Chapter Twenty-Three
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Hermione was eating porridge next to Harry. The camp had gotten cooler and she was a bit cold. She pressed her hands tightly to her hot bowl, trying to preserve all the heat she could. The lumpy substance in her hands looked harder to swallow than usual. She stared into the grey mush for a moment longer before she dared to look up at Harry. She glanced up at him sitting next to her, she wondered if he was nervous.
"So when will you find out where you are going exactly?" she asked trying to make conversation. He stopped just as he was about to put a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.
"I'm not sure," he met her eye and they both looked sad. He reached for her hand and squeezed it, and at
the same time he swallowed the spoon of porridge.
It was soon time for goodbye yet again and Hermione felt angry. She hardly touched her breakfast, she knew what was coming. She wondered if it would be like last time, every one in the camp watching them, "the show". A couple always drew more people to watch, you always wanted to see the tears and pain. She had always known this but it felt very different when you were the live show people were watching. She didn't want to leave him again.
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They were given their privacy this time and quietly they walked hand in hand along the small and narrow path amongst the trees. The trees sounded eerily quiet and she looked around. Maybe her ears had drowned out all noise, or maybe the forest had just stopped to watch the show like the other members of the camp had last time. Harry noticed her shiver slightly next to him.
"Are you cold?" he asked but she just shook her head. He put his arm around her shoulders anyway. She leaned into his shoulder and they kept walking slowly.
"I hate this," she whispered.
"Yeah I know."
"I wish I could go as well, or return at least to the magical world."
"I know," he admitted, and he wanted to stop were she was going. He knew what she was feeling so well… "But Hermione, you know that Dumbledore will have a greater plan than anyone of us can guess, right? And besides, just think about all the peace of mind you are giving me, knowing that you are safe." He smiled tryingly.
"Too bad you can't do the same for me!" she said ironically. Harry stopped walking and grabbed her shoulders, he turned her towards him.
"Are you going to be difficult about this?" he asked, half joking.
"I'm always difficult," she smiled at him and he leaned down and kissed her nose.
"This is what we have waited for," he stated but she pulled away from him.
"You don't have to convince me Harry," she stared into the leafy forest, "I know that we have been
fighting for this. I have as well, don't think I've forgotten."
He looked down and seemed to think about what to say next. She interrupted him as he opened his mouth. "I just want to ask you something,"
"Sure."
"Your mom…"
Harry tensed at once and she squeezed his hands.
"She fought for what she believed, right? She didn't stay home, even though I bet your father would have wanted her to…" she started quickly but Harry grabbed her and pulled her tight to his lips.
When he pulled away he was smiling.
"Hermione please stop saying that I am keeping you away from this war! I am bringing everyone closest to me, Ron and almost his whole family, Sirius… I just honestly…" he doubted and looked down at the ground for a moment, "I wont bring someone I feel isn't ready for war."
She started to object when he leaned his forehead to hers.
"Don't," he begged and she spun her back against him. She wanted to turn and storm out of there but she couldn't leave him.
"I love you," he whispered into her hair. She shut her eyes hard and tears spilt over. She turned around hastily and hugged him.
"You have to go now," she whimpered and he gently caressed the back of her hair.
"Yeah I have to," he agreed and with a hand on each cheek he pulled her face back. He looked into the deep brown pools of her eyes and memorized them. He didn't want to scare her, but he had to do this for himself. He had no idea when, or if he would ever see her again. He needed the detailed memory of her face close to his heart during the war, he needed it to keep focused on what he was fighting for.
He leaned back down and tenderly kissed her lips. His thumbs brushed the tears of her cheeks and when he started to pull away she threw her arms around his neck, holding him there just a few moments more.
"I love you," he repeated, whispering close to her lips, his breath teasing her.
"I love you to. Please be safe," she whispered, begging as tears now flowed down her cheeks.
"I will, and you do the same," he said and pulled away.
He started walking away from her. She clutched around her midriff, staring after him. She fought back the urge to just shout out: Come back!
She knew she couldn't - she mustn't. But he was becoming smaller and her heart was aching more with each step…. She wiped the tears away and gasped for air. He was becoming yet smaller and smaller and soon he disappeared amongst the trees.
She felt like she was about to be sick, when would she ever see him again??
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The leaves had turned yellow, orange and finally they had turned red and fallen off the trees. They felt lonely and empty. Some friends and following campers in the camp had fled, some had gone further into hiding but most stayed.
Many had gone into battle, but some had returned because of injury. Those who had left were the "real wizards", the purebloods who had learned how to fight. Even though the rest of the men and women in the camp wanted to fight, to defend themselves, their children - more than anything…. they couldn't. They were powerless…
The war had taken a peculiar form. The magical world of Britain had taken to pretending it wasn't really happening. Magical England spoke sometimes of the "problems in the rest of Europe", but no one spoke of it as a war.
This was of course not the story in the camp, the war was almost the only thing they talked about. Many of the public figures in Britain had disappeared. Some claimed to be away on business, some were officially taking a stand in Europe and some were even claiming to be away to recover from Firewhiskey-addiction. Harry was officially away to look after his many assets in Europe during such troublesome times. This was actually the true story with many of the wealthiest of the magical United Kingdom. Those who didn't openly support Voldemort always made sure their money was protected.
The very wealthiest Death Eaters and powerful remained in Britain. There was no fighting in the war for them, not yet anyway.
The Weasleys still kept away from battle at the moment. It had been quite the argument between Dumbledore and the Weasley twins. They wanted to fight badly, but he kept adamant that he needed some people to remain his ears and eyes in the official world of Magical Britain.
Ron could join Harry, but Dumbledore wanted the twins to stay. Bill and Charlie had joined in the war however.
Blaise Zabini still worked at his club daily and had never left Britain. Draco Malfoy would never see battle no matter what happened; he was the protected heir of Lucuis
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Hermione however was still stuck in the hidden camp in the woods and hating every moment of it. She wished she knew everything that was happening. She wanted to be everywhere Dumbledore was so she could ask him all the questions that kept popping in to her mind.
A few reports had reached them about deaths, but they were less then they had thought. There were still no battles in the open streets, just small clashes in various places around Europe.
Hermione had more to do than ever before in the camp. They had had to add on to the camp expecting more people to join them. They needed to gather food if everyone was to return, and now there were fewer to do it. Hermione couldn't remember working that hard in her life. But she was grateful; it gave her something to keep her busy. She needed to keep moving and not dwell on her worries and fears. She had only received one single letter from Harry in two months, and that had been three weeks ago.
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Hermione woke up early as she always did now. She stretched in her small cot on the floor and looked tiredly around her tent. It was still dark, that was how early she woke. She heard people stirring and knew someone was already making breakfast for those who woke in the early hours. She longed for a cup of tea. The autumn cold was creeping inside her skin and her bones felt like they were icy - her mind briefly traveled back to those large baths in the castle of Viktor Krum's. She quickly pushed all those thoughts away, they always brought on thoughts of Harry , and thoughts of him would only slow her day down.
She reached over to the lantern next to her and flicked it on. The small flame didn't make the tent warmer in reality but she still imagined it warmer. It almost pained her to pull the covers of her and feel the cold air hit her hard. She quickly pulled all the layers of her clothes on, they were cold but she knew they would heat up soon. Her mind wandered to Harry again and she wondered how cold it was wherever he was.
She walked outside and sat down on the log next to an older man and a woman a few years older then her.
"Morning," the man said huskily and coughed.
"That sounds bad," Hermione said and got up to get him some tea.
"Yes," the woman named Bea agreed. "I do hope Dumbledore comes here soon, or McGonagall, someone needs to check that cough Denny."
"I'm fine," he coughed again and waved his arm dismissively.
"What are we doing today then?" Hermione asked as she handed him his warm cup of tea.
"One of the cows is delivering a calf today, she has been in labor all night," he answered and Hermione sighed.
She knew it would be a cold day if they had to stand outside and guard one of the cows.
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"How do you spell baguette?" Ron asked. "Is it b-a-g-u-e-t-t-e …or is… it b-a-u-g-u-e-t-t-e… or is it neither?"
"The first one," Harry mumbled and looked over at Ron lying on the floor next to him. He was scribbling a letter to, Harry guessed, Luna.
"And what about that cheese we had yesterday?" Ron asked.
"It was called camembert," Harry sighed. "Why are you telling her about the food we are eating, I doubt she'll be interested!" Ron looked over at him and Harry felt guilty, he heard himself. He knew he sounded more hostile than he should. He sighed and rolled on to his side facing away from Ron.
The tent opened and Lupin entered out of breath, both Harry and Ron sat up quickly.
"What?" they said at once.
"Sirius and his gang have been in a battle during the night in the west of Germany," he panted. He grabbed the water bottle next to Harry's bed and drank half of it at once.
"And?" Harry demanded and felt his heart pounding.
"Victory!" Remus grinned at them and Ron made a wild gesture.
"Tell us," Harry urged him and stood on his knees in the cot.
"They found the Death Eaters in a camp near the forest, they were about to enter a magical village in Germany. And during the night they attacked."
"How many?" Ron asked excitedly.
"They killed twenty four and captured nineteen. Around twenty got away."
"And from our side?" Ron said but he didn't really want the answer.
"Ten dead," Lupin looked down.
"Ten?" Harry asked shocked, it was more than usual. They would have around three or maybe five.
"And I have received word that Death Eaters have been seen closer to Paris, so that's were we are headed now." Lupin said and both Harry and Ron hurried out of their beds.
"Calm down, we are not leaving for another twenty minutes," Lupin assured them.
"To Paris?" Ron asked.
"We have definitive conformation that Death Eaters are there. Sirius and his men are joining us there as well."
"Sirius?" Harry asked surprised. It had to be that something huge was about to happen, he had yet to see Sirius since the war had started.
Lupin looked away quickly and then looked back at Harry.
"Yes, Wormtail is leading the crowd of men there."
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They had just packed up the tent and Harry looked at the large field they had just slept in, it was busy with people scattering around.
"You coming?" Ron asked him and he glanced over at him.
"I just can't believe we might battle Wormtail tonight," Harry thought aloud. Ron clamped his hand on his shoulder, patting it comfortably.
"I know, after all this time!" he agreed. "You'll get him tonight,"
Harry shook his head.
"No, Wormtail is Sirius's. He has wanted him for all these years."
"And you?" Ron asked.
"Voldemort, nothing less is good enough," Harry said and when he saw the look on Ron's face he added a
grin, making it all into a joke. "I'll be right with you; I'm just going to write a letter as
well."
He sat down on a stone and pulled out his quill. He looked back out at the field once more before he started writing.
Harry looked up again. He decided that he should write in some kind of code. He felt so silly writing in codes, but he had no choice. Even though Dumbledore himself would be the one to deliver the letter he couldn't chance anything.
Dear H
So much has happened since last time I wrote, but yet it seems that nothing has changed. It is so hard to tell you what is happening…. I am near your old summer house now, but we are moving away today. We are meeting up with others and it will be good to see some new and some familiar faces. All groups are slowly becoming smaller, by both injury and loss and it is starting to depress us all. Today we will meet my godfather and your old flame.
(Don't worry, I will still keep him safe, even though he's an old boyfriend of yours.)
There are so many things I want to tell you and ask you, but nothing can fit in this letter. My closest friend is going a bit crazy with his infatuation with the blonde girl, luckily she seems to feel the same way. It's not fun sharing a tent with him at the moment, he talks in his sleep you know.
You should know that I think about you from when I wake up until I fall a sleep again, I miss you more than I can say. I dream about returning to you and holding you. I'm not used to, nor am I very good at writing love letters but I hope you know what I am trying to say my dear H.
I have to stop writing now, we are marching on north and I have no more time. I'm not sure when I can write again. Things are much "busier" where we are going.
Keep safe, please! I can't keep myself focused if I don't know you are safe!
I think about you all the time, and I miss you always.
I love you
/ H
Hermione clutched the letter to her chest. She had just read it for the first time and she felt out of breath.
When had he written it? Where was he now? What did the north mean? North of France, what could it mean? North of Germany… North of Holland…. North of Denmark?
Dumbledore had sent it to her with Fawkes just minutes ago.
She read the letter again. She tried to imagine Harry writing it somewhere in a dirty muddy ditch. All she had for reference of real war was old Muggle movies she had seen as a child. Her father had had quite the collection and she had watched them in secret after school.
She dreaded thinking about Harry, her Harry in one of those places… she seized the letter hard to her chest and tears spilt down her face. She tried to focus; there was only one thing she could do… had to do. She clutched the letter even tighter in her hands and raised it to her face where she kissed it swiftly, barely touching it to her lips.
Then, before she could stop herself she had flung it into the fire next to her.
She collapsed to the floor, feeling utterly heartbroken at seeing the words he had written going up in flame. It was all she had, but she couldn't risk anyone else ever knowing…
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