Chapter Image (by SunSation Gal 07 of The Dark Arts): click
Chapter Two
"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature, and has no chance of being free unless made or kept so by the exertions of better men than himself." - John Stuart Mill
Harry woke up fairly early, but feeling more refreshed than he had in some time. Rubbing the tiredness from his face, he slipped downstairs, wondering how long it would be until he stepped foot in the Burrow again. He assumed Hermione had woken up and moved up to the room she shared with Ginny some time during the night because Ron was sleeping on the couch, his arms dangling off the side and his arse up in the air. He was snoring loudly and drool dripped out of his mouth to the flat pillow beneath him. As Harry approached the kitchen, he could hear Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley talking while making breakfast. Slipping through the door quietly, he took a seat, wanting to be an outsider and not drawn into the conversation.
"The wedding was wonderful," Molly tittered, waving her wand at a stack of bread. "I think Mrs. Delacour may have had a little too much champagne though," she said, her mouth pinching together. "She was going on and on about the colour red and needing more flowers half the night. Ginny, go wake up the twins, they're out by the garden," she said, waving to the door. "I think everyone had a wonderful time though, don't you, Hermione dear?"
"Oh yes, it was definitely the most interesting wedding I've ever attended," Hermione replied warmly.
Mrs. Weasley beamed at her, her cheeks blushing with the compliment. "Lovely," she said, nodding. She glanced at Hermione from the corner of her eyes, still not appearing to notice Harry at the table. Ginny had slipped away without seeing him, too, but Harry wasn't surprised as he was slumped down in the farthest chair. "Did Harry enjoy it too, do you think?" she queried, returning her attention to the food and trying to act nonchalant.
Hermione looked at her a moment curiously but then said, "I'm certain he did. I'm not sure Harry's ever been to a wedding before. He seemed to be having fun. Why do you ask?" she wondered, her brow furrowing.
Mrs. Weasley frowned, shaking her head. "It's nothing really. I just noticed that, well..." She sighed, shaking her head again. "He didn't spend much time with the guests, is all. I don't think he and Ginny even danced," she exclaimed, waving a chunk of hair back as it fell over her forehead. "And Ron was off with that girl all night. The only time I really saw Harry was when I asked him if he had seen Ron and later when I found you two in here enjoying a butterbeer."
Hermione looked rather perplexed for a moment after she mentioned Ginny, but didn't comment on it. "Well, Harry danced with Gabrielle and Tonks a few times. And he did find Ron to share a butterbeer and talk about his speech for a bit. He played a game of Chess with me a little later on and I know he spent some time with Remus and Neville during various moments throughout the evening." Hermione shrugged her shoulder. "He enjoyed himself, I think. It was a moment for him to blend in, not be so much the celebrity as just... well, Harry," she said, nodding.
Harry grinned, running a hand through his messy hair and nodding his head agreeably to Hermione's assertion. He had enjoyed it. Hardly anybody had come looking for him as Harry Potter, boy-who-lived. He simply hung around with friends and talked about regular every day things. He spent most of his time with Hermione, sometimes talking, sometimes just enjoying the silence. He danced with her one more time, to a fast song that had them laughing and jumping around. Hermione had long past tossed her shoes away and they hopped around with him on her tip toes. Gabrielle had blushingly asked him to join her in a dance and Hermione had pushed him out onto the dance floor with the pretty young Delacour. Before he could get off the dance floor, Tonks had grabbed his arm and yanked him back on, stating that since Hermione had nicked her date for the song she needed a partner. Harry held Tonks' attention for half the song but when they got too close to Hermione and Remus who were discussing interesting books, Tonks traded partners and Hermione was back in Harry's arms. Instead of dancing though, they left the area to talk about what Hermione had found out. She had been covertly discussing Defense books with Remus in hopes of finding more spells to keep her, Harry, and Ron safe during their adventure.
Harry's attention was brought back to Molly and Hermione as Mrs. Weasley said, "Yes, but, it seemed he and Ginny hardly had any contact. They've been dating for some time now, is there a problem?"
Hermione cleared her throat, her hands stilling and her eyes widening a bit. "Well... er..." Harry found it to be one of the few moments Hermione was at a loss for words. Mrs. Weasley couldn't press the matter as Ginny came back inside with a moaning Fred and George Weasley, who had apparently sampled too much of their own spiked punch. The conversation was officially cut off and Hermione left the area while Mrs. Weasley was chastising her twins. She spotted Harry and slipped over to sit down beside him. She gave him a side-long glance, obviously wondering how much he heard. He simply shrugged in reply and they waited for the rest of the house to wake up and come in for breakfast.
The kitchen was soon full of loud voices, everybody having something to say. A groggy Ron had slipped in at the smell of bacon and took a seat next to Harry, scrubbing his face of sleep. By the time breakfast was done, Fred and George were calling for a game of Quidditch and Harry wondered whether he should hang around with Hermione, feeling like her leaving meant he wasn't going to see her for awhile rather than just the afternoon. She waved him out the door however and was soon sitting on the grass, reading a book while they flew around above her. Lee Jordan and Gabrielle Delacour, who had spent the night, evened out the teams. Harry was surprised to find that little Gabrielle was quite the beater and enjoyed Ron's running commentary on how they were obviously the more talented team. Harry basked in the regularity he felt at the Burrow and managed to catch the snitch before Charlie, who had come back for breakfast sans his blonde date. As the game winded down, Harry joined beside Hermione who beckoned him and Ron up to one of the rooms to talk.
Putting up a silencing charm, Hermione sat down on Harry's makeshift bed and packed her book away in her meticulously filled side bag. Ron and Harry were going to take her trunk along with them, so as not to arouse suspicion with the Weasley's, who thought Hermione was only going to be gone until after dinner. Hermione was pulling her thick hair up into a ponytail as she talked to them, her brows raised seriously. "My parents are expecting me soon and since I already have everything done I thought not to put it off any longer."
"Why do you have to go back again?" Ron wondered, sipping his glass of pumpkin juice and wiping the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead. He had been decked out in his school Quidditch robes and the game had left him quite overheated.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, looking exasperated. "Because Ron, I won't be seeing them for a very long time. I already spent an entire year away; I think it'd be nice to spend some time with them before I'm suddenly seen as missing or AWOL."
"A wall?" Ron asked, her brow cocking in confusion.
"Absent without leave," Hermione explained, shaking her head. "It means that I've suddenly run off and they don't have any reason for it. I wasn't given permission and they weren't informed ahead of time."
"So you're not telling your parents?" he asked, towering over her and looking down instead of sitting.
"Of course not," she said, shaking her head and frowning. "Anybody could use a memory charm or Veritaserum on them and they could tell without meaning to. I'll tell them that I'm going away and that I'm safe. That's all." She nodded her head decidedly.
There was a sudden knock outside the door and the twins called out for Harry and Ron, wondering if they wanted to go another round of Quidditch. Charlie was promising to beat Harry this time. Ron had jumped at the ruckus and his pumpkin juice had sloshed out of his cup to land on Hermione's clean white shirt. He apologized before trying to smother his laugh. He called out to the twins that they'd be out soon to play and then shrugged his shoulders at Hermione. "So I guess we'll, er, see you tonight, then?" he asked, chuckling lightly.
Hermione hurried up from the floor, trying to pat her shirt dry and hoping it wouldn't stain. "All my clothes are tightly packed," she murmured, annoyed. She looked over at Ron and scowled, "Yes, I'll see you tonight," she muttered.
He nodded sharply and then, thinking he was going to escape unscathed if he left immediately, hurried out of the room, calling out to his brothers that Harry was still going to beat Charlie and they'd be the victors again.
Harry shook his head and turned to Hermione, "Sorry."
"It's not your fault," she told him, still swiping at the offending orange juice angrily.
Harry walked over to his trunk and pushed it open. He grabbed the first shirt he saw and tossed it to her. "Wear this. Then you don't have to go through your trunk. You need to be going now anyway, right?" he said, shifting on his feet.
Hermione caught the shirt and smiled at him thankfully. "Harry, this is your Quidditch jersey," she said, going to hand it back to him.
"That's okay. It's clean, I promise. I'll get it back tonight," he assured, nodding. Hermione smiled at him again, her cheeks tingeing a light pink which he wondered over a moment before startling. "Uh, well I'll wait for you downstairs then. I'll, er, walk you to the apparition wards," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaving the room. He closed Ron's door behind him and made his way downstairs. He spotted Ginny, who was leaning against the wall, holding a broom and half-smiling at him. "You coming, Harry? Charlie's acting like this is the biggest game of the century," she told him.
He nodded, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah, I'll be out soon, I'm just gonna see Hermione off."
Ginny nodded, her eyes moving from him to the door. "Okay, well..." She sighed, shifting her feet and then looking back up at him. "Something's happening, isn't it?" she queried, her voice lowering.
"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, suddenly becoming rigid.
"You guys are planning something, aren't you?" she wondered, her mouth becoming a hard pout and her hip jutting out in a demanding posture. "I want in, Harry. I want to help out."
Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Nothing's going on, Ginny," he said, suddenly moving to the door.
"Don't leave me out of this, Harry," she said, stomping her foot. "I can be helpful. I can--"
"Ginny," he said, his voice hard and loud, "Just stop it," he told her, pushing past and through the door. Feeling annoyed, he walked out to the other side of the house and leaned against it. Away from the friendly Quidditch game and Ginny's overzealous begging. He heard footsteps and considered moving, but Hermione was upon him before he could run. She smiled at him, her bag slung over her shoulder. He found himself grinning back rather foolishly, feeling like she had already pulled him from his dampened mood. He hoped Ginny wouldn't find them again. He wasn't interested in seeing her dejected expression or forlorn pouting. Part of him was grateful that she was safe now, that he wouldn't have to worry about her being Voldemort's next victim. But another part snarkily told him that he was really just happy to be free of her. She was too clingy, all too happy to be with the Harry Potter, rather than just Harry. He didn't dislike Ginny; she had been a nice distraction during a hellish year where his best friends seemed preoccupied with more intimate matters. But he didn't need a distraction now, he needed to be focused.
Thinking back to the last year, he scowled to himself, finding his irritation at Ron rise. He couldn't explain why it was that Hermione wasn't included, perhaps because it felt more sincere when she apologized. Or maybe because he knew that while she made a mistake, she wouldn't do it again. Unlike Ron, who hadn't been beside Harry in the past and was more interested in sticking his tongue down Lavender's throat than helping him outr. In any case, he rather wanted this moment to be Ginny-free. The walk to the apparition wards wasn't far, but he didn't feel like sharing Hermione with anybody else for that small moment.
In a few hours, he too would be leaving the Burrow and he hoped that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't catch on to what they were doing or that Ginny wouldn't rat on them. He didn't feel like putting up with lectures or interfering Weasleys. Their plans were made and it was how it had to be. He knew that things were dangerous; he knew that what they were planning could potentially kill them all. But Ron and Hermione had already made their decision and Harry wasn't backing down on his. The Order didn't know anything about the Horcruxes and Dumbledore made it clear that they weren't suppose to. It was another adventure for the Golden Trio, and he would honor how it was supposed to be, rather than how the adults thought it should be.
He wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon acting like things were fine, like he wasn't going to escape a place that felt like home to do something drastically dangerous. Tomorrow everything would be different and he didn't much want to think about that. They would start planning, figuring out how to get the Horcruxes and destroy them. He was fed up with Voldemort and he didn't feel like hiding away in the shadows waiting anymore. Riddle had already taken far too much from him, too many loved ones and he wasn't going to let it continue. The Order likely wouldn't appreciate his position, but that didn't much matter since all he really needed was Hermione and Ron while they went on their journey. Maybe he wasn't exactly rational; he was angry and upset, tired and anxious, and very much determined. He wondered if Dumbledore would appreciate his attitude, if only because it was directed at wanting to bring down Voldemort once and for all.
Hermione walked close next to him as they silently made their way to the outskirts of the Burrow. The back of her hand kept brushing his and he considered reaching out and simply taking it, before he finally just did. He hoped his palm wasn't sweaty or that the Weasleys wouldn't notice and tease him about it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, but she was still looking forward, a small smile on her mouth. She stopped a few feet from the wards and looked up at him. She nodded her head before reaching up and pressing a short kiss against his cheek, near the corner of his mouth. He felt a warmth slip down to his toes and wondered if he was as bright as Ron was when he was angry, or if he was smiling as goofily as he wanted to. Without saying anything, she turned and walked toward the wards.
An immediate feeling of loss enveloped him and he suddenly wanted to go with her, even if it'd be awkward meeting her parents, he just wanted to be around her a little longer. Hear her voice, hold her hand, just have her around in general. Harry stood for a moment, transfixed on watching her retreating figure. Her hair swayed behind her, thick soft curls catching the light and shimmering. He could see his last name peeking out from beneath her hair. Large black letters proclaiming, "POTTER." Seeing it so clearly on her back, he had the most peculiar feeling that it rightly deserved to be there. Her side bag bounced against her hip, looking large compared to her small, curvy body. He swallowed thickly, wondering when he started noticing how Hermione's body looked in her Muggle clothes and finding his senses submerged in the soft scent of strawberries and ink. She was wearing a prim grey skirt with his jersey, making her appear rather mismatched in an oddly adorable way.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her brown eyes sparkling, though he was probably imagining it. He found his mind conjured a vision of her face when they had been dancing close the night before. Light spatter of freckles over her pert nose, warm brown eyes with flecks of gold, high, rosy cheeks, and soft looking pale pink lips over perfect, straight white teeth. Had she always been fetching, or was he just noticing it now? She smiled at him one last time, tucking a strand of hair that fell from her ponytail behind her ear. And then she was gone. A small, echoing pop hit his ears and he found himself staring at the spot she had previously been standing in. He wondered why he felt so worried about it, but decided he was just being far too cautious for his own good.
Pulling himself away, he made his way back over to the waiting Quidditch game and gave a half-hearted smile to the people calling for him to hurry up. He grabbed his Firebolt and joined them in the air, intent on enjoying the last afternoon of freedom he would have for some time. While up in the air, looking for the familiar gold spark from the snitch, Harry caught sight of where Hermione had been standing and shook off the chill running down his spine. He heard Ron shout that George better watch his aim and then returned his attention to looking for the elusive gold. Hermione would be fine. She'd meet them at Godric's Hollow just like they planned and he could stop worrying about her. Sighing, his green eyes turned swiftly at the sight of wings.
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Hermione found herself listening to her mum chatter on about one of the patients at her Dentist surgery as she leaned against the kitchen counter, chewing on a piece of celery while her mum put together a salad. It felt both nice and uncomfortable to be home. There was a certain warmth that she always felt when she came back, but at the same time she recognized that she wasn't the same girl who grew up there. She wasn't the daughter they knew so well, she had grown up quickly. Her parents always used to kid that she was much older than her age said, but now she felt ancient compared to the previously so-called wise eleven year old that first left the Muggle world. It was nice to see them, to see a face that wasn't marred by death, war, and destruction, but she couldn't help but feel a separation from them because of it. They didn't know much about how the Wizarding world was and she had kept everything light in her letters home. She didn't want to worry them and she certainly never wanted them to take her away from magic like she was sure they would want to. She admitted to them that there were dark wizards, that the Wizarding world wasn't perfect and like anything, there was a downside to magic, but she never told them that she was going to be in the thick of a war.
"Pass me the croutons, Hermione dear," her mother asked sweetly.
Hermione lifted the box from the counter and opened it for her mum. It was all so normal, so ordinary, so Muggle. There was nothing wrong with being Muggle, she held no prejudice against people who didn't work with magic. She didn't think less of her parents or relatives or neighbors because they couldn't cast a spell or magic something into existence. She loved that her parents would always be the two most reliable people she'd ever known. They were dentists, two of the best in their field. They had one daughter, had been married eighteen years and loved each other dearly. They fought over trivial things like how her dad would rather watch a football game then go to the opera or see a film. Or how her mum enjoyed decorating the house every year, buying new curtains or sometimes deciding the paint in a certain room either needed to be rejuvenated or should be a different colour, while her father enjoyed things just as they were, no need for change. They married in their twenties while attending med school and their pride and joy was simply and only Hermione. They never looked down on her magic, but instead labeled it another wonderful part of their already perfect daughter. They had a few married couple friends and her mum was part of a book club while her dad enjoyed golfing. They were a regular, normal couple, and she loved that about them.
"So, tell me, how are Ronald and Harry," her mother asked, looking over at her, smiling. Charlotte Granger was a pretty woman, not beautiful but certainly not plain. Hermione had received her wild, thick hair from her mum, who kept hers in a tight French braid while working or busy so it wouldn't get in the way. She always said that one day she'd cut it, but she never did. She usually let it down at home because it was one of her husband's favorite things about her. He often ran a hand over her hair or twirled a strand around his finger at random, something Hermione always thought was very sweet between her parents. Her mum was on the short side with a small frame and a warm face. She had a loving smile that always seemed gentle and friendly. Hermione often thought her mum came across as sweet and on the generous side, because she had such a nice look to her.
"They're good," Hermione replied, thinking back to her two best friends. "Ron's brother's wedding went wonderfully and I think he may fancy a girl named Luna now. She's a little flighty," she admitted, her brow wrinkling. "She's in her head a lot, always saying the most odd things," she said, tipping her head to one side. "But she's nice enough and she seems to understand Ron well enough." Hermione shrugged, leaning back against the counter and taking another bite of her celery stick. "Harry's... well. He's been rather tense lately, since Dumbledore..." She felt her throat tighten and wondered if clearing it would be too telling. "He's happy to be away from the Dursleys," she said, changing the subject.
She scowled while remembering the horrid family that was somehow genetically connected to Harry. They were a vile trio of people that Hermione didn't believe knew how lucky they were to know Harry at all. "I'm worried about him though. A lot has happened to him over the years and it all seems to be weighing him down. I'm afraid that... that one day it's all going to be just too much for him and he'll... fall," she said softly, her eyes stinging. He'd been dealing with so much from the very beginning. Hermione wasn't sure if she could have handled so much. True she had been there through a lot of it, but it wasn't as connected to her as it was him. She hadn't seen first hand Cedric's murder, or had to watch as Sirius fell through the veil, or witness Snape killing Dumbledore. It wasn't right for him to be plagued by so much death. Not right at all.
Her mum stepped closer to her, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Hermione's frame loosely. She kissed her daughter's temple and ran her hand over Hermione's hair a moment, just holding her. Hermione stared off, deep in her thoughts, but relaxed into her mother's embrace. It felt nice. Her mum's hugs were something she often craved at school. They were so soothing, so comforting, so coaxing. "Hermione?" Charlotte asked, her voice soft, hesitant, a little worried.
"Yes, sorry, I was just..." Hermione shook her head, her shoulders falling. "It's nothing. Would you like me to check the roast?" she wondered, hoping to avoid the issue entirely. Pulling out of her mother's embrace she moved across the kitchen. Hermione pulled on a couple of oven mitts and pulled down the door to check on their dinner. She heard her mum make a noise but ignored it, knowing what it could bring if she let her mother's coaxing eyes meets hers. She'd let it all out, admit all that was wrong and what was happening and she'd never able to leave the house again. She'd be stuck in the Muggle world while Harry was out battling a war that she should be a part of. He'd be all alone and she could never let that happen. She needed to be there, wanted to be there, had to be there. For him; if for nobody else, then at least for Harry. If not only because he needed her then because she could never abandon him. Not with his life and future on the line. She wouldn't let him fail. He had to find peace, had to find a world where he wasn't the Harry Potter, but just Harry. He deserved it, and she would do all that was in her power to give it to him.
"What's this?" her mum's voice wondered, and Hermione felt her hair being pushed to the side, revealing Harry's last name on the jersey.
"It's nothing," Hermione told her, shaking her head as her cheeks rosied. "Ron spilled something on me so Harry let me borrow his jersey," she explained, clearing her throat and turning her attention back to the roast.
"Mm hmm," her mother said, lifting a skeptical but amused brow. "So Harry and you are quite close then?"
"Yes," Hermione said hesitantly, glancing back. "We've been friends since we were eleven so... it's only natural."
"Perfectly natural," her mother replied, an underlying statement in her words as she winked.
Hermione blushed, trying to look as though she didn't know what her mum was on about she frowned.
"What is that heavenly smell?" she heard her dad call out as he entered the kitchen. "Mmm..." He walked to her mother, tugging on a loose curl and kissing her cheek. "Dinner nearly ready then?"
Hermione pulled her mitts off and nodded at the steaming roast on the stove top. "If the salad is finished then I think we can serve everything," she told him, smiling warmly. Jonathon Granger was rather tall, with thinning, greying hair and a thick brown mustache with flecks of age running through it. He had warm brown eyes and a large grin making him appear friendly. He was on the thin side, his idea of exercise and health was jogging to the mailbox in the front yard each morning and laying off the donuts before work. Despite being a dentist, he had quite the sweet tooth. He figured it balanced out if he cleaned his teeth properly and never skimped on the floss, but his wife always tutted at his enjoyment of sweets. He had a great love for golf, but football was his favorite sport. He'd never played, not having the body for it, but he had high hopes that Hermione would enjoyed kicking the soccer ball around when she was growing up. His own little football player, he said. But she had never taken much of a liking to the game, instead enjoying her books.
"Great," Jonathon exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He moved over to take his designated seat at the table and moved a napkin into his lap, being quite the messy eater. Hermione carved the roast and placed a good portion on a plate to bring to the table while her mother served out the potatoes and salad in a couple bowls. They sat down, grinning at the lovely meal in front of them and then digging in. "Good to have you home munchkin," her father said, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
Hermione smiled back at him, nodding her head agreeably. She had missed them, despite the fact that it was a little awkward keeping such a huge life involving the Wizarding world hidden from them. She knew they'd want to help, even if they were scared about her safety. They'd want something to be done, just not by their daughter. There was no way to explain to them that she had to do it. That Harry needed her. They wouldn't understand. Not entirely. And she couldn't risk not being able to return to the Wizarding world, not with so much on the line. So for now, she would enjoy the family atmosphere and listen to her father crack jokes about anything and everything. Her dad had a bit of an odd sense of humor, which was something she always found endearing.
"So, I heard a real good one today at work," he began as he drizzled some dark gravy onto his roast and potatoes. "Mr. Smith, you remember him dear, don't you? Well he came in for his monthly and he told me a real knee slapper." He smiled up at his wife and then turned to Hermione, "So a seal walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a drink. The bartender asks the seal, 'What'll ya have?' The seal replies, 'Anything but Canadian Club'," he told them, his mouth widening even further.
"Oh dad," Hermione said stifling a chuckle against her hand.
"Okay, okay, I got another," he said, waving his hands before he took a large gulp of his milk. "A hotdog walks into a bar--"
"Jonathon," Charlotte whined, rolling her eyes. "After dinner, dear, please."
"Last one," he promised, winking at Hermione. "So a hotdog walks into a bar and orders a beer. Bartender says." He smirked. "'Sorry, we don't serve food here'."
Hermione shook her head, smiling at the cheesiness of her father. Her smile soon slipped however as she heard a familiar explosion in the background. She shot up from her chair as her father looked curiously as the kitchen door, wondering what had just happened in the front of the house. Hermione shook her head, her hand reaching out and taking hold of his arm. "Listen to me, please," she told them, a sick feeling running down her spine. "You both have to get out of her, now," she told them, reaching behind herself to pull her wand from the waist of her skirt. She knew it. Some part of her knew that one day this would happen. She should have gotten them out of danger immediately instead of waiting for it to happen and hoping it wouldn't.
"But Hermione," her mother began, looking confused. "Don't you think we should--?"
"There's no time to explain," she exclaimed, her voice shrill. "Get out! Get out now! Run! Run as far as you can. Hide somewhere. Don't talk to anybody with a wand. Just go!" she told them, waving at the door and pushing them. She heard voices in the other room, and laughter ringing through the air cruelly. "RUN!" she screamed at them, her face suddenly contorting defiantly. She watched her parents run for the back door and then backed out slowly. She knew it'd be foolish to go into a room where there was any number of Death Eaters. She was just watching her parent's backs. When they were half way across the back lawn she rushed out after them, sealing the door behind her. She pumped her legs, hurrying across the grass. She heard a laugh from above and turned her head up to see a wizard hovering on a broom. His wand lifted, pointing at her parents and she shook her head. She jumped at her dad, knocking him over and then turned to the side. The bright red curse smashed into the ground a couple feet a head of them. Hermione lifted her wand and shot of a, "Stupefy!" managing to hit her target and watching without remorse as fell from his broom and hit the ground with a thick thud.
"Hermione," her mum said fearfully.
"KEEP GOING!" she shouted at them, helping her dad up and pointing at the back gate. Her father hurried up from the ground and grabbed his wife's hand, rushing to the alley and looking over his shoulder at his daughter. Hermione swallowed, before deciding to go the opposite direction as them, hoping to lure them Death Eater's away. An explosion sounded from her house and she could smell the smoke coming off of it. Her childhood home was being destroyed. She was a few feet from the gate when she heard a squeal come from her mother. She turned to see her parents turning around and rushing back toward her, a man in dark robes chasing after them, his wand raised menacingly.
Hermione glowered, moving to the side to avoid hitting her parents. And just as the Avada curse was half out of the Death Eater's mouth, Hermione hit him with a strong hurling hex, sending him into the garbage cans a few feet behind him. Her parents were nearly with her when she turned to see that there were more Death Eater's coming from her side. She ushered them back towards the house, sending up a Protego shield to keep away the less deadly curses as they ran. She ran past her parents so she would take the brunt of any magic coming at them as they ran across the small side lawn area beside the house. Her eyes caught sight of the people inside through the windows, black robes and white masks. She didn't know how many, she just hoped there weren't many in the front. Crashing and loud noises were coming from inside the house, louder each time she passed a window. She didn't want to know what they were doing, how little would be left when it was all over.
"Wh-Who are th-they?" her dad panted out to her, sounding angry and confused.
"I'll explain later," Hermione told him, coming to a sharp stop at the corner of the house and peering around it to check how safe it was. The air was clear of brooms and while the front door was blasted off the house and laying in shambles, there were no dark wizards waiting for them. "D'you have your car keys?" she asked, looking back at them. Her parents shook their heads, their faces taut with fear. Hermione scanned the area until finally she nodded. "You're going to run across the street, go through to the alley there, and then run down to Annabelle's house. You're going to borrow her car and drive out to Grandma's okay. Stay there, I'll come for you when it's safe."
"What about you?" her father asked, gripping her arm. "We're not leaving you here," he told her fiercely. "Y-You're just a ch-child!"
"You're going to go and you're going to do as I said," Hermione told him, using her no-nonsense voice. "I know you have questions, but I don't have time to explain it to you. Please, trust me. You have to go. They're after me, not you. Get away while you can. I'll be okay. Help is coming," she assured them, though she wasn't sure. She swallowed thickly. "I love you both. Now go."
"Hermione," her mother said softly, shaking her head, tears falling from her warm eyes.
"GO!" Hermione shouted at them, her heart beating out of her chest in fear. They nodded before rushing across the street toward the neighbor's house. Hermione waited until they were past the side of the house, out of sight, and then she began running. She couldn't apparate yet, her mind was too fuzzy; she'd splinch herself. She was across the lawn and on the sidewalk, when she heard an amused voice.
"Granger, I thought you'd give a bigger chase," it called out mockingly.
Hermione turned around and scowled at the sneering Malfoy senior. "And I thought your Lord would kill you after you got yourself caught so easily," she spat back.
He sneered, his face taking on a dangerous glint. Lifting his hand, he shook his head. "Come along nicely, mudblood, and perhaps you'll live longer than expected."
Hermione's wand rose. "I'm afraid I have other plans," she told him, shaking her head. "You understand if I'm not exactly willing to trust a man who kisses the feet of an ugly, malicious fascist."
He gave her a sardonic grin and sighed. "Stupefy!" he called out, surprising her.
She had been expecting a snappy comeback. She managed to dart out of the way just in time however, and sent back a hurling hex that he easily dodged. Hermione heard, "Incarcerous," and wondered why he was going through the trouble of capturing her when he could just kill her. She threw up a Protego charm and then hid behind the fence between her house and the neighbors. She peered around the side, throwing a tripping hex at his feet and wondering how far she could get when he fell. Lucius ended her hex before it could do much damage, but Hermione was stopped from using anything back because her father had suddenly darted back across the street to help her. He was holding a garbage can in his hand and threw it at Lucius so quickly and without preempt that the elder Malfoy was actually struck off his feet for a moment.
Hermione shot off the ground, shouting at her father to run and hide, but her words weren't fast enough and Lucius had recovered quickly. She felt ice pierce her heart as her father jerked back when the dark green curse slammed into his chest. He was staring at her, his eyes loving before he was killed. What was the first thing he said to her when he saw her? "Hey, munchkin! So, what did the surgeon say to the patient who refused to buy health insurance? All right, suture self. An oldie but a goodie, Hermione. I bet your friends back at school would like it!" His eyes lost their warmth, their kidding nature, and he fell from the air in a limp mess. Hermione felt her hatred rise up in her and turned to Lucius, her shoulders stiffening. "Conjuctivitis, Expelliarmus," she shouted, waving her wand around and glaring at him.
The eye crusting spell just missed him, but he hadn't been expecting a second attack so quickly, so Hermione was satisfied so see his wand fly towards her. Her triumph was short lived however, as another shouted out, "Accio Wand," before it could reach her hand. Hermione turned swiftly to see another Death Eater, tossing Lucius his wand now. As it was flying through the air, Hermione turned her attention to the new adversary and shot of a stunner, which just missed them, but caused them to seek shelter. Hermione turned her attention back to Lucius and repeated the spell making him duck before she turned to hurry down the street, hoping to find somewhere to gather her thoughts long enough to apparate away. She wasn't far before Lucius' mocking voice called out, "Not so fast mudblood, I think you forgot someone."
Hermione stumbled to a stop, turning to see someone dragging her crying mother across the street. Her feet were working before her brain and she rushed toward the offender, shouting spells she couldn't even remember the outcome of. She was happy to see the Death Eater thrown back, his skin sliced open in various places and his legs looking boneless and wiggly. Her mother was up and on her feet again, but her eyes were on her limp husband and she wasn't running away. She fell back to her knees, her hands covering her mouth. Hermione kept running toward her mother, hoping to knock her down before the red Reducto curse Lucius had shot at her met its target. Her heart clenched tightly and her tears fell as her mother rocketed back, sliding across the hard pavement, blood pouring from a deep wound in her chest. She screamed, her voice shocked and agonized as it pierced the sky. Hermione's feet tripped and she fell to her knees, thinking to somehow get her mother away. She crawled toward her, but she could tell already that the blood was too much, the wound too deep, her mother was gone. She pushed up off the ground, her hands scraping on the pavement and turned to Lucius, her face red with anger and her chest heaving.
"You!" she spat, her hair whipping around behind her.
He laughed, loud and amused, as if it all some game to him. Her parents were dead. Not twenty minutes ago she was having dinner with them. Her dad was telling corny jokes, her mother was rolling her eyes, and she was getting used to being around them again. They loved her. Despite not knowing anything about the war or what she had been through over the years, they loved her. She was their pride and joy. Her father's munchkin! And he took them; like they were nothing; just ripped their lives away like a toy from a child. "Poor little mudblood's an orphan," he mocked.
Hermione's chest heaved and tears spilled from her eyes, burning a bath down her face. "CRUCIO!" she screamed, watching him fly back from the force of the spell and smash into the grass, writhing and screaming. She hated that she was reduced to this. Hated that she was going to such dark measures, but it was out of her mouth before she could think better of it. And some part of it felt it was a sort of redemption. Her loving parents were dead, left alone in the street and on the grass like some insignificant being. But they mattered! "THEY MATTERED!" she yelled at him, walking closer and ignoring the tears falling down her face. Her body shook, her knees quaked, and she was so beyond hysteria that she was quickly approaching insanity. Is this what Harry felt when he saw Cedric murdered? Or Sirius' fall into oblivion? Or Snape killing Dumbledore? How did he manage it? Her hand fell from the air, ending the curse and leaving Lucius in a shaking mass on the ground. Drool pooled out the side and pained tears had left his eyes. He couldn't sit up, could only look at her from the corner of his eyes, his vision dark and soulless.
Hermione turned, wiping her face and thinking to get away; to apparate to the Burrow; to get to Harry. HARRY! she thought. He'd blame himself for this, too. It wasn't his fault. It was hers. How could she not tell them? Warn them of what could come for them? She knew she was an important part of the war. She should have hid her family for their safety; at least told them to stay somewhere else in the city. To go to Annabelle's, their long time friend, or grandma's, any where but home. The home she could see falling to ash behind her. Flames licked the sky, dark clouds of smoke rose to the heavens, where her parents now were because she was a foolish little girl that thought she was doing the right thing. She thought she was sparing them somehow. Their little angel Hermione couldn't be part of a war. No! Not her. She was too good, too bright, too innocent. But she wasn't. She broke rules and lied and fought Death Eaters. She Crucio'd a man out of anger. She let her parents be killed for her. She had to run; had to get to Harry; had to escape. They were there. The Death Eaters, they were still looking for her. There were others, she knew. She'd seen them. They'd come for her.
Hermione made her feet move, tried to find the strength inside her to keep going. "I can't lose you too, Hermione." Her face set in a determined expression and she rushed off the grass, her legs pumping beneath her on nothing but adrenaline. She couldn't become another statistic, another person who caused Harry's fall. She wouldn't be the last cog in Voldemort's attempts at bringing Harry down. She heard feet behind her, heard voices, and closed her eyes, trying to focus. Have to get away. Need to escape. Harry. Harry. HARRY!
She let out a startled cry as ropes wrapped around her, binding her legs together and her arms to her hips. She fell from the air, crashing into the hard pavement with a thud. She turned her face to the side, hoping not to be knocked out. She heard the thick stomps of Death Eaters coming for her. It was all over now. She had failed. "I'm proud of you," she whispered into the air, hoping he'd hear her somehow.
To be continued…
