If this was where Harry had intended to apparate them, then he hadn't been exaggerating when he said `flat' was being generous. The room was maybe twelve foot square with no windows, and the walls made out of concrete blocks made her think they could be underground.
In one corner hung a shabby curtain from a rod, no doubt what constituted a bathroom in this place. There was no kitchen to speak of, just one low counter with a few cabinets. The bedroom was a double mattress pushed haphazardly against the wall.
The focal point of the room was a large wooden desk with plenty of space to work, a comfortable looking chair, and good lighting. This indicated where Harry's priorities were centered when he was here.
Hermione looked around once more, and the knowledge that this was where Harry had called home for the past two years struck her hard. It was such a sad space.
Ron had already broken away and conjured a small table and three chairs before pulling out the last of their fresh food from Shell Cottage.
Harry squeezed her hand once and went to join him. With a slightly uneven breath she made her way to the desk and took out the files with their research, spreading out the papers and notes the way she liked before casting the spell for their magical map. However, as soon as it blinked up it disappeared again.
Harry stood across the room, putting his wand away. "Sorry, `Mione, this place is protected but it's not under Fidelius. I don't want to risk anyone accidentally seeing what we're working on. In fact, all our papers should be charmed so they appear to be something else if anyone does see them."
She nodded her understanding and set herself in the chair, taking on the task of charming the research so that no one other than the three of them could tell what it was. It was a tedious process. In theory she should be able to charm an entire stack, or the entire table, but she didn't want to risk a piece becoming separate even by accident; charming every paper individually was the only way to ensure they would be safe.
Hermione was so focused that Ron and Harry faded into the background. She knew they were discussing something but she couldn't be sure what it was. Two hours later their large amount of intel had all been made unreadable by anyone other than them. If someone else looked at the paper they would see nothing but innocuous shopping lists and two year old newspapers.
Hermione rolled her neck and popped her back, feeling the strain of being in one position for so long. Ron and Harry were still in deep talk, a different magical map floating in front of them. From where she sat it looked to be a smaller road map, and by the way Harry kept tracing a certain route she was certain he was planning something.
"You boys planning a trip?" she said lightly, breaking the long quiet of the room.
Harry startled at her voice and the map vanished without a sound. "All done, luv?" he asked, and Ron sat back in his chair looking guilty about something.
After six years of watching him skive off homework and try and get away with it, she knew what Ron Weasley's guilty face looked like. Considering how quick Harry had made that map disappear, she knew they were up to something she wasn't going to like.
"What are you planning?" she asked again, this time her tone serious, and she saw Harry swallow hard before rising from his chair and making his way towards her.
"Before you say anything, I need you to hear me out," he prefaced, and she knew this wasn't going to be good. At her silence, he continued. "I need to meet with some contacts of mine, but the place I need to meet them at is...well, it's not exactly a place you could go," he said vaguely and she knew there was more he wasn't sharing.
"What sort of place is it?"
Harry shut his eyes for a moment and then looked at her. "It's a gentleman's club."
A muscle ticked in her jaw.
"And I can't go because..." she asked
"Because you're a bird, Hermione. These types of places are no birds allowed, unless they're providing the entertainment," Ron said suddenly from across the room.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "He's right. You going would compromise what I'm trying to do and it would also be dangerous." She glared at him for the latter part of his statement.
She swallowed down her desire to argue. She knew he was right, knew she couldn't and shouldn't go with them, but it didn't make it any easier.
"What are you hoping to learn?" she asked, proud that there was only the slightest hint of bitterness to be heard.
Harry gave her a grateful lift of his mouth. "This club is where the group I've been watching like to have their meetings. On the surface they're mostly harmless; typical backwards thinking mindset of pureblood supremacy, but it hasn't gone much beyond loud talk after a few too many vodkas. However, over the past six months or so, there have been suggestions that another group is behind this one; an underground group that are the heavy hitters and may have the means to take it further. These are the ones I've been trying to get an idea about. That's who I was after the day we were all attacked."
Hermione considered what he'd told her. "Do you think this is why Fawkes returned?"
Harry paced around the small room, his agitation at not having all the answers obvious. "I think it's part of it. I think everything we've looked at so far is part of it. I just have no idea how it connects."
"Who do you think could be behind this other group?"
"Could be a former Death Eater, could be someone new; it's hard to say right now. There are still several Death Eaters at large. Not all of them were apprehended after the war," Harry said
"The pureblood angle does seem to suggest that, doesn't it?" she agreed, chewing on her bottom lip while she thought. "But the Death Eaters were always very sure that we knew who was behind all their terrible acts, and so far no one has stepped forward to claim responsibility."
Harry nodded. "You're right, which is why I have to consider it's someone new who we've never heard of."
Ron sighed heavily at this. "Great, because it wasn't already hard."
"I have a cover at the club. I've been there enough over the past months that I won't attract suspicion. Ron can come in as an associate I'm bringing on board," Harry explained.
Hermione just nodded. A knot was beginning to form in her stomach and she knew it wouldn't go away until they were back.
"When are you leaving?" she managed to get out, trying to not sound as worried as she felt.
"Soon," Harry said, and then closed the last few feet between them and dropped to his knees in front of her. "We'll be fine. I've been there loads of times. It's a solid cover." His hand came up to cup her cheek and she leaned in to him slightly.
"What about the attack on you? Wouldn't word have gotten out about that? Is your cover really still intact?" she posited. This all felt wrong and she didn't want a repeat of that day.
"It's a risk, I'll admit, but I wasn't attacked at the club; it was an entirely different part of town. We're meeting one contact first and he'll be able to let me know if continuing on to the club is wise. Once we're there, I plan on laying low and just see what plays out. They don't know me as Harry Potter here; I've gotten fairly good at glamours," he said with a smile, trying to get her to feel better.
But she wasn't as easily swayed as he hoped. "They certainly knew who you were when they attacked you," she countered.
"Exactly. Which means there's a mole somewhere. If I can make them show their hand then we may have another lead on who and what we're dealing with. Either way, we will hopefully get some information tonight."
"That's a very large risk you're willing to assume," she stated and turned her head away, not able to look at him right then.
"I don't have a choice, luv," he said simply
She gave a stiff nod of her head and felt him squeeze her knee before going back to Ron to finish briefing him on their plans.
In what seemed like no time at all, Harry was standing in front of her, his cloak on. He didn't say anything, just held his hand out which she took automatically.
He tugged the hand until she was forced to step towards him, wrapping her arms around his middle as she did. "Come back to me," she whispered
"Always," he replied before pulling her away so he could look at her properly. "You should be fine here. The wards are good and only a few of my contacts know they can reach me here, but I don't expect that will be an issue tonight."
"Don't worry about me. Just keep yourselves safe," she responded, and then they were moving towards the door and the largest area of clear space.
Hermione pulled away from Harry and went up to Ron, throwing her arms around his shoulders and feeling her feet lift off the floor for a second as he hugged her back. "Stay safe," she reiterated, before kissing his cheek and going back to Harry.
Harry brushed a loose curl off her forehead and then was pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss that was over all too soon. She understood why he wouldn't allow himself to do anything else; it would seem like a goodbye.
The boys stood next to each other and she had only a moment to mouth `I love you.' before they were gone.
As soon as they had apparated, the smallness and silence of the space closed in around her. She tried pulling out some of the more interesting books she had been reading but found that she couldn't concentrate. After staring at a rather dingy spot on the wall, she decided a bit of cleaning up couldn't hurt.
Some freshening charms and a few dozen Scourgifies had the place smelling moderately better, and definitely looking as good as it possibly could.
With that task complete, she headed back to the desk and tried again to focus on her work. The magical history of Norway was beyond her at that moment, but the large book of basic to advanced healing spells she'd borrowed from Shell Cottage managed to catch her attention.
Hermione skimmed through the more basic spells for kitchen burns and scraped knees, and was working her way through the ones she thought may be more beneficial for them when a sudden thud against the door caused her to jump in surprise.
The spell book dumped from her lap and made an overly loud thump when it hit the floor. She had her wand out, pointing at the door before she could think. The banging noise came again, and this time a voice called out, "Yakov".
Trying to hear over the rush of blood to her head, she didn't respond. Two weak knocks. "Yakov!" the voice called, and then there was a string of Russian that she couldn't understand.
It was possible it was a drunken neighbor or someone with the wrong door, but she was certain Harry's wards included a distraction spell unless you knew what you were looking for.
"Yakov!" came one more time and then halted, broken English. "I come in."
Her heart seized in her chest. Moving so the open door would provide her some protection, she knew she'd have to do whatever possible against the threat on the other side.
When the wards dropped she realized this must be one of Harry's contacts, but that didn't make her feel more secure.
The door knob turned and then slowly opened. The dim light worked against her and it wasn't until the person was all the way in that she got a good look at him.
When the door was shut, he still hadn't seen her and she reacted quickly by putting him in a full body bind. The expression of shock on his face was to be expected, the look of pain was not.
Hermione advanced slowly, putting herself between the door and the new comer. She took a moment to recast the wards and then turned her full attention to the visitor.
The man appeared to be in his mid thirties with shaggy dark hair and a face that hadn't been shaved in a number of days. His clothes seemed piecemeal, like none of them had ever belonged to him proper. However, once she was able to see him in the light she realized he was injured, severely.
He had several wounds, including a gash along his right temple that had left a trail of blood down the side of his face. One of his arms hung at an odd angle, and something had left a rather large injury to his abdomen from where blood was now beginning to seep out onto the floor.
Harry had said only some of his contacts could get in and the man was injured and didn't seem to pose a threat. Against what may have seemed like better judgment, Hermione advanced on him.
His wand had rolled away from his body slightly when he had fallen, so her first order of business was to Accio it to her. She knew he'd be able to hear her in the bind. "I hope you can understand me," she started off, slowly and slightly shaky. "I'm going to undo your bind and you're going to tell me why you're here and then I may be able to help you. If you try anything I will not be as kind again." Her voice strengthened as she spoke and she hoped her message had been conveyed.
Taking two more steps back, she ended the bind and waited. He grimaced immediately and used his good hand to cover the wound on his stomach. "Yakov," he gasped once again. She had to assume that `Yakov' was the alias Harry went by here.
"Yakov isn't here," she said firmly, her wand never trailing from him.
His eyes shut tight and she saw him slump even further against the wall. "Yakov. I must speak."
"I'm Yakov's associate; you'll have to tell me."
"Please. Yakov is friend. You will help?" The man's voice was strained and the blood stain on the floor was spreading.
She had held off as long as she could, but something told her this man was no threat and he was bleeding out in front of her. She couldn't ignore him any longer.
"Don't try anything," she warned once more, although it seemed wholly unnecessary given his state.
His face was becoming grey and a sheen of sweat was evident even though the room was cool.
"Thank you," he replied, and she dropped to her knees next to him, her wand still out.
She cast a few diagnostic spells, including a new one she had just read about. A chill went through her as she saw the results.
As she met the man's eyes, she thought he already knew this and that maybe he had already accepted this fate.
"Yakov is in danger," he gasped out, and her eyes shot to his, now desperate for any information he may have.
"Danger. What sort of danger?" she asked
He was quiet again, his breathing ragged, and she used her wand to enlarge the tear in the front of his shirt.
The diagnostic had shown that he had been hit with a particularly nasty curse that not only caused massive damage but also caused the wound to continue to get bigger. Only some very specialized potions could have a hope of reversing the effects.
Already the size of her palm, she could see the edges of the site slowly expanding, as if something was eating the formerly healthy tissues. She had to swallow down the bile that threatened to rise up.
Urging him to lay flat, she conjured a towel and pressed it over the area, wincing when he let out a long low moan of pain.
"I'm sorry," she apologized out of habit.
She hoped a quick healing charm to his head would clear it long enough for him to tell her what she needed to know about Harry.
"Tell me about the danger," she demanded, now desperately concerned that he wasn't going to last long enough to get the information out.
His eyes locked with hers. "Yakov is being watched. What he thought was possible...it is true." He suddenly contorted with pain, curling up and around where her hand still pressed over his wound, the blood flow not abating.
"Tell him...tell him it is Rookwood." The voice was faint now, but at the mention of the former Death Eater's name she felt like her stomach had fallen out.
"Rookwood?" she repeated. "Rookwood's escaped and may be dead."
"He is here. He is part of this." His words were coming slower and she abandoned the towel, now casting every healing spell she knew, but they didn't have much of an impact.
"You must tell Yakov," the man pleaded.
"I'll tell him. I promise," she choked out, tears springing unbidden to her eyes as she realized this man was going to die and she could do nothing about it.
But he kept talking, as if he hadn't even realized she had interrupted him. "Tell him about Norway. I couldn't..." and there was a strange sound in his throat.
"What about Norway?" she asked, trying another sort of healing spell, her attention on his injury. "What about Norway?" she repeated, and looked at his face only to see the unmistakable mask of death.
"No!" she gasped out. "No! Tell me about Norway! Tell me about Rookwood!" she wiped bloody hands on her trousers and gripped her wand tightly. "Enervate!" she shouted, but the body didn't so much as twitch. She tried three more times, each time louder and more desperate but there was no change.
She scrambled backwards on hands and heels until she bumped into the mattress on the other side of the room. Her mind went dangerously blank for a moment before she physically shook it off and forced herself to think. She had no way of contacting Harry, and she didn't know anyone here; going out could be more of a risk than staying.
Putting up every ward she could think of seemed like the best course of action. This included wards against apparation which meant that when Harry and Ron came back they'd be deposited at the front door instead of in the room. She didn't like it, but she had no other choice. Harry could bring her wards down, but she doubted anyone else could.
She sat on the floor, her back against the edge of the mattress and kept her blood stained and shaky wand hand trained on the body that lay only six feet away. The sightless eyes haunted her and she forced herself to focus on his shoulder instead; it was the only way she could make herself sit there.
The words `Rookwood' and `Norway' kept flashing through her mind. She hadn't heard Rookwood's name since the war. She knew there several Death Eaters had escaped, but thought they were being apprehended by the Aurors. There had been no indication that any of them were causing trouble again. And Norway was suspicious because it was on their map, but she had no way of knowing if there was a connection or not.
The adrenaline from earlier was now starting to wear off and the shake of her hand grew as she felt more and more light headed from the experience.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or hours. A muffled thump in the hallway and a very familiar, "Bloody hell!" made her yelp in surprise.
Then the door was being blasted off the frame as Harry came barreling into the room.
He took one look at her glassy eyed and blood stained appearance and was on his knees in front of her like he had apparated there. Ron had the presence of mind to repair the door and scan the room. When she heard a low, "Sweet Merlin," she knew what he had seen.
Harry's hands were all over her, checking for injuries. " `Mione! Tell me you're ok," he demanded, his eyes wide with fright.
She still couldn't bring herself to look away from the body.
"Hermione!" he tried again, and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
As her eyes refocused she finally saw him. "I'm fine, Harry," she assured him, but even she recognized that her voice sounded off.
"What happened?" He was still touching her, as if to assure himself that she was in one piece.
"Harry." Ron's voice came from behind him, and when Harry didn't acknowledge him he tried again. "Harry, mate, you need to see this."
Reluctantly, Harry turned from her and he swore violently when he saw the man on the floor.
"Peter!" he gasped out, and swung his head back to her. "What happened? Did he attack you?" he asked, clearly believing that she had been the one to kill this person called Peter.
She could only shake her head, and then Harry was at her side again pulling her towards him. She let out a shuddering breath and finally lowered her wand before tipping forward until she could rest her head on his shoulder.
Without lifting her head she began to talk. "He arrived at the door. Calling for `Yakov' which I can only assume is the alias you go by here." She felt him nod and continued, "I didn't answer but he brought down the wards and came in. I put him in a body bind until I saw how injured he was. He told me he was your contact. I tried to help him, Harry. I tried, but...there was nothing I could do." She broke off and pressed her lips together tightly.
He held her for a long moment and then kissed her head before pulling back so he could look at her. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly
She shook her head at him. "It's not your fault."
Harry didn't seem to hear what she had said. It was then that she really looked at him. His glasses were broken, there was a tear in his cloak, and a graze across the back of his hand looked like passing spellfire. Her eyes cut quickly to Ron who looked to be in about the same shape, although he was standing with more weight on one leg.
"What happened to you?" she exclaimed, but Harry waved her off.
"Harry! What happened? Were you attacked? Did you get to the club? Are you alright?" She couldn't keep the questions from spilling out.
" `Mione, we're fine, you have to trust me. Right now we have more important problems."
All she could do was nod as she saw him turn back to Peter and run his hands through his hair in worry.
Without turning back to her he began to speak. "I need you to get our stuff together. Make sure we don't miss one scrap of paper, or that this place even looks like we've been here."
She nodded again and then suddenly remembered all that Peter had said to her. "Harry, I haven't told you..."
He faced her then and took hold of her shoulders. "Whatever it is can wait," he said firmly.
"What about him?" Ron asked, gesturing to the dead man on the floor.
Harry didn't look towards him. "I'll write Kingsley to make arrangements." he bit out
Ron didn't respond, just set about gathering the rest of their supplies and putting them back in the magical bag. Hermione winced when heard a slight clanging sound as he chucked a tea kettle in without looking, but she didn't bother to reprimand him.
It took her a few moments to order the papers and files. She could have just dumped them in the bag, but the mess she'd have to clean up afterwards wouldn't be worth it. It also gave her something to focus on that wasn't the dead body on the other side of the room.
When she was finished, she looked up and saw Harry kneeling next to his contact, his hand reaching out to close the unseeing eyes. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and then crouched next to him, laying a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, Harry."
He nodded once and then grabbed the hand and pulled her to her feet.
Ron limped over with her bag. "Ron, let me look at your leg," she said, concerned.
"No time," Harry said sharply and came up behind her. "You can fix him up once we're out of here," he stated, and Ron didn't seem to mind.
"Where are we going?" she asked, but instead of answering he took hold of them and the last thing she saw was dark red stain on the dingy carpet.