a/n: Thanks for the reviews *smiles affectionately at all who leave one*
FYI: East Horsley is a small town in Surrey where I used to live - that's why I chose it for a location in this chapter. Don't think I have anything against the people there (you'll understand once you read the chapter…)
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chapter 10: our own personal prison
Harry was ecstatic to hear Hermione say those four simple words, "I love you too." He looked straight into her eyes and saw tears forming; he was sure there were tears in his own eyes as well. Harry leaned in to kiss her again, but just as his lips met Hermione's a muffled thud from the lounge broke them apart. The two stood up and reached for their wands in unison, both facing the door with their wands at the ready. Harry heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen; his heart was beating like mad, his hand was slightly shaky, and his thoughts were racing. No one is meant to be here at this time…how did they get in? No one can Apparate or Disapparate in or around the Order's headquarters…what if it's a group of Death Eaters out to get me? What if it's Voldemort himself? Oh god, I have to protect Hermione from them…
His desperate thoughts were cut short by the appearance of three unexpected people in the kitchen doorway - Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape; Dumbledore and McGonagall looked grave and Snape had his usual scowl of distaste plastered on his face.
"I am afraid we bring some bad news," Dumbledore began without so much as a 'hello.' "There has been a large scale attack on a town in Surrey, led by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. At least 100 Muggles were killed in the attack with a further 25 injured; the Dark Mark was seen floating above 42 homes and one grammar school."
Harry was confused; while he was shocked by this attack, he wondered what it had to do with him and Hermione. He glanced over at her and saw a mix of shock and confusion in her eyes as well. Apparently, Dumbledore sensed the two students' confusion.
"You are probably wondering why I have come to share this information with you." Harry and Hermione nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "A note was discovered among the rubble of one destroyed home; this note was addressed to myself and mentioned both of you in a less than nice manner." He pulled a folded piece of parchment from the inside of his robes and held it out to Harry, who took it and hastily unfolded it; he held it out for Hermione to read along with him. It looked as though it had been written in a hurry; there were ink splotches dotted around the parchment and some words were hard to make out.
Dumbledore~
The Dark Lord sends his regards to you and your Muggle-loving subservient fools. Consider this a preview of things to come, for life will soon become much more complicated for you and wizards opposed to the Dark Lord everywhere. It's not just useless Muggles who will feel the effects of us; you know that as well as anyone - your Precious Potter and his 'superstar friends' the Mudblood and the Weasel as well as countless other pathetic wizards and witches will soon feel the wrath of the Dark Lord and his loyal followers.
Azkaban is nothing more than a joke now; soon the Dark Lord's faithful servants will rejoin him once again and we will reign supreme over the wizarding world.
Say hello to Potter for me; I'm sure he's dying to hear from his godfather's cousin.
~Bellatrix~
Harry crushed the letter in his hand before throwing it onto the ground and slamming his fist onto the table in anger. Hermione took his now throbbing hand into hers and shook her head slowly at him. He felt the anger recede slightly, and turned to face Dumbledore and the others once again.
"What town did they attack?" Harry asked the three professors, his voice strained.
"The attack was focused on East Horsley," Professor McGonagall replied.
"That's - that's right by Little Whinging!" he spluttered in shock.
"Precisely why they chose it, Harry," came Dumbledore's calm reply. "An attempt to intimidate you; although I'm not exactly sure why - you've never been fond of the Dursleys…"
Harry didn't find Dumbledore's small attempt to lighten the situation all too funny. Sure he didn't like the Durselys, but he'd never wish death upon them - especially not death by Voldemort or his Death Eaters. He glared at the headmaster for a moment before speaking again.
"So what are we meant to do now? I thought Hermione and I were already safe here at headquarters."
"Yes, you are indeed protected here inside the house; I have cast only the most powerful magical wards in order to keep the two of you safe. However, it appears that Voldemort has devised methods of finding you as soon as you step outside of this house; even if it is just one step out into the garden, he'll know and find you. The two of you must not leave this house alone under any circumstances, I cannot stress that enough," Dumbledore finished gravely.
Harry wasn't all too keen on the idea of being trapped inside the Order headquarters day and night; it reminded him of living in his own little small room at the Dursleys' house. The fact that Hermione would at least be with him this time made the situation much, much better. He looked over and smiled weakly at the girl of his current thoughts, who smiled in return. Harry saw Professor Snape shoot a look at Professor McGonagall, who in turn gave Professor Dumbledore said look. He couldn't help but wonder if they were able to sense something different about his and Hermione's relationship; the looks they were giving each other and himself and Hermione were certainly unsettling. Harry wasn't ashamed to let the world know Hermione was his girlfriend - far from it - he simply was aware of the fact that if the Order knew they were together in a romantic way, he and Hermione would never get to stay 'home alone' at headquarters. He felt Hermione shift uncomfortably next to him; she was obviously aware of the conspicuous glances they were receiving.
"I am under the impression that this will not be a problem for either of you," Dumbledore stated plainly. Both Harry and Hermione nodded their assent; Dumbledore clapped his hands together as he said, "Good! I regret to inform you that there are currently no available Order members to watch over you; they are all working overtime on the clean-up of the attack zone. However, I have utmost trust and respect for you, Harry and Hermione, so I presume that excess supervision is not necessary by any means."
"No, sir, we'll be all right by ourselves," Hermione said confidently; she turned her head so the three professors couldn't see her face and gave Harry a quick smile before returning her attention to Professor Dumbledore. And what was that smile about?
Apparently satisfied with Hermione's answer alone, Dumbledore nodded and motioned for Professors McGonagall and Snape to return to the lounge. Before following his co-workers, Dumbledore said, "Remember my words carefully; if you need to contact a member of the Order, send that intelligent owl of yours or speak via the Floo Network - you are not to leave this house."
Harry and Hermione stood silently in the kitchen for a moment, waiting for Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape to take their leave via portkey. Once he was sure they were out of the house, Harry turned to face Hermione and said, "Welcome to our own personal prison, Miss Granger."
She laughed lightly and replied, "Nonsense, The Burrow is by no means a prison, Harry," she paused for a moment, then added, "Then again, after awhile of being trapped in here with only you as company, it's bound to turn into an insane asylum."
He laughed and pulled her into a tight hug. "As long as you're safe, Hermione, I don't care where we are," he said as his laughter died down. She pulled away slightly from his embrace and smiled warmly.
"I'm starving," Hermione stated as she fully left Harry's arms and walked over to the kitchen counter. "Let's have some dinner."
The two students worked in the kitchen for a solid half hour, preparing dinner and talking occasionally. Harry was preoccupied; he couldn't help but wonder where Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters who attacked the Muggles were situated at the moment. He knew there had been a fair few attacks on Muggles during the previous war, however Harry had never heard of one as fatal as the latest. At least 100 dead…but why? Why attack people who were virtually helpless and literally oblivious to the fact that there's a war raging all around them? He continued to stir the pot of potatoes on the stove vigourously as his thoughts wandered. Why not attack a wizarding location? Because then people would be able to defend themselves, said the darker voice inside his head. It wouldn't be an easy massacre then, and wouldn't make a bold statement - after all, that's Voldemort's style isn't it? Ruthless, pointless, cold-blooded killing. Harry slammed the wooden spoon down onto the counter and whipped around to face a surprised looking Hermione.
"He doesn't care, does he?" he spat out as he punched the nearest wall in overwhelming anger. "He doesn't give a damn about the people's lives he ruins, the families he tears apart, the children's parents he kills!" Harry looked down to see his fist bleeding profusely, but he felt no pain at all. "You see this, Hermione? Do you see the blood coming from my hand? Well I don't feel any of the pain it's supposed to cause me, none at all. The pain of a cut on my hand is absolutely nothing compared to what I feel inside every time someone I love dies!" He angrily flicked his wrist and sent droplets of blood flying onto the kitchen floor and counter. Harry looked up into her eyes again, expecting to see pity or sadness; what he saw instead pierced him to his very core - fear. Harry felt his anger dissipate as fast as it had come, replaced by guilt. I never meant to scare her…
Harry crossed the kitchen in a few quick steps and pulled Hermione into another bone-crushing embrace. "I'm so sorry, Hermione, please…" he trailed off, not trusting his voice at the moment. He cleared his throat and continued in a soft voice, "Please don't be scared, I'm not mad anymore; you know I'd never, ever hurt you."
"That's not what I'm scared of, Harry," she replied in barely a whisper; she looked up into his eyes and said, "I'm scared that you'll hurt yourself."
"I would never cause damage to myself intentionally, I-"
"Look at your hand," she interjected in that same quiet voice.
Harry pulled away from Hermione and look at his blood stained hand. He hadn't felt any pain previously, however it hit him full force now; he winced as his hand gave a particularly nasty throb.
Hermione saw him wince and said, "Harry, I love you more than anything else in this world, and I can't stand to see your hurt; you know that already." She paused for a moment. "Now let me clean you up."
He merely nodded, not seeing any point in arguing with her. Hermione led him over to one of the kitchen chairs and sat him down before turning towards the kitchen sink. Harry noticed a red stain on her pure white shirt and briefly wondered what it was before he realized it was his own blood.
"I'm sorry about your shirt, Hermione." And for scaring the hell out of you…
She turned around and looked at her back; an expression of mild surprise crossed her face as she too noticed the blood stain. "It'll come out," she said with a shrug, turning back to the sink. After another moment Hermione walked towards Harry with a washcloth, saying, "You must have quite a good punch; you managed to cut yourself up good."
"My punch probably has nothing on yours," Harry said with a slight smile, "Or have you forgotten the infamous punch from third year?"
Hermione actually grinned and blushed before replying. "How could I forget the day I almost broke ferret boy's nose?" Harry laughed and she continued, "That was one of the best feelings I've ever experienced."
"Even I felt amazing after that punch, Hermione!"
She grinned again as she carefully took his damaged hand into hers and proceeded to meticulously tend to the cuts scattered across his knuckles. After a minute of silence and occasional flinches on Harry's part, Hermione muttered, "This would be so much easier if I could just use magic." Harry nodded his agreement - it was definitely nice having Hermione tend to him in such a genuine caring manner, but the pain of the Muggle method of healing was no picnic.
"There!" she exclaimed after a few more minutes of tending to him. Hermione inspected Harry's bandaged hand with a critical eye and said, "Well it doesn't look as nice as it would if I'd been able to use magic, but I'd say it's much better than a bunch of bleeding wounds, wouldn't you?"
"Definitely," Harry replied with a grin. "You did a brilliant job, Healer Hermione."
"That actually has a nice ring to it," Hermione said, biting her lower lip.
"Well, you would make a good Healer - or doctor, even - at least I think you would."
"Thanks, Harry. I was thinking about choosing healing as a profession last term when we had Careers Advice with Professor McGonagall, but I went with the Auror track instead."
"That's what I chose too, although Umbridge didn't agree with me…"
Hermione made a noise of indignation and replied, "Well then you know you were right if that old hag thought you were wrong. You'd make a great Auror, Harry," she finished affectionately.
"So would you; then again you'd be good at any job you choose," he said with a laugh.
"Well aren't you just full of compliments tonight!"
"I could compliment you forever, my dearest Hermione," Harry said in a melodramatic tone as he pulled her down into his lap.
"Oh, Harry," she replied as she pretended to swoon into his arms. "I didn't know you were such a romantic."
"I'm a natural Romeo, Hermione!"
Hermione actually snorted with laughter at that. "Tell that to Cho!" Harry blushed and grinned sheepishly, realizing she had a point. I'll show her romantic! He surprised her by pulling her into a passionate kiss; when he felt her hands in his hair and heard her moan into his mouth, Harry couldn't help but think, not laughing now, are you, Hermione? When they finally broke apart, Harry was grinning like a fool and Hermione was actually panting. Panting! Ha!
"Okay, okay, so maybe you are a bit of a natural Romeo," she said in between breaths. Harry's grin turned into a smirk as he kissed her neck; Hermione sighed contentedly but said, "But even if you were Romeo himself, I'd still want to have dinner now!" And with that she jumped up from his lap and ran to the now surely ruined pot of potatoes on the stove.