Here we go....Thanks as usual for Lady Starlight's work on this chapter.
Chapter 48: One for the Money, Two for the....
******************************Hogwarts***************************
May 6, 1998.
10:20 am
Hermione Potter looked up at a projection of a relatively small, at least compared to Hogwarts, triangular keep that floated in the air above her and Harry's couch. She glanced back at the sleeping form curled protectively around her, as she in turn lay curled like a cat on top of the red and gold comforter. She scooted back slightly, and let out a small, barely audible sound as Harry tightened his arms around her automatically, pulling her even closer to him.
Hermione looked down at her watch, and very faintly felt guilty that she, and Harry by extension, were not in Potions. But not guilty enough to wake him from his sleep, the first real sleep that either of them had gotten since the weekend and the near disastrous mission to search for a Horcrux that was not there. She turned her head enough to kiss his shoulder, pushing aside his t-shirt just enough with her lips to catch skin and turned back to the projection of the site that was hers, Harry's and the remnant of Dumbledore's, best bet as to the location of the last Horcrux exclusive of Nagini.
Hermione moved one finger, causing the rotation of the image to stop and slowly start to move in the other direction. She yawned and closed her eyes for a beat, then fought to stay awake and working on the puzzle. "Go to sleep, Love," Harry muttered groggily, and Hermione rolled in his arms to face him.
She reached up to sweep her hair out of her face and looked into his eyes that were oddly naked and intense without his lenses to dampen the effect. "I thought you were sleeping, baby," she whispered and snuggled into his shoulder, molding her front to his.
"You weren't," Harry replied simply; as his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt in the back to cradle her lower back.
"Sorry," Hermione whispered and closed her eyes. A long, quiet ten minutes passed, as both of them dozed off, letting their minds and souls intertwine lazily. Distantly, Hermione heard a soft hooting sound come from the bedside table, "Oh...sod it," Hermione muttered as she pried open her eyes and looked across at her mirror which was flashing and emitting a call tone that she had thought cute at the time she had assigned it, but now thought rather annoying. Harry stirred behind her, and she reached back and patted his arm, "I got it, Harry."
Hermione slipped from the bed, straightened her t-shirt and summoned the mirror to her hand. She flipped it open and paced to the window, to look down at several first years trying to pass a flying exam. She looked down at Ron's face in the mirror, he smirked slightly, "Bloody hell, woman, could your hair get any wilder?"
Hermione glared at him and set the mirror down on the window seat before reaching up to pull her hair back into a tail and magically bind it back, "At least I don't look like a giant Puffskein when I get up, Ronald," Hermione growled back, adding a rude gesture for good measure. "What do you want, Ron? And aren't you supposed to be in Potions?" she asked in a slightly more pleasant tone.
"Slughorn only assigned a Hydration Draught, I had it done in an hour," Ron replied, shrugging. "Remus wants to discuss what to do with, Draco," his voice hardened as he said the name, "and..." he shrugged in the mirror.
Hermione looked back towards Harry, his eyes were open and looking at her, though fuzzily she knew, without his glasses, "Feed him to Fluffy, Ron, we don't care really," she replied without turning from Harry. She frowned as he stood and paced over to her, stretching slightly as he came. He kissed her cheek, and glanced down to the mirror.
"We'll meet you presently," Harry's voice was rough from sleep, as he pushed his hair from his eyes. He blinked heavily, and squinted at his watch, "It's ten-thirty, meet you in the Room of Requirement in an half hour," he looked across at Hermione as she moved towards the bathroom and tossed her shirt in the general direction of the hamper, "make that forty-five minutes."
***********************Room of Requirement, Hogwarts*********************
11:17 am
The Room of Requirement, as it often did these days, had manifested a comfortable, smaller rendition of the Gryffindor Common Room, complete with ragged, comfortable overstuffed couches and chairs and a fire burning merrily in the corner, though no heat came from the flames.
In this comfortable space, four people sat, waiting on two more, as they prepared to determine the fate of another, and by extension the fate of still one more. Ron looked up for a moment, from the plate he had balanced on his lap, to look across at Remus and Tonks as the sat together, bent forward to eat off the plates set on a coffee table in front of them, since they, like Ron would not have time to eat due to classes. Luna sat next to him, sipping from a mug of tea, not eating.
"I thought we had decided to move Draco," Harry said as soon as the door closed, as he paced from the entrance on his way through to the couch. Harry sat down next to Ron, and waited as Hermione sat next to him, "And that we were going to pretend, publicly, anyway that Ginny never left to go...visit."
"We did, Harry," Remus replied, looking at Tonks, she nodded, "at least according to Ginny's status, for several reasons, political if nothing else we can't publicly acknowledge that she left, as that would lead to uncomfortable questions about just where she went. Arthur's administration can't afford the scandal that would ensue, not now."
Hermione looked at him, and stood abruptly, pacing over to the false window that currently showed a view of the Black Lake. The squid was waving to a group of third years, who were watching it and making notes. "Merlin knows that I am not Ginny's biggest fan, she tried to steal my husband, she attacked me, and other things...and I am definitely not an admirer of Draco's," she shrugged and glanced at Harry, "but I'm not about to say who she can or can't see...and I am not comfortable with defining the issue in whether or not it affects political realities."
"We can't afford to ignore them, Hermione," Tonks replied and looked up and back at her, twisting in her seat to look at her, "the situation is too tenuous."
Remus and Harry looked at each other and frowned slightly, Ron looked to them, back at Luna, she was looking intently at her ring and moving it so it caught the light, and then towards Hermione. "He's an evil wanker, Remus, and it makes me sick inside, but she made her choice. She'd not going to stop, she's too damn stubborn," Ron shrugged, "I may not understand her anymore, but I do know that."
"It's not like she has to wait forever," Tonks said exasperatedly, pulling at her hair slightly.
Hermione spun on her heel and raised one eyebrow, "Tonks, you might as well be my sister, but don't be a hypocrite, honestly." Tonks started to sputter, and Hermione shook her head, "I'm sorry, Tonks, but we both know how you acted last year and how utterly buggered up I was, part of that was Ginny's doing, but part of it was that I was scared out of my mind. She's scared, Tonks, that and randy as all hell, but scared nonetheless. She had her illusions ripped from her, and found a new anchor." Hermione looked at Harry, she held his eyes, a flicker of light from the atmospheric fire glinted off Harry's glasses, "Of course she's going to fight to keep it, she loves the 'colossal wanker' as Ron calls him, quite elegantly. I don't know if she really does, but I know the lengths that I'd go to if you tried to keep me from Harry, and quite frankly, there aren't enough of you to do that."
Remus sighed, "We aren't talking about you and Harry, Hermione. This is totally different."
"It's not really, Moony," Harry replied, watching as Hermione gave him a small smile. She leaned back against the window, and put her hands in her front pockets, hunching her shoulders slightly. "Not in the relevant point, anyway. It doesn't matter who or what Draco is, or was, she's going to do it again, you know that even the Fidelius may not be enough to hide him from her."
"That's just an old Witches' tale, Harry...even if she really does love him, the Fidelius is invulnerable unless the Secret Keeper gives it up," Tonks retorted.
"No, it's not..." Luna interrupted softly, drawing every eye to her, "The Fidelius is the spell of Loyalty, it is a two way defensive ward that builds on the loyalty of one party to another; if either breaks faith; it fails." Luna watched Harry, who steadfastedly watched Hermione. "Love is the basis of the foundation of the ultimate loyalty or the ultimate betrayal. It is the one thing that can tear that spell asunder."
"You aren't going to start with that locked door in the Department of Mysteries, nonsense are you, Luna?" Tonks asked tiredly. "It's just a door..."
"When Dumbledore told me about the Prophesy," Harry said softly, cutting across the two women's' voices. Hermione vanished in a flicker of psuedomotion, and reappeared next to Harry. She sat next to him, and pulled her feet up onto the edge of the seat, and looked over to Harry. One of her hands fell to Harry's thigh and stayed there as he took a breath, "He told me about the door, Tonks, it's real. You know it is. I have to believe it is."
Remus looked at each of them, "All of this doesn't answer what to do with them, with Ginny, and Draco."
Harry stood and pulled Hermione to his feet. "Ginny stays here, at least until the end of the year, when we'll have to evaluate the situation again anyway," he answered Lupin after a few minutes, his voice hardening a touch. "Draco...do as you think best, Moony, if you think it's best we can hide him at Grimmauld, I would rather not, but if it's necessary, I will. Or, conversely, we can just stick him and Ginny in one of the married quarters here and get it over with. Right now, she's just lucky that's she more or less an estranged sister, than anything to me."
******************Room of Requirement**************************
8:20 pm
"REDUCTO," Ron roared, a shimmering blue bolt of blue ripped from his wand, shattering a wall that two, dark-cloaked forms hid behind. He dove and rolled to his right, just as a pair of answering green spells snapped back across where his head had been only an instant before. Ron stood, deflecting a curse into the ceiling, lost somewhere far above his head, and swirled his wand.
A thin cyclone picked up the Death Eater and flung him against the wall. He slid down with a soft dragging sound as Ron took two steps left and deflected a curse from the remaining Death Eater. It shot to his right, cratering the wall next to the door just as it opened and a lithe form slipped in. She crooked a single, chestnut eyebrow and watched as Ron snapped his wand, a silver jet shot out and the last Death Eater crumpled.
"It's not the safest thing, to duel with the safeties off, alone," Hermione mentioned as she hopped up on a convenient table and sat, watching as he flicked his wand, vanishing the conjured opponents and the rough battleground the room had summoned. She picked at a hole in the knee of her jeans, "Are you alright, Ron?" she asked, looking up at him. She waved over an empty spot on the table next to her and watched as a pair of water bottles appeared. She tossed one to Ron, observing the seemingly slow arc of the bottle as it fell to his hand.
He caught it, and started to twist it in his hand. "Never better," he replied softly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. He sat down next to her and looked forward, watching his hands for a moment. "Where's Harry?" he asked with an unconvincing brightness to his tone.
Hermione's eyes glassed over for a moment, "He's down in the kitchens, talking to Dobby," she replied very quietly as she flushed at some other comment Harry had sent along. Her eyes cleared, as Ron turned away to hide a smile. It faded as Hermione looked over at him, "She's an adult, more or less, Ron, you knew this was going to happen eventually," she said knowingly.
He sighed and took a drink of his water, "I know, Hermione...but Draco Malfoy?" He groaned, "He's a wanker, he's from a family of wankers and you should have let me kill him at Spinner's End or Grimmauld."
"He didn't kill Dumbledore, Ron," she replied patiently, though inside she agreed with him, more or less anyway, "We don't know that he actually did anything worthy of that."
"Oh...I don't know, treason might count," he hissed and stood, chucking his water bottle the length of the room to shatter on the stones of the far wall. He watched the water drip slowly down the wall, before spinning back to look at Hermione, "He tried to kill the Minister, Hermione, and even if he didn't actually kill Dumbledore he was damn sure complicit in the attempt."
"That's a big word, Ron," Hermione teased.
"Don't try to pick a fight with me, Hermy," Ron snapped back, and froze as Hermione took a breath and the very air seemed to freeze in the room. She pushed off of the table and slowly walked towards him, stopping a single stride from him.
"Don't start your 'I'm stressed so I'll start a fight with Hermione' shit with me, either, Ronald," Hermione replied very flatly. "I don't have time for it. Your little sister found a prick to ride and seems to be enjoying it. Deal with it. You aren't her father, Ron; you are her brother. She's a big girl, she's as much as declared herself one, she wants to play for the stakes we play for, then she should be ready for the consequences. Her arse would be in Azkaban now if we weren't hiding the truth. Or worse." She scrubbed at her eyes, turning her back on him, "Ron," she said tiredly, "there has been more than once when actions we have undertaken could be considered crimes."
"True," he admitted softly, his eyes apologized as he looked back at her, not meeting her eyes as she still was staring fixedly at the door. "How long until Harry gets here to kick my arse?"
Hermione laughed, "I told him I was alright, no worries."
"Thanks, know-it-all."
"You're welcome, insufferable prat."
Ron laughed, and watched as Hermione slowly turned back to him, still smiling slightly. He took a deep breath, "Are you scared, Hermione?"
"I'm bloody fucking terrified, Ron," Hermione said instantly, her eyes flicking to the ground and back up. She shrugged, "But we're dealing, why?"
He shrugged and looked away from her. "Ever since I've been eleven, I've followed Harry. I've gone into places knowing I was going to die, and I still went, because I knew that what we were trying to do, was right, and that I had no doubt that we'd win through in the end...This time, I'm not going alone, Hermione..." Ron re-sheathed his wand and started towards the door to the hall. He held it open for her, waiting as she passed before falling in at her side, Hermione looked up at him, and he nodded absently.
"She's not going to leave you, Ron," Hermione muttered. "We've talked about this."
"I know, and I love her for it," he stopped and turned to her. She watched his eyes settle to hers, "I just don't want it to cost her...It's going to get worse before it gets better isn't it?"
She bit her lip, wanting to lie to him, and knowing that he knew better, "I can't imagine that it won't, Ron." Hermione reached out and patted him on the arm, "If you need to talk, I'll be there."
"I know...I'm going to try to find Luna," Ron replied. Hermione nodded and vanished between breaths. "Show off," he muttered as he started towards the hidden entrance to Ravenclaw.
**************************Riddle Manor******************************
May 10, 1998.
8:25 am
Voldemort smiled, a chilling, lipless smile, but a smile nonetheless, as he rose from his bed, leaving behind his pets, and wrapped a robe around a bone-white frame. He looked back as a long, dark serpent slithered to the floor, flowing down a bedpost to curl at his feet.
A sudden chill filled the almost dark room, lit by only a few blood-red candles, as he looked back at the second form, still slumbering in his bed. Bellatrix was lying on her side, facing him, as she curled protectively around her belly. A quiet moan escaped her sleeping lips as he reached forward, lightly running skeletal fingers over her bare stomach. His fingers trailed upward, running lightly along a swollen breast, before he curled them into to fist and pulled his hand back into his robes. Soon, he thought, soon, all will be ready, Potter will be dead, and my immortality will be assured...
"Come, Nagini," he commanded, straightening and heading towards the door, "There are preparations to be had." The snake looked up at him and hissed for a long minute, he nodded, "Yes, I will allow you to eat Wormtail after Potter is dead...perhaps we will even make a sport of it."
*************************Ministry of Magic********************************
11:20 am
A thin figure wrapped tightly in a dark cloak, its hood pulled up to hide its features from casual observation, slipped from the shadows of a nearly building and walked to a dilapidated telephone box. With barely a look at the Muggles passing by, she stepped inside and dialed the old, broken rotary phone she found there.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," a pleasant, but bored-sounding voice filled the air inside the booth. "Please state your name and purpose for your visit."
A long pause and then, with a very soft voice, "Narcissa Mal...Black to see the Minister of Magic on personal business." Her heart beat in her chest for a long, endless minute as the phone seemed to digest that information. Then with a soft clatter, a brass nametag with: "Narcissa Black, personal business", dropped into the change tray.
"Please wear the visitor's badge at all times. All wands must be registered at the Security Desk, at the far end of the Atrium...Have a nice day and welcome to the Ministry of Magic."
The box started to sink into the ground with a grinding clatter, passing past pipes, power lines, a flash of light from something, and through old dirt until it shuttered to a clattering stop. The door to the disguised lift popped open and Narcissa slipped out, just before it started back up again, no doubt called by another visitor. She pulled her hood more forward and started warily towards the small desk at the far end of the Atrium between her and the lifts.
She barely glanced over at a work-wizard doing something to the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He seemed to be trying to clean out the waterspout from the centaur's arrow as she passed, her head down. He muttered something into a tiny crystal set on his collar as she stopped next to the Security Desk. A bored-looking fair-haired man, in deep blue robes looked up at her, "Your wand, please..."
Narcissa hesitated, just for an instant, before slowly reaching for her wand. She leaned forward, to hand it to the guard, when a huge hand covered hers, neatly stripping her wand from her. It vanished as if by magic as she stiffened, and a deep voice boomed quietly in her ear, "I will take that, Narcissa." Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at the guard, "We were never here, Erik." The guard nodded slowly as Kingsley covertly took her elbow and moved her towards a small, unmarked private lift set in a secluded alcove from the others.
An irresistible force set her into the lift, the doors closed and it started to rattle upwards. "I admit, I was slightly impressed, Narcissa. You just vanished after we let you go," he smiled darkly, even white teeth glinting, "Did you suss out we were wanting you to lead us to Voldemort?"
"I'm not stupid, Kingsley," she snapped quietly, "I was ready to vanish, I set up resources separate from my...husband's years ago." The lift clattered to a stop, and Kingsley led her down a small hallway, and through a concealed door into Arthur's office.
The Weasley patriarch appeared tired as he looked up, his blue eyes shot with red as he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. His hair seemed even thinner these days, as did his body, but his posture was straight as he looked across the room. A Defensive Ward established itself, as he clasped his hands in front of him, and watched her for a long moment. "You wished to see me, Narcissa?" he asked, his voice pleasant. "I can not imagine what for, you have to know you are up for a long drop on the end of a short rope."
She frowned, "I wish to make a deal, Arthur."
Arthur looked at Shacklebolt, he just shrugged, "I see no reason for either myself, personally, or the Ministry, to offer you such, Narcissa." Arthur reached forward, and took a sip from the coffee at his elbow. He did not offer any to her as he sat back in his dark leather desk chair, "I have come to understand that you are on the run from both sides...just like your son, if I am not mistaken."
"You are," Narcissa replied, settling into one of Arthur's visitor's chairs without invitation. She crossed her legs as Kingsley left the room silently at a gesture from Arthur, he waggled Narcissa's wand in his fingers and Arthur gave him a terse nod. "And you know it. I know that your forces have my son. I want his freedom guaranteed at the end of this, and I will walk out of this office to vanish for a time, until after...if you win, I will return from a sojourn on the continent, and regain my status as Lady Malfoy...with my, late, husband's monies restored to me."
"No," Arthur replied simply, Narcissa started to snap a response, and he cut her off with a raised hand, "First, I cannot even if I wanted to, restore your status as Lady Malfoy. The Head of House Black repudiated it. You married under the old laws, Harry's word is final...there may be some leeway with the monies and properties, but I still see absolutely nothing in it for me or the Ministry."
"I know where the Dark Lord will gather his forces for his next, major, strike, and when..." she interrupted, Arthur crooked an eyebrow, "I still have my sources within his ranks, there are still those who owe me or my husband." She took a breath, "You have a personal stake in this as well..."
"Besides the general one, that all sane individuals have to see that your former master is spread to the four winds," Arthur said tightly, "I can't imagine what."
Narcissa smiled thinly, she leaned back in her chair, "Besides the fact that, what is the term they use these days," she cocked her head slightly, "oh, yes. Besides the fact that my son is shagging your daughter..."
Arthur sputtered and stood from his chair, he took a breath, calming himself, "Even if that is true..."
"It is, my late husband had several...charms placed on my son, to ensure the purity of the Malfoy line...I know the means of monitoring them. They have even been together, recently...and as I know, that your wayward daughter has returned to Potter's protection at Hogwarts, Draco is either at Hogwarts, or at a location known to them." She smiled faintly, "You should be proud actually, Arthur, your daughter has-traded up. While Potter, like father, like son, I suppose." She waved vaguely at the walls, "It would be such a bother if certain rumors of the Minister's daughter sleeping with an accused Death Eater were to hit the press..."
"I would be careful, Narcissa, Miss Granger will most likely be your Mistress of House Black, very soon." Arthur mentioned conversationally. "And as to the your threat...If I don't agree, what, you have evidence ready to go to the Prophet of my daughter's affair? Some bit of information that will be released to the press automatically if you don't send some signal?" Narcissa's jaw dropped slightly, Arthur chuckled darkly, an odd sound from him, "Surprised-Narcissa, your husband used the exact same method for the last twenty years, to keep him mostly out of Azkaban. It did not save him in the end, however."
Arthur stood from his chair and walked to the window, which was once again showing a pastoral scene of the Burrow from a much simpler time. "Let me make a counter-offer," he said after a moment without turning from the window, "Providing that no heinous acts are attributed to you, no murders, no tortures, in other words if we find that you were only acting to keep yourself alive and not reveling in your master's commands like your sister, I will let you vanish after the war. The Aurors will not be sent after you, and you may, try for rehabilitation. Further, and providing the head of House Black has no objections, I will put no obstacles between my daughter and your son, again, providing that he is really rehabilitated. If he is not, if he trying to play some game with us, I will see his head mounted on a pike in my atrium, is that clear?" He did not turn to see her slow nod.
He took a breath and turned around, pacing back to his desk, and leaning against it, "Let me be perfectly clear, Narcissa, I don't care if you release your little aspersions against Ginny. The Prophet has been insulting my family or those I consider as such for longer than your pitiful, half-blood master has been back. They will, most likely be making up things about them, sneaking reporters into their loos, and hiding under their beds long after Harry has removed his head and burned his bones to ash. I wish to see this war over, and with as little damage as possible...So in that vein, tell me what you know, or I will have Kingsley back in here and we will rip it from your mind, and perhaps see if you have been considered a security risk."
Narcissa frowned, her smile long since slipped, "He will gather his forces in Little Hangleton on the twenty third, he means to strike that evening at something, I do not know what...normally he would not have anywhere near this much advance notice, but what this is, is huge..."
"Thank you," Arthur replied. He touched an inconspicuous stud on his blotter, and Kingley reentered along with another plain-clothed Auror. "They will take you, Narcissa, we will hide you until it is time for you to vanish or to stand trial..." The plain-clothed Auror took Narcissa away by a hidden passage and Arthur looked to Kingsley as the door closed, "You heard?"
"Yes, I will get started on a way to get the forces gathered here that morning covertly." Shacklebolt glanced at the picture behind Arthur's desk of the kids at the Burrow, "Should we notify the Hogwarts group, Potter's DA is a significant force..."
"No," Arthur's face took on a sudden look of pain, "In fact, Remus and Tonks are not to know either. We will attack to disrupt the strike, and if we are lucky, end this war, if we fail, then it will truly, all be up to Harry and his friends-"
Kingsley turned to leave, but stopped at the door, "Molly doesn't know about Ginny and Draco, does she, old friend?"
Arthur smiled ruefully, "No, she probably still has hopes that Ginny will get back with Harry."
"I think Mrs. Potter might have something to say about that."
"She might," Arthur agreed drolly, "I am hoping that it is an infatuation with Ginny, but I'm afraid that is more, or at least they think it is."
********************Knockturn Alley, London**********************
11:20 pm
A young woman strode purposefully down the center of the dark and cluttered street. Dark brown eyes occasionally flicked to the sides, catching the eyes of hags, crooks and thieves. At each occasion, they slipped back into the deep shadows cast by a pitiful few unbroken gas lamps, dropping their eyes and moving away. She continued on, stepping over an unconscious drunk wizard in the street, idly making sure she did not step on his head or the greenish-orange puddle to one side of his head.
With a soft sigh of exasperation, she turned a corner and started down a slightly narrower side street, passing a large, red-lit building. Several witches, each in less than what the woman had on under her ripped jeans and dragonhide jacket, stood in windows or walked around the front of the building listlessly, occasionally calling out to the passerby. A large wizard in shabby, filthy robes slipped from his post, leaning next to the brothel, and cut her off, intersecting her course ably.
He moved towards her, as she stopped and looked up at him, towering over her even though she was a respectable 5'6" or so. He smiled, revealing white teeth stained with the residue of some potion, "What do you say that you and me go up to my room lass, I expect that we could go all night...You look like you know how to..."
"Not interested," she said flatly, her soprano hard. She pushed past him, and spun out of his hand as he reached out to grab her elbow.
"Not that fast, luv," he laughed, and reached for her again...
A brief flicker of movement and he slowly collapsed to the ground, his eyes rolled up in his head. The woman looked down at him for an instant, before shrugging her jacket straight and moving on. Behind her, as she moved down the street, the entertainers descended on the downed wizard like a flock of vultures stripping him of any valuables and leaving him lying in the street.
Hermione did not look back, only sighed very slightly as she finally caught sight of where her reluctant meeting for tonight was theoretically taking place. A large dragon's claw, burnt and blackened, hung from a pole, with the words, "The Dragon's Clippings", vaguely visible in red on it. She pushed through the door, and stopped, letting her eyes adjust to the slightly brighter light inside. An instant hush filled the pub as patrons regarded the newcomer warily.
Conversation restarted slowly as she picked her way across the dimly lit bar, stepping around a table of succubi, who she could feel reaching out to her. She turned as a flicker of power snapped back across the gap, and they seemed to shrink on themselves, their appearances morphing to small, withered crones as she moved on.
Hermione sat, finally, in a dark corner booth, across from a group of vampires and several meters from a five-person game of Wizarding Poker and waited. She looked up as a man in dingy green robes asked for her order, "Firewhisky...in a clean glass," she replied, her eyebrow crooking slightly. He nodded and moved off, and a moment later a small tumbler filled with an amber liquid arrived. She took a sip and shuddered slightly. Tell me again, love of my life, exactly why I am the one at this table, drinking this absolutely ghastly rotgut?
Because, everyone knows me, Harry responded as he slipped from shadow to shadow outside. He waited as the door opened as a regular slipped into the night, and he slid into the room, invisible. He took a position in a dark corner, watching her and waited. And you are just so bloody sexy when you are in your arse-kicking togs...
Hermione licked her lips and sat the tumbler back down on the table, and pushed it away. He tried to kill me last time, Harry, Hermione muttered, sighing. She looked down at her watch, Where the bloody hell is he?
Who knows, Harry growled. Hermione nodded, seemingly to herself and returned to waiting, and wishing absently for a book, or even an interesting menu to read, anything other than the random graffiti extolling the virtues of a witch named Gretta, carved into the top of the old scarred table. The door opened, and a bundle of rags shambled in, in the company of a middle-aged witch who looked oddly nervous as she looked around the room. Don't kill him, Mione-Remember he won't remember that he tried to kill you, we Obliviated him, remember?
That was a truly excessive number of 'remembers', Harry, Hermione teased, almost smiling before her face became perfectly impassive as she met Mundungus' beady eyes across the room, We're on, Hermione whispered and Harry nodded invisibly, watching as Mundungus sat down across the booth from Hermione. The witch sat down with him reluctantly, as if she were afraid of catching something.
"'Ello, lass," Mundungus said cheerfully and motioned to the bartender. A large tankard of a faintly glowing viscous drink appeared a moment later and he took a long appreciative drink.
"Does she have it?" Hermione said, watching the woman closely. Her eyes cut over to Mundungus as he pulled his pipe from somewhere deep in his robes and started to stuff it with a foul-smelling concoction, "Light it, and I will turn you into a mouse, and feed you to the nearest Kneazle." The unknown witch smiled slightly as Hermione looked across the table.
"I have it," she pulled a small, tattered notebook from her robes, and set it on the table. Hermione made a small continue gesture, and she sighed. "The notebook is from my father...It may have information on the place that you were interested in...do you have the money?"
"Perhaps," Hermione extemporized as she slowly panned her gaze around the area, making sure that no one was paying particular attention to them, "Tell me about it." Neither Mundungus or the still unknown witch noticed as a fourth, invisible presence joined them, and a invisible ward flashed into existence guarding their conversation from any whom they had not noticed.
The witch looked to each side, then at Hermione, "I never talked to you," she said quickly, Hermione nodded, "Thirty--forty years ago, my father and a few others went to a place...there had been rumors for years at the time that a great battle had been fought there, but the Ministry, several ministries in fact, denied that anything had ever happened there..." She tapped the book, "They had gone there looking for artifacts or something they could sell, there are always those who will pay for things like that, especially objects enchanted or used by one of the powerful wizards, especially one of the dark ones."
"That's all well and good," Mundungus interrupted, "but I have deals to be on with...I want my cut, Granger."
Hermione turned her head to regard him coldly, "You will get your cut, Fletcher, unless I decide that it would be easier to announce publicly that you're a member of Dumbledore's Order..."
"They are all gone, lass, and I'm more important to both sides..."
Hermione took a deep breath, and glanced in Mundungus' direction. His vocal cords froze and his eyes widened as they were they only thing on his body able to move. "Please continue without the interruption," Hermione said pleasantly to the witch. Mundungus visibly tried to break the spell, and stopped abruptly as the tip of an invisible wand jutted into the soft place behind his ear.
The witch looked to the side nervously then continued on, "A group of ten of them went in that place...only he came out, and my mother said he was never the same since. He never talked about it, not really. This is his journal," she slid it across the table, Hermione reached out and placed two fingers on it, "first, the price...A thousand Galleons..."
Hermione lifted her hand and leaned back in the seat, "A rather high price for an old journal."
"You wouldn't be here if you weren't interested in it, I need the money...I'm vanishing."
"We can help you with that," Hermione mentioned, "we have access to certain...resources." She turned her head at a crash as the poker table tipped, a silver flash snapped and one of the players crumpled. She flicked her wrist under the table, and her wand dropped into her hand. Not our job, Harry, not tonight.
Fifteen seconds, Harry replied, that's all it'd take...but yeah, he muttered as someone dragged the dead or injured wizard outside. The table was reset, and the remaining players split the fifth's winnings.
"I'd rather have the money, girl," the witch replied as she looked around the room again. She watched as the door opened to the night and two more figures with their hoods pulled up and forward to hide their faces came into the pub and crossed to the bar. "Either pay me or..."
Hermione reached into a pocket of her jacket and palmed a moneybag. She slid it into the witches' hand, and took the book, sliding it inside her jacket. Hermione stood and reached into a pocket of her jeans, finding several Sickles. She slapped them down on the table in front of Mundungus, "Here's your silver, you've already stolen enough from us to pay for your fee." Mundungus looked as if he wanted to say something, but she ignored him as she turned her back on thief and moved towards the door, tossing a Galleon at the bar as she passed.
Mundungus felt the spell evaporate, and stood rapidly, having felt the wand leave his head. "OI, GRANGER, YOU CHEATED ME!" An immediate silence fell across the room, as the thief stood and pulled a wand from somewhere in his cloak of rags. Hermione vanished, flitting to the side as a chartreuse jet snapped past and charred the wall.
BANG...a small, ragged rat appeared where the thief and occasional traitor had been. A half-dozen wands came up to point at her. "Granger...there's a reward out on her," one of them whispered, loudly. Hermione waved her hand across her body, catching four Stunners and at least one Full-Body Bind on her shield. The wizards and single witch increased their fire, pouring spellfire toward Hermione. "The Dark Lord wants her, she's worth a fortune," another cried as more, including the entire poker-playing table, started in on firing at her.
Hermione vanished. The spell fire stopped after another minute as the patrons of the bar looked around dazedly. The poker table looked around...The tallest of the four, crumpled, spinning to the ground, as a silver jet shot from nowhere, dropping a second. A soft, almost inaudible rasp of a boot on the dirty floor came from behind another and a third across the room dropped, gasping, as an invisible fist cracked his trachea. His neighbor fell a heartbeat later, as a steel pommel tapped him behind the ear, just as the other two at the poker table fell as red beams flickered out of the air, to drop them.
A patch of air shimmered, and Hermione returned to view, next to the bar, standing over the unconscious forms of five would-be ransomers. Half a second later, the air wavered across the room and Harry stepped out of nowhere, and tapped one of the card players slumped over the table with his wand. He looked around the bar and, except for a small rat that scurried out a hole even as he watched and the frightened informer, there were only the nine unconscious, unfortunate souls that had had dreams of grandeur, and had rapidly learned their error. Harry met Hermione's eyes from across the room and shrugged, watching as she stepped over and around the overturned tables.
Hermione stopped next to Harry, and rolled her head around on her neck, popping it loudly, before she turned just her head and looked over at the booth where she had been. The informer was still sitting there, looking around fearfully. "You have about five minutes, even here, before someone calls the MLE, and probably about a half hour before they show." She nodded and scampered from the pub in a rush, tucking her bag of money in her pockets as she went.
Hermione watched her leave, before leaning into Harry, and kissing him quickly. Hermione turned around and leaned back as she reached around under her jacket and unclipped her mirror from her belt. "Kingsley," she muttered and waited for several minutes before the mirror swirled and filled with the face of the Auror.
Kingsley yawned and wiped his eyes, "I do hope that you aren't calling for a social call, Hermione, what's up?"
"Can you send a clean up crew to the Dragon's Clippings?" Hermione said a tad sheepishly as she looked around the pub, "We seem to have made a mess."
Kingsley rolled his eyes, "I'm not even going to ask...I'll get a detachment of the London MLE on the case, I don't have any actual Aurors free...Are you two alright?" he added quickly, with just a touch of worry.
"We're fine, Shack," Harry added over Hermione's shoulder, "Kingsley..." he caught Hermione's eyes, as she looked back at him, "Voldemort has a price out on Hermione...probably me too."
"That's-interesting, Harry," he said, thoughtfully, "we'll see what we can get from them, where will you be?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, "We'll be available by mirror, if for some reason you can't get ahold of us...call Remus or Tonks," Harry replied, and Kingsley nodded, understanding the subtext of what wasn't said. He nodded, and Hermione closed the mirror. She took Harry's hand and vanished.
**********************Grimmauld Place**************************
1:10 am
Harry looked up as Hermione slid into the room, bearing a pair of mugs in her hands. She crossed the room and settled next to him, as he watched out the window, watching as the house wards shimmered in colors only visible to magic users, and then only visible to those keyed to the wards as small animals moved in and out of them. Hermione pulled her feet up on the couch, and let her head droop back against his shoulder. "Can't sleep either?"
Harry smiled softly, idly tracing his fingers in small circles on the stripe of exposed skin at her waist between her ridden-up t-shirt and sleep pants, "I haven't really slept though the night since fourth year, Mione, you know that...Unless you are there, of course," he added with just a trace of a leer.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered, biting her lip as she looked up and back at him. She sat up and moved to the other end of the couch. "Here, Harry," she patted her leg, and smiled slightly as he stretched out with his head in her lap. Hermione held up a hand and caught a large, slightly tattered tome and set it down on the arm of the couch, "I'll read, and you can pretend you're interested, until you fall asleep."
"What are we reading?" Harry muttered as his eyes slipped closed. Hermione reached down and slipped off his glasses, levitating them over to a table with a flick of her fingers.
Hermione watched as her fingers moved through his hair, "Hogwarts, a History, of course."
Harry chuckled, "Of course." He rolled on his side, to face out the window, though his eyes remained closed, "Hermione..."
"We knew I was a target, Harry, just like you are," Hermione replied with a touch of exasperation.
"It's not that, Hermione..." Harry cut her off, "I'm just concerned that he's farming off the job, those are second raters, maybe at the level of neophyte Death Eaters, but not really a threat, not in those numbers, anyway."
"He's marshalling his forces then," Hermione replied, her fingers pausing before restarting again. "We won't be able to stop him, Harry, not without knowing for sure what he's up to...It's a race, Harry, even more now than then." Harry nodded.
"Where do you want to go when this is over, Mione?" Harry asked suddenly, "I've teased that I want to go somewhere warm, but..."
"I'm fine wherever you are, Harry, really," Hermione muttered, and smiled down at him as he turned his head and looked up, opening his eyes and squinting slightly to see her. She bent down, and kissed him, she grinned at him before straightening and resuming her almost absent petting. "Though the idea of a private beach somewhere...that'd be nice."
"I think we could manage that."
A/N: There we go, next chapter, the Grangers come by for a visit, a history lesson, and fancy dress...stay
tuned...