A/n: Glad you're all enjoying it! Though I'd like to say this chapter sheds a bit more light, I have a nasty feeling that it may serve to confuse you more. Some of you are on the right track, but most of you aren't, from what I've seen of your reviews. That's all I'm saying. :)
~~ 3 ~~
How Could You?
"A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time I saw your pretty face.
A thousand lights have made me colder,
And I don't think I can look at this the same."
--Three Doors Down
As I walk, my strides are quick and determined, yet wary at the same time. The sky is clear here, with stars twinkling down innocently upon my head. My feet move deftly through the snow and underbrush, rarely making a sound. I am almost there, at Hogwarts. I am still considering just how I will get Hermione's attention. And even if I do, what can I possibly say to her? Though my movements are confident, my brain is far from being so. My heart is beginning to pound from nerves and with each step my courage falters a little more. Can I really do this? Should I do this?
I reach the edge of the forest. It is just past midnight now. I am staring out over the frozen lake towards old Gryffindor Tower. I look up at the window in which I'd seen Hermione earlier-if I think very hard I can get a picture of the layout of the tower and remember that it was the window of a girls' dormitory. The light is on. I consider walking closer and yelling up, but realize quickly just how bad an idea that is. Perhaps I can throw a rock if I get close enough. The chances are slim that my aim is that good, but the years of Quidditch have helped. I kneel down and brush away some snow, searching for any decent-sized rocks that may lie beneath. I collect about ten and stand up again. I glance around uncertainly. This is risky. I am jeopardizing my entire group by doing this and for that I feel terrible. Some leader I am. However, this is something I must do. If I do not, the thought of Hermione will torment me for the rest of my days.
I step out into the open and pause. I half expect sirens to blare and dementors and Death Eaters to swoop down on me. Only silence comes. I let out a sigh and begin to advance toward the base of the tower at a quicker pace. My heart is pounding again. What if she sees me and goes straight to Voldemort? Something within me argues against that-no, she'll talk to me. Even if she turns me in afterwards, she'll talk to me. I am not sure which side of my brain I believe and that uncertainty frightens me. I have learned from my experiences never to go into something unless you are sure it isn't a trap. This is not a pre-set trap, but I could very easily be trapping myself.
I reach the tower and stare up. It seems so much higher while standing below. The light is still flickering. I bite my lower lip. This is my last chance to walk away. I am teetering at the fork in the roads. The easiest path is the path back towards our base-the path that will lead me away from the traitorous Hermione Granger forever. The harder one lies in throwing the rocks and seeking her attention. And whatever path I choose, I cannot go back and change my decision if it is not to my liking.
I clutch a rock in my fist and feel its smooth texture. My eyes are trained determinedly upward. I wind my arm back and throw it. It falls short by about two floors. I don't hesitate to throw another. My choice was made in that instant and I have no more doubts. I hurl rock after rock. None seems to reach. My arm begins to ache as I refuse to stop or slow. I stoop down to collect some more rocks and throw those, too. Finally, I make it. The rock goes straight into her window. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Now is the moment of truth. What will happen?
***Hermione***
I sit on my bed, staring at the wall in front of me. I've hardly moved all day. Since I saw Harry, I've been in an odd type of stupor. The walls I'd built around my emotions and memories have fallen and I have spent the day lost in their depths. It took me several minutes to accept it was actually him I had seen. For a moment I'd assumed I was hallucinating. Then I'd seen Ron run out to Harry and I realized that I was imagining nothing.
Seeing them was like a slap in the face, like a bucket of ice water being poured over my head. My two best friends who hate me. I knew they had a right to hate me, of course-I hate myself, after all. I harbor no bad feelings toward them for what they feel for me. However, I do miss them, and it does hurt to know that they loathe me so. It's hard to remember that what I did was in their best interest. I haven't managed to see the good side of it all yet. Certainly, they are alive, but their way of life doesn't appear to be much better than mine. And keeping someone alive to live this kind of torture is not kindness-it is cruelty.
Ron's expression when he saw me is indelibly etched in my mind. His expression of pure anger was enough to send shivers down my spine. Harry did not appear angry, simply startled and horrified and . . . unless I'm much mistaken . . . hurt. His expression was far more painful than Ron's. Once they'd retreated, I had collapsed on my bed, crying.
I had not intended to live to see this hour of the day. Had Harry not appeared when he had, I'd be dead now. Death is still painfully tempting, like I am a dog with a steak being dangled in front of it. But now this dog is chained once more, with the steak just out of reach. I do not intend to retrieve the knife. Perhaps it is my own way of punishing myself for what I have done, or perhaps I still hope that one day all this will end. I'm not sure why, nor do I care. Seeing them has changed everything. It is some kind of an omen. Good or bad, I cannot tell you. I just have a deep feeling that something new is coming. That something grand and huge has been set into motion and I must be here to see it through.
Then the rock soars through my window.
It lands at the foot of my bed. I stare at it dumbly for a few moments, unmoving. All is silent and still. Then I move. I stand and walk over to it. I pick it up. It is small and round. Someone has thrown it in here. Who?
I walk over to my window and look down. Darkness is all I can see. I look toward the ground, though I cannot imagine anyone managing to throw a rock from that far. I squint my eyes through the blackness and manage to see a vague, distant figure standing below. Not for the first time, I pine for my wand. The Death Eaters confiscate it from me except for classes. I am not trusted. As I did not show up for classes today, I did not receive my wand. Therefore, I cannot light it and shine it down.
The person below seems to be thinking along the same lines. In an instant, I go from being unable to see due to lack of light to being blinded by the brightness. A moment later, the concentrated beam of light moves so that I am not staring directly into it. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust and when they do, my heart stands still. It is Harry.
***Harry***
I stare up at her. I can see her clearly, though it takes her a moment to see me. I know when she does, because her mouth falls open and an expression of surprise comes over her face. I motion for her to come down. She doesn't seem to get the idea at first. I have to motion it several times before understanding dawns on her face. She disappears from the window and I feel mistrust and doubt tighten my stomach. Is she coming down or going to betray me?
She is out of sight for at least a minute before she reappears, startling me. I assumed she'd left. She throws something down at me. I back up instinctively. I don't hear whatever it is land for a long time, so I assume that it is not something that would make sound on impact. I stoop down, using my wand light to search the ground. I see a piece of paper lying in the snow and I pick it up. My fingers are numb and I fumble to unfold it.
Harry,
I will try to come down. I can't guarantee anything, though.
I could very well be stopped while making my descent, and
should I be, I will be led away for punishment. Give me fif-
teen minutes. If I do not arrive in that amount of time, I will
not arrive at all. Leave should this deadline pass.
--Hermione
I stare at the note for several moments. Fifteen minutes . . . that would be plenty of time for her to set the Death Eaters on me. I look back up and she is gone. It is a horribly strange sensation, holding the note, knowing that she had written it moments before and that I will soon be coming face to face with her for the first time in years-if she does not betray me, that is.
I back into the shadows and crouch down. I keep my back to the stone and watch alertly as my mind considers what I will say to her. What is there to say to someone who has done this much damage and pain to you? I will do my best to keep myself under control. I do not want to lose control. I want understand everything that has happened, and going wild on her will not help my chances of that.
I wait for at least ten minutes before any movement is seen. I see a figure moving silently from the front doors. I tense and prepare to move. Whether I am facing an attack or not is a mystery, which spawns fear in me and sends my adrenaline rushing.
A moment later, I recognize the figure to be Hermione and she appears to be alone. I stand and walk cautiously towards her. My wand is clutched firmly in my fist, pointed at her. I do not trust her enough to lower it to my side.
She raises her hands when she sees me with my wand. She stops. I cannot see her face. Lighting my wand, I step nearer. I keep my face blank and emotionless. Looking closer, I can see she is shaking. I look her over. Her face and eyes are dead and hollow looking, much like Sirius's right after he got out of Azkaban. They're no longer the brilliant cinnamon brown they once were-instead they are a dull grayish color. Her hair is shorter, cut to frame her face, stopping half an inch below her ears. She dons green-lined Slytherin robes and appears frightened.
"Nice robes," I comment bitterly. I am unable to stop myself.
She does not reply. She lowers her eyes. "You can put your wand down, Harry," she sighs. Her voice is full of sadness. "I don't have mine."
"I don't believe you," I inform her bluntly. "Why would you come out here unarmed to face me? Just toss it down. Unlike you, I'm honorable-I won't attack you unless you attack me, no matter how tempting the idea may be."
She flinches at my harsh words and makes no attempt to defend herself. "I don't have my wand except for classes. They don't let me keep it."
I snort. "Sure they don't. A loyal Death Eater like yourself deprived of your wand? I doubt it. However, if you wish to keep it, go ahead. I will not lower mine." I glare at her. "Before we say anything more, I want to make a few points. First, I am not here to give you any type of a second chance. You are the biggest traitor the Light side has ever seen and I will never forgive you for everything you've done to hurt us all. Secondly, I don't trust you. If you intend to attack me, or betray me, I suggest you tell me now. I will kill you if you betray us a second time. That is not an exaggeration. I promise you that I will hunt you down until you are dead if you betray anything we say here tonight to one of your Death Eater pals." I am panting now as I finish. My breath is coming out in short, angry gasps and I can feel the red heat in my face. I am losing the composure I'd promised myself I'd keep.
Hermione is staring at the ground. She looks close to tears and says nothing.
"Well?" I demand. "Isn't there anything you'd like to say? Come on, defend yourself, I know you're dying to." My words are harsh and bitter and I know from her expression I am hurting her more with every word. Perhaps the worst part is that I am glad. That I want to hurt her. Don't I have that right? After all she's done to us, a little verbal torture isn't out of the question. And why should this hurt her anyway? She's the cool, composed Death Eater traitor. It's her own fault I have these things to throw at her.
"Please, stop," she begs, her eyes meeting mine. I can see the pain in them. "I know what I did was horrible and wrong. I know I've done unspeakable things. I don't expect your forgiveness or trust . . . I could never expect that after all I've done. But you don't understand the whole story . . ."
"Well that's why I'm here tonight, Hermione!" I cry, laughing bitterly and spreading my arms wide. "To understand. So why don't you help me with that?"
Hermione groans and looks down. She shakes her head and her trembling voice says a moment later, "Harry, I can't. I can't tell you certain things . . . many things. What they'll do to me if they ever found out . . . what they'll do to me just for being here tonight . . ." She shivers and for a moment I wonder just what it is they would do to her. Then I put the thought from my mind. She's going for sympathy. It's all an act. Besides, what do I care if the other Death Eaters hurt her? She deserves what she gets. She's put herself where she is now-she's put everyone where they are now. But still, in the back of my mind, I wonder . . .
I let out another humorless laugh. "Of course you can't. Can't betray your people, can you? Of course, it was so easy for you to betray Ron and I-the two people who were your friends beyond condition, who would have sacrificed their lives for you. The three of us went that deep, you know, even if you never felt it. I'd have stepped in front of any curse for you. Ron would have done the same. We assumed you'd do the same for us. Then you did the exact opposite-you ruined our lives." My anger is beyond control now. "You know who you're like, don't you? You're just the same as Wormtail, going against his friends and betraying my parents-getting them killed. You've done just the same to Ron and I!" I spit.
I can see Hermione flinching at my every word. "Harry, please . . . I know what I did. But you don't understand everything."
"Then tell me!" I cry. My anger vanishes and instead is replaced by desperation. My mind is begging her to give me some excuse, some reason to justify what she's done. I know I will not believe it, but I want to put my mind to rest somehow, even if it is with lies. It's so hard to imagine her as the traitor she is, even after all the time that has passed. "Hermione, I want to know. If you didn't do what it appears you did, then justify yourself."
She just shakes her head. "I can't . . ." she whispers.
And with that my anger returns. My voice rises as adrenaline and hatred flow unchecked through my boiling veins. "Well, then why don't I explain some things to you? You want to know the effects of this mess you've put us in? I'll give you the more personal ones. Molly and Arthur Weasley? Percy? Guess what-they're all dead! Bill and Charlie are stuck in another county! Ron and Ginny and Fred and George have been hurt beyond belief. You have no idea what this has done to them. If you think I hate you, you should see what Ron would do if he saw you. He wouldn't give you the chance to escape-he'd kill you without hesitation. And I can't say that he wouldn't be justified in doing that. Professor McGonagall? Flitwick? Madam Pomfrey? All dead!"
Hermione is sobbing openly now and begging me quietly to stop. Somewhere deep within me, I can hear my reasonable side call out to me to do as she is asking. Calling out to me that I've hurt her enough-that I don't have to keep this up. However, I am too far into my anger. I have one last ball to throw her, the most painful, and I cannot help but hurl it at full speed.
"By the way, have you thought much about your parents?" I ask bitterly. She bites her lip and I know I have her. "You want to know something about them? Voldemort killed them himself. You probably already knew that, though, right? But did you know that he tortured them to death? I'm not sure why myself, as you did him such a great victory, but he did. You didn't try to stop him, Hermione? Did you even care about them?"
I was right in thinking that she didn't know this. Hermione collapses to her knees in the snow and covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are large and glassy. She is positively trembling. Her sobs are the only sound echoing into the night as I try to reign my anger in. I am beginning to regret using such a harsh tone. Not all the pain she appears to be in is an act. Hermione was never a great liar or actor. She couldn't pull this off without some reality seeping through.
"I think it's time I leave," I say after a long moment. "I hope you have a nice life. You sacrificed an awful lot to get it." I turn and begin to walk away calmly into the night, intending to leave her there without looking back, just as she left Ron and I without looking back. But her call stops me.
"Harry!"
I turn around. The pain on her face is almost unbearable to me. Much as I may deny it, I still have some subtle feelings deep down for her-enough for me to care whether she is alive or dead, hurt or well. I had not been lying when I'd told her I was once willing to die for her. A bond that deep takes a long time to fully break. "What?" I ask coldly.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly, looking away. She's still sobbing. "I really am."
"Then you'd do something," I say, my voice not bitter, but sad. "You wouldn't have allowed all this to go on as long as it has."
"I'm scared!" she cries. "Every day I live in terror. You can't understand the way it feels."
"I think I can," I say in a low voice. "I live in terror, too. I never know whether or not Voldemort will come after us each day. We live in constant fear."
"It's different," she protests. "You're frightened at the possibility and the hardship. My fear is a lot more solid. Do you know what everyone here thinks of me? You assume they hold me in such high regard. They don't-you'd understand why if you knew everything that had really happened. Any chance they get, they'll hurt me." Her eyes are haunted and tortured as she continues. "Do you know what punishments consist of here for me? Beatings, pain, torture . . . Harry, what they've done to me in the past, what they'll inevitably do to me in the future . . . if you'd lived through it too, you'd know what I was talking about. It's really hard to gather the courage to do anything here, knowing that if it fails then your life will plummet even farther down the trail of misery in unimaginable ways."
I am listening to her avidly, my emotions confused. So they really do hurt her. Or possibly it is more of an act to win my sympathy and trust. But the look of terror in her eyes cannot be faked, not by the most talented of actors.
She continues. "Then, this morning I finally manage to take the step necessary to try and end all this. And then . . ." She looks at me. "I see you. And now nothing's changed. Again. Goodbye, Harry. And know that I really am sorry for so many things. I hope you have the strength to change the things I'm too cowardly to try to alter."
She turns and walks away. I do not call after her, momentarily stunned by the power and sincerity in her words. Is it possible that everything she's said tonight is the truth? Or am I still just hungering desperately for some last shred of goodness left in her?
She disappears back into the castle and I stand frozen for a moment. Finally, I sigh and turn, intending to walk away. My foot plummets into a hole in the snow mound I am standing on and sinks a few feet down. I claw at the snow and pull myself back up. Once I'm standing on solid ground again, I glance down and see something glittering in the moonlight that has been dislodged from the snow bank. I reach down and pick it up. It is a knife-a dagger, really. This must be what Hermione had dropped this morning.
Suddenly, I consider what she last said to me. "Then, this morning I finally manage to take the step necessary to try and end all this . . ." My eyes widen as I realize the full meaning of what she'd said. She had been intending to kill herself. My legs feel weak and I collapse to the snow. All the things I said to her, about her parents and the teachers and Ron . . . if she'd managed to find the strength to avoid killing herself before, I doubt she will hold out now.
And for the first time in a long time, I truly and deeply care.