Chapter Four
Lost
The library was much the same as it had been during the years he had attended Hogwarts. Madame Pince still minded the rule of quiet in the library, which apparently extended to those who were no longer students. He and Hermione poured over books for hours in both the student accessible books and the restricted section, which Madame Pince wasn't too happy about either. Ron had gone off in search of the rest of the castle hoping to find something in the Room of Requirement, or get some information from their former professors. By dusk he and Hermione had yet to see Ron and they were both too tired to continue searching hopelessly through thick, old, dusty books. His head was beginning to throb at the temples and his eyes were literally sore from endless reading.
"I think I've had it, Hermione," he said as he closed the book, spraying a cloud of dust everywhere. She fanned it away.
"I could keep going if you want me to," she said, not taking her eyes from the pages in front of her.
"Some things never change, do they?" he said watching her.
"I guess not."
He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his fingers clockwise against his temples. "We'll pick it up tomorrow, Hermione. I'm tired and I don't want to be here anymore looking for answers that we can't find." She finally looked up at him and saw he was not exaggerating; he looked exhausted.
"I suppose you're right. My eyes hurt." She closed her book more carefully than he had, avoiding the cloud of dust. "We should find Ron."
"Where should we find him? It's not like he told us exactly where he was going." Harry said.
"He just didn't want to have to read," she replied. "Sometimes I wonder if he touched a book if he might go into fits." Harry chuckled and she smiled.
"We could look at the map." he said. She looked at him questioningly and cocked her head to the side.
"You have it with you?"
"I've always had it with me. I couldn't chance it ending up in the wrong hands, and besides, it was once my dad's so…" he shrugged and she understood. He pulled out the map, said the incantation, and watched as the moving dots appeared on the parchment. Ron, as it appeared, was in the Headmistress' office. They nodded to one another, slipping the books back into their places on the shelves and headed for Professor McGonagall's office to fetch Ron. It would be far later than they had anticipated when they returned home. Harry thought it best to ride the brooms to Hogsmead and apparate from there to Twelve Grimmauld Place; they were all too tired to fly such a long distance.
"You can do better than that!" The words seemed to echo over and over, carry precariously on the edge of the wind whipping and stinging his face. He felt something rising in him that he couldn't ignore, something so much more than anger alone. He felt an uncertain rage boiling to the surface. There was one single clear thought that rose to the front of his mind: Kill her. He barely felt his arm raise, his wand pointed at her chest. He felt his control slipping and something else taking it over, pushing him. A hiss: yessss.
"No!" he screamed, struggling to take his wand down. "I won't do it!" More hissing: You and I are sssso alike. You could do it; you know you could. You want to. He dropped his wand and dropped to his knees. He could feel her standing over him, looking down at him. Her hair whipped around her like a cloud of thick, black smoke, but he could see her face clearly, unobscured. Her eyes were cold and hard.
"You are so like Sirius." she said with a sneer.
"Shut up!" he screamed, struggling to get to his feet, to not hear her.
"You have to want it to hurt, Potter," she said and he tried so hard not to listen. She pointed her wand at him. "You have to like the pain." He picked up his wand but his hand felt numb.
"You killed Sirius." he said evenly, his forehead burning, throbbing.
"I enjoyed it, too. And I killed so many others. Did you know it was my idea to kill your precious Headmaster?"
"Shut up!"
"We'll kill everyone you love. I'll do it and I'll enjoy it." He felt sick. He was too weak to move. "The werewolf; the blood-traitor; your mudblood princess." He staggered to his feet and took a step back. "We will kill every last person you love until you're alone, until you want nothing more than death."
"You. won't. touch them." he punctuated, raising his wand with a suddenly steady arm. "I'll kill you first."
She smiled. "I dare you." He hesitated. She raised her own wand. The hiss again: No. I need him alive. And as quickly as it had begun it was over. The sudden pain was blinding, crippling. He couldn't move or speak, only scream. He felt the burning in his forehead followed by flowing warmth. He screamed.
Harry gasped for air, sitting upright with his blankets tangled around him. He was covered in sweat. Feeling something dripping slowly he reached a hand up to his forehead; he touched his scar and when he pulled back his fingers were smeared with blood. He grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table and wiped his forehead clean, relieved to find he was no longer in excruciating pain. He realized his hands were trembling violently. That dream was too real to be only that; he remembered having a confrontation as such when he was away, with Bellatrix, but Voldemort had not been present when in this dream he clearly was. He didn't understand completely; the only thing he did understand was that Ron and Hermione were going to need extra protection. If Voldemort needed him alive, no matter what the reason, he would do whatever it took to get to him, including harm or kill both of his best friends. He needed to take whatever precautions to protect them. Shaking still, he threw his blankets off and stripped of his sweat-soaked tee-shirt and ran his hands through his dampened hair. He picked up his want, pointed at the lantern set on the desk in the corner and muttered a charm to light it. He saw that both Fawkes and Hedwig were sleeping and proceeded as quietly as possible to his desk. He needed to send a letter to Lupin and Tonks; he needed aurors. He picked up his quill and uncorked his inkwell. His hand still shook as he wrote, his heart finally starting to slow. He had known the nightmares would start; it was the same as it was after Sirius died, after Dumbledore was killed, and he knew that this was more than those nightmares ever were. This wasn't about guilt or grief, or about missing someone, this was something completely different. His instincts were telling him that he needed to protect his best friends because Voldemort wanted him for something - it made no difference what for; whatever it was he would do whatever he could to get Harry to give himself over, and he knew that meant he would get to him through the people he loved. He wasn't going to let that happen.
He folded the parchment, corked his inkwell, and put the letter in an envelope. He went over to Hedwig, waking her, to which she gave an indignant nip at his fingers. He apologized and explained. He tied the letter to her leg, and carried her perched on his arm to the window; he opened it and sent her out with the message. He sighed, watching his breath leave the window in a white puff. He closed his eyes letting the cold air cool his overheated skin. He left the window going back to his bed; he was tired, exhausted even, but he knew that sleep wasn't going to be easy or peaceful. He was resigned to the fact the rest of the night would be fitful, and lay back against his pillows, pulling his blankets up around him.
It felt like morning came too early. He assumed there had been no letter back to him from Lupin or Tonks since neither Ron nor Hermione made any mention of it. If he could keep the dream from them, and what it meant he felt it could keep them just that little bit safer, and he knew how Hermione worried about things, and he didn't want her to worry about something she didn't really have any control over. So when he sat down to breakfast he made it seem as though he was well rested and unperturbed. Hermione smiled at him and Ron was lost in reading the Daily Prophet. He was glad for the cup of strong coffee she handed to him as he sat down.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked him as he sipped from his mug. He nodded.
"Yeah. It was nice to be in a familiar bed," he replied.
"It was nice to know you were safe in it." He smiled at her and she turned to the refrigerator to rummage for something. It felt so natural to be this way, here with the two of them. He hoped that when it was finally all over it would still be this way.
"I'm going to the Ministry today to see my dad," Ron said setting down the paper. "Did you want to come? I mean, if there is anything you need to discuss…"
"Oh, no, you go," Harry replied. "I think I'm going to stay here today and think on some things. We really need to start getting a plan together, and if you don't mind," he said looking to Hermione "I was hoping you would help me with that end of it."
"Of course I don't mind, Harry," she said. "I've been telling you that you need a plan, that you can't go into this thing half-cocked. You'd get yourself killed that way."
"Well, send an owl if you decide that you need to," Ron said standing. "You'll fill me in on all the details when I get back later?"
"Of course," Harry said, reaching across the table and taking the newspaper from where Ron left it.
"Alright then. Be seeing you." He apparated with a small wave, leaving Harry and Hermione the kitchen to themselves.
"You know, I kind of assumed that you and Ron would be a thing by now," he said as she sat down across from him. He saw a faint smile touch her lips and watched as her fingers curled delicately around her maroon coffee mug.
"You're not the first person to say so," she said.
"So why aren't you?"
"Well… a lot of reasons," she replied. She looked up at him then, sitting back in her chair and folding her legs under her. "Of course there was an attraction between us, but that isn't enough to base anything on. Ron is wonderful when he wants to be, and he was an amazing friend to me while you were gone. He was always there and he cared for me. But…" she shook her head and smiled again. "Who can have a relationship with someone when the best thing you have in common is bickering?"
Harry smiled, too, now and nodded. "I guess that's a good point."
"Ron has been a wonderful friend, and I'm sure that he always will be but… beyond that, we just don't make it." Harry nodded in understanding. "And what about you?"
"Well," he laughed, "I really don't think Ron is my type, Hermione. I prefer the more feminine type." She joined him in laughter and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"That's not what I meant," she laughed lightly. "I meant you and Ginny, Harry. Are you going to try again?" She watched him as his smile faded some and as he took a deep breath.
"I don't think so," he replied. "Ginny is a wonderful girl, but… I mean, she'll find someone." He looked at Hermione again. "But that someone just isn't me." They were quiet for a few moments, both of them staring into their mugs.
"So what now?" she asked quietly.
"We focus on the task at hand: Voldemort," he answered.
Harry found himself in a vast library in the basement of Sirius' old house, one that he had no idea even existed. There were shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books, chairs and a table; the carpet was soft and dark maroon. Most of the books were covered in a thick layer of dust, giving them the knowledge that Sirius must not have used it often if at all. A few of the books he recognized from seeing them in the restricted section at the Hogwarts library.
"Should we keep these?" he asked her, touching one with his fingertips.
"They're just as safe here as they would be at Hogwarts; no one that shouldn't see them can get their hands on them here," she replied. "With the protection on this house, anyone unwanted wouldn't be able to find it and even if somehow they did, I'd hate to see what would happen to them if they got in here."
"Why didn't the protection on this house disappear when Professor Dumbledore was killed?" he asked quietly as he turned to her.
"I don't think the Fidelus charm works that way. Since Professor Dumbledore was the secret keeper, I would assume the secret went with him. He is the only one who can tell where this place is, and well, I guess death can't change that since he still has the secret. Did that make sense?" she asked.
"Plenty," he replied. "So what exactly are we doing here? I mean, what are we looking for?"
"I'm not sure yet," she replied "but just look. If we look through these books we're bound to find something to point us in the right direction, something to help us formulate a plan."
"You don't have to do this, you know," he said. He watched her pull a book from a shelf, wiping the dust off with her hand. She opened it carefully and they could hear the crackling of the binding.
"I know," she said, not taking her eyes from the pages. "I want to."
"I don't think you realize what you're getting into, Hermione. I don't think you realize the kind of danger-"
"Stop, Harry," she cut him off. She looked up at him. "I know the danger. I know the risks. I've known for a long time, and I don't care. Danger and risks don't scare me. Stopping Voldemort and saving you is all that matters." Without thinking he stepped forward and put his arms around her. She dropped the book she was holding. After a moment she put her arms around him, hugging him back tightly. For a moment he didn't think he wanted to let her go, or that he ever could. When he finally let go he didn't need to say anything; she understood without words. Hermione was always good like that.
"Let's get back to work then, shall we?" he said and she smiled, nodding.
"Let's start with tactics," she said, holding an old leather bound book out to him. "Fighting tactics are too important to overlook. If you're going to beat him, Harry, you need to be smarter and faster." He accepted the book and took it to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He opened the front cover hearing the familiar crackling of the binding; the pages were aged and yellowed. Hermione sat down beside him with a book of her own, something that looked like Spells for Combat. They set to their task.
They lost all track of time, lost in books and planning, the scratching of their quills on paper and the sound of turning pages. She couldn't remember the last time she saw Harry so dedicated to something, and it ignited something in her that she couldn't explain; that he would go through so much, do so much just to protect her, to protect Ron and his family and all the people he cared for… she couldn't explain the feeling, even if she tried. She just knew it was powerful and real. She rubbed her eyes, the beginnings of a headache forming for reading for hours on end. She sighed loudly.
"Harry, we need to take a break," she said. "We've been down here for hours and Ron is probable home and wondering where we are. And I'm starving." He looked up at her, glanced back at his book for a moment, and looked back up at her again.
"I didn't realize we'd been down here for so long." He stood and stretched. "Come on, let's see if he's home and fill him in on what we've found so far."
They made their way back to the sitting room, but Ron was nowhere in sight. However, Hedwig was perched on the back of the couch with a letter tied to her leg. Harry had hoped he would see it before Hermione had the chance, but as things had always been hardly anything ever went unnoticed by her. He made his way to Hedwig who angrily nipped at his fingers for leaving her waiting so long. He apologized quietly and untied the letter; the question on Hermione's face didn't go unnoticed by him.
"Is that Remus' handwriting?" she asked as he broke the wax seal.
"Yes," he replied, hoping to leave it at that but knowing that would never fly with her.
"What is it about?"
His eyes were moving across the paper, making his response time a little longer. "I wrote him and Tonks about a dream that I had… He's just answering."
"A dream?" she questioned, stepping closer to him. "What kind of dream, Harry? One that has to do with Voldemort?"
"Yes." He looked up at her after he finished reading. "It wasn't a normal dream. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you was because I just wanted to keep you out of any unnecessary danger. You and Ron are both in enough as it is."
"Tell me," she said "now."
"This wasn't just a dream, Hermione. It felt too real. I think Voldemort is trying to get to you and Ron through whatever connection we have. He's trying to use me, my mind, to find out how to get to you. He knows he can hurt me, maybe even beat me, if he does something to you and Ron."
"And what did Remus and Tonks say?" she asked, the anger fading from her eyes and being replaced with concern.
"They agree. He's trying to get into my mind; he's trying to use my own thoughts and feelings against me." They stood looking at one another for a long moment. "I won't let him do that, Hermione. I won't let him get into my head and use it to hurt anyone I love."
"How are you going to stop it?" she asked, sitting down on the sofa. He followed suit. He sighed and ran his hands through his messy hair.
"Do you remember when Snape was supposed to be teaching me Occlumency?"
"Of course I do," she answered.
"Tonks is capable of teaching me as well, says this letter. I have some basic skills, but I need further training if I want to keep him out of my subconscious as well as my conscious mind."
"When is she going to teach you?"
"We're going to be having a training session every day, starting tomorrow. While I'm training, I'll leave research up to you and Ron until I can come in and help. I'm not trying to push anything off on you both, but… If I'm going to protect anyone I need to be able to keep him out of my head."
"I understand," she said putting her hand on his knee. "Ron will understand, Harry. There is nothing that we can afford to be compromised in this. We'll all do what we have to."
He looked down at his lap. "I just feel so lost, Hermione. There is so much to be done, so much I have to learn and… I thought Professor Dumbledore would be here to teach me everything I needed to know." He looked up at her with glassy eyes. "I took him for granted. I thought he would always be here for me. I just… I wish he was here, Hermione. He was always able to give me some direction."
"He's not gone, Harry," she said softly "not truly. We just have to go about things differently."
"I wouldn't be able to do this without you," he said quietly. She smiled softly, feeling the sting of tears.
"We'll get through this," she said, taking his hand and squeezing gently. "I promise you, Harry, we will get through this."
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