She stood rooted to the spot as she clutched the newspaper in her hand, its bold headline screaming out at her. Four wizards had been murdered in Dorchester, another three in Southampton. The Daily Prophet was deeming it a new reprisal from the Death Eaters. A new wave of panic had swept over the wizarding world and families were beginning to place fresh wards on their houses, some even preparing to emigrate.
It had been two days since she had last been at the Burrow, since Jonathon had attempted to kiss her but the feelings of guilt and unease were still plaguing her. She had woken this morning to an owl fluttering around her kitchen carrying a letter from Remus Lupin informing her they had located the instrument with which to return Harry's memories and that plans were being made for it to be safely removed from the Ministry and brought to a safe house.
A sharp agitated knock on the door interrupted her musings. She threw the paper onto a kitchen cabinet and rushed to see who wanted to see her this early in the morning. Snape excused himself half-heartedly, obviously uncaring of how early it was, and strode defiantly into the small hallway. "Is it true? They've located Potter?"
His eyes followed her as she slammed the door behind him annoyed he would say it aloud in a castle still full of some of the most inquisitive ghosts imaginable. "How did you find out?"
"The Headmistress wants me to perform the memory inducement tonight. I could hardly believe it, after so long why now?" He seemed to think she was the only person who could answer. When she remained silent he pressed on, his dark eyes piercing hers. "You could do serious psychological damage to tell him now..."
"Oh as if you care about him! All you did when he was here was criticise him and make him feel unworthy!" she yelled childishly. She spun on her heel, storming into the kitchen and returned with the crumpled newspaper and shoved it roughly into his hands. His eyes scanned the front page.
"If he doesn't get his memory back, if he loses his ability to perform magic, he won't survive this second attack," she finished, her chest heaving after her outburst.
"Has it been confirmed that these attacks have anything to with Potter?" Snape shot back snidely.
"The Death Eaters have made it clear they know who Jonathon really is and what they were going to do with him. It's like a new breath of life for them, their numbers were dwindling, people were forsaking the Mark, now this..." she stopped indicating the paper.
"He will be absolutely livid when he realises what has happened," Snape said, his eyes taking in the sepia images of victims of the war printed on the inside cover of the newspaper. "And so he should be. The plan was utterly ridiculous to begin with. It was not thought through rationally and there was no impartial judgement of the situation."
It was the first time she had ever heard Snape actually empathize with Harry and even though she would have liked to admonish him, tell him he was out of order or even just to tell him to keep his opinions to himself, she was silenced by the fact that part of her agreed with him. The logical side of her was always aware of how risky it was but perhaps over time her heart had drowned the usually rational voice out and she had given in for the first time in a long time.
She sighed and rubbed the palms of her hands together nervously. "The past does not matter anymore. All that matters now is that Harry gets his memories back and if he struggles with that we'll be here to help him..."
"You've already abandoned him once," he cut across her "what makes you think that he'll trust any of you again?"
Hermione scowled at him and could tell from his expression that he revelled in hitting a nerve. "I have quite enough to get on with at the moment Severus, so please if you don't have anything constructive to say, leave!"
There was a frosty silence before Snape walked languidly to the door "The Headmistress wished to speak to you," he droned and strode off away from her dormitory leaving her fuming behind.
He could hear whispering and the occasional hushing sounds travelling up from downstairs. Knowing that they were probably tending to something of considerable importance, and that it most likely concerned him he remained sprawled across the narrow single bed in an almost unconscious state. If anyone had peeked their head into the room they would have presumed him asleep and left him be, regardless of the fact that it was nearing twelve o'clock in the afternoon.
His stomach growled uncomfortably, a result of not having consumed food in the last eighteen hours and anxiety of the impending operation he was about to undergo. He could hear the odd popping sounds in the garden and realised there must now be a good few wizards down in the cramped kitchen and gathered that today was his last day.
In a few hours he would most likely be devoured by rage, sadness and betrayal but for now he just felt a numbness that for the moment, while lying stretched across the bed, was enough. He could picture their troubled and apprehensive faces if he were to get up and traipse down the stairs without a care in the world. It was ironic, that they believed they were in uneasy times, that they agonized over everything when they could have no idea what agony felt like. For the past forty eight hours he felt like he had been torn asunder, a path to choose but no inclination for either of them.
Perhaps after all the confusion, the revelations and the uncertainty all there was left to feel was calm. And so he continued to submit to the peaceful feeling. What was there to fight back against anyway? These people, although they had made his life a hell, were now trying their best to make him feel at home. And they acted with the utmost respect to him and made every effort to comfort him.
Ron dropped by the house as often as he could but his face revealed that he was deeply preoccupied by his work. Last night he had confided that for the first time in a long time he noticed the Aurors were not able to keep control of the situation. He told Jonathon the department was falling apart under the increasing pressure from the Death Eaters and the public and he had not seen such shoddy work in years.
Ron had also brought around his youngest and only sister, Ginny, with whom Harry had had a relationship. To say it was awkward would be an understatement; there was a lot of astonished staring and silences however after two hours of strained conversation and more stories of Hogwarts he found Ginny to be quite amusing and a relief from the anxiety that surrounded the house. Ron and Ginny had even taken it upon themselves to teach Jonathon some basic magic and within minutes he had mastered a levitating charm.
He had not seen Hermione since the day he had attempted to kiss her. Although she had been the one to practically drag him from London's bleak streets into the promising wizarding world she had seemed to disappear, almost frightened by him or Harry, he wasn't sure. One thing was for sure, she was the strangest woman he had ever met, frustrating and yet endearing and although she appeared to be stern he could tell she was compassionate and kind. And even though there were a million thoughts clogging up his mind, drowning him in uncertainty and confusion, he knew one thing to be true, he wanted to see her again.
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"Remus has set up a team to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries. Moody, Kingsley, Arthur and Remus himself are
going to retrieve the inducer and we'll have another team to move Jonathon from the Burrow to Grimmauld
Place..." McGonagall was reciting the plan and Hermione deduced she had the whole thing orchestrated to
perfection.
"Why Grimmauld Place? Would it not be safer to just use the Burrow and not have to transport him at all?"
McGonagall gave her an intense stare as if contemplating how much she should reveal. "It will be...easier to...contain him," she paused momentarily letting the words sink in "if he isn't at the Burrow, if he's somewhere where he can spend time alone."
"I'm sorry but I don't understand," Hermione replied shaking her head in confusion. Again she was met with a hesitant silence from the headmistress that made her feel uncomfortable; Minerva McGonagall was not one to hesitate.
"Harry may not wish to remain at the Burrow, he may want to be alone, away from...from the people he feels betrayed him," she finished quickly looking away from Hermione. "There is a substantial risk that given his state he will try to escape the Burrow in order to be alone. However if we move the operation to Grimmauld Place, which Harry still has ownership over, he can remain there, gather his thoughts as well as clear his mind. You don't have to be a psychiatrist to understand he may be slightly unbalanced after the inducement."
Hermione nodded almost grudgingly. She was beginning to feel even more nervous at the prospect of Harry's condition but before she could dwell on it McGonagall was speaking again.
"We wanted to keep Jonathon as calm as possible today so we do not run the risk of him fleeing the Burrow. It is a huge burden that he is undertaking and we were hoping if you could go to the Burrow today and keep him company; ensure he isn't completely alone..."
"I'm sorry I have a lot of correcting to do..."
"You have at least six weeks to see to your correcting Professor Granger..."
"You don't know he might want to be alone, as you said he's probably feeling..."
"Ms. Granger I am asking you as your superior to ensure the subject remains calm and doesn't run from what we are asking of him."
Hermione knew it was pointless to argue against a clearly steadfast witch. Her tactic of referring to Jonathon in an impersonal manner illustrated the need to be, as Snape had said earlier, impartial. This really was no time to allow emotions rule her actions.
"I'll make my way over to the Burrow as soon as I can," she agreed after a lengthy silence. McGonagall nodded in approval and Hermione strode back to her dorm, a million thoughts in her head.
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It was just another task she had to carry out for the Order, nothing more. Perhaps if she kept repeating it she could convince herself it was true. However she was fooling no one, let alone herself. It wasn't just a task. It wasn't just another guy she couldn't stop thinking about. It wasn't just guilt. Refraining from becoming too sentimental was just impossible at this point.
Her hand was quivering slightly as she threw a handful of floo powder into the grate and disappeared into the sparkling emerald flames. It was the right thing to do, putting her feelings to one side to ensure Jonathon's and Harry's safety as well as the wizarding world's safety.
A rush of resentment flooded her when she reached the Burrow and spotted at least four people in the kitchen. So much for him being completely alone, she thought maddeningly. Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, Ginny and Lupin were having a whispered conversation in the chaotic kitchen while Alastor Moody stood silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes roving the unkempt garden suspiciously.
"Oh hello Hermione," Lupin greeted her in a low voice. "Minerva did say you were going to come over, "he gestured for her to take a seat.
"She gave me the impression that Jonathon was alone, "Hermione replied not attempting to hide the exasperation in her voice.
"Well Lupin, Tonks and I are about to head to the Ministry for our final inspection of the area before the retrieval is carried out tonight," Moody growled from the doorway not bothering to turn around.
"And I'm going to visit Neville. He doesn't know about Harry but I think he suspects something is going on, "Ginny said going slightly red. "He keeps asking me if everything is okay, I've received two owls from him today alone," she continued with an eye-roll.
There was a harsh scraping noise as they stood up from their chairs and headed towards the garden. "We'll meet up here again at seven tonight to make sure everyone knows what they have to do," confirmed Lupin as the others filtered out of the kitchen into the sweltering sun.
Hermione watched as Molly hugged Ginny tightly and bade her goodbye and felt a flicker of longing for her own mother's embrace. A voice interrupted her thoughts "You look tired Hermione." Lupin gave her an earnest look and placed a hand over her own. "Take care," he said before following the others out into the brilliant sunlight.
She knew Lupin would understand her more than the others. He was one of the very few people who comprehended how close Hermione had been to Harry. He also knew how difficult it had been to persuade her to let him go. He knew just how much she had given up that night, how much she had sacrificed.
She was brought out of her reverie by Molly's voice, excusing herself as she wanted to do some work down the garden.
"Where is he?"
Molly paused and smiled sadly. "He's upstairs lying down. I don't think he's sleeping. I think he knows what today is..." There was a brief silence, and then Molly trudged out the door leaving Hermione standing alone in the cramped kitchen. There was a peaceful stillness encompassing the house, as if it were just another glorious summer afternoon in the countryside and no one had a care in the world. She was almost afraid to move in case the tranquillity would shatter like glass.
Creaking wood caused her to spin around and she came face to face with Jonathon, standing nonchalantly at the bottom of the old staircase in nothing but a white t-shirt and black boxers. "Good morning Professor Granger," emphasising the word as if it amused him.
She would have liked to retort with something witty but her voice failed her. After everything that had happened to him in the past week, it still amazed her he could be this casual, particularly after their last 'conversation'.
After eliciting no response he shrugged his shoulders and made his way over to the kettle, his bare feet slapping against the stone as he went. Part of him wanted to push her, not physically, but he wanted to find out exactly what had happened last time they had spoken. In fact, if he was honest with himself he wanted to know everything about her.
He could feel her eyes follow him as he went about his business, filling the rusty kettle and setting it down on the old hob.
"Is it not rude to stare in the wizarding world?" he grinned coyly and she snapped back to reality.
"Er...sorry, I'm just not used to half-dressed men wandering around the Burrow," she tried to make her smile genuine but failed.
"Like you haven't thought about it," he muttered leaning with his back against the counter to get a better look at her face.
"Pardon?" she demanded raising her eyebrows.
"Please, I saw it the moment I got here. You want Arthur Weasley," he said earning a hearty laugh from her. "He's a married man Granger, you don't want to get messed up with that," he continued feigning sincerity.
"You've figured me out!" she responded with mock astonishment. They remained like that for awhile chuckling to themselves before he offered her tea. "I've never known a family to drink so much tea," he commented peering out at Molly who was carrying a bucket of seed down to a group of chickens. "So what brings you here? Let me guess...you're here to ensure I don't do a runner?"
"Something like that," she replied taking a seat. "They'll be back here at six and we'll head over to, your house, where the inducement will be carried out."
"Can't wait," he mumbled sarcastically placing a mug of tea in front of her and took a seat opposite.
She would have like to reassure him and tell him nothing would go wrong, but she couldn't lie to him. The inducement was just as unknown to her as it was to him. The sudden lack of noise began to grow uncomfortable and she realised she didn't know what to say to him.
"You fancied him didn't you?"
"Arthur Weasley?" she asked trying to hide the rush of emotions that flooded her body.
He snorted and shook his head. "I think we both know who I'm talking about."
"A lot of people fancied Harry Potter. He was the saviour of the wizarding world and his face was splashed across every paper nearly every day. Guys wished they could be him, girls wished they could be with him," she explained in a steady voice.
"You're very good at what you do," he said, his piercing eyes never leaving her tense face.
She frowned puzzled "What do you mean?"
"Avoiding answering questions," he replied instantly with a smirk.
It was her turn to shake her head, in disbelief. "Well your questions are personal and you have no right to ask them." She took a sip of her tea, huffed and then stood to her feet. She suddenly felt as if she was trapped and wanted to get out of the kitchen. "I'm going for some air," she said, snatching the mug of tea and making a beeline for the door. His voice stopped her in her tracks.
"I'm only asking because I think he liked you too."
"Of course he liked me, he was my best friend," she stated simply. She twisted around to look at him and found him staring intently at the mug he was grasping with both hands.
"I...er, there's something so familiar being around you, and it's not this house, it's not these people, it's just...you," he expressed unhurriedly not raising his head to look up at her.
She shut her eyes in frustration "We were very close...we grew up together, we trekked around England together, fought together, we were bound to be familiar with each other," using his words in the hope of getting through to him. When she opened her eyes his eyes remained fixed on her face.
"No, it's more than that. I can feel it..."
"How could you? You're not him!"
"I don't know! It must just be something he buried deep down and you couldn't erase," he yelled irritated by her evasiveness.
She scowled at him and the let out a howl of frustration. His continued mood-swings, happy to curious, to sad to angry, were equally as irksome as her need not to engage in a conversation about her feelings for Harry. "I can't do this, not now," she ran a shaky hand through her hair.
"You loved him, didn't you?!" There was a slight awe to his voice, the thought that there was someone out there that had loved him all this time and had never done anything about it. He couldn't even explain how he felt anymore.
"It doesn't matter anymore," she said in a constrained manner as if it hurt her to admit it. "Why does it matter what I felt when I was a teenager?" In an effort to compose herself, she decided to head upstairs towards the bathroom, unable to look at Jonathon or Harry or whoever he was now.
As she made her way up the stairs she heard footsteps behind her, ignoring them she continued until she reached the top and spun around and again came face to face with him. Their faces were mere inches away from each other and she felt the tension emanating from him. His calculating eyes explored her silently and were drawn to her lips for a mere instant.
She couldn't tear her gaze from his face, taking in his unfathomable eyes, his enticing lips, the unruly stubble that just graced his jaw.
He leaned forward and their lips met. Her immediate reaction was to take a slight step back however one hand automatically went to his chest and grabbed a handful of his t-shirt pulling him closer. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened up to him instantly, meeting his tongue with her own.
The jolt of electricity that shot through her body seemed to reawaken her senses. She simultaneously let go of a fistful of his t-shirt, put pressure against his chest and moved her face downwards away from his.
She was breathing heavily as was he, her face flushed from embarrassment and disappointment in herself. This was exactly what she was hoping to avoid.
"I'm sorry," she whispered placing a slender hand over her own forehead as if checking for a non-existent fever, some illness she could blame. She still refused to look up at him.
"I'm not...it doesn't mean anything. I mean I'm going to cease to exist in a couple of hours," he replied bitterly. He gave up trying to get her to look up at him and leaned back against the wall, exhaling as if defeated. "Look don't upset yourself about it," he attempted to calm her down "I'm more to blame than you are."
"No you're not...What do you mean "cease to exist"? Of course you'll exist," she exclaimed. "You'll just have memories from another life."
"Oh is that all?" he replied sarcastically and made to return to the kitchen. She trailed him down the stairs and into the kitchen her mind still reeling, her legs still shaking but intent on explaining what little she knew about the procedure.
"Jonathon you'll still have the memory of the past six years. That won't just disappear...it most probably will be slightly harder to recall though..."
"But who will I actually be? He questioned throwing his arms up forcefully and she could tell instantly that he had been plagued by this question since he got here.
"I would presume, and keep in mind I'm usually right, that the past six years would leave an impression on Harry's character so you would be somewhat of a fusion of two characters, not in a bi-polar institutionalised sense," she added seeing the fearful expression on his face.
"You are still him," she said softly after a lengthy silence. "You're brave and you're kind. I mean look at Natasha, she absolutely adored you. Visiting her and checking that she is comfortable and has not come to any harm is exactly what Harry would have done. And that need to help her...that came from Harry, from you," she finished placing a hand over his heart.
His eyes traced her hand to her face. "I'm afraid," he confessed quietly.
"You'd be a fool not to be," she responded dropping her hand from his chest to her side. "But for now there's really only one thing we can do."
"I'll put the kettle on," he concluded with a bashful grin.