicism, no one knew, but she had been travelling and had come back with a new belief: magic was unnatural, and the work of the Devil. Despite being raised in a pureblood family, she had somehow chosen to be with Muggles rather then ‘devil worshippers’.

She was cast away from ‘good society’, and had been declared mad, her family had of course disowned her, but Mrs. Snape had been blamed by her husband once again, and hadn’t survived that punishment. A so-called Death Eater attack cost the life of Snape Senior shortly after that.

All this drama happened during the time when the war was at its peak. Severus had been ordered by his Dark Lord to ‘mate’ with a pureblood, like most other high ranked Death Eaters. According to the rules of pureblood high society Snape had thus to get engaged first, following the rules.

Siska Serano had been quite the controversial Slytherin witch herself. Raised by her bitter Italian father, after her Russian mother had died giving birth to her, her father had blamed her for the death of his wife. The proud Italian pureblood had been cast away from the Italian high society for marrying the Russian ‘halfblood’ (Siska’s grandmother had been a Muggle-born witch).

The widowed cast-away, had fled to Great-Britain, thus his daughter had been sent to Hogwarts. Despite the bitter treatment, Siska had somehow grown to be an optimistic little girl with the ambition to change the world for the better. This blind determination got her into the Slytherin House.

The fact that she had been a Slytherin, and a descended from a pureblood family, wasn’t enough to be considered a great ‘catch’ in the British high-society bridal industry after her Hogwarts years, but then again, neither was the sour-bad-hygiene Severus Snape… But she was sufficiently pure-blooded to be ‘acceptable’ for a Death Eater marriage.

Soon after the engagement, though, rumours started to arise. Supposedly it had been Severus who had killed his own father under the guise of a Death Eater attack. And when Siska’s father was killed shortly afterwards under the same circumstances, people started talking…

The wedding had never taken place. Siska Serano had mysteriously disappeared a couple of months after her father’s death. This was during the last two years Voldemort had been at full power before he was destroyed by baby-Harry. Times were chaotic, and one missing person more or less… Nobody knew what had happened to her, but most believed she’d killed herself, rather then having to marry Snape, or he had killed her for not wanting to marry him…

However Dumbledore secretly confirmed her heritage with a potion he’d made her drink during his and Amélie’s last conversation, and it was beyond a doubt that she was Severus’ and Siska’s daughter. That combined with the fact that Amélie existed and was alive, meant that Siska must’ve lived at least a few months after her disappearance…

Though how Amélie had ended up being in the care of Maligna Snape was still a matter of investigation. A few months after Siska’s disappearance, the Snape siblings had had a row about Severus’ involvement with the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore, and she had left shortly after, declaring she wanted nothing to do with wizarding kind anymore.

Now, all they knew was that she had changed her name (snake-snape, serpent-serkent) and married a Muggle, with which she raised her niece as her own. They also suspected that it was her who had cast the binding spells for Amélie’s powers, despite the fact that she was against using magic…

Amélie’s hands were clutching her armrests when she told the story. After voicing the suspicions on who had filled her body with dark magic she finally tore her gaze from the fire in the hearth.

It seemed that it was only now really sinking in. With tears in her eyes, she held Hermione’s gaze:

“I feel so… bad, Hermione… inside, you know. I was never really close to that woman, and she caused me a lot of pain. I tried so hard to please her… You know all of that… And she made me forgive her all of it by telling me I was a product of a rape… I pitied her, and felt guilty for being alive, and being a reminder for something horrible to her, and for disappointing her…”

Amélie closed her eyes for a second, visibly restraining herself. Hermione didn’t know what to do but stay still and give her time continue.

“I feel so much hate for that woman right now, and it’s killing me. I… I hate feeling this, Hermione! It’s like my heart is shrinking, and my chest is going to implode! It hurts so much, Hermione! How could she do that to me! And what did she do to my mother!”

Amélie was sobbing now. Her voice had increased in volume, but it broke when she spoke about her real mother. Hermione couldn’t stand to see Amélie so torn up inside, and she slid from her seat to hug her friend hard. Tears came to her eyes and both girls were sobbing in each others arms.

Minutes, which felt like hours crawled by, and Hermione comforted her friend. She didn’t try to analyse everything, but she felt a deep dislike for that Maligna Snape, akin to what she felt for the Dursley’s… How could they treat their family so badly, just because of what they believed? Harry and Amélie were very much alike about their childhood, and both had, despite the odds, turned out extraordinary loving people…

She didn’t know what to think about this, otherwise… Snape had a child. He’d been engaged at one time in his life… Had he loved this Siska? Dumbledore and Amélie seemed to believe he hadn’t raped anyone… But… Well… Snape was a bastard, but now Amélie… She was his daughter…

What about Snape’s father? Had Snape really killed him? It must’ve been hell watching his mother getting beaten by her husband… No wonder he was such a bastard… Had he killed Siska’s dad too then? As a means for him to threat Siska into marrying him?

“He loved her, you know…”

Hermione was startled. She had expected Amélie had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of emotional turmoil. Disentangling slightly from the hug, they looked into each other’s face.

“I could feel it. Snape’s… I mean my father’s feelings… There was so much pain…” Amélie’s face scrunched up in remembrance, “Especially when Dumbledore spoke of my real mum… And then guilt, too… that was when it was about the rumours about my grandfathers being killed… At first, I thought he didn’t really love her, that he was just… I don’t know… But then, when Dumbledore said they were going to investigate what happened to Siska and if she was still alive… Hope… It was brief, but it was stronger than even the pain he felt… I think he really loved her, Hermione… Tell me it isn’t just wishful thinking?”

Hermione looked into the pleading eyes of the girl, and didn’t want to disappoint her. However, she really didn’t know… So she whispered:

“If there’s any one who’ll find out if our Potion Master’s capable of loving someone, it’s going to be you, Miss Snape…”

At that they both smiled watery smiles…

“Thank you, Hermione…”

“You’re welcome, Amélie…”

The girls rested a bit more in each other’s arms, recovering from the new information… But hunger soon drove them to leave their spots in front of the fire. Getting up, they brushed their clothes straight and stretched their limbs. Brushing her cheeks dry, Hermione sniffed a bit and saw Amélie doing the same: trying to make themselves presentable.

It was only now that Hermione paid any real attention to the room they were in.

“Where are we anyway?”

Amélie looked up: “Oh, I reckon these are Snape’s quarters?”

Hermione saw a second door, opposite the one to the hallway. Pointing to the door she said:

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That blond boy’s there, yes, I feel him… You know, these Headquarters have a habit of sheltering tortured souls. With him, it’s more of a dull pain…” lowering her voice to a whisper she confided with Hermione, “and it’s not just the physical pain… I think, he doesn’t really want to fight it… you know… like he’s hurt emotionally, too much, too hard to bear…”

Hermione could tell Amélie was seriously concerned, but she couldn’t help a snort: “Malfoy doesn’t have emotions…”

“Hermione! He’s still a person!”

“A person who tried to kill me! More then once! And a person who killed his own father… Although that was good riddance!”

“Hermione! Do you hear yourself? I’m not saying I don’t value your life, on the contrary! I know he harmed you, in more ways then one! You told me so! But that doesn’t mean he’s not a person, just making the wrong choices! He’s not a monster! He has to have feelings!”

Hermione mellowed; sighing she admitted: “You have such strong belief in the ones around you… I wish I could still have your optimism in believing Draco was only a spiteful little ferret because of his upbringing… But, he’s responsible for his mistakes, no matter what, and if he wants redemption for his actions, he’ll have to prove himself… But I strongly doubt that ever happening…”

“It will happen, if he has the right guidance, and is supported with care…” Amélie stated determined.

Hermione smiled and linked her arm through Amélie’s, steering her to the door: “And now we know from who you get that rock-steady faith in human goodwill. And let me tell you this: it sure as hell isn’t from your dad!”

Giggling they made their way downstairs.

Reaching the kitchen, they saw Ron and Harry already down there. Hermione’s heart lifted when she saw Ron wolfing down his breakfast. She’d never believe she would ever be relieved to see Ron misbehaving with bad table manners… Harry must’ve gotten him out of his depression somehow…

Looking at Harry, she saw him wink at her. To her own small horror she felt her heart skip a beat and heat rising in her cheeks. Since when did she give in to the irrational part of being in love? Pushing those thoughts away, she forced her gaze back to his face and smiled back. He was looking at her quizzically but then regarded his other best friend with a content smile.

“Oh! Blueberry pancakes, my favourites!”

Amélie exclaimed to the joy of Winky. The House-Elf set to work immediately to make more, and Harry smiled:

“Yeah, you best watch it, Amélie! With Ron’s insatiable stomach, you may have to fight to protect your share of pancakes!”

Ron looked up at that, and spoke with his mouth full: “Hey! I’m not that bad!” spraying Hermione with bits of half-mashed food.

“Urgh! Ron!” she exclaimed in disgust, but added quickly: “Yes, you are that bad! Remember after that one Quidditch practise? You almost bit my finger off when you stole my fudge…”

Ron swallowed heavily and tried to protest while the rest burst out in laughter.

“I did not!” Ron finally managed to say.

“Oh yes you most certainly did!” came Ginny’s amused voice from the doorway.

Luna followed her in. Both girls looked alright, they were smiling with the rest of the youth.

“I even remembered a time you were so hungry, you ate a box fool of the twins’ trick candy. You just popped one in your mouth and waited for the effects to die out before eating the next one!”

They all exploded in laughter, and Ron’s face was red. Nudging a chuckling Harry, he said mock-serious:

“Hey, mate. You can’t side with the bloody girls, we’re already outnumbered! Next you know they’re going to take over!”

“Oh, Ron, you’re such a wuss!” Ginny teased, flinging a piece of her pancake at her brother.

The piece landed right in the middle of his forehead, sticking there. They all went silent and watched amused how Ron took the piece from his face, and put it in his mouth. While he munched on the food, he reached for the bowl of whipped cream and dragged a spoon through it purposefully.

Ginny regarded her brother coolly: “You wouldn’t dare…”

No sooner were her words out, or he had flung the contents of the spoon in Ginny’s direction. Unfortunately, the cream didn’t stay consistent in one blob, but sailing through the air it divided itself into several mini-blobs, hitting not only Ginny square in the face, but also Luna.

Before Hermione had a chance to call it a halt, a full fledged food fight had started. After Ron dumped the bowl of whipped cream over her head, though, she gave as good as she got! Winky fled the kitchen screaming and lamenting, but the adolescents had a minute of carefree fun, and as such, couldn’t care less.

Laughing and squealing, they kept flinging food at each other. But the boys, despite being outnumbered, had the greater advantage: they could use magic! Food was accio’d back to them for more ammunition, or levitated above the girls… Harry would’ve been disabled long ago, if it weren’t for the strong impervious charm he cast on his glasses, making sure no food obstructed his vision.

Suddenly Tonks’ head popped in the kitchen: “What in the blazing hell is happening in here?”

She didn’t sound angry, yet… But there was a piece of pumpkin pie levitating shakily above her head… Smiling she exclaimed:

“Oh! A food fight!”

No sooner had she uttered those words, or the pie fell on her head.

“Never mind,” she mumbled, shaking her head spraying the crumbs everywhere. She disappeared back in the hallway, and the occupants of the kitchen again burst out into laughter.

“We should wrap things up in here,” Hermione said.

Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the table and said: “Evanesco!”

It didn’t quite leave the table spotless, and Ron pushed Harry out of the way, using several charms and spells leaving the kitchen spotless. Unaware of the looks of amazement he got, he turned to find his friends gaping at him.

“What?”

Luna smiled broadly: “You’re going to make a very fine husband one day, Ronald Weasley!”

Before anyone could respond to Luna’s outrageous comment, the kitchen door opened to reveal Dumbledore. Looking around with twinkling eyes, he acted disappointed:

“Oh, am I too late for the food fight? Pity… Harry, could I have a word with you?”

When Harry was already in the hallway, Dumbledore turned and told the rest: “I’d at least change my clothes if I were you: you’ll stick everywhere if you continue to walk around like that!”

With a wink, the nutty professor was out the door.

Still giddy from the afterglow they trudged upstairs to use the bathroom. Ron disappeared in the boys’ dorm, while the girls discussed who got to use the bathroom first.

Hermione chose to just trade her clothes for a bathrobe while waiting for a turn in the bathtub. Getting out her tome on Tranfiguration, she set to study. Almost an hour later, Ginny and Amélie had already finished, but Luna was still in the bathtub, humming ‘Weasley is our King’.

She’d left some of her Potion’s notes in the drawing room, and considering she was covered enough and the house sounded quiet, she went down quickly to get them. Opening the door of the drawing room, she found Harry leafing through his own notes…

Feeling a bit self-conscious, any hope to leave without him noticing vanquished when he looked up. He smiled, and again she was left tongue-tied. Cursing herself for leaving her room with virtually nothing on but the bathrobe, except of course her knickers, she was rooted on the spot when Harry got up and advanced on her. She leaned against the wall next to the door, and waited for him get in front of her.

His green eyes mesmerizing her, again, glittered with amusement, but the trembling of his upper lip in his so-called confident smile, betrayed his nervousness.

“Harry…”

Hermione whispered, when he stood so close to her that she could feel his breath tickling her nose. If he didn’t move quickly, she was going to take matters in her own hands, or sneeze…

Just when she decided to bring her head closer to reach for his lips, he descended also. The result was a rather awkward and forceful meeting of two noses.

“Aw!”

Harry looked apologetic and a bit ashamed by the mishap, but Hermione grinned. Bringing her arms up, she took his head between her hands, and kept his face steady, while she tiptoed to brush her lips over his.

The kiss started with brief caresses of lips, but soon, Harry brought his arms around her middle and pulled Hermione closer. Kissing her soundly, Hermione felt her heart beat accelerate as if this was the first time they kissed.

Her arms went around his neck, with one hand pressing between his shoulder blades, and the other playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry’s mouth travelled to her neck, and Hermione didn’t think to mind. It felt lovely for his mouth to travel along her pulse, kissing the hollow above her breastbone, and travelling back up again to the side. Gently pushing the cloth away, he kissed her bare shoulder, making her shiver.

Suddenly he stopped, bringing his head levelled with hers again:

“Hermione?”

Hermione regarded him unfocused: “Hmm?”

“Maybe…” he gulped, reaching up to cover her bare shoulder with a shaking hand. With an unsteady voice he continued: “Maybe we should stop…”

Hermione pouted: “Why?”

Suddenly, his lips were against hers again, in a heated kiss. Harry pressed his pelvis against hers, and Hermione could feel his… excitement… Too shocked to do anything, Hermione let herself just feel. Before she could come to a decision on how to respond, Harry backed away. Releasing her from the kiss she gulped in her breath, while he whispered in her ear:

“That’s why…”

While she shivered from his breath on her ear shell, he let go of her, and fled to the door. Hermione’s panting was the only sound in the room, though she couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in her ears. Her heart was going a mile an hour, though what surprised her the most, was that she wasn’t appalled by Harry’s… excitement… in the least. She wasn’t even that scared about the thought of what it implied.

What surprised her the most was that she had been properly aroused, an intense feeling new to her… But she had loved every minute of it…

***

Ch 8 About you, love

Hermione tossed and turned in bed.

Amélie had made her promise not to tell anyone yet about what they all found out, until they were sure about what had happened to her real mum. Dumbeldore had promised Amélie that they would look into it immediately. And if Hermione could draw conclusions from the expression on Snape’s face the last time she saw him, she bet he wouldn’t rest until he got all of the information out of his sister.

As for her parents’ task… She didn’t know if Amélie knew about her being in danger, but Hermione wasn’t going to be the one informing her…

She was still unsure how she felt about her parents researching Dark Arts. She knew that there weren’t a lot of the ‘good’ wizarding kind that wanted to go any deeper into those topics. That was part of the trouble getting good Defence Against the Dark Arts Professors. That and the so-called curse on the position…

Really, only Aurors remained with an undoubted reputation when studying Dark Magic. And they were monitored closely on those studies. Others were always considered suspicious… Hermione only knew of Remus, Snape, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody… Those were the only ones she knew had studied the Dark Arts, and the only ones she trusted with that knowledge… Well, maybe Snape not so much…

But Tonks and Shacklebolt had already their jobs in the Ministry to look out for, and Moody seemed to always be on some kind of mission of his own… Hermione could understand why they wouldn’t be chosen to research Amélie’s case… As for Remus… Well, he was under a lot of suspicion, too, lately, by the Ministry… Maybe that’s why Dumbledore didn’t ask him?

In any event, Hermione could imagine that there were other Dark Magic researches going on already by the Order, about topics that were of more grave importance then saving the life of one innocent… But why not Snape? If anyone had the most rights, and the most resources, to be sure, it would be him? Wouldn’t it? After all it was his daughter’s life that was at stake here…

Except… Hermione wasn’t sure, but she always wondered why Dumbledore went to great lengths to avoid giving Snape the Defence Against the Dark Arts job… Hell, he even let Umbridge in! Surly Snape was a brilliant Potions Master, but Hermione couldn’t fathom that it would be harder to get a decent replacement for Potions than it would be for Defence Against the Dark Arts…

Now, again, this thought lingered… Aside from the dangerous job Snape already had to pull, playing a spy with Voldemort, Hermione reckoned he could easily make time for researching in his library… But what if it went deeper than that… She had read somewhere that some types of Dark Magic were addictive…

Could that be why Dumbledore sheltered Snape from any form of Dark Arts? From what Hermione could gather, Dark Arts had basically been his upbringing… So it would be hard for Snape not to give in from time to time to the more ‘innocent’ forms of dark magic…

Going to Voldemort’s meetings must really test the boundaries of his restraint… She’d have to browse the Grimmauld library, maybe there were tomes left here that could confirm her theory…

In any event, that could explain why Dumbledore trusted her parents to do the research. Aside from the fact that it was illegal to have Muggles study any form of magic, it would be harmless. They could read and memorise the spells, but they could never perform them. So there was no ‘benefit’ to gain from it…

Hermione supposed that thus it would be unlikely for her parents to become addicted… And even if this turned out to be the case, by some strange occurrence, they would still be harmless to the rest… Could it put her parents in harms way, though? Hermione couldn’t imagine Dumbledore suggesting such a thing, and she would see to it that there was sufficient protection for them.

On a good note, it would help them feel more useful…

Hermione sighed and turned on her other side, trying to get comfortable enough to get some sleep…

Her thoughts just fluttered to another topic… One she had tried to avoid ever since she caught her bearings and went up to take that damn bath…

Harry and her hadn’t talked about what had happened in the drawing room. In fact they practically avoided eye-contact all evening. During dinner, Hermione had concentrated on the new-found enthusiasm of Ron and Ginny. She still didn’t know what happened to get Ron out of his depressed feelings, and frankly the sudden change was starting to worry her a bit…

She had been meaning to ask Amélie about what he felt, but the girl had been more pensive, and Hermione didn’t want to bother her. Her friend had had enough to deal with today already…

And about Harry…

Well, she honestly didn’t really know what to think anymore. Their path had been so unclear already… Sometimes she longed for the days when they were all just best friends, and everything was simple. Now everything was complicated, and with the history they had on the ‘romance’ department, Hermione feared it could only get worse…

She remembered what distant relative used to say all the time, exasperating everyone who’d heard her say it more then ten times already: “A good relationship is based on good communication, without communication you can’t understand each other!”

Hermione used to laugh secretly at simpleton way she used to say those words… But there was a grain of truth in it. Harry and her had always functioned well in the areas where they could understand each other. That was with their friendship. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk to each other anymore… but they never really talked about what they had…

Like the fact that they didn’t tell anyone about the development in their relationship. It had been implied, maybe? But both were assuming this was the way it should be. Hermione didn’t even know if she herself wanted it to stay a secret, let alone that she knew exactly where Harry stood on things.

The same went for the ‘I love you’s. She was sure she loved him… But every new day, she discovered that the day before, she didn’t really love him as much as she loved him that day… how could she have thought, yesterday, that she loved him? Today, now she loved him… It was a never-ending story… It didn’t even make sense to her, really… It was just that: what did she really know about love? What was love, anyway?

She had loved her parents, her books, before she had gone to Hogwarts, and maybe Amélie, too, but she hadn’t seen her friend that much, and though it’s harsh to say, but when you’re a kid, sometimes out of sight is out of the heart… Her friendship with Harry and Ron, however, had been a whole other level of love, to her.

She had loved Harry and Ron differently, but always with the same intensity… The year before, a lot of things had happened. She’d learned that, even though she loved Ron very much, she couldn’t love him in that ‘other’ way. While, after Harry and her had kissed the first time, there was no doubt in her mind that she could love him that way…

But circumstances, and her stubbornness, had made for a queer development in their relationship. It had been strange those last months of sixth year. She felt like she was pretending to be Harry’s friend. She felt closer to Ron, and yet the pain she felt from not being in a real relationship, friendship or otherwise, with Harry had drained her emotionally.

After the train ride, when they had kissed on a third occasion, she finally let that real love for him resurface. She knew she loved him, but then again, it felt like she’d always loved him… And that now she was just getting the perk of kissing too… It felt like she had bypassed the silly-crush phase, and jumped right to the quiet and steady love. And she’d liked that. How naïve of her…

But now, it felt different. And when she analysed the last times they had been together, it was obvious. When they had first seen each other at Grimmauld Place this summer, it was like they were still in the easy-going newness of their ‘being in love’… Circumstances of her comforting him had been ‘normal’ in their friendship part, and it wasn’t too awkward to start smooching from an embrace…

It had been four days now, and circumstances had been quite different. Ron had been the one needing to get worried over, her parents, too, and they were settling down from all the chaos… Harry and Hermione hadn’t really had much opportunity to talk privately, and even when they did, things got awkward. It was like both of them were a bit shy to make the first move and closing the distance between them. A few hours ago had been the first time it actually happened, well, with a bit of a rocky start…

Hermione didn’t want the thing she had with Harry developing to be only based on situations of stress. She wanted to be able to know when a smirk meant he wanted to kiss her, and when it was just a smirk… when a wink was meant to tease her or make her blush, and when it was meant to be just an ‘understanding’ between them… She wanted to get to hug him because she wanted to, and not with the excuse of comforting him… And she wanted him to be ok with that… Most of all she wanted to know what Harry thought about, and not just his thoughts about Quidditch, school, or Voldemort…

She couldn’t just assume anymore she really knew how Harry was standing about the change. Before she could still pretend it was just taking their friendship to a new level. Now that bubble had burst for real. She didn’t feel like she could just built on a new layer to her friendship with Harry… Besides, that wouldn’t do justice to her friendship with Ron, or any other friendships she built along the years. It would mean that her relationship with Harry would become ‘higher’ in ranking, or something, and it was just different…

Or would it really become more important then anything else? Were they going to create a rift between the trio? But the way they had acted while denying their feelings had done that too, much to her chagrin, so whichever way, the dynamic was going to change… Argh! This was complicated, Hermione understood now why people warned about dating their best friend.

Bottom line: this new dynamic between Harry and her deserved a new foundation, an appropriate one… if they wanted to continue this new type of relationship… Urgh, that sounded so clinical! But did that mean they had to start from scratch?

That was absurd, she knew Harry since he was eleven! She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she knew him inside out, but it wasn’t like they needed to date to get to know each other better…

But now, with what happened in the drawing room downstairs… When she thought about it, she couldn’t deny getting a bit scared… It wasn’t Harry’s reaction, actually, in retrospect she was very relieved he’d left when he did. It was her lack of inner warning bells…

She wasn’t ready for that type of physical relationship! She couldn’t be! She hadn’t read up on it at all, and it had only been a couple of months since she even got kissed for the first time! She didn’t even know if there would be legal repercussions. Technically, Harry was of age now, and she wasn’t…

And despite of all this, when Harry had started to touch his lips along her skin, all bets had been off. She liked to think she would’ve stopped it, too, if he really had tried to go further, but she couldn’t be sure anymore… So what scared her was that she didn’t really trust herself with him…

But that had to be codswallop! She always felt safest around him, despite the danger he attracted!

Getting extremely frustrated with herself for being unable to find a rational response to the problem, she shrugged her sheets away and stood from her bed. This was going to end! And there was only one way to put a stop to the annoying lack of conclusion.

She was going to find Harry!

Not caring about the hour, she did however act careful as not to wake up her roommates. Clambering down the stairs, she stood still in front of the boys’ room. Opening the door silently, she entered the room, bypassing the bed where the redhead was trashing around and mumbling.

She was almost at Harry’s side, when suddenly Ron sat upright. He looked around, haunted-like. Hermmione was about to explain what she was doing in their room, when Ron’s eyes didn’t fix on hers at all. He started mumbling again, more loudly now.

The only words she could make out were ‘didn’t mean to’, ‘fight’, ‘don’t’ and ‘in my head’. It was as if he was talking to someone behind her, and when he suddenly yelled “No!”, Hermione almost jumped a foot in the air.

“It’s ok, Ron…”

Hermione heard the soothing voice of Harry, all of the sudden. Turning her head, she saw Harry sitting up in his bed also. Ron’s gaze moved to Harry’s immediate area, too, and he seemed to stutter:

“But... but… I… But…” Ron frowned, as if confused himself.

Harry said: “It’s ok, Ron. Just go back to sleep… Come on, lie down…”

Still frowning Ron did as Harry told him to, and with a last “But I didn’t mean to” he laid his head down.

“I know you didn’t, Ron…” Harry replied, and only then Ron seemed to relax, and he closed his eyes.

Hermione stood gaping at the scene, what had just happened? Not understanding, she turned to Harry. He was just getting out of bed, pulling a robe over his worn sweatpants. Before she could ask what had happened, Harry gripped her elbow and steered her out of the room.

When he’d closed they stood in the hallway, and Harry had closed the door behind them, they turned to each other and whispered urgently at the same time:

“What’s wrong with Ron?” / “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harry sighed, and ran a hand over his tired face.

“Ron talks in his sleep, always has… He was just having a nightmare… Now can you tell me what you’re doing in my room at,” he checked his wristwatch, “3 am?!”

Hermione thought the hallway wouldn’t be the greatest place to discuss anything with Harry.

“I need to talk to you… but not here…”

“Ok…”

While Hermione was still thinking where they’d best conduct this conversation, without the risk of having someone barge in on them, Harry had already taken her arm and dragged her with him…

After descending several flights of stairs, they arrived in the basement. Hermione shivered from the cool air, but kept going until they were in the ‘Marauders’ Cave’. That was how they had dubbed the old duelling space…

Finally they were at a stop.

“Ok, talk…”

Harry said, not unkindly. His voice rang out in the cave leaving echo’s. Suddenly Hermione didn’t really have the courage to just start the conversation she wanted to. Racking her brain, she tried to come up with something that would seem important enough for her to lose sleep over…

“Hermione? Well, don’t tell me you got up at three in the morning just for the hell of it?”

Panicking, Hermione blurted out the first thing that popped up:

“You haven’t answered that question I asked four days ago… About what Amélie said to you…”

Truth be told, she had completely forgotten about the little scene with Amélie whispering in Harry’s ear. Relief and disappointment flooded her both at once. Relief that she had found at least something to say, disappointment that she hadn’t brought up the truth.

All that changed, though, the second she saw Harry’s grave expression. The silence took a very solemn turn, and Hermione forgot about what had brought her here in the first place, and concentrated on the, apparently, box of Pandora she had tried to open.

As the silence went on, Hermione felt the cold more keenly, and started shivering. Once Harry saw this, he took out his wand and created a ‘privacy bubble’ around them, followed by a heating charm, before he accio’d some chairs from a corner. With a simple hand wave he indicated she should sit.

Feeling that this was going to be much more serious then she originally planned, she did as he wanted and kept her silence. They were sitting right across from each other, and Harry seemed to be far away, in his thoughts. Reaching out, she took the hands clasped in his lap gently in her own. Green eyes snapped to hers in an instant.

Hermione felt the trepidation settle heavily in her stomach, Harry opened his mouth but no sound came from it. Carefully Hermione whispered:

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me… I… I understand…”

Though the latter was a lie, she didn’t understand, how could she, she meant the former despite her piqued curiosity. But Harry found his voice, finally:

“No, it isn’t that Amélie saw anything, really… It’s just that she apparently got some vibe that I have been holding major secrets from my best friends this past year, and she told me it was time to come clean…” Harry shook his head, “I don’t know, I should’ve told you earlier… It’s just that, when I first learned about it, I didn’t want anyone to know, and so I didn’t tell you and Ron, and then it got easier not telling you, you know?”

The question seemed rather rhetorical to her, so she met his gaze steadily, trying to convey to him that he should just get on with it.

“Right,” Harry fidgeted, “I should start at the beginning, yes, that’s probably the best way to start it… Well, you remember Trelawney making a true prophecy at the end of third year?”

Hermione nodded hesitantly. Despite not having that much faith in foretelling, she reluctantly admitted that that time was not a fraud-moment, but only because Dumbledore seemed to think it was real. And anyway, that prophecy only showed how impossible it was to really know what would happen that night.

For one thing, first they thought it was Sirius. They could’ve never known Scabbers would turn out to be Pettigrew, who turned out to be the traitor… Nor could they predict he would be able to escape because Remus hadn’t taken his potion that night. Or Snape had been unwilling to see reason…

Even more! In hindsight the prophecy could have been about Crouch Jr. too! After Harry came back at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, it fitted Crouch’s story even more… To this day they couldn’t be sure which of the two the prophecy meant.

But, enough of that, Harry obviously didn’t need a lecture about fortune telling right now.

At her nod Harry continued. He told her about why Dumbledore kept Trelawney at Hogwarts, who had made the prophecy that had cost Sirius’ life, who had witnessed it… what it said…

His voice threatened to break a few times, but he went on bravely. Explaining what it meant, about how Neville could’ve been a contingency plan, but since he was a ghost now… well, there was no backup hero… How much Voldemort already knew about it, and how that was the main reason the Dark Lord had come after his parents that Halloween night…

Hermione sat still, taking it all in…

...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

Silence was heavy. Hermione still had Harry’s hands clasped between hers, and she slowly retracted them.

“You’ve known since when?” Hermione was surprised at how business-like her voice sounded. It wasn’t what she was feeling… At least she thought it wasn’t. She felt oddly empty, like she had yet to decide how she was going to respond emotionally…

“The night… the night Sirius fell through the veil…”

Harry’s answer was barely a whisper.

Hermione stood up suddenly, and started pacing…

“Hermione…”

She heard his plea, but she just held her hand up to stop him. She had to think about this first… Barely realising it, she muttered aloud:

“Ok, it’s not that I didn’t see it coming, I mean, Voldemort’s after you, he’s obsessed, so I always knew there was a chance you’d have to face him off eventually, or again… I just kind of hoped Dumbledore would get him before that happened… Guess I’m quite naïve… Aren’t I?”

Hermione shot a nervous glance Harry’s way, still pacing like a woman trying to avoid hysteria. He opened his mouth again, but again she stopped him.

“Even true prophecies aren’t really reliable. No, even if what Trelawney said, by miracle is some kind of real prophecy, there’s no sure way to tell what it will be in reality! You said yourself it could’ve easily been Neville! It could still be someone else! You know… like the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies! How can you be sure it’s July, it could easily be September, that’s the seventh month according to the Roman calendar. It could be another date, altogether! And about the Dark Lord will mark him… Voldemort could have marked many people in lots of different ways! And lots of people defied him in less obvious ways… Born to those who have thrice defied him, it could be someone else! Not you…”

Harry shot up, and grabbed Hermione by the upper arms: “Hermione! It is me! I have no choice! I’ll be a murderer or a corpse! Whether I like it or not, Hermione, it’s me…”

“I don’t want you to be,” Merlin! She had resorted to whining… must get a grip on herself.

Harry looked at her funnily: “I’m supposed to be the Saviour of the world, I’m supposed to defeat the greatest Dark Wizard since a long time, and I haven’t even graduated! I have no idea how I’m supposed to pull that off…”

Hermione looked in his eyes and saw a lost boy, with way too much pressure on his shoulders… Hopelessness…  Now it was her time to grab his shoulders.

“You listen here, Harry, I have complete faith in you! You’ll defeat him, of that I have absolutely no doubt. I’ll admit I would like it more if Dumbledore could vanquish that awfully pale arse of his, but that’s not because I have more faith in his abilities! I just don’t want you in any risky situation. Hell, I don’t even like it that much when you play Quidditch!”

Hermione took a deep breath, making sure Harry could see she was completely sincere, needing him to know: “Besides, there’s still time, you can train! And knowledge is power! The fact that Voldemort doesn’t know the whole thing, is a good point for us! And if it’s really you in that prophecy, then you have a great power Voldemort knows not… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...”

Hermione took a deep breath: “And you know I’ll always be here for you, Harry! I won’t let you do this alone…”

Finally Hermione felt like there was some life back in her body… Yes, they could train, and find out more… And…

“I need to go to the library…”

Hermione had already turned, but was stopped by Harry clutching her hand. She turned and frowned at him inquisitively.

“It’s 4 am, Hermione…”

Harry’s lips formed a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Hermione was about to open her mouth that they could waste no time: she had to research any book possible on what Harry’s special powers could be, and how to train them, and…

Realising Harry just didn’t need that right now, she calmed down a bit… Besides, he probably worked on all that with Dumbledore…

Harry still held Hermione’s hand, even though they had a considerate amount of space between them…

You know, this was exactly what she meant before she climbed out of bed this night! What were they supposed to do right now? Did he want to kiss her? Or did he just need a hug? Would she be considered needy, if she did either?

Oh, to bloody hell with it!

Deciding she was going to do what she wanted, she had faith he would tell her if he didn’t care for her actions.

And really, what could she do when his glorious green eyes pierced her with intensity, and she knew she was allowed to drown in them?

Moving forward, she stepped as close as possible to him, tasting those lips of his…

***

Abandoned

***

Ok, I know I’m taking the chicken route out… But this story is becoming too AU for me to continue… I wrote this, as a continuation of canon, and it’s making my heart ache too much for that to continue this way.

You know, it was kind of shocking to have some facts so similar to HBP, not that I’m trying to take credit of knowing how JK’s mind works, but still…

Like Malfoy getting access to Death Eaters through the Room of Requirement… I mean, it wasn’t near in the same way, but it kind of shocked me…

Taking the sixth year to have Hermione acting out on ‘growing pains’… Again, not nearly in the same way…

It just struck me that some things were similar, while overall, the story was the complete opposite of canon…

I can’t keep putting my energy in this story, I don’t have much time to give to writing fiction as it is, and I need to write stories that will take canon into account, and still have Harry and Hermione end up together, in one way or another…

But, because I feel this guilty, and since I actually HAD a certain goal in this fanfiction, I’m going to give you all the plotlines that were to come:

***

Ok, so we had the most important plotline: Harry and Hermione…

I was going to keep the angst-struggle going. Keeping their relationship secret, but never really discussing why they needed to keep their relationship secret….

I was going to let Hermione assume Harry wanted it that way to keep her safer. But this was going to show how you shouldn’t assume too much in a relationship. As much as you know each other, and think you can read each other’s mind, it’s always better to communicate. Because it wasn’t really Harry who wanted to keep things under wraps, he assumed it was Hermione who wanted to keep quiet, because she didn’t want to complicate all the friendships they had.

Moreover, after a romantic bike ride in the cave under Grimmauld Place, just the two of them, the night before they had to return to Hogwarts, there was going to be even more tension and angst, because at Hogwarts and everything happening, it was going to be even harder to keep things hidden, while developing their relationship…

Snape… Well, he stormed off to kill his sister last time we saw him… But he didn’t, don’t worry… Dumbledore stopped him, but they confronted the couple who’d raised Amélie… Or rather Serana, as that was how Siska had wanted to call her. The desperate hope that Siska might still be alive though, was crashed into smithereens. Further interrogation revealed the Dark Arts that bound Serana’s powers.

The tragedy was that Snape had been in love with Siska, and she had come to love him back… Resulting in one moment of tenderness that created Serana. But then everything went down hill. Snape in his warped sense of love was still a Death Eater at the time. Wanting to prove his love to Siska, he volunteered to take out her father for the Dark Lord. Snape reasoned that the old man had caused so much pain to Siska, that he deserved to die, and the Dark Lord wasn’t opposed to massacring people not supporting him…

When Siska had found this out, she had been broken. Her feelings for Snape were still loving, but she couldn’t reconcile this with the murder. Her idealism didn’t know how to cope with the conflicting emotions: she had always loved her father, however much he’d hurt her over the years of her life. She still loved Snape, but she didn’t think she could forgive him. The times were chaotic then, and one night, Maligna had found her, after her fight with her brother.

Maligna was manipulative, if nothing else. Recognising the broken spirit of Siska, she took this as the perfect revenge for the pureblood world and her family. The rape Maligna had talked about turned out to have been by her own abusive father. Jaded as Maligna was, she took Siska with her, and after learning her brother’s fiancée was pregnant, she planned on taking that little Snape as her own, and molding it into the shape she considered perfect.

Of course, Maligna knew that the child would probably turn out what she hated most: magical… As she didn’t trust the infant to repress the magic like she had been doing since she had seen ‘the light’ (Catholicism) she started to manipulate Siska into madness. The broken and pregnant witch let her take her to the brink. In the end, it was Siska herself who cast the Dark Spell binding Serana’s powers.

During the birth of Serana, Maligna kept egging Siska on that it was for the best, that it would keep the newborn from becoming a murderer and Death Eater like the father… In her desperation, Siska cast the Dark Spell… Not knowing, that the powerful binding curse would cost her her last energy. Siska died, the minute Serana cried herself into the world.

That was how the curse was so powerful that it had held Amélie’s powers for almost seventeen years. Living in the Muggle world, receiving a mostly imagination-killing education, had not threatened the curse much. But Maligna could never have guessed that the little niece of her catholic Muggle husband was a Muggleborn witch.

Their friendship had cracked the binding of her powers, little by little. And the last few days at Grimmauld Place would keep cracking the binding curse…

Since Snape was so incensed, hearing how his sister had basically killed the one woman he had ever respected, it was all Dumbledore could do to stop him from committing that crime. Leaving the couple alone, Dumbledore returned to Grimmauld Place, giving Snape the advice to find a way to clear his head. The next Death Eater meeting would be coming soon, and it wouldn’t do to get killed just because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check…

Then, Amélie… Well she tried to cope with all the new information she was given, and with the fact that her destiny was now unclear. The Grangers still took on the task to find a way to reverse the curse, or at least to find out the consequences of the cracks in the spell.

This meant that now there were three youths that had to stay secret. Draco, because he was supposed to have been killed in the Death Eater attack at the Hospital. Ginny, because that new Minister of Magic was still trying to hunt her down, believing she was the key to gain control over the Dark Lord. He believed that because she had been possessed by his essence, she was somehow the key to threaten Voldemort, maybe to even kill him… Not that that was particularly the plan… The Minister just wanted power over Voldemort… And Amélie, or Serana, couldn’t be safe in the outside world.

So these three students had to stay at Grimmauld Place, while Ron, Hermione and Harry had to return to Hogwarts, because it wouldn’t be safe for them to disappear also, since they were too much in the pubic eye already…

The accommodation in the Grimmauld Place would soon become difficult for the three youths, thus arrangements had been made to bring them somewhere sheltered. By that time, the Healer Gillian had been compromised, and had become a target for Death Eaters as a known Order Member. So shipping off Ginny, Draco and Amélie, or Amy, like she wanted to be called from now on, the comatose Molly was sent with them to a cabin in the mountains.

It belonged to a Muggle named Rowan, a trustworthy chap, who knew Remus. He too had been a Brit, but after his wife had been murdered by vampires, he had taken refuge in the Swiss mountains, living a rough but calm life.

The arrival of three teens, a woman in coma, and a Healer, was disruptive to his life, but Rowan owed Remus a lifedebt, and the Muggle was honourable enough to give these people in trouble a safe place.

There, Molly keeps living in her dreamworld.

Ginny is finally starting to cope that Neville’s death wasn’t her fault. Being a prisoner of the Grimmauld Place for so long, she revels in the vastness of the mountains. Being cut off from information about what’s happening back home keeps her from worrying, as she firmly believes that no news is good news. Amy worries about Ginny’s way of closing herself off emotionally, but she can’t seem to get through to her. Ginny also blames Draco for her mother’s condition, even though Amy explains that Molly just didn’t want her son to become a murderer, and that was the only way she could think off to stop Ron at that time…

There is another complication, Amy has developed a crush on Ginny, though knowing Ginny could never return such feelings.

Draco is not coping at all. The fire marked half of his face, marring the deceivingly angelic beauty he had. Physically he was healed though, but he redraws more and more from reality. There Amy could help, and all of her energy goes to him. While Ginny seems perfectly fine avoiding Malfoy, Amy tries everything to make him feel again, or maybe, make him feel for the very first time.

Complications arise when, after several months, Draco does start feeling, for the first time. He admires Amy and starts to bicker with Ginny. He doesn’t understand that Ginny doesn’t think him repulsive for his scarred face, but for his actions in the past. Amy’s binding curse has been cracking silently, more and more. She can feel all of the conflicting emotions. She knew before Healer Gillian and Rowan knew, that they were fighting the attraction they felt towards each other. She felt Molly was present, in the silent body, yearning to show them she was still there…

She also started sensing Draco loved her. And it broke her heart, because she loved him too, but couldn’t return his affections the way he wanted her to. She also couldn’t fight her growing feelings for Ginny. But she knew Ginny was starting to feel very conflicted towards Draco. Amy was doomed to feel everything going on around her, but didn’t tell anyone. She was suffering, being in the jaded lovetriangle caused by close quarters, but didn’t dare lose the friendships by saying anything.

She believed, that once Harry freed them, and they could start living normally again, these feelings would stop. Ginny wouldn’t have to try so hard to hate Draco, when she was around her brothers, it would be easier for her then. And Draco would meet new people, forgetting her… And Amy would find a nice girl who could return the feelings…

Meanwhile, in Great-Britain, the war waged on. Snape was still a spy, but had now more then regret for losing Siska fuelling his determination to bring down Voldemort. The very short time he spent with Serana, for that was how he’d always call her, he saw so much of her mother’s spirit in her, that he couldn’t help but feel for her.

Ron still had a difficult time. Before he returned to Hogwarts, he had a little crush on Amy, because her interference had sped up his mental healing process. Concentrating on keeping Harry alive, though, made the ‘out of sight, out of heart’ crush die. Luna, who stood patiently at Ronald’s side, would have to wait another whole year for him to make a move that wasn’t strictly friendly.

At Hogwarts, the intrigues continue. Nott was still there, as were other Slytherins and some Ravenclaws who turned out to be Death Eater wannabes. Neville wasn’t that pleased to hear Bellatrix wasn’t dead and buried after all. And it isn’t until much later that they learned that she had been an early experiment of Voldemort, in his quest to find ways to live forever. He had tried to make a potion that would give the drinker all the strengths of a vampire, without the weaknesses.

The test after taking the potion had simply been to cut Bellatrix, watching if she’d speed-heal. When that didn’t happen, the experiment had been considered a failure. But years later, when she was pierced by that sword, the faulty potion did kick in. Completely unexpected, Bellatrix turned a vampire by death, without being bitten. She was burned to dust by Remus in the final battle after all, though.

Harry continues to learn as much as possible, with Hermione and Ron by his side. For comical relief, I had planned something between Neville and Moaning Myrtle. She was to chase him constantly, and the introduction of the terrified Neville ghost at the Sorting during Seventh Year, being chased by a delirious Myrtle, would take away the sting of Neville’s death at the end of sixth year.

Then there’s the unresolved business with Crookshanks. To tell you the truth, I had forgotten about him. First there was the assumption that Death Eaters had taken him with them. After all, they were always on quests to find ways to live eternally… And the cat having nine lives, supposedly, would give them some incentive to cat-nap Crookshanks. But no trace is found if the ginger furball after the attack on Hermione’s house. And from there on, everything’s just speculation. Crookshanks had chosen Hermione, and apparently, he’d decided it was time for her to go on without his help? One can only wonder at the mystery surrounding Crookshanks…

But on with the story.

Dumbledore is lured into a trap at Christmas, leaving the world as insecure as it could be… McGonagall takes over Hogwarts as Head Mistress. The wizarding world looks at Harry now, to free them from Voldemort, while the Minister keeps trying to manipulate everything to go his way, with the help of Percy. His daughter, Percy’s wife, is just an unhappy weak puppet, being used for her father’s motives for as long as she remembers, and that’s why she doesn’t seem to care about anything surrounding her.

The final battle is not something I really thought up yet, I was going to see where the story would be taking me.

One thing I did know, though. The Grangers found the solution for Amy’s release from the curse, without bringing her life into danger. Before the ritual could be planned though, the final attack takes place at Godric’s Hollow, where everything started for Harry and Voldemort.

After Harry somehow killed Voldemort, the results would be these:

Luna would be mortally wounded, finally jolting Ron’s feelings. She would be in for a long recovery, unsure if she would ever really recover, but Ron refused to leave her bedside, and when she does seem to start to heal after several weeks of uncertainty, she attributes her survival to Ronald’s love.

Hermione and Harry would both be heavily wounded, and after their recovery, they would have to re-evaluate their relationship. So finally, they do talk, work out the assumptions and expectations, and start a rocky base on communication. They still have a long way ahead of them. They have to rediscover the other, and themselves. They have to determine what they want to do now, and who they are, and how they’ll fit their newly developed identities in each other’s lives.

Arthur, having been apart from his wife for so long, brings her back to St-Mungo’s, and doesn’t leave her side. He figures he isn’t needed anywhere else anymore, and he can waste away at his wife’s side.

Amy… Well, Amy is involved in the last battle, against the wishes of almost everyone involved… She couldn’t defend herself, so she kept herself hidden, but when she saw someone sneaking up to her father’s back, she jumped the Death Eater’s back, ripped off her glove and for the first time, she tried to use her powers in a bad way.

She didn’t kill, but she used all her frustrations ever since she’d come into the wizarding world, and recognising Dolohov, newly escaped, again, as her victim, she viciously pushed that pain into him. Shocked by her own actions, she didn’t see a slicing curse heading her way, but Snape did at the last possible moment.

He took it for her. Unable to do magic, and too far away from the others, she couldn’t do anything to keep her father from dying in her arms. A bittersweet moment, without words, but with Amy’s powers, she could feel her father’s love, pain, and guilt. Enraged by sorrow and regret, she ran towards the thick of the fight, ducking curses by slithering the ground as a snake, touching Death Eaters and using the only power she had.

Causing the mayhem, she fainted and couldn’t know it had been Ginny and Draco who had saved her from the revenge of Death Eaters, and tucked her safely away in hiding.

After the battle calmed down, Amy was brought to St-Mungo’s, but her callous use of emotions laced with magic had cracked the binding curse even more then ever, making her highly unstable. Before trying the ritual, she had a conversation with Ginny, confessing everything. About her sexual orientation, about her crush on her, about her knowing Ginny couldn’t hate Draco anymore, about Draco’s love, and her worry.

Amy knew she wouldn’t survive the ritual, and made Ginny promise to take care of Draco… Leaving a letter explaining everything to Hermione, Amy was off to her last mission.

The night before she was to try the ritual, curing her from the Dark spell destroying her, she tried a last desperate action. Slipping from her room, she sneaked into Mrs. Weasley’s one. Arthur was sleeping, and Amy took Molly’s hand, concentrating.

Whatever she tried, no-one would ever know, because the next day, Amy was found exhausted, slumped on Molly’s bed, unable to wake. Molly, though, was awake. Still weak, Molly had strangely cryptic conversations with Arthur and Ron. By the end of that day, both Amy and Molly passed away in their sleep…

Amy’s last gift had been Molly’s goodbye, Molly’s message of hope…

Love is Hope!

In her letter to Hermione, Amy thanked her and told her not to have any regrets: she was with her parents now. Taking Hermione by surprise, Amy hinted at a deep relationship that would still have to form in the near future. She asked Hermione to thank Draco and Ginny in her name when the time came. She was very honoured that they would name their first-born daughter Serana…

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Ok, that’s a bit how I was seeing things in this fic. If you have other questions, don’t be afraid to ask them…

I won’t promise to answer them all, but I’ll try. As for the RemusTonks thing. That is another fic (Basical Caring), so I’ll try to see what I can salvage there.

Ok, so that was it… I’m on to see other fics…

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