An early August night’s breeze blew through the open window, making the curtains dance dreamily. A nearly-full moon cast its bluish shadows on the sleeping houses and neatly manicured lawns of the drowsing suburban street. A dog barked in the distance, and another replied.

A young woman with dark, intelligent eyes and massive amounts of curly, messy brown hair gazed down on this peaceful, prosaic scene. It was impossible, she thought, to tell from here the havoc and turmoil that had ensued in the past few months and the real dangers that lie ahead, not only for her and the people she loved, but for the whole country.

Hermione sighed and shifted on the window seat. Sleep was a fair-weather friend, apparently, and it was the rare night this summer that she got more than a few hours of rest. Sometimes she wished her brain had an “OFF� switch…or at the very least, she could get her hands on a Pensieve. There was too much going on, inside of her and out, that she had very little control over, and it made her restless.

Trying to speak with her parents was frustrating. They were intelligent, open-minded people, but they couldn’t really relate to her any more. For the first time in her life, Hermione had to edit her conversations with them. What would they say when she broke it to them she wasn’t returning to Hogwarts? That, instead, she was running off – with two boys, nonetheless – to destroy the most evil wizard of all time? The looks she imagined on their faces were ones of almost comical horror, and would be funny, if only the topic weren’t so deadly serious.

She yanked her hair in frustration. She supposed this was part of becoming an adult, but the fact that she was a witch, and lived, basically, in a different world than her parents had widened the canyon between they and she that much more. This would make the gap nearly impossible to bridge. She longed to be back in the wizarding world, to be with Harry and, of course, Ron.

Ronald Weasley. Was there anyone more infuriatingly, irritatingly, stubbornly, clumsily…loyal, good-hearted and brave? What a mass of contradictions he was, and was a mass of contradictions he caused in her heart. She was self-aware enough to know she was in love with him, and had been for the past few years. But Ron himself, what a mess he was. Harry was your typical clueless guy, but Ron made Harry’s dealings with women look Cassanova-like in comparison.

Last year, she had finally, gently started revealing a bit of her heart to Ron, and in his own bumbling way, he had begun to respond. But, what was that disaster with Lavender all about? It had been hurtful and immature. She had a feeling that Harry could offer her some insight to Ron’s erratic behavior, but that was another problem. Harry. She couldn’t make Harry an intermediary between herself and Ron. Harry wasn’t a fool, he had to sense there was a certain amount of tension between Ron and Hermione that didn’t exist in her friendship with Harry. The whole situation was awkward and unfair. It was at times like this that Hermione found it difficult to have two male best friends. She needed a girl to talk to.

On cue, and almost, well, almost like magic, a feathery silhouette headed towards her open window. As the owl landed on the sill and ruffled its wings, Hermione grinned to herself. Thanks Ginny, she thought, and eagerly untied the scroll of parchment attached to Errol’s leg. The owl hooted nervously, his head turning towards Crookshanks’ languishing form on Hermione’s bedspread. “Hang on, Errol, I may have a reply for you,� she stroked his head soothingly

She unrolled the letter and read:

Hi Hermione!

I was glad to get your letter earlier…the only women to talk to around here are Mum, who’s in a wedding-induced frenzy, and Phlegm, who just clogs my sinuses and makes my wand hand itchy for hexing. Wouldn’t Bill be surprised if she walked down the aisle with purple tentacles sprouting from her forehead? Aahhh, well it’s nice to imagine, at least.

But, more to the point, you wrote for advice and I am going to give it. (Though, considering my own currently frustrating romantic situation, I can’t promise that it’ll be any good!)

Hermione looked up from the letter and smiled to herself. She knew Harry’s heroic but rash decision to break things off with Ginny wasn’t going to last. All it was going to take was one afternoon of pick-up Quidditch in the Burrow’s backyard – or maybe seeing Ginny in her bridesmaid’s dress.

From a sister’s perspective, it’s sorta hard to see any of my brothers as, well, fanciable. This is particularly hard with Percy, but that’s mostly because he’s such a prat in general. But we are discussing dear Ronnie, aren’t we? Hermione, listen to me. Ron is a bit immature and hot-headed. Insensitive at times, even. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he fancies you. As much as you guys argue, go head-to-head, you bring out a tender side of him that no one else really can. He worries about you when you aren’t paying attention, and draws comfort from you.

Hermione brushed a stray tear from her cheek and remembered being comforted by Ron at Dumbledore’s funeral. At the time, she felt like she was holding on to a life raft. Not out of desire, but out of need. It was like breathing. It seemed a little impractical to be bothered about fancying her best friend when so much else was at stake, but she needed him. His friendship, his warmth, his love, now more than ever.

Besides, this week I caught him checking himself out in the mirror at least three times a day and even found him attempting a Vanishing spell on some of his freckles. He certainly isn’t going to all that fuss for our Aunt Muriel or Grannie Weasley! I know you are coming for the pre-wedding festivities on Friday, but why don’t you head over here a bit earlier so we can chat in person? Send word back with Errol tonight, and you can Apparate as early as tomorrow morning if you’d like. Mum’d love to have you, and Harry is coming tonight – in fact, he may be here by the time you read this. Now that he’s of age he can leave those dreadful Muggles he lives with. **Sigh!** I suppose you and I will just have to look as ravishingly beautiful as we possibly can to wake up the pair of gits we’re in love with.

I know the three of you are going after You-Know-Who when this whole wedding hoopla is over, but is it so wrong of me to want you here to help me fix my hair in the meantime??? ;-)

Love,

Ginny

Hermione smiled. There really was something special about those Weasleys, there was no denying it. She flipped the letter over and scrawled,

Ginny,

Thanks so much! I will Apparate tomorrow morning before breakfast. Expect me at the Burrow by 9 a.m. and ask your mum to save me some of her fantastic blueberry pancakes.

Chances are we’ll get some “girl talk� in since neither of our gits will be awake yet!

Love,

Hermione

She watched Errol fly away until he was no more than a blurry speck against the moon. Abandoning her reverie at the windowsill, she stretched out on her bed, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears. With a mind just as full as it had been a few hours before, but more at peace, she drifted to sleep with a small smile on her face, and thoughts of the Burrow in her heart.

Ron Weasley’s head fell backwards and hit the trunk of the tree he had propped himself against, jarring him awake. He scrubbed his face with his hands, hoping to clear the fuzziness from his brain. The desired clarity did not arrive. Things really hadn’t been quite right since that horrible night last month. Dumbledore dead, Bill maimed, Snape and Malfoy escaped. Ron was afraid things weren’t going to be quite right for a really really long time.



He stretched a bit, rested his elbows on his knees. There really wasn’t any place better than the Burrow’s backyard on a summer night. Stars gleamed serenely above him in a grand expanse of sky, broken only by the jumbled, haphazard outline of the Burrow itself. It seemed impossible that in a few days’ time, he was going to leave this place, his home, his family, without the promise of returning. But there wasn’t one second of hesitation in his mind. His place was with Harry, helping him track down the Horcruxes, destroying the remnants of Voldemort’s soul so that the world would be safe again.



It was really unbelievable, Ron thought to himself. Who would have thought, me? Me on a quest with the most famous wizard of my generation – my best friend, nonetheless - to destroy the most infamous wizard of all time?



All those years, he had felt shunted around, no place for boring old Ronald Weasley, who couldn’t match up to his brothers - not as dashing and daring as Bill, as athletic as Charlie, as brainy as Percy (who turned out to be an insensitive arse anyway) or as funny and jollying as the twins.



The enormity of what he was about to do had hit him gradually over the last week or so. All those scrapes, near-misses, and adventures of the past few years, the danger of these things had never weighed on him before. Trolls, murderous chess pieces, gigantic spiders (Ron shivered involuntarily) flying brains, Death Eaters – when faced with these things, he had just reacted, he hadn’t pondered the danger of the situation.



Ron smiled ruefully to himself and remembered the eleven-year-old who had gazed into the Mirror of Erised and wished for the simple joys of a Quidditch trophy and a Head Boy badge. That boy had just wanted someone to notice him, to pick him out the crowd of talented older brothers and famous best friend and see him, as he was, and think he was important and special as well.



He had come a long way from that boy in the past six years – hadn’t he held the Quidditch cup in his hand? Didn’t he have a prefect badge pinned to his robes? But…but, more than that. Ron thought, hoped, that someone did think he was important. Someone who noticed everything, from a smudge of dirt on his face to the errors she corrected in his Potions essays. The person who, if Ron had The Mirror of Erised sitting in front of him now, would be smiling back at him. He couldn’t understand why the thought of her scared him so much.



He was saved from his rambling thoughts by the smack of the Burrow’s back door opening. Ginny was jogging towards him, her long hair bouncing against her t-shirt.



“Can I sit?� She asked, and plopped down beside him without waiting for a reply. “Mum’s having kittens in there. She wanted real fairies for the centerpieces, but the lanterns keep popping open. I think Fred and George put an Anti-Locking charm on the hinges. There are fairies all over the house…� and sure enough, as they watched, two glowing orbs zoomed out of the kitchen window and into the night.



“Fairies? Is that the only reason you came out here, Gin?� Ron knew it wasn’t. Ginny was here for the same reason he had originally come outside. Mr. Weasley had gone to fetch Harry from Privet Drive, and despite the lateness of the hour, Ron had wanted to greet his best friend when he arrived. Besides, all this wedding nonsense had turned the household upside-down, so no one was really sleeping very well this week anyway.



“No, of course not. I came to wait for Harry. I want to see him,� she shrugged. Her straightforwardness never ceased to amaze Ron. Topics that made him want to curl up into a ball or leave the room, muttering and red-faced, Ginny tackled head-on. Actually, he had learned to respect his little sister a lot this summer. True, he still felt the urge to protect her – even from things she didn’t want to be protected from – but his opinion of her had shifted since the night Dumbledore had died. She had fought bravely alongside Hermione, he and the others. She was fun to be around, a terrific Quidditch player, and easier to talk to than his brothers.



“Also,� Ginny continued, scanning the sky, “I am waiting for Errol to get back. I thought he, and Harry come to think of it, would get here sooner.�



Ron lay back, stretching out on the grass, “Who’re you expecting post from?�



“Hermione.�



“Hermione!?!?� Ron sat back up with a shot, unconsciously tidying his hair.



“Yes,� Ginny grinned, “You remember her, don’t you? Impossible hair, sort of bossy, annoyingly right all the time?�



“Very funny. You might have told me you were writing her, I may have wanted to send something along,� he grumbled. He didn’t like the way Ginny was smirking at him. Nor did he think her description of Hermione, though said in jest and fondly, was entirely accurate. Ok, yes, her hair really was a bit of a mess, but it was endearing, really, that someone who was so together and in control had such insane hair. And, sure, she was a bit pushy, and frankly annoying sometimes, but that was because she had her friends’ best interests at heart. Ginny also had failed to mention how Hermione’s eyes lit up when she was able to track down some obscure piece of information or solve a particularly puzzling task.



“Oh, you have got it bad! Almost as bad as I do, I think!� Ginny giggled and hugged her knees to her chest. “You look as goofy as Luna does when she’s talking about Crumpled Horkstacks or whatever-she-calls ‘em.�



“Shuddup, Gin,� Ron muttered.



“What’s the big deal? It’s not like it’s a secret that you two are crazy about each other! Ron, let me tell you something – if you’re worried Hermione’s going to turn you down, don’t be. It’s a sure thing,� Ginny soothed.



“It’s not that. It’s - it’s - dammit!� He hit the ground in frustration. How could he explain to his sister how afraid he was, not only for himself, but for Harry and Hermione as well? He longed for his former naivety and thoughtlessness, but he knew that no amount of wishing would get them back. He wasn’t afraid of his own death nearly as much as the possibility that one or both of them would die – leaving him alone. The idea of caring about Hermione even more than he already did, and then losing her, turned his stomach to ice. He had contemplated writing to Harry a dozen times this month, and urging him to leave for Godric’s Hollow ahead of schedule, just the two of them. Common sense had stayed his hand each time. Not only would Hermione track them down eventually, they needed her smarts and careful hand to stay their impetuousness. But it didn’t warm the chilly depths of his stomach to know this.



Meanwhile, his sister was staring hard at him. Her face softened a bit. “I know, Ron. I understand. You think to yourself, ‘How bad could it get? Could my heart actually split in half?’ Don’t think you are alone in this – god, I’ve got all of you leaving me. You’re my brother, Hermione’s one of my closest friends, and Harry, well, Harry’s Harry. But, don’t you remember what McGonagall said the night Dumbledore died? Isn’t it better to have a little more love in the world? You and Harry, both of you, think you’re protecting the people you love…when really, you are just trying to protect your own hearts.�



She was right. He didn’t know what to say. Luckily, both he and Ginny were distracted by the uneven sound of wings flapping towards them. They jumped up, tracking Errol’s sloppy flight towards the Burrow. Ginny held out her arm and the owl landed precariously. He bounded clumsily away the moment she untied the scroll from leg. She read it, chuckled to herself, and grinned up at Ron.



“Well, you better get yourself together. The girl herself will be here in less than nine hours,� Ginny said. With these words, Ron’s stomach went from cold to hot to cold again.



“How about you? You’ve got less time than that, unless Dad and Harry went off clubbing with some Muggles in London or something,� Ron fired back. Brother and sister grinned nervously at each other for a moment, and then started laughing. They couldn’t stop. Each time they got their giggles under control, they caught each other’s eye and cracked up again. It wasn’t even funny really, but they couldn’t help themselves. Ron felt some of the tension and worry of the past month slip away. Ginny leaned on his arm as she tried to compose herself.



“What’s going on here? Simultaneous Weasley breakdowns? Want to clue a fellow in on the joke?� The Weasleys gasped and looked up. Two familiar forms were striding across the lawn, and as Ginny and Ron waved, Harry broke into a run to greet his friends.

Harry breathed deeply as he and Mr. Weasley Apparated directly on top of some shrubs growing on the side of the Burrow. Apparating was never going to be his favored choice of travel. He tumbled to the ground, hearing laughter coming from around the back of the house. Sounded like Ron – and Ginny. His heart beat a bit harder.



“Alright there, Harry?� Mr. Weasley offered him a hand, dusting off his own cloak with the other.



“Fine, Mr. Weasley, thanks,� Harry replied, straightening his glasses.



“Looks and sounds like everyone is still awake,� Mr. Weasley smiled absently at the Burrow, which had lights blazing from every window, and headed towards the backyard.



Harry followed him and saw Ron and Ginny standing under the huge maple that dominated the Burrow’s backyard, gasping for breath, laughing hysterically. They got themselves under control, glanced at each other, and broke into giggles again. Ginny hung onto her brother’s arm for support, her red hair and white t-shirt bright spots in the shadow of the trees. She looked so damned good to Harry he nearly dashed over and scooped her up into his arms. But no. That wasn’t in the plan. He had to think of her and her safety above everything else.



He cleared his throat and tried for a jolly tone, “What’s going on here? Simultaneous Weasley breakdowns? Want to clue a fellow in on the joke?� They looked up. Ron grinned and Ginny actually jumped up and down as she waved. He couldn’t help it. He broke into a run.



“Harry, we thought you’d never get here!� Ron grabbed him first, shaking his hand and giving him a rough, one-armed hug.



Ron released him and he was engulfed by a certain flowery scent and a much smaller pair of arms. He hugged Ginny tightly, putting his hand on the top of her head. Her freckled cheeks were inches away from his, and more to distract himself than anything else, he glanced over at Ron. Instead of looked annoyed or uncomfortable, his best friend was grinning at him. In fact, he seemed to be fighting back another bout of laughter.



“What took you so long?� Ginny asked, her arms still firmly around his neck. She had that steely gleam in her eyes, and Harry wondered if he had honestly thought she was going to give him up without so much as a squeak of protest.



“Well, erm, Harry and I had a bit of a – a situation – with erm, some Muggles,� Mr. Weasley had reached the three teenagers.



As her father approached, Ginny let go of Harry and whispered in his ear, “I’ll be good – for now.� She stood distractingly close behind him, though.



“What’s this about Muggles, Dad? Not the Dursleys, was it?� Ron glanced inquiringly from his father to Harry.



“No, it wasn’t the Dursleys, Ron,� Harry tried to catch Ron’s eye. He didn’t think Mr. Weasley really wanted to get into details about the “situation�, which included an unscheduled detour into a pub (Mr. Weasley had begged Harry to show him how the cigarette machines worked), a very drunk barrister, an exploding wig and a permanently singed pair of knickers (Mr. Weasely’s). For once, Ron seemed to catch on and shrugged.



“Oh, well, then that’s alright isn’t it? At least the pair of you made it here,� Ginny kissed her father on the cheek and linked arms with him. “C’mon, Dad, I’ll make you a cup of tea – that is, if Mum’s gotten all the fairies in their cages, of course.�



“Fairies? What fairies?� Harry heard Mr. Weasley query, as Ginny, with one long look back, ushered him into the house. He stared after her for a moment.



“I know you’re trying to be noble and all, but I think you’re fighting a losing battle there, mate,� Ron’s voice startled him.



“Yeah. I think I figured that out the minute I walked around the house and saw her,� Harry sighed.



“I suppose that’s to be expected when you fancy smart, strong-minded girls,� Ron shrugged, blushed, “They know what’s better for us then we do ourselves.�



“Us?� Harry said. He thought he knew where this was going. His suspicion was confirmed when Ron’s ears darkened to a plumy shade. But to his credit, Ron held Harry’s gaze.



“Hermione will be here tomorrow morning, Ginny’s just had an owl from her,� Ron’s face couldn’t possibly get any redder. Harry knew how awkward this was for Ron, to directly acknowledge fancying their best friend. “Ginny, she says – I’ve got nothing to lose, that I just need to go for it. The problem is, mate,� Ron stared down at his hands, and Harry could tell he was really struggling, “the problem is, I feel like we’re all about to lose everything. Now, now don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not trying to back out on your or anything, I wouldn’t dream of it, it’s just sorta hit me, that I may never see this place, see them, ever again,� Ron waved helplessly at the Burrow. “But worse, worse would be if I – I did make it back here – without you and Hermione.� Ron opened his mouth again, closed it. His face was half-turned from Harry and his Adam’s apple was working furiously.



Harry stared at his friend and realized how very lucky he was to have the friends he had. The past month at the Dursleys’ had been a nightmare, mostly because Harry kept replaying the night of Dumbledore’s murder in his head, trying to find a way he could have prevented it. He had spent most of his nights thinking of all the people who had died because of him – no, he had to stop that, no one died because of him, they died because of Voldemort – his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. He had to face the impossible to conceive, but likely idea that he might lose Ron or Hermione, or both of them, as well. That’s why, he thought to himself, that’s why I want to keep Ginny safe. But no one’s safe. Not anymore. Now was not the time to dwell on what had been lost, or what might be. Now was the time to fight – and to appreciate what they had.



“Look Ron,� Harry began, struggling to put his feelings into words, “I agree with Ginny. I was – am – an idiot for thinking I could push her away. And you’re not too bright, either, if you think you can do the same to Hermione,� Ron’s head swiveled to face his friend. “No one knows what’s going to happen, right? There’s no spell strong enough, no wizard wise enough, to make sure that everything and everyone’s going to be ok. You, me, we’ve got to accept that and not stop living, or caring about people.� Harry paused. “You know, I spent most of the past year being angry about Sirius’ death. I blamed myself, I blamed him, even blamed Dumbledore in my head. But, you know? Never once did I wish I hadn’t met him, that I hadn’t gotten to know him. I guess that’s the risk that comes with caring about someone, you may lose them.� Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn’t spoken about Sirius with anyone in a long time.



“You know what, Harry? You’re right. Ginny said pretty much the same thing, in her own way. I just – I just have to go for it,� Ron clapped him on the back.



“Ronald Weasley!! You bring Harry in this minute, I want to say hello!� Mrs. Weasley’s stout form appeared in the doorway, her wand in one hand, a struggling fairy in the other. “And if that doesn’t convince you boys, I’ve got some Floating Fudge Fritters I need taste-tested.� She turned back into the house.



“I’m really gonna miss your mum,� Harry said as they headed into the Burrow.



“Yeah, me too,� Ron replied, reflecting, “especially her cooking.� They grinned at each other and walked into the glowing kitchen.

Hermione stood in the cool, early-morning shade of the Burrow’s backyard. This place just made her feel good. She stretched and smiled, bending over to let Crookshanks out of his basket. He took off in a blur of ginger fur into the side hedges.



Her smile faltered a bit when she thought of the letter, in a plain white envelope, sitting on the tiny kitchen table in the house she had just left. She had sat there, in her parents’ kitchen, clutching the letter in her hand, watching the sunrise and both hoping and fearing that her mum or dad would come down early and catch her sitting there. In the end, however, she couldn’t bear the idea of telling them face to face. She left the letter and snuck out of the house like a thief.



“Hermione! I thought that was you!� Mrs. Weasley’s smiling, waving figure stood in the doorway, “I’ve got your requested blueberry pancakes, come in, dear, come in!�



“You’re a lifesaver Mrs. Weasley, I’m starved,� Hermione grinned and waved her wand at her trunks, which tagged along beside her like faithful pets.



“Yippee!!! Another girl in the house,� Ginny bounced up from the long kitchen table, gave Hermione a squeeze and handed her a cup of coffee, “No offense, Mum.�



“What was that, dear?� Mrs. Weasley turned distractedly to Ginny, while several pots, pans and skillets clattered around on the stove and a spatula flipped pancakes on a griddle. She looked from her daughter to the rafters of the kitchen, where dozens of ornate metal lanterns were hung. Hermione followed her gaze and heard tiny snores emanating from the center of each, wherein reclined a dozing fairy. She grinned at Ginny.



“See what I mean? Wedding-induced senility,� Ginny bit into her toast with a chuckle.



“So, Mrs. Weasley, everything ready for the wedding on Saturday?� Hermione asked as she dug into her pancakes and took a bracing sip of coffee.



“Well, you know, Hermione dear, it’s going as well as can be expected, of course,� Mrs. Weasley sighed, continued, “Bill’s recovery has been nothing short of amazing, though he will always have those scars of course…� she paused for a moment, but seemed to gather inner strength, “But overall, I think it’s going to be a lovely party, just what we all need right now…� she trailed off again, and the two girls looked at each other over their breakfast.



The melancholy mood was broken, however, by two loud popping noises. Hermione suddenly had a lapful of Weasley twin. She shrieked in surprise.



“Ah, Fred, I told you to concentrate a bit better, you know you have a bit of a time Apparating before breakfast,� George stood to the side of the table, stuffing a pancake practically whole down his throat.



“Hermione! Spiffing good to see you! I knew the Burrow seemed smarter this morning,� Fred greeted her, wiggling in her lap a bit. He plucked her coffee mug out of her hand and took a long slurp.



“Fred Weasley, you are the absolute limit. Please remove yourself from my lap,� Hermione hissed this from between her teeth with as much dignity as she could muster. She could feel her face burning. The twins’ complete lack of self-consciousness had always embarrassed her (and also made her a bit jealous if truth be told). Ginny, she saw, had collapsed across the table, laughing.



“Oh, darling, must we always fight?� Fred batted his eyelashes at her, and slung the arm holding the mug around her neck. He took another swig of her coffee, dragging her along with him.



“Fred, leave the poor girl alone, for heaven’s sake,� Mrs. Weasley admonished, but Hermione saw the corner of her mouth twitch a bit.



“Oh, but Mum, can’t you see? Hermione and I are trying to work out our differences, aren’t we dearheart?� Fred settled down more firmly onto her lap, plucking a pancake from her plate. “Mum, dish ish delicioush. ‘Ermione, ‘ere, have a bitesh.� Fred aimed the fork at her face.



There was another popping noise – or rather, a splintering one – and the chair collapsed beneath them. Hermione lay on the floor, covered in coffee, melted butter and warm maple syrup. She shook her hair out of her eyes, looked up at Fred, who was still reclining on her, an expression of horror on his face. He caught her eye and tried to scramble off her, but slipped in a stray pile of syrup and came crashing back to the ground. She took a deep breath.



“You know, Fred, I am sorry to say I don’t think we’re going to be able to settle our differences,� she grabbed the fork from him, which he miraculously had held on to. She bit off a lady-like piece of pancake and chewed thoughtfully, “But, he’s right Mrsh. Weasely, theesh are delicioush.� The entire kitchen exploded with laughter.



“What in bloody hell is going on here?!?!?�



Hermione choked on her pancake. Ron and Harry were standing on the stairs, surveying the disaster below them. Fred bounced up and held out his hand to Hermione, who struggled to her feet. This wasn’t exactly how she had planned on spending her morning. What happened to girl talk and endless analysis with Ginny? And when did Harry and Ron ever wake up before 10 a.m. anyway?? She hadn’t been planning to change into a ball gown or anything, but she’d have preferred to be, uh, syrup-free (and not being accosted by his older brother) the first time Ron saw her today.



“Harry old chap, when did you sneak in? Ronnikins! You just missed Fred and Hermione’s demonstration of the new sport that will be sweeping the wizarding world! Co-ed pancake wrestling!� George bounded over and wrung Harry’s hand.



Hermione wasn’t quite ready to meet Ron’s eye. Ginny smiled at her and shrugged, as if to say, “Whaddya gonna do? These things will happen.� She turned to her two best friends.



“Hey, Hermione,� Harry engulfed her in a hug, seeming unbothered by the various breakfast condiments gluing her clothes to her body. “Kind of odd to see you’re the cause of all this chaos.� He smirked fondly at her. She turned to him. To Ron.



“Erm, that’s a very nice look, for your hair. Very…sticky,� he smiled nervously at her. He reached out and pulled a stray piece of dough out of the offending curl. Her stomach plummeted and rebounded. He was just…so tall. His ears were red but his blue eyes were twinkling. He seemed to be debating something as the rest of the kitchen went back to business as usual.



“Thanks a bunch,� she replied, not sure what was behind his teasing. Was he taking the mickey or, well, flirting?



“You know, Hermione,� he cleared his throat and pitched his voice low, so only she could hear him above the chatter and clatter of the rest, “You know what a big fan of food I am, but you didn’t have to cover yourself in it to get me to notice you. I’ve been noticing you for a pretty long time now.� His face matched his hair, but he looked pleased with himself nonetheless. He reached out again and wiped a smear of butter off her burning cheek, and her stomach flip-flopped in return. He held her gaze for a second and then joined Ginny, Harry and the twins at the breakfast table.



Forget plans, Hermione thought as she began cleaning herself off, this looks like it’s going to be great day, plans be damned. Ron glanced up at her from behind his overflowing breakfast plate and grinned at her. Life’s just chock-full of surprises, isn’t it? And she went to get herself another plate of Mrs. Weasley’s delicious blueberry pancakes.

Though he and Harry had stayed up for a bit chatting last night, Ron had bolted awake in the morning shortly after sunrise. Harry had nipped out a few minutes ago for a shower and a shave. Ron dressed and then wandered aimlessly around his bedroom, until he heard his mother’s voice from downstairs, calling a greeting to Hermione. Ron felt nauseous.

Ok, Weasley, calm down. It’s just Hermione, right? I mean, you’ve known her for six years, get it together! This didn’t help. Hermione wasn’t “just� anything. She was Hermione. Not like a lot of girls. For example, Lavender, was just, well Lavender. She was a person Ron hadn’t even registered the existence of until she’d wanted to snog him.

Hermione was…lots of things. As irritatingly snotty as she could get, she always knew when to back off. She also could be unerringly kind just when he needed it the most. As, when Percy had sent him that terrible letter fifth year about Harry and on top of which, he was bogged down with all that homework, she had stepped in and helped him out, without a word.

He had started to count on her support and her admiration, and didn’t much care when she excluded him from praise. For god’s sake, he’d even found himself jealous of her behavior towards Harry a couple of times last year, which just showed how daft he was getting. He squared his shoulders, grinned uncertainly at his reflection in the mirror and nodded. Right! So, you’re just going to go down there and…what, exactly? Profess your love to her in front of Harry? And Mum and Ginny?!?!?! And oh god, did he just hear Fred and George voices join the women’s in the kitchen?!?!?!? Ron gripped the side of the dresser to steady himself. Had he really thought he was going to be able to do this?

Harry’s grinning face appeared at the doorjamb. “Well, sounds like your destiny has arrived, Ron.� He took in his friend’s face for a second and burst out laughing. “Hey, mate, it’s not an appearance before the Wizengamot, it’s just breakfast…and Hermione.� Harry seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

“Very funny. Sorta like Ginny’s just my little sister, right?� Harry shook his head, smiling, but Ron felt marginally better. Well, not really, but he was getting hungry.

They pounded down the stairs, Harry in the lead. Just before the kitchen came into view, there was a tremendous crash. They looked at each other and hurried down the last flight. Ron’s mouth hung open. To one side of the table stood his Mum and George, clutching a spatula and a pancake, respectively. Ginny was collapsed across the table, her shoulders shaking with laughter. And there she was. Sprawled out on the floor and covered in smears of brown, chunks of pancakes…and Fred. Fred, who was lying directly on top of her. As Ron tried to make sense of it all, Hermione pulled a fork from his brother’s hand, took a bite of pancake, and stated “But, he’s right Mrsh. Weasely, theesh are delicioush.�

At this, even his mum started laughing. Ron felt particularly left out. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, “What in bloody hell is going on here?!?!?�

The entire kitchen scrambled around at his indignant query. Vaguely, Ron registered George babbling some nonsensical greeting to Harry. Ginny lifted her head off the table and his mum turned back to the stove. But Ron was really only paying attention to one person. Fred was helping her off the floor (jealousy tightened his chest when he saw his brother grip her hand). Her cheeks were rosy, her clothes were a disaster and her hair – well, her hair had almost achieved interpretive art status. She’d never looked better to him.

She made her way over to Harry, who teased her and engulfed her in a hug. Ron was envious of how easy it was for Harry to touch her. Harry caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in encouragement as he released Hermione and sat down at the breakfast table next to Ginny.

Finally she looked up at him, attempting a dignified expression, though her hair seemed to be doing an impersonation of Devil’s Snare, and her shirt was sticking to her body in patches. He wanted to hold her like he had at Dumbledore’s funeral, but it had seemed necessary then, almost as if he couldn’t have stopped himself he tried. Now, in this loud sunny kitchen, there was no excuse really, to touch her, except –

“Erm, that’s a very nice look, for your hair. Very…sticky,� he stuttered, and pulled a piece of pancake out of her hair. He wished he could just leave his hand there and pull her close. But he felt almost unable to take any action towards her whatsoever. He may just wind up standing there all day, three feet and miles away from her.

“Thanks a bunch,� She had thrown her head back to look up at him, and a very Hermione-ish scowl crossed her face. Gee, she was cute. She looked embarrassed and unsure, and well, maybe a bit sad. And then it came to him, that she was just as uncomfortable and scared and worried as he was. Ginny and Harry and McGonagall – all of them, they were right. How bad could it be to have a little more love in the world? Even knowing this, he wasn’t quite brave enough to plant a kiss on her in front of his whole family. He opened his mouth with very little idea of what he was going to say.

“You know, Hermione,� he stuttered quietly, feeling his face burning. “You know what a big fan of food I am, but you didn’t have to cover yourself in it to get me to notice you. I’ve been noticing you for a pretty long time now.� Oh, god. He couldn’t believe he had actually just said that. But her brown eyes lit up and her face got a shade pinker, and he was glad that he had. And the little smile that was playing across her mouth made him brave enough to wipe a greasy smear of butter off her cheek. She stood there, mute. He was feeling pretty proud of himself – he had rendered Hermione Granger speechless.

He made his way over to the breakfast table and situated himself across from Harry, who gave him a questioningly look. He grinned. Harry, who was sitting awfully close to Ginny, grinned back. Ron ravenously began piling his plate with everything in sight. He snuck a peek at Hermione, who was standing right where he had left her, siphoning herself clean with her wand. She caught him staring. His smile got so big he thought his face might be cut in two. She smiled back, blushed, and made her way back to the table and sat on the other side of Ginny, so Ron had an excellent view of her.

“Ah, Hermione darling, I must confess I don’t think you and I are going to work out,� Fred handed her a fresh plate of pancakes as he dug into his own staggering breakfast. “I just foresee too much…broken furniture…in our future if we stick with it.�

“Well, Fred, you know, I think you may have a point. A relationship based on pancakes just isn’t enough,� Hermione pretended to muse as she sipped her coffee, “Besides, I’m not sure you’d do well with a witch cleverer than yourself.� She smiled wickedly, and Ron chuckled with the rest of the table. That was one of the best things about Hermione; she had a devilish side that most people didn’t cotton on to. One second she was telling someone off for not finishing his homework, the next, she was smacking Malfoy in the face.

“Touché!� Fred exclaimed, “Well, I guess I’d better gather up the pieces of my broken heart and move onto stupider pastures. Whatever will become of you, though, dearheart?�

“Oh, well, Fred, I think I’ll manage,� she smiled coyly, but Ron noticed her cheeks blooming pink again and she was staring at her plate. He thought she’d leave it at that. Then, to his surprise, she lifted her head and stared across the table, right at him. “But, as much as I’d like to say it’s possible to plan each detail of romance, or get a formula out of a book or something, it doesn’t usually work that way...it’s more about bravery and taking chances, right?�

At that moment, Ron really didn’t care if he ever saw another Quidditch cup or prefect badge for the rest of his life.

As Mrs. Weasley ushered all the young people out into the hazy August morning, Harry wondered with a smile whether anyone had eaten anything at all for breakfast. He himself spent most of his time trying to ignore the smell of Ginny’s shampoo and the small, distracting weight of her hand on his knee.



When he did take the time to observe the others, he noticed that Ron and Hermione spent more time sneaking glances at each other than paying attention to their breakfasts. Ron had actually dumped an entire plate of sausages onto his lap (much to the hilarity of Fred and George) and Hermione may as well not have cleaned herself off – she kept dripping syrup onto her lap because she was apparently distracted by the mere sight of Ron across the table from her. Harry vaguely hoped that the two of them (and himself, he supposed) regained their senses in the next few days. They were going to need them. And how.



As they all stood blinking in the sunshine, Fred and George seemed to be observing the other four with beady-eyed amusement.



“Good god, Gred, I really wish we could hang around a bit, don’t you?� George shook his head in mock sorrow.



“I don’t know Forge, I’m not sure I can take much more of this. My heart is breaking,� he put his face into his large hands, his shoulders shaking, seemingly wracked with sobs.



“What are you two on about?� Ron eyed his brothers with distrust. Hermione was turning pink again. Ginny elbowed Harry hard in the side and they smiled at each other.



“It’s ok, Forge, it’s ok. You’ll just have to bury yourself in work,� George put a comforting arm around him and shot Ron a nasty look, “This is all your fault, you git. Can’t you see how this is eating him up inside?� Ron still looked flabbergasted, but Harry was trying not to laugh. He saw both of the girls were biting the sides of their cheeks as well.



“I really wish I knew what—� Ron was puzzling over this display of unwarranted hostility, when Fred suddenly launched himself towards Hermione, throwing himself at her feet.



“Will, you stop, Fred, honestly,� Hermione gazed down at the prostrate twin with a mixture of exasperation and hesitant amusement. She shot a glance over at Ron.



“But darling, dear, sweet Hermione,� he pawed at her hand, “how can you leave me for another? Especially,� he rolled his eyes at Ron, who, Harry noticed, had a thunderous look on his face, “especially for this one over here?!?�



“Don’t you two have to be at the shop or something?� Ron prodded Fred’s prone form with the tip of his shoe.



“Ronnikins is right, Fred, we best be off. All this wedding and love nonsense is distracting, but we still have a business to run,� George assisted Fred off the ground.



“Alright, alright,� Fred whispered, teary-eyed, “remember me, won’t you Hermy-poo?� He walked dejectedly back to George, who was waiting for him. Harry burst out laughing. Hermy-poo. Priceless. The world would be far too serious a place without the Weasley twins. Now even Ron was smiling reluctantly.



Then, without warning, Fred turned and planted a large, wet kiss smack on Hermione’s laughing mouth. Without further ado, he and George Apparated.



Harry and Ginny couldn’t contain their mirth, but Hermione stood blinking as if she’d been hit with a Confundus charm, and Ron appeared more than a bit put out.



“Thank god for those two, honestly, where would we all be without a laugh?� Ginny wiped her streaming eyes, echoing Harry’s thoughts from a moment ago. “Not a terrible lot to laugh about these days, right, you lot?� She suddenly seemed very serious and looked hard at Harry. “So, are you three going to tell me the whole story about what happened last month, and what you guys are going to do about it, or what?� Ginny shifted her gaze to Ron and Hermione, who were standing close together.



Harry looked over at his best friends. Ron had his arm resting lightly around Hermione’s shoulders. Neither of them said anything. It was Harry’s story to tell, or not to tell, as he saw fit.



“So,� Ginny stamped her foot, “not a single one of you is going to explain to me why you aren’t going back to Hogwarts this upcoming term?�



“What?!? How did you know? I mean – what are you talking about?� Damn. Harry was angry at the slip. He looked over Ginny’s head at Ron, who shrugged. Hermione, as well, seemed confused.



“Wait a minute,� Hermione’s eyes narrowed, “Ginny, I thought…you mentioned in your letter – I just assumed Harry had told you!� Hermione seemed upset. So did Ron.



“Yeah, Gin. What was all that about last night? You going on about losing all three of us? How did you – I mean, what is that you think -� Ron cut himself off after a significant glance from Hermione.



Ginny seemed ashamed, but stood her ground. She glared at the other three. “Ok! Ok! I wasn’t – entirely – fair to you guys. But, but, I never actually lied to any of you about what I knew. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something big is about to happen with you three, right? So, I just thought, that if I, well, just let you guys think I knew more than I did, I could figure out what was going on. I’m sorry. But, you have to understand, I know what you all are doing is going to be dangerous, but, well I’m stuck here. I have to, to just, just watch you all go. I shouldn’t have done, but I did. I should have just asked what was going on,� she looked directly at Harry, and he could tell she was trying mightily to hold back tears. She threw her hands up into the air and walked away from them. She settled herself under the big maple, with her back to them.



Harry was torn. He wanted to tell her so badly, but what about his promise to himself to protect her by letting her go? But, he thought, she deserves to know. As he stood with Ron and Hermione, he knew there was more to it than that. He saw how close his friends were standing to each other. The peeks they stole when they didn’t think the other was paying attention. I can deal with the two of them in love, he thought, but I want it too. I want Ginny. He suddenly remembered Tonks, clutching Lupin’s threadbare robes at Bill’s sickbed last month. Friendly, helpful, cheerful Tonks who had been so miserable last year because Lupin had tried to push her away, for her own good, he said. It hadn’t succeeded in the end, had it? In the end, love finds a way. Maybe Dumbledore was right, maybe there was powerful magic in loving someone.



“Ron, Hermione,� Harry began, “I’m going to tell her. All of it. I – I have to,� Because I love her, he thought.



“Well, go on then, Harry,� Hermione whispered, and gave him a little push, “Go on, and tell her.�



Harry turned from them and headed towards Ginny, who looked up as he approached. The answers were already falling from his lips as he sat down next to her, in the shade of the big maple, on a beautiful August morning, in one of the places he loved best in the whole world. She had asked, out of love, and he answered with the same.

Hermione watched Harry stride across the Burrow’s backyard and sit down next to Ginny, their heads bent very close together. She herself was aware of two very disparate things at the moment – Ron’s hand resting lightly on her back and something that Ginny had shouted at them moments before:

“—aren’t going back to Hogwarts next term?�

She had known that, of course, in theory. That this was it, as far as she, Ron and Harry were concerned, school was a thing of the past. But, hearing Ginny ask it so baldly like that suddenly made it very real to her. No N.E.W.T.S. exams for her, no graduation at the top of the class, none of it. Everything she’d been working for the past six years, didn’t matter anymore. She found herself ridiculously close to tears.

“Hermione?� Ron was looking at her, concerned. “What’s – what’s wrong?�

“Oh, Ron!� She flung herself at him and he encircled her in his arms. Although she was still upset and the thought of leaving school, she couldn’t help but relish in being where she was. She sniffled a bit, then breathed deeper. Yes, she smiled to herself, thinking of that morning last year in Slughorn’s classroom, fresh-cut grass, new parchment, and this. She looked up at her best friend, who had a mixture of happiness and concern on his face. He leaned down a bit - Gosh he was tall! - and her heart jumped a little. His face was very, very close to hers.

“It’s just…just that…well, Ginny just made me realize that we’re –we’re not going back to school. And, well, it just got me thinking, no N.E.W.T.s or graduation or anything –� but Ron had straightened up a bit and was laughing down at her.

“I should have known! Never mind that we’re about to take on the most evil wizard of all time and we may never see our families again! What is Hermione Granger worried about? Her N.E.W.T.s! I suppose you figured you’d squeak another 112% out of Flitwick this year, huh?� Hurt, she escaped the circle of his arms and took a few steps away from him.

“Well, Ronald, I know that grades don’t concern you nearly as much as they do me, but I would think you’d be a bit upset about it and –� her huffy admonition was abruptly cut off by the presence of his hand on her face. He was smiling at her sweetly, and also, a little nervously.

“N.E.W.T.s!� He shook his head, muttered to himself, “There really isn’t anyone quite like you, you know that, don’t you Hermione?�

He shuffled his feet a little and moved closer to her. All thoughts of N.E.W.T.s, Hogwarts, and pretty much, well, everything else, left her head. She’d been waiting for this very moment for almost three years now, and she damn well was going to enjoy it. She wondered if his stomach was churning like hers was, or if he could feel her heart beating in her throat under his sweaty palm. His face was inches away from hers and –

“Ron!! Ginny!! Harry! Can you lot come over here for a mo’?� Mrs. Weasley’s voice ran through the back yard. “Hermione, dear, I need your help with this charm…�

Ron stepped hastily away from her. “Bloody hell, mum, grand timing,� he said, almost to himself. His ears were scarlet again and he seemed a bit deflated.

Hermione sighed internally. Well, she had waited three years, she supposed she could wait a bit longer. She looked over at the stout, loveable form of Mrs. Weasley, who was standing on the Burrow’s back porch, a frown of concentration creasing her face, surrounded by wisps of dancing, floating white and silver ribbon, clouds of tulle and the fairy lanterns Hermione had noticed tied to the kitchen rafters earlier in the morning.

“Of course Mrs. Weasley! I’ll be right over!� Harry and Ginny, Hermione saw, were emerging from under the shade of the big maple. Ginny was flushed and Hermione noted with a grin, she was grasping Harry’s hand tightly. As she watched, they smirked at each other and broke into a run to assist Mrs. Weasley.

“Mum! I’m not sure doing the decorating ourselves was such a great idea…� Ginny laughed as the bewitched ribbons started winding themselves around Harry, binding him to the porch’s railing. Hermione smiled and looked over at Ron.

“Well, Ronald, I suppose we better go help your mum,� she nudged him. He had his hands crossed over his chest sulkily.

“Right, I suppose so,� he grumbled. Hermione impulsively stepped over to him and put her hand in his.

“You know, Ron, there’s more than one chance for everything – well most things, at least,� she finished logically. “You just need to pay attention to these opportunities when they arise.� She let go of his hand and started walking towards the porch. The ribbons, she could see, were turning out to be dangerous, if not outright murderous. They needed her help. She heard Ron muttering to himself and clearing his throat behind her.

“Hermione?�

“Yes, Ron?� She turned around to face him.

“About what you just said? All that mad stuff about opportunities and such?� She waited. “Well, I was just thinking, Bill and Fleur’s wedding? Will you go?�

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m going! I’m here, Ron, aren’t I?� As much as she adored him, there were times where he made very little sense to her.

“No, erm, that’s not exactly what I meant. I was just thinking, well, you always said, I mean, this is last minute and all, but certainly not as a last resort, or anything –� Hermione briefly thought of saving him from himself, but then let him flounder on, “I guess, what I am trying to say, is will you, erm, accompany me, as my guest, to Bill’s wedding? I mean I know you are already going, as you pointed out, but I was specifically wondering –� this was getting a bit painful to witness. Hermione put him out of his misery.

She walked swiftly back to him and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It was gratifying to know she wasn’t the only one who’d learned something in the past few years.

“Yes, please,� she whispered into his ear. Then she set across the lawn towards where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were beckoning her. She’d help them as best as she knew how, but Hermione knew that, charms, bewitched decorations, and fairy lights aside, this was going to be one magical wedding.

Something very very odd is going on, Ron thought. He stood at the back door of the Burrow, gazing out at yesterday's handiwork. His mum was a real task-master that was for sure; he, Hermione, Harry and Ginny had hardly stopped hanging, tying, carrying and bewitching things all day before collapsing, exhausted, into their respective beds last night.



He had to admit, though, the backyard looked pretty amazing. The fairy lanterns had been scattered throughout the trees, twinkling in various hues of purple, pink, gold and green. Hermione (he thought proudly) had adjusted the charm his mum had placed on the agressive silver and white ribbon, and now it was contentedly twined up and down several bunted pavillions, twirling benignly in the evening breeze.



Though the wedding wasn't until tomorrow evening, two large tables weighted down with various delicious-smelling dishes dominated the back yard. The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Fleur's family and several members of the Order of the Phoenix were currently congregated in the very over-stuffed Burrow, momentarily to step outside to enjoy this "night before" feast.



The odd thing, Ron thought again, the odd thing is, I'm not a bit hungry. His stomach, of which he was always acutely aware, seemed to be floating somewhere roughly three feet above his head. He couldn't account for it, but then again, he'd spent most of his time since yesterday morning thinking about that brief kiss Hermione had planted on the corner of his mouth. Not a REAL kiss, but still, he thought, and smiled a bit. Well, I did try, but bloody mum and all of her ribbons and such.



There had been exactly zero opportunities to get Hermione on her own in the past twenty-four hours. It was enough to drive a bloke mad. And he couldn't get that chaste, swift kiss out of his head. What was wrong with him? Hadn't he spent most of last term writhing around in the common room with Lavender? It wasn't as if, as Ginny had so publicly pointed out to him last year, he'd never snogged a girl before. He felt as if he'd thoroughly covered that ground by dating Lavender. Had been the whole point, really. But this rolling, floating stomach was a whole new sensation. He'd probably get as much pleasure out of dinner tonight as Nearly Headless Nick would if he were here.



The approaching sound of voices made him turn. Everyone was spilling out of the house into the backyard, chatting and laughing happily. Bill led the way, his arm around Fleur's waist. Over the past few weeks, Ron had gotten used to the three slash-shaped scars that twisted the left side of his brother's face into a scowl. Behind the happy couple, his mum was explaining her decorating scheme in detail to Fleur'smother, and they made quite the study in opposites. His mum's soft, round, red-headed figure walking alongside Mrs. Delacour's tall, willowy one, made Ron smile. Harry, who had Ginny's hand ensconced firmly in his own, was turned towards Lupin on his other side, gesturing forcefully as they discussed some practical defensive strategies. He clapped Ron on the shoulder as he walked by. And then, Hermione. She was walking closely with Tonks, who appeared to have made an effort to match the wedding decorations - her hair was in two long silvery plaits, threaded throughout with shots of pearly white. Tonks caught Ron staring at them and smiled at him.



"Wotcher, Ron?" She gave him a hug and went down the stairs, catching up to Lupin, Harry and Ginny.



"Hi," Hermione put her hand on his arm. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."



"Oh, yeah, well it was getting a little crazy in there," he said to her, indicating the steady stream of dinner guests filing into the backyard. She looked radiantly happy, her brown eyes darting keenly from the guests to the glittering pavillions. His stomach seemed to float even higher up. Soon it'd be nesting in the trees with the fairy lights.



"It really looks lovely out here, doesn't it?" She spun around as Ginny and Harry waved them over to their table, where they sat near Tonks, Lupin and Hagrid.



"You look lovely," he said it before he could think about it. And it was true. Hermione looked like, well, Hermione, but it was almost as if, for the past several years, a bunch of filmy layers had been slowly falling away from his eyes when he looked at her. It was as if, in actuality, she had always been this brilliant, glowing thing, but his eyes had been too dulled to notice it before. And then, almost imperceptibly, he had begun to notice this glow, low and faint at first, and getting steadily brighter until could no longer ignore its existence.



"I'm going to have to get used to comments like that, Ronald Weasley," she shook her head, smiling. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you." She took a seat on the bench across from Tonks.



"Well, I could say something terribly insensitive and git-like if it'd make you more comfortable?" He tried to sound serious. She smacked his arm lightly and turned to talk to Hagrid.



The dinner passed pleasantly and leisurely, people from both tables mixing back and forth, calling and catcalling, eating Mrs. Weasley's wonderful food with gusto. Ron stared mournfully at his plate. He couldn't seem to focus on food a bit. It was this extraordinary girl sitting beside him - teasing Ginny and Harry, speaking earnestly to Lupin and Tonks about magical non-humans, and asking Hagrid probing questions about Grawp - that was doing it to him. So this is what happens when you fall in love, he thought sadly, eyeing his uneaten mashed potatoes, when you fall in love, you lose food. Good-bye lamb chops and steak and kidney pie and roast chicken and -



His mental farewell to food was suddenly interupted by the clinking of forks on china. He looked up. Everyone was turned to the form of his smiling father, standing between the two tables. His dad was holding a glass of champagne, and on cue, several dozen glasses floated out of the deepening twilight and drifted towards each dinner guest. Hermione plucked two out of the air, turned, handed one to Ron, and then leaned comfortably against him. He slung his free arm around her shoulder.



"On behalf of Molly and myself, I'd like to thank you all for being here this evening," his dad began. His mum was gazing fondly at him. "As you know, we are all here this weekend to celebrate the marriage of my eldest, Bill, to this strong, lovely young woman," he beamed at his son and Fleur. "As I stand here, looking out at you all, my heart is so full I can hardly speak. There's nothing, nothing, as important as family. And everyone here, Weasley or not, is my family. Some of you sitting here are as dear to me as my own children." Ron saw his dad's eyes flicker and land on Hermione, and then hold steady on Harry for a moment. "Others of you, began as colleagues, schoolmates, friends - but are still something more because of the strong ties of love that bind us together." His father paused, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Ron struggled with the lump in his own throat. Hermione sniffled a bit in front of him; he hugged her tighter. He saw that Harry was sitting with his hands on his face; Ginny's hand rested on his hair. His dad reached out and grabbed his mum's hand, seemed to draw strength from it to continue. "Not everyone that should be is here tonight. Over the past several years, we all have lost many of those we hold dear to the evil that we are even now fighting. Some we have lost in the most real sense, others we have lost because they have turned away from the truth of what's happening. I say this not to inject sadness into this happy event, but to tell you all how very proud I am to be here, with you all, in the midst of turmoil. To tell you all how very much you mean to me. And now, without further ado, to the bride and groom!" He raised his glass high and pulled Bill into a rough hug.



"To the bride and groom!" Ron echoed with everyone, surreptitiously wiping his cheeks dry. Hermione turned to him and clinked her glass on his, tenderly whisking away a stray tear from his cheek.



"You missed a spot," she said, her own face a bit blotchy.



Everyone around them was hugging and kissing Bill and Fleur, laughing and wiping tears from their eyes. Suddenly, from the side hedge, there was the distinct sound of someone Apparating. Two dozen heads turned in the direction. And, Ron noticed, several wands had appeared, most notibly, Harry's and Lupin's. Height had its advantages - Ron had a clear view of the strangely familiar figure walking cautiously from around the side of the house. Hermione, he noticed, was standing on the bench so as to get a better look. She gasped.



"Ron! Oh my god, Ron! That's -" before she could finish, the figure spoke.



"Well everyone, I know it's the dead of summer, but are Weasley sweaters required attire for this wedding?" Ron couldn't believe it. Though the voice was sheepish and hesitant and lacking its usual pompous tone, he'd recognize it anywhere.



"Percy!" His mum cried joyfully, and rushed forward to greet him.

Harry stood amidst all of the other dinner guests, as surprised as any of them. Percy was here, at the Burrow. Wonders would never cease, it seemed. Ginny was clutching his shoulder tightly.

"I cannot believe he showed up! Mum never received a reply to his invitation, none of us have seen him since...since Dumbledore's funeral. And he hardly said a word to any of us there," Ginny explained breathlessly. Harry examined her face, but couldn't tell how she felt yet about the reappearance of her third-eldest brother.

"Ron!" She whispered across the table. She reached out and tugged his shirt, and he spun around, his mouth open in an 'O' of shock. "Ron, we'd better, you know -" Ginny gestured to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Bill and Fleur had gathered around Percy. Fred and George, Harry noticed, were hanging back from the group a bit, talking urgently to each other and shooting distrustful glances at Percy.

"Yeah, I suppose we'd better. What d'you reckon, Gin? Why's he here, after all this time?" Ron questioned his sister as he assisted Hermione off the bench. Harry caught Hermione's eye. She was the brightest one of all of them; if anyone had insight onto this sudden arrival, it'd be her. Her brow was furrowed and she shook her head minutely at Harry, which he took as a sign to keep his mouth shut for the moment. With a backwards glance at them, Ron and Ginny made their way over to the small family circle as the other guests sat themselves back down at the tables. Harry and Hermione did as well, along with Tonks, Lupin and Hagrid. Harry watched as Ron and Ginny approached their older brother. Ron and Percy shook hands awkwardly, but Percy engulfed his little sister in a hug, which she immediately returned. That's one of the best things about Ginny, Harry smiled, she makes people feel comfortable.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Hagrid was dabbing his still-streaming eyes with the edge of the table cloth. Several dishes tumbled onto the ground. "Oh, sorry 'bout that - thanks Hermione," he continued, as Hermione waved her wand and settled the dishes down in a more central, and therefore safer, location on the table. "I was just sayin' to Grawp t'other day, there's nothin' more important than family..." He trailed off, red-eyed, and Hermione hastily handed him her dinner napkin.

"I'm glad Percy came," a thoughtful voice spoke from Harry's left. Lupin was gazing over at the Weasleys. "This must've been a tough decision for him. It's never easy to admit to the people who love you that you were wrong," he turned to Tonks with a playfully raised eyebrow, who chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

"As many terrible things that have happened over the past year," Tonks began in a voice much softer than the one she usually used, "as bad as it has been - I think some good comes out of it. People realize what's actually important. It's like Arthur said, there's nothing like family."

"Well, everyone!" Mr. Weasley's happy voice rang out, "as you can see, we have another, much-welcomed guest! Now that Percy is here, the family circle is complete." Mr. Weasley put his hand on Percy's shoulder, swallowing hard. Everyone clapped and whistled, but Harry noticed the twins had wandered into the relative dimness of one of the pavilions, seating themselves at a round table where wedding guests would dine the next evening. Hermione was looking that way as well, and jerked her head slightly in that direction. They both excused themselves and crossed the lawn together.

"What's up?" Harry asked her once they were out of earshot of everyone.

Hermione seemed to weigh her words carefully before she spoke. "I don't know, Harry. I hate to think anything but the best of all this, but --"

"But, you're a bit suspicious?" Harry finished for her.

"Well, the last time Percy showed up at the Burrow, it was for ulterior motives. He came because Scrimgeour wanted a closer look at you," she sighed, continued, "part of me, probably the nicer part of me, wants to agree with Tonks and Hagrid. Even Lupin seems to think it's a positive sign," she stopped walking for a moment, "but, you know Harry, Percy's not my favorite person at this moment. He hasn't treated you or Ron very well the past few years. And the way he's acted towards his parents..." she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders, "You and Ron don't seem very put out, so I'll try to reserve judgment for now. Maybe I'm just not as forgiving a person as you are. Doesn't seem Fred and George are either."

As they resumed walking towards the twins, Harry thought about what Hermione had said. She has a point, he mused, but maybe I've just gotten so used to people's ever-changing-opinions of me, I'm immune to inappropriate behavior. One thing he and Hermione were in agreement on, however, was how Percy had treated his family. Harry couldn't think of very many people he liked more than the Weasleys, and he understood better than most people how amazing it was to be welcomed into this crazy, messy, loving mass of family. Percy hadn't been treating that with as much respect as he should've.

"Harry, Hermione, come join us," George was waving them over.

"What do the two of you make of our extra-secret surprise special guest?" Fred asked with a decidedly sour look on his face. "Hermione, my love, I can tell your sentiments are very near to mine."

"Less of the 'my love' natter, Fred," Hermione admonished. Harry saw that Ron and Ginny were headed towards them. "I have no opinion on the subject." Both Fred and George snorted incredulously at this statement. "No, really you two, this is your family, he's your brother, you’ll have to sort it out amongst yourselves."

"Well that was fairly odd," Ron said as he and Ginny joined the group. "Mum's in quite a tizzy right about now."

"Mum'd think the best of anyone, even that insensitive prat," George's eyes shot daggers at Percy's back.

"Well," Ginny began, "He does seem pretty embarrassed. And he did show up for the wedding. That counts for something, right?" She looked at her three brothers in turn, hoping for affirmation.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and she smiled at him gratefully. He glanced over at Hermione. He felt uncomfortable, an intruder on a family discussion. He could tell she was thinking along the same lines as he was. "Listen guys, Hermione and I will leave you four to thrash this out..." Harry began, but his voice was drowned by the protesting voices of the Weasleys. The group got quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. There was the nervous sound of someone clearing his throat behind Harry. They all turned. Percy was standing there, red-faced.

"Hermione, Harry, hello, how are you?" Percy held out his hand. He looked so uncomfortable Harry didn't have it in himself to do anything but offer his own. He heard the twins scoff behind him. Hermione, who was standing back a bit, muttered a polite greeting.

“C’mon, Fred, I could use another butterbeer,� George grumbled. And with another fiery glance at Percy, the twins slouched off towards the rest of the guests.

The five of them shuffled in the uncomfortable silence than followed. Harry opened his mouth a few times to start the conversation back up, but closed it again in defeat. He couldn’t think of one single appropriate topic.

“So, uh, Harry, I actually was wondering if I could speak with you,� Percy finally said. Harry started. Percy wanted to talk to him? “In private, actually.�

“No, Percy. Anything you’d like to say, you can say in front of Ginny, Ron and Hermione,� Harry felt a little sorry for him, and more so for Ron and Ginny, but he wasn’t about to let Percy call the shots.

Percy sighed. “Alright. Look. As I’ve said to about a dozen people already this evening, I’ve acted – I mean my actions the past few years has been – I behaved, well, sort of –�

“Like a prat?� Ron offered helpfully. Hermione elbowed him but the whole group chuckled and most of the tension left the circle.

“Yes, well, Ron, I suppose you’re right, and now I have a chance to make amends, so I'm going to try,� Percy sighed. He looked at the others and took a deep breath. “Harry, I have it on good authority that the Ministry of Magic is having you followed. Anything you’re doing – or planning on doing, erm, in the near future – I would take this into consideration. You are being watched.� Percy finished in a hissing whisper. Harry was dumbfounded. How was this possible? Was Percy insinuating that he knew about his, Ron’s and Hermione’s plans after the wedding? There was no way he could know that they were going -

“Listen, you lot. I know I have no right to expect you to believe me, but, please, you simply cannot go to Godric’s Hollow next week!� And with that, he spun and walked away, leaving the other four in stunned silence.

Saturday dawned sunny and mild, the pavilions in the Burrow’s backyard blanketed in a shimmering layer of dew and mist. The birds twittered sleepily in the trees, and the wind tickled the flowers that bedecked the back porch and tables. Across the green expanse of the lawn, the small, furry figure of Crookshanks stalked an unsuspecting squirrel. The Burrow itself, usually a hotbed of activity, was still drowsing peacefully, preparing itself for the big day. Well, except for –



“You know, Ginny, I think we may regret getting up so early later on today,� Hermione whispered as they snuck down the kitchen stairs.



“Oh, Hermione, do you always have to be so damn practical?!?!?� Ginny whispered back as she prepared enormous mugs of coffee. “Besides, trust me on this – the next half an hour will be the only time today you’ll be able to hear yourself think. Plus, you can use this time to reflect on how sorry you are for me that I have to do every single thing Phlegm tells me to do for the next twelve hours. I really ought to give you my wand for safe keeping so I don’t hex her into oblivion.�



They made their way outside and settled on the porch swing. Hermione tucked her feet underneath her and sipped her coffee. Ginny was right, this was relaxing, especially taking into consideration the previous evening. Hermione still wasn’t sure what was more perplexing – Percy’s sudden return home or Ron’s gallantry towards her.



“So…� Ginny began, “Percy? Any thoughts from the cleverest witch of our generation?� She intoned in a mock-announcer voice, doing a very good Rita Skeeter impersonation, sucking on an imaginary quill.



“No, not yet,� Hermione replied, chewing her lip, “And, I think we should make a solemn gentle-witches’ pact to dispense with any and all Percy-related or serious conversations of any type until after this evening.� She paused, continued, “So! What are we going to do with your hair?!? Even better, what are we going to do with mine?!?� But as Ginny laughed and shook her hand, Hermione’s mind was still troubled.



* * *



I suppose it looks alright, Hermione thought as she spun around in front of Ginny’s mirror. She never felt quite herself when she got dressed up, and her violet-colored dress was very simple. Dressing formally didn’t really suit her. Not like Fleur, she thought as she turned around to look at the bride.



Fleur really was breath-taking. Her shimmering hair was gathered on her head in hundreds of perfect ringlets, topped with the crown of her veil. She looks almost like royalty, Hermione thought admiringly, if a touch jealously, as Fleur stood by the window in the late afternoon sun, her ivory gown sweeping elegantly to the floor in a fan of satin. Ginny looks terrific too, she thought, smiling at her friend, who, with the help of Gabrielle Delacour, was adjusting the bustle on Fleur’s gown. Her fiery hair was mostly down, hanging in a red waterfall down her back. In the front and on the sides, Hermione had weaved several ribbons into the braids coiled away from her face, which matched Ginny’s golden bridesmaid’s dress.



“’Ermione, I just wanted to zank you so much for your azistence today,� Fleur beamed at her.



“Yeah, Hermione, zanks so much,� Ginny muttered as she magicked several pins into the back of Fleur’s gown. Hermione stifled a giggle and shot Ginny a warning look. Ginny stuck her tongue out, unnoticed by either of the Delacours, and Hermione shook her head.



“Your hair looks very preety,� Fleur gesturing at Hermione, “Zat is a very clever charm. You will be doing zo well at ‘Ogwarts zis year, no doubt!� At this, Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances again, but she tried to push the worry out of her mind. Instead, she turned back to the mirror to confirm Fleur’s compliment. Hermione had decided to embrace her hair’s, well, insanity, and left it down. She had performed a nifty little spell, and thousands of violet, silver and white rhinestones glittered amidst the brown sea of waves and curls.



“Well, Ginny, Gabrielle, we’d better ‘ead down. I see Mama waving at us!� Fleur marched regally from the room, her bridesmaids trailing (in Ginny’s case, reluctantly) behind her.



Hermione wandered over to the window and gazed down at the yard. Harry would be arriving momentarily to escort her to her seat, as each of their dates was a member of the wedding party. Date! Hermione chuckled, Ron Weasley is my date! Her eyes roamed over the crowd of well-dressed guests, and she spotted several people she knew that hadn’t been at dinner last night – Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry, and Angelina Johnson, who appeared to be Fred’s date – before she finally found him.



He was by the front of where the guests were seating themselves, horsing around with Charlie, who was also standing for Bill. She couldn’t help but cluck to herself he was wrinkling his dress robes that way. Bill was looking a bit green, and Mr. Weasley was adjusting his tie for him soothingly. Ron stopped goofing off and squared his shoulders. He did look handsome, that was certain. But not exactly like the Ron Weasley she knew, either. There seemed to be a new person emerging from the boy she’d known, not completely changed, but not entirely the same either. She supposed she had changed a bit herself. Something old, something new…she thought ruefully, and smiled to herself. There was a creak as the door opened behind her.



“Wow! Nice hair!� Harry was standing in the doorway, looking pretty spiffy himself. He proffered his arm to her.



“Thanks,� she replied, linking her arm in his, “But wait’ll you see Ginny’s.�



* * *



The wedding ceremony passed in a fuzzy warm blur for Hermione. The only two things that really stood out in her head were Harry’s gasp beside her when Ginny marched down the aisle, and the fact that Ron, who was standing in front of his entire family and guests, hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.



Hermione mingled with the other guests as the bride, groom, wedding party and their families got formal photos taken. She waved and smiled at her classmates, friends and teachers as she made her way over to a quiet bench off to the side of the main action. She was very content, sitting and observing the guests laughing and chatting happily, everyone looking like ethereal, otherworldly versions of their normal selves. Lupin looking younger than ever in his simple dress robes, and was that Tonks in a flowing silver party dress?!? Even McGonagall looked less severe then usual. She was jolted out of her bemusement by the sound of someone approaching. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Ron.



“Hey, I found you,� he shuffled his feet, sat down next to her. His knee was touching her and he was staring at her. Then he said something decidedly odd. “I may never be able to eat again.� He shook is head, as if to clear it.



She was extraordinarily confused. “Were you looking for dinner or for me?�



“Oh, well, erm, you know, I was looking for you, not dinner, I haven’t had much of an appetite recently,� he finished lamely. This was so out of character Hermione was at a loss. Thankfully Ron continued. “Not that you were particularly hard to find.� He gestured to her hair.



“Rhinestones; an improvement on pancakes, I hope?� What she really hoped was this was how you flirted with your best-friend-turned-guy-you-fancied.



“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m glad you left it down. You look more like yourself that way,� he concluded. Oh, god, if either one of them got any more nervous, they might spontaneously combust. He sidled a bit closer to her on the bench, and her stomach went warm and tingly. “You know, I was just thinking about trolls.�



Her stomach cooled a bit in confusion. “Ron, it’s official. I have no idea what you are talking about.�



“Well,� he began, and put his hand under her hair, touching her neck, “Well, I was just thinking, that if Harry and I hadn’t saved you from that mountain troll first year, I may, to this day, just think of you, as, well…�



“An insufferable know-it-all?� She offered, her voice sounding nothing like her own, sort of breathy and small. He nodded. “But I am an insufferable know-it-all.� The world had become his hand on her neck, his blue eyes inches from her own.



“Yes, yes you are,� he laughed, putting his other hand on her cheek. “But, you’re my insufferable-know-it-all, Hermione Granger.� And then he was kissing her, and the world got even smaller, just his lips, his breath, and the feeling of his heart beating against hers.

If they take one more picture, Ron fumed silently, just one more, I’m going jinx every single one of them. Ron plastered a smile on his face for the four thousandth time as Charlie joggled him on the left and his Grannie Weasley clutched his arm for dear life on the right. I hate ginger-haired people, he thought rather illogically, surrounded by relatives on all sides. He shoved Charlie extra hard to vent his frustration.

“Hey, Ron, watch it, mate!� Charlie cried, amiably enough, and pushed him back, nearly sending him into a nosedive on top of Ginny and Gabrielle.

“Ron! Cut it out, will you?� Ginny turned and scowled at him. “This isn’t a joke! Let’s just do this before I commit murder, alright?�

“Yes, honestly, Ronnikins, what’s your problem?� George piped up from behind him, in his left ear.

“He’s in luurrrrvvve, Georgie, can’t you tell? He’s practically floating!� Fred giggled into his right ear. And, as the twins snickered, Ron’s feet left the ground and he actually did begin to float, first a few inches off the ground, then nearly a foot, now three, then –

“Fred! George! You gits-get me-let me-� As he struggled to find his wand, the tip of his dress shoe knocked Fleur smack in the middle of her elaborate hairdo. She turned to Ron and he almost fell out of the air in fear.

“Ronald! What eez zee meaning of zees? We are trying to take a beautiful picture here, zees is not the time for – how do you say – goofing off!� She stomped her foot, and with a graceful wave of her wand, Ron tumbled out of the air, taking the twins, his Grannie Weasley and Ginny with him to the ground.

“Ron!!!!� Several dozen people yelped at him. He helped his grandmother to her feet, as the twin clutched each other in hysterics and the expression on Ginny’s flushed face fluctuated between anger and amusement.

“Bloody relatives,� Ron muttered quietly, ignoring everyone’s indignant shouts. But he couldn’t help grinning a bit as his crazy, loud, shoving, cackling family gathered back together for one more photo of the happy event.

* * *

The minute the family group dispersed throughout the yard, Ron eyes began roaming the reception, hoping to catch sight of a particularly impressive cloud of brown hair and a certain light purple dress. He wandered through the well-dressed crowd, getting a bit frustrated. Where IS she? This is starting to get ridiculous –

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Ronnie?� George, on his right.

“I think the question is who is he looking for, George old chap, right, Ronald?� Fred, on his left. Ron felt his ears begin to boil scarlet. “Wouldn’t be, let’s say, a bright, bossy, bushy-haired bird we all know and love, would it?�

“Well asked, Fred,� George said, impressed.

“Cheers, George!� Fred smiled at his twin. “So, Ronald darling, what’s your plan of attack, hmmm?� The twins had now surrounded him, their arms slung genially around his shoulders.

“What d’you mean?� Ron asked glumly, not even bothering to deny he was looking for Hermione.

“Well, son, have you snogged her yet?� George queried. “That’s a good place to start, if you don’t mind me saying so.�

“What?!? I mean, well, the thing is –� Ron stammered, and he could feel his face flushing.

“I agree with George, dear brother…a kiss is as good a place to start as any, and this has been going on for far too long, if you ask me,� Fred thumped him hard on the back.

“You know, you really aren’t helping, you two, and if you want the truth, I tried yesterday but bloody mum interrupted with all of her wedding-decorating nonsense,� Ron trailed off, throwing his hands into the air. He still hadn’t found her, either…

“Ok, here’s what you do,� George took him by the shoulders, and for once, he seemed earnest. “Just go over to her. Don’t mull it over, or think too hard about it, just –

“—compliment her, say something about her hair or her dress or something –� Fred interjected.

“Yes! That’s it! Try to say something funny or remind her of something from the past that you shared that was special—� George continued seamlessly.

“Right! Right! That’s the ticket, then you just take her face in your hands and, if I really have to explain to you what happens next, well, mate, you really are a bit thick and I don’t –�

“STOP!!! Will you two give it a rest?!?� Ron shouted. “Look, I know you are just trying to help, but if I could just find her, I could take it from there, alright?�

His brothers glanced at each other and shrugged. “Why didn’t you just say so, Ron?� George began.

“She’s right over there!� They chimed together, and Ron followed their pointing fingers to the sight of her, Hermione, sitting on a bench away from the crowd, her violet dress and glittering hair sparkling in the darkening twilight.

“Go on then, man!� George encouraged.

“Yeah, Ron, feel free to borrow the ‘Weasley Twins’ Yet-To-Fail Plan of Wooing the Woman You Want’ – hey, I really like the sound of that George, you know we could –� and with a final thump on the back, Fred and George ambled away from him, talking excitedly.

* * *

Once he spotted her, he hurried through the celebrating throng to reach the spot where she sat, gazing dreamily at the wedding reception. Then, for some reason, he slowed down. He took a moment just to look at her unawares, before she realized he was there. For about the hundredth time in the last few months, Ron thought again of how different she seemed to him now, and yet still so much like the Hermione he’d always known. She looked up, and he saw both of those people – the girl who’d admonished him and corrected his homework dozens of times and this new, shining amazing person. She was smiling at him expectantly.

“Hey, I found you,� he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He walked over and sat down next to her, his trousered leg pressing against her bare knee. It was really unbelievable how nervous someone he’d known for six years could make him. His stomach was rolling crazily “I may never be able to eat again.� He lamented, staring at her confused face.

“Were you looking for dinner or for me?� She said huffily, and suddenly she was the old Hermione again, which gave him the bravery to continue.

“Oh, well, erm, you know, I was looking for you, not dinner, I haven’t had much of an appetite recently,� he stammered. God. He just, as his brothers noted, had to go for it. Say something nice to her…compliment her dress or her hair, he mentally reviewed Fred’s advice, then spoke “Not that you were particularly hard to find.� He smiled at the wonderful cloud of sparkling brown hair.

“Rhinestones an improvement on pancakes, I hope?� She replied, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to be, well, flirting with him…

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m glad you left it down. You look more like yourself that way,� he said truthfully. Not like she did at the Yule Ball a few years ago. She looked like a stranger! You walked right past her, remember? You didn’t even know it was her. The girl in front of him now seemed to be a combination of that pretty stranger and the bossy first-year who’d told him he had dirt on his nose. He grinned, suddenly remembering something. For all the scrapes she’d gotten him out of, there was a time where he’d saved her hide. And it made him a bit braver. He moved closer to her on the bench. “You know, I was just thinking about trolls.�

“Ron, it’s official. I have no idea what you are talking about.� This was such a Hermione-ish thing to say, he couldn’t contain himself. He wanted, no needed, to touch that crazy head of hair. He plunged his hand into it, resting on the back of her neck. She made a small sound.

“Well,� he said, knowing the moment had come at last, “Well, I was just thinking, that if Harry and I hadn’t saved you from that mountain troll first year, I may, to this day, just think of you, as, well…� he trailed off. He couldn’t imagine not knowing her, or loving her the way he did right now.


“An insufferable know-it-all?� She interjected, most decidedly not sounding like herself, her voice very small and sort of breathless. He brown eyes seemed to fill her face, and he could see a tiny freckle high on one cheekbone. “But I am an insufferable know-it-all.� He chuckled. It really was true, but he realized he didn’t want her any other way.

“Yes, yes you are,� he whispered, surrounded by the dizzying, sweet scent of all those wonderful brown curls, he put his other hand on her face, stroked the freckle he had just noticed. “But, you’re my insufferable-know-it-all, Hermione Granger.� What a relief, a pleasure, to say it at last, and then he kissed her, and Ron honestly didn’t care if his mum needed something, if the twins were snickering across the lawn, or if the entire family was gather around them. All that matter was her.

There was no conclusive way to prove it, but Harry was pretty sure that this was one of the best days of his life. At least, that he could remember. He liked to think that maybe, before his parents had been killed, he had a few days like this in his babyhood. A day that glowed with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within him and was magical in a way that had nothing to do wands or spells. A day when he felt loved, and safe, and nearly exploding with good feeling. And he knew why. The biggest reason had her flushed cheek resting on his shoulder, her hair cascading over the back of his dress robes, as they revolved dreamily around the dance floor.

“Ginny?�

“Hmmm?� A sweet sigh. She didn’t move.

“Thanks,� he started. He wasn’t sure how, exactly, to convey the sense of gratitude he felt towards the wonderful, funny, stubborn, strong young woman in his arms. The girl who hadn’t given up on him, really, ever. From the time he was an overwhelmed eleven year old trying to cope with the fact that he was a wizard and she was just some red-haired little sister of Ron Weasley’s. He tried to think back to the time when she was almost invisible to him, when her existence had hardly registered to him at all. He couldn’t do it. Now, the minute he entered a room or a group of people, it was her face he sought out, her smile, her laugh.

“My pleasure,� she picked her head up, shook her hair away from her face, and smiled at him. “Whatever I can do to help.�

“You don’t even know what I’m thanking you for!� Harry chuckled at her, kissed her near her left ear, breathing in the flowery smell of her hair. Her arms tightened around his neck.

“Sure I do,� she replied, “You mean, ‘Thanks, Ginny, for getting it through my brave but terribly thick skull that I could never get rid of you with some ridiculously noble speech about keeping you safe, when really, no one is safe because there an evil lunatic wizard loose on the world’ right?�

She really was something else. He burst out laughing, “Right, something very close to that. What have you been doing this summer, practicing Legilemency?� He teased.

“Well, actually not, I just really – oh! My, my, my,� she interrupted herself, a satisfied smirk on her face. She was looking at a spot away from the dance floor, over his shoulder.

“What?� He asked. She grabbed his chin in her hand and turned it in the direction she was gazing. He suddenly got a very odd sensation in his stomach. There, partially screened by the deepening shadows on the side of the pavilions, Ron and Hermione were sitting very very close on a bench. Snogging. How…weird. How…expected.

“Oh, Harry! The look on your face is priceless. You alright with all that?� She gestured towards his best friends, then continued, “Ron seemed to have polished his technique a little in the past few months,� she noted critically.

Harry mulled it over a bit, tearing his eyes away from the pair of them. It was certainly going to take some getting used to, but for the most part, he felt pretty good about it. I mean really, was it so terrible that two of the people he cared the most about in world fancied each other?

“Poor Harry!� Ginny clucked teasingly.

Her voice drew him out of his reverie. He grinned at her. “It’s fine, just a little, erm, bizarre. They’ve spent a lot of time over the past few years at each other’s throats, you know?�

“Well, it looks like they still are,� Ginny replied saucily, “Though, I guess you’d call ‘at each other’s necks’ in this context, I suppose.�

Harry thought about the look on his friends’ faces if they could hear Ginny talking about them like this. He burst out laughing. “I’m happy for them, really.� And he meant it. How could he resent Ron and Hermione for wanting the same thing he did? Someone to love and understand him? Which, thank goodness, he had.

“I guess I can deal with it,� he began in a mock-sorrowful tone, trying to hide a grin, “I mean, I suppose I can get used to that –� he gestured towards the pair of them, “ –if Ron, and, geesh, I guess the rest of all those endless brothers of yours, can get used to this,� and he pulled her close and kissed her soundly, right there on the dance floor. It was a wedding after all, wasn’t it?

Ginny didn’t seem the least bit abashed by this very public display of affection, even after their kiss received a whooping round of applause from Fred and Angelina, who were dancing nearby. The slow, smoochy song they had been dancing to ended, and a much faster-paced one began. Harry was loathe to let go of her in order to dance, and so he led her to one of the tables, where he could keep her close. He stared at her profile as she watched the people spinning and twirling on the dance floor. The corner of her mouth crept upward, and she eyed him without turning her head.

“What?�

“You’re the mind reader, right? What am I thinking about right now?� Harry ran his fingers lightly over the elaborate burnished braids at the crown of her head.

“You’re…you’re thinking, I’m the Sickle in your shoe,� she began, turning to him, brushing his obstinate hair off his forehead.

“What are you talking about?!?� He was honestly stumped.

“You know,� her eyes were sparkling, “that old saying, about what a new bride needs for a successful marriage, what she has to have with her on her wedding day.� She cleared her throat and recited, “‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue – and a Sickle in her shoe!’� Harry remembered the Muggle version of this little rhyme, which was pretty near what Ginny had just said, but not what the meaning behind the odd little phrase was.

“Ginny, are you trying to get me into a wedding dress?� He joked.

“No!� She slapped him, and he caught her hand, kissed it, held it. “No. I don’t really remember what the other things stand for, but the reason a witch tucks a Sickle in her shoe on her wedding day is, not only to bring her prosperity, but for luck. So long as she can feel it there, in the tip of her shoe, nothing can go wrong for her on her special day.� Ginny smiled at him proudly.

“Well, Ginny Weasley, if that’s the case, than you certainly are the Sickle in my shoe,� he whispered in her ear. “Because I couldn’t feel luckier than I do right now, sitting here with you.� He meant it, and kissed her smiling mouth. Had he really thought there was any reason to deny himself this happiness? Had he?

“Oi! What’s all this?!? Can’t you two ever snog in private?!?!?� A very familiar voice, very close by. Harry looked up to find Ron and Hermione standing over them.

“I’m sorry. Ron, is that you? It sounds like you but I can’t be sure since my eyes popped out of my head and rolled away after what I saw happening a few minutes ago on that bench over yonder,� Harry replied, and Ron chuckled sheepishly. Hermione was flushed and dreamy-eyed, and not very like herself. But they both also looked a bit nervous and unsure, waiting to see what else he was going to say.

Ginny stepped softly but firmly on his foot, and he took this as a sign to continue. He laughed a bit, then said, “Took you two long enough, huh?!?� Ron and Hermione grinned at each other, laughed, and then looked back at Harry.

“Aaaahhhh, romance!� Ginny exclaimed, jumping up and giving Ron and Hermione goofy, sloppy kisses on their cheeks. Harry she saved for last, and the kiss she gave him was of a different sort. “C’mon, you lot! Let’s dance! This is a party after all, isn’t it?�

And the four of them ran out to the dance floor, losing themselves in the music, lights, and laughter of each other, feeling that nothing could harm them, on this last golden evening together.

Chapter 13 – The Gathering Storm



Hermione pulled her hair up and fanned her damp neck with her free hand. The weather had changed from pleasantly warm to oppressive. Slate-colored clouds gathered along the horizon and the air was heavy with condensation. As Hermione watched from her vantage point under the big maple, a grayish mist insinuated itself into the nooks and crannies of the empty pavilions, clinging like something dying to the Burrow’s porch railing.



What a difference a day makes, she thought. Yesterday morning, this same mist seemed to glow with promise, sheathing the delights of the wedding to come. Now, twenty four hours later, the white miasma seemed ominous, hiding dangerous things just out of view.



The Burrow was sleeping off its wedding revelry, but Hermione had given up on rest a few hours ago. Despite what she had said to Ginny the morning before, her brain couldn’t help revisiting Percy’s sudden return and, more specifically, his warning from two nights ago. There had, of course, been a few minutes last night where everything was forgotten, and Hermione had been lost in the blissful present moment. She still wasn’t sure she believed it – had Ron really kissed her or had it been a particularly vivid daydream?



The wet grass whispered as someone made their way across the law. Ron appeared, looking solid and real, and not remotely like a vision or dream. His hair was uncombed and his eyes were still sleep-puffed.



“Morning,� he grunted, sat down, and sprawled his head across her lap. He grinned as he looked up at her. “Oh, here,� he handed her some toast wrapped in a napkin, “I thought this’d be safer than pancakes.� He seemed very cozy where he was and put his hand on her leg. What a difference a day makes, Hermione thought again, but this time it made her smile.



“Thanks,� she mumbled around a mouthful of bread. Several bits of toast dropped and dusted Ron’s cheeks.



“Cute, Hermione – very sexy,� Ron said, brushing his face off. “That’s probably why I couldn’t help myself last night, you’re just so irresistible. It actually was a toss up between you and Hagrid, I couldn’t decide who was more delicate and feminine, but in the end –�



“Shut up, Ronald,� Hermione placed her hand on his face. It felt so good to be able to just touch him, whenever she wanted to. So much was changing, big and small, all around her, but she looked at him and got the craziest sense of coming home. It just felt right.



“Yes, ma’am,� he said humbly, propped himself up, and kissed her. She dropped her toast and put her hands in his hair. The stopped to breathe and grinned goofily at each other.



“Wow,� he said, settling himself back in her lap, “Wowie. Totally worth losing shepherd’s pie and treacle tart and roast potatoes and –�



“Can I join you two, or am I interrupting?� Harry stood on one side of them, hands in his pocket. Speaking of changes, Hermione knew that the dynamic between the three of them was going to be different. But she didn’t worry about it. They all loved each other too much to let anything get in the way of their friendship. Besides, there were more important things to discuss…



“Well, actually, mate, you are interrupting a terribly romantic moment here,� Ron started, “I was just staring up Hermione’s nostrils while she dropped toast all over my face.� They all laughed, and Hermione knew then and there it was all going to be fine with the three of them. Harry settled himself in the grass across from Hermione and Ron sat up.



“So,� Harry began.



“So,� she and Ron echoed.



Harry looked at Ron. “Percy.�



“Yeah,� he sighed. “Percy. I’m prejudiced here, I know it. I want…I want to think that as much of a prat as he’s been in the past few years, he’s being sincere now. Percy’s never been my favorite brother, but he’s family, you know? I guess it’s hard for me to look at this as anything but positive – not that the Ministry knows what we’re doing, or having us followed, but that Percy came to his senses and did the right thing. Mum’s never been happier.� Ron scrubbed his hands over his face, seemed at a loss to continue.



Hermione glanced over at Harry. She knew his feelings were similar to Ron’s – but then, Harry really was a more trusting, less-suspicious person than she. He almost always did the right thing and just anticipated the right thing from others. That’s why he was such a great friend, and one of the things she admired the most about him. Even after all he’d been through, he could still think the best of almost everyone. Almost. Snape, her mind whispered. Something about that, a small detail, a tiny idea danced just outside her grasp, but she lost it. She shook her head to clear it. If it was important, it’d come back to her. Both of the boys were staring at her, waiting for her analysis of the situation.



“Ok, this is how I see it. As I mentioned to Harry the night of the rehearsal dinner, Percy’s not about to make my favorites list any time soon. We have a decision to make here – do we trust him? Or do we still think his loyalty lies with the Ministry? And even then, there’s no real easy answer. Maybe we can trust Percy, but maybe he’s being fed misinformation by Scrimgeour or someone else high up,� Hermione pounded her fist on the ground. “Don’t you guys see? I can’t explain this one – Harry, unless I’m wrong, you only mentioned going to Godric’s Hollow to me and Ron right after Dumbledore’s funeral, right? Just after the Minister walked away?� Harry nodded, and Hermione chewed on her lip, thinking, “I don’t know how they know, because Hogwarts is protected from all Muggle listening devices and most known magical ones. But…but, I can’t say for sure. Perhaps Dumbledore’s death weakened the charms on the school, just for a brief time? Or, god, I don’t know, were any of the three of us really paying attention? Couldn’t someone clever who really wanted to overhear our conversation, have done so in the confusion and grief of the funeral?� She paused, continued, “We have to go to the only source we have.� And it’s not ‘we’, it’s Ron. That’s the only way this might work.



“Percy,� both of the boys said together.



“Yes, but I was thinking –�



“I need to do it alone, right?� Ron had an unreadable expression on his face. He turned to her. She nodded. “You’re right. He’ll be more likely to tell me the truth, ‘cause I’m family, that’s what you’re thinking? What d’you reckon, Harry?�



“I think she’s got a point. Just…� Harry trailed off, caught Hermione’s eye. “Ron, look, mate, I know this is touchy territory, but if the conversation doesn’t go as planned, or he starts insulting people, don’t, you know –�



“Punch him in the face?� Ron finished. “Nah, I’ll leave that to Hermione, she’s got a mean left hook.� The other two laughed. “Actually, I think I heard him puttering around his old room when I left the house a few minutes ago. Now is as good a time to talk to him as any,� and with that he pushed himself off the ground and slouched towards the house.



“What are we going to do, Hermione? Either way, we’re going to have to regroup. The plan was to hit Godric’s Hollow first. That’s not going to fly, regardless. We need a new plan, a new way to approach this. Dammit! Nothing’s ever simple, is it?� Harry shook his head.



Hermione shook her head and gazed at the thunderheads in the distance. They were going to have to approach their quest differently than they’d thought. And if she wasn’t mistaken, dark times were heading their way.

The old stairs groaned and squeaked as Ron made his way towards Percy’s bedroom. He couldn’t decide whether this was the Burrow’s way of spurring him onward or warning him to stop now, before something irreparable was said or done.

Ron knew it was only his overwhelmed mind, stuffed to the brim with thoughts and feelings, all of them running around inside of him, crashing together like a bunch of hyperactive three-year-olds. The past few months, and especially the past few days, had been pure mental and emotional bombardment.

He remembered a conversation with Harry and Hermione a few years ago. It was right after Harry and Cho’s perplexing first kiss, and Hermione had patiently explained to Harry that Cho was feeling scared, guilty, sad, excited, missing Cedric, attracted to Harry, confused and upset. At the time, Ron had unbelievingly told her that no one could feel all those things at once or they’d explode. She called me an insensitive wart, he reminisced, told me I had as many emotions as a knife or a fork or something...guess it’s not surprising that she figured this stuff out a few years before Harry and I did.

Because right now, Ron completely understood what she’d said back then. Here he was, on the steps of his family’s house, feeling a jumble of things – his stomach did happy flips every time he thought about Hermione, even if it was recalling her insults; he was terrified about what was in store for them and Harry; he was agitated, confused, hopeful and nervous about confronting his wayward brother. Growing up is a pain the arse, he thought, not for the first time, and knocked on Percy’s door.

“Ron,� Percy opened the door, “Breakfast already?�

“No, Percy. Almost everyone is still sleeping. I – I – can we talk?�

“Yes, of course, please come in,� he ushered him into the spotless room. Ron couldn’t help being struck by this display of tidiness. Ron had always thought of Percy as uptight, but now he was forcefully reminded of how different he was from the rest of the loud, messy, joking, slapdash, fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants Weasleys.

They eyed each other in silence for a moment, and Ron took a good look at his brother. He looked terrible. His eyes were scrunched and shadow-rimmed, and though he’d always tended towards slimness, he now resembled a red-headed scarecrow. He looks forty-one instead of twenty-one, Ron thought, and now concern was added to his stew of emotions.

“Perce, listen, I need to ask you about what you said to us the night of the rehearsal dinner. Maybe Mum’s alright taking you back into the family fold without so much as a question, but, erm, we – I’m – not convinced.� Ron’s heart was in his throat. This was very very hard.

Percy sighed, walked over to the window. “I’m glad you came up here. I apologize for not coming to you first. I shouldn’t have said anything about what I knew until after the wedding, but I was overwhelmed. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and of course, Mum,� Ron couldn’t see his face, but Percy’s voice cracked before he continued, “They all just, as you said, took me back. But Fred and George haven’t spoken to me at all in two days. Dad seems happy but I can see that he doesn’t trust me, not quite. Like you.� Percy turned to face him.

Ron felt anger overtake him. “Well, what did you expect, Percy?!?! For me to throw a parade in your honor? You disowned the family, turned your back on Dumbledore, and tried to get me to cut off my best mate! You made Mum cry!� In Ron’s eyes these crimes were equal. Sons shouldn’t make their mums cry if they could help it. Period.

“Don’t you think I know that! Ron, listen, I can’t take back the things I’ve done, but you have to understand why I did what I did.�

“I’m waiting.�

“This is going to be hard for you to understand, but I’m going to try. I’ve – I’ve never really fit in this family, don’t you get it? The mess, the noise, the – the clutter – of this place –� he gestured around him, and Ron heard distain in his voice, “This isn’t how I want to live. The endless stream of people in and out, everyone on top of each other, into your business, not a minute of privacy, the Knut-pinching and secondhand robes and pathetic post-owl and –�

“WE’RE NOT POOR!� Ron shouted. But, of course, they were. Shame flushed his neck and ears.

“YES WE ARE!� Percy’s calm façade broke, “We always have been, and I wasn’t about to fall into that trap! When I got the job at the Ministry, it was my way out. I could prove myself, use my education and hard work to establish myself somewhere and gain respect, maybe even obtain some influence and a good salary along the way, instead of winding up like Dad, shunted off to the side in some unimportant job, no career –�

The only thing that prevented Ron from lashing out was his promise to Harry. His friend had foreseen this, and had requested he behave himself. But, oh, it would make him feel so much better to wipe that self-satisfied expression off Percy’s mouth. No, stop. You still need information, you can’t go back to Harry and Hermione without finding out what Percy knows.

“Don’t worry, Percy. You’ll never be like Dad. He puts his family first,� Ron said it because it was true, but he wasn’t prepared for the look on his brother’s face. He looked more stunned then he would’ve if Ron actually had hit him. His face went gray. In fact, Ron was worried for a minute that Percy might just collapse where he stood. Instead, he staggered over to his bed and almost fell onto the edge of it.

“I know. I know,� Percy covered his face with his hands, and the words escaped through his fingers, “All of it, the Ministry, and Umbridge and Fudge and Scrimgeour, it was like a dream come true, at first. Even after the disaster with Mr. Crouch…they seemed to respect me, gave me important assignments, I couldn’t believe how well it was all going. Even…even when they started badmouthing Dumbledore, I thought maybe they had a point. He was an extraordinary wizard, but honestly, he was a bit eccentric. He never respected the Ministry, or wizarding laws, the way he should’ve.� Percy looked up at Ron. “Neither did Harry, Ron. And I could see you heading down that path, too.�

“You know? I’d rather break a few rules, do things a little differently than the ‘Ministry-approved’ way, than betray my friends and family. There are ways, Percy, of being successful without turning your back on the people that love you. Look – look at Fred and George, they’ve got Galleons falling out of their pockets, their shop has done so well, and lo and behold, they’re still on speaking terms with the whole family. Even manage to get Mum to cook them Sunday dinner every week.�

A shadow of a grin crossed Percy’s lips. “Fred and George. There’s what, about a year between us and yet they’re more of a mystery to me than anyone else in the family. They’re crazy and funny and brave as hell – I can’t believe the way they left Hogwarts.� Percy paused, “You know, Ron? Sometimes I wonder how I wound up a Gryffindor. I’m not brave at all. I never have been.�

These words were like a gigantic spotlight illuminating Ron’s mind. This was the opportunity he’d been hoping for. He knew exactly how he had to approach this. Now he understood why Harry and Hermione wanted him to do this without them. No wonder Hermione always looks like she just won a sweepstakes when she figures something out. This is bloody brilliant. “Well, Perce, I wouldn’t say that. You’re here, right? That took some guts. And you want to help Harry – help me – by letting us know the Ministry’s watching us. You want to make sure that we go into this with our eyes opened. So, c’mon Perce – be brave, be a Gryffindor, be a Weasley and tell me what you know. We can’t make our next move without you. Whaddya say?� He held his breath. C’mon. C’mon!

Percy stood. He walked a few paces away, turned to face his brother. “Alright, Ron. I don’t know how much it’ll help. But I’ll tell you everything I know.�

Harry gasped as the first cold raindrop hit his arm. He heard Hermione shift around next to him and looked up at her. He had been lost in thought for the past thirty minutes. Both of their heads turned heavenward. The bruise-colored clouds above were tearing open.



“We better make a run for it,� she said. She had lapsed into uncharacteristic silence after Ron had left to speak with Percy. Harry had left her alone. He knew that brain of hers was going full force, and he didn’t want to interrupt her. They reached the porch’s protective eaves just as the rain emptied in a nearly-solid sheet of water from the skies.



“Close call,� Harry said.



“I think we’d better get used to close calls. I have feeling we’re going to run into a few of them in the near future. If we’re lucky,� Hermione replied grimly. She started pacing the length of the porch. “What is Ron doing up there? What are they talking about?!?!? It’s so frustrating just having to just wait!� Her hair crackled with electricity from the air.



“C’mon, Hermione, this situation has to be handled a certain way. What is Ron supposed to do? Once Percy ‘fesses up, if he ‘fesses up, he can’t just say, ‘Well, jolly good, thanks for the info, I gotta toddle off and go spill the beans to Harry and Hermione’. This is a serious conversation. They’re brothers, after all, that means something,� Harry finished, shrugging.



Hermione stopped pacing. Now her eyes were shooting off sparks, just like her hair. “What’d you just say?�



“What? That Ron and Percy are brothers?? Hermione, you know this, it’s not some revelat-�



“No, no, no, Harry! Not Ron and Percy! I just – brothers, of course – he’d have been close to – he might have known what was going on – what he’d plan to do with the Horcruxes – maybe he changed his mind at the last minute…?� she seemed to have forgotten that Harry was there. But no. “Harry! Do you have the locket that you found when you were with Dumbledore?? Better still, do you have the letter from inside the locket?� Hermione was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She seemed ready to explode.



Harry caught some of her excitement, though, in truth, he was a bit exasperated as well. As Ron had often said, why couldn’t she just tell them what she’d thought of instead of tossing non sequiturs into the air and demanding they tag along blindly till they caught up? “Hermione! Look, my brain doesn’t move as quickly as yours does. Slow down, tell me what you’ve thought –�



The back door burst open between them and Ron came out of the Burrow, his face unreadable. Hermione and Harry each grabbed one of his arms.



“So!?!??!�



“That was…a lot to take in,� Ron began. “But, I can tell you one thing, for sure – we aren’t going to Godric’s Hollow in the next few days.�



“Ron!!� Hermione squealed. “We’re dying here! Tell us what Percy said!�



“Yeah, Ron, how’d it go?� As anxious as he was, Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself. Hermione most certainly did not like being uninformed.



“Look…there’s a lot to say,� Ron pitched his voice low, “Mum’s up and about, and I heard the twins heading down for one more breakfast before they head back to Hogsmeade for good. We need to go somewhere we won’t be overheard.�



“Yes! Also, Harry and I were just discussing the locket and I thought that –� Hermione stopped herself, continued, “But that can wait. We want to hear what you found out, Ron,� she twisted her hands together impatiently.



“Well, there’s the broom shed. It’s not pretty, but no one else will be around,� Ron suggested. The three of them looked at each other, looked at the torrent of water falling from the sky, and dashed towards the rickety wooden building.



They all stood for a moment in the small, dusty shed, catching their breath. Harry couldn’t help but remember that the last time he was in this shed, he was with Dumbledore. He tried to ignore the sadness that seeped into the cracks of his heart and took out his wand, pointed it at himself and his friends in turn so that their damp clothes steamed dry. Without a word, Harry and Hermione settled themselves on the small wooden bench that held several moldy jars of broom polish, and gazed expectantly up at Ron, who was leaning against the latched door.



Harry noticed that Ron seemed uncomfortable at their solemn attention. He cleared his throat. “So, well, where do I start…?� he trailed off, overwhelmed.



“How about with why we can’t go to Godric’s Hollow? How did Percy know we were going to be there?� Harry urged. He understood how Ron was feeling, but he was eager to hear what had transpired between the brothers.



“Well…� Ron started, “Ok, look you two, I want to say one thing before I get started here. I believe that Percy told me the truth. Or, I think that he thinks everything he told me is the truth…I mean, I don’t think he’s trying to trick us…� Ron threw his hands in the air in frustration, “Do you know what I’m saying?�



“You trust his motives,� Hermione offered.



“Yes,� Ron gave her a grateful smile, continued “So, here’s what happened. Percy told me he’s been questioning the Ministry’s effectiveness for awhile now, especially since Fudge got booted from his position. He said that – that although Scrimgeour is tough and most of the lower-level Ministry employees respect and even fear him, there’s a lot fighting and backstabbing at the top. No one trusts anyone else anymore and people have been spending more time since Scrimgeour’s appointment gossiping about this one and that one rather than doing their jobs,� Ron paused, grinned, “You can imagine how Percy felt about people shirking their jobs.� He leaned against the rickety shed door, crossed his arms over his chest. He was settling into his story.



“Well, Scrimgeour had been keeping Percy close by for awhile, ever since last Christmas, when they came here under false pretenses,� Ron looked disgusted for a moment, then went on, “I guess he felt that Percy had proven his loyalty or something. When…when Dumbledore died, Scrimgeour told Percy he had a very important project for him, and –� Ron didn’t seem able to go on.



“What is it, mate?� Harry questioned.



“Ron?� Hermione stood up, placed a hand on his shoulder.



“It’s just – just – how stupid Percy was!! For someone so smart, he was just so – so blind to how they were using him to get information on –on Harry, and Dumbledore and –�



“Everyone has a part of them that wants to feel important, Ron. Fudge, Scrimgeour, Umbridge – they all saw that part of Percy and used it to their benefit,� Hermione said softly and sat back down next to Harry.



“Yeah, well, Harry, you know if I hadn’t promised you I wouldn’t deck him…� he trailed off, then picked up the thread of his story again, “Anyway, Scrimgeour came to Percy after he heard about Dumbledore’s death. He asked Percy to accompany him to the funeral and, as he put it, ‘be his eyes and ears’. Percy was to report back to Scrimgeour everything he possibly could about what was said or done by anyone close to Dumbledore at the funeral. But – but the Minister made it clear to Percy that he wasn’t to approach Harry. Or, for that matter, you or me, Hermione.�



“Why?�



“Because he had his own plans for us, right, Ron?� Harry asked.



“Yeah,� Ron sighed, “Scrimgeour trusted Percy’s loyalty to the Ministry to an extent - although, by that time, Percy was beginning to have doubts of his own - but apparently not enough to question Harry…who, aside from a few Death Eaters, was the last person to spend any time with Dumbledore. Scrimgeour also had enough information at hand to know that what Harry knows, all three of know. He had something else in mind for us…�



“What was it?� Harry pressed.



“He found a way to listen in on our conversation at the funeral, according to Percy. A few nights ago, the night of the rehearsal dinner, Percy was working very late – he actually came right from the Ministry to the Burrow that night – and he said he was trying to keep his mind off the wedding. He was feeling bad about not coming to the wedding, he said, he wasn’t sure how everyone would react if he did show up,� Ron paused, cleared his throat, “Anyway, the offices were empty and dark, Percy thought everyone had gone home for the night. He walked past this supply closet, you know, where they store quills and such and – and, ok, here’s where I am taking a leap of faith regarding Percy – I have a hard time believe that the Minister wouldn’t be more cautious, but it was late and no one’s perfect right? So, Percy walks by this closet or whatever it is, and the door’s cracked open a bit. He hears Scrimgeour’s voice coming from inside of it. He stops, of course. It’s late, there’s no one else around, and why is the Minister of Magic in a storage cupboard?�



Harry’s was perched on the very edge of the bench. Hermione hand was latched onto his shoulder in a death grip. “Ron!!� They both cried.



“Right. Right! Ok, so Percy hears the Minister’s voice coming from the supply cupboard. It seemed to be a one-sided conversation. Scrimgeour was talking to someone, but Percy didn’t hear anyone else, and he could only see Scrimgeour’s back. Scrimgeour was saying something like, ‘Good, good. Well, you’ve been able to avoid detection so far, I have faith in you…we know they’re heading to Godric’s Hollow shortly after that Weasley wedding, Potter himself said it. That’s the key – you have to follow them there and report back to me, once you discover what they’re doing.’ Percy said that Scrimgeour paused for a moment, as if listening to someone. Then he said, ‘Yes, yes, don’t worry about that. The Ministry appreciates your assistance with this. You’ll be compensated accordingly.’ Percy said that the Minister almost caught him eavesdropping. He turned and practically ran back to his desk, trying to be as quiet as possible. Scrimgeour showed up about fifteen minutes later, blustering at Percy for being such a hard worker, et cetera, et cetera, and suggested to him he should attend Bill and Fleur’s wedding. And come back this week with a full report. And…and that’s that,� Ron seemed exhausted.



The three of them looked at each other for a minute, and then Hermione leapt to her feet. “What does this mean? Who could the Minister have been talking to? Do we believe Percy? Sorry, Ron, but do we? God, I think this creates more questions than answers and I’ll be –� she was interrupted by a pounding on the shed door.



“Who is it?!?!??!� The three of them cried in unison.



“It’s Ginny - and it’s pissing down house elves out here, so open the bloody door!!� They all laughed and Harry swung the door open. Ginny stood there, her red hair plastered to her face in wet strips.



“Gin, I’m sorry,� he started gently, taking off his jacket and putting it around her shoulders, “We’re just discussing some stuff that’s –�



“I know, I know,� she rolled her eyes, “only for the Secret Order of the Society of You Three.� She took any bitterness out of the words with a rain-soaked kiss. “I just came to tell you lot – come to lunch, Mum says. Actually not just Mum – Lupin’s here. And he says he needs to talk to all of you. He says it’s about Grimmauld Place.�

Chapter 16 – Eyes and Ears

After assuring her they’d be along in a few minutes, the three of them stood in the doorway of the old shed and watched Ginny run across the lawn, Harry’s jacket held over her head to protect her from the lashing rain.

“Wonder what Lupin wants?� Ron asked idly. Harry shrugged.

Hermione had an idea about that, but she wanted her friends to focus on the discussion at hand. “I think I know what Lupin wants, and if I’m right, it’s going to help us tremendously. But first, what are we going to do with the information Ron got from Percy?� she started, and Ron and Harry exchanged glances. Bossy, is what that exchange said, and Hermione sighed. She knew she took control of things sometimes, but honestly, how else was anything going to get done? “Look, you two, that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to, but one thing at a time, right?�

“You’re right, Hermione,� Harry said, and Ron grunted in agreement. “So, do we believe Percy? I’m going vote for moving forward based on the idea that the information he gave Ron was true, to the best of his knowledge. Hermione?� He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She hesitated. She just wasn’t sure…but they had to believe something, they had to make some sort of decision. She gazed at Ron for a moment. Being friends with her and Harry was probably tough on him sometimes. The accidental hero and the girl who seemed to have an answer for everything all the time. But I don’t, she thought, frustrated, I don’t have answer for all of this. But we can’t just stand in the spidery old shed forever. We have to move forward. Ok. Ok, I most certainly don’t have complete faith in Percy. But, but I DO have complete faith in Ron.

“I think…I agree with you guys. For now, let’s take Percy’s story at face value. We’re just going to have to be careful, that’s all,� she said. She couldn’t help but notice the grateful expression that flashed across Ron’s face. “But…can I say something?� It wouldn’t do any of them any good if what she said fell on deaf ears. She needed their attention.

“Of course,� Harry said.

“Please, Ms. Know-It-All, we’re all a-flutter to hear what fascinating things you have to say,� Ron said, batting his eyelashes at her. He put his arm around her shoulder as Harry chuckled.

“Funny, really, Ron,� she replied. She took a deep breath. “Ok, two things you guys. One is, since we’re taking Percy on his word, we have to assume we’re being watched. By no one less than the Minister of Magic. And, we’re not really sure of Scrimgeour’s motives. What do we know about him, really? He was an Auror, ok. He and Dumbledore didn’t see eye to eye, fine. He’s –�

“A politically-motivated slimeball,� Harry interjected, disgusted.

“Right, Harry. But that doesn’t make him evil or a Death Eater or anything even remotely like that,� she concluded. “What we need to remember is that the Ministry is made up of lots of people, you guys. Some of them may be working for Voldemort. Stop wincing, Ron. For example, we know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy had the ears and pockets of many Ministry employees. But, there are also a lot of people there actively working against Voldemort, like your Dad, Ron. And Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Ministry is made up of dozens of people, all with their own individual agendas. And part of Scrimgeour’s seems to be keeping tabs on Harry. For his own reasons, whatever they may be.�

“So…if we don’t think that Scrimgeour is working for the Death Eaters or out to hurt Harry, then why do we even care that he’s watching us? Sure, it’s a crap thing to do, but does it really matter?� Ron queried.

“Yes, Ron, it does,� Harry said thoughtfully, “Hermione’s right, I don’t think Scrimgeour would ever knowingly work for Voldemort, even under threat or duress. And while it’s possible he’s under the Imperius Curse, I don’t think it’s probable. But even assuming that the Minister is having us followed for his own, less-threatening reasons, it’s going make things harder for us, more dangerous. I don’t know about you guys, but the Ministry hasn’t done much in the past few years to get any votes of confidence from me. Chances are, he’s going to draw more attention to us, intentionally or not. And it’s simple numbers, you two. The more people that know about the Horcruxes and any details surrounding our search, the greater chance that the information will reach the wrong ears…� Harry trailed off, though it seemed like he had something else on his mind.

“What is it, Harry?� Hermione urged.

“It’s – it’s something Dumbledore said to me. About the prophecy, and how – how much store Voldemort has put into it.�

“You mean all that stuff about one of you having to die?� Ron had paled considerably and his grip on Hermione’s shoulder tightened involuntarily. She understood how he was feeling.

“Yeah,� Harry replied, “But Dumbledore said the difference between Voldemort and me is that I didn’t have to believe any prophecy. Dumbledore – he – he understood that no matter what, whether that prophecy existed or not, that I won’t –can’t – rest until Voldemort’s dead.� He stopped for a moment and looked straight at them. “But it’s not just that I want him dead, you guys. I don’t want the Ministry or anyone else to know what we’re up to, because, I want to do it myself. I need to do it myself. For Dumbledore. For Sirius. For my mum and dad. No one is going to take that away from me, not Scrimgeour, not anyone.� His voice was low and urgent.

Hermione felt an icy hand squeeze her heart. Not for the first time, or the last she was sure, she thought, It’ll be a miracle if we all make it through this alive. It really will. Panic fluttered in her throat like a trapped bird. “We understand, Harry, we do.� She managed to choke the words out.

Ron looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. “So…Hermione, you said there were two things you wanted to tell us…what’s the other?� He reached out and put his free hand on Harry’s shoulder. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was to offer comfort to Harry or to steady himself.

“Well, the other thing we’re going to have to face is that the spy – for lack of a better word – that Scrimgeour is working with could really be just about anyone. I don’t know about you guys, but I was pretty distracted at Dumbledore’s funeral. I’m sure that’s what Scrimgeour was counting on. And while Hogwarts is one of the most magically protected sites in the world, it’s not impervious to stealth. Rita Skeeter, for example. If the Minster asked her to, I’m sure it’d take her all of thirty seconds to agree to using her Animagus abilities to get dirt on us, especially if they were paying her enough,� Hermione paused, scowled, “But it’s even worse than that, really. I mean, we should know better than most that even an Invisibility Cloak will keep you out of sight if you’re careful about being quiet. There’s endless possibilities, really, and Scrimgeour struck when Hogwarts’ enchantments were at their weakest…right after Dumbledore died but before anyone could recoup.�

“So…so what are we going to do then?� Harry said helplessly. “What you’re saying then, Hermione, is that we could be being watched and listened to at any time, any place - that there’s no where we can go and know we can speak freely? How are we going to do this?�

Hermione pulled both of her friends in close, so that their noses were almost touching. “No, Harry. That’s the thing. I think there is somewhere we can go, in fact. And not only can we stay there and plan freely, I think there may be another piece of the puzzle there…at least one in fact,� her voice was barely a whisper and heart was beating hard and fast in her chest. “We’re going to talk to Lupin right now. Because Ron’s right, we’re not going to Godric’s Hollow first – we’re going to Grimmauld place.�

Grimmauld Place? Ron thought as the three of them tore across the lawn, pelted by cold raindrops. Why do we want to go to Grimmauld Place? Once again, Hermione’s brain was several steps ahead of his and Harry’s. And, hadn’t she mentioned something about the locket earlier, when he’d first come to speak with them? Ron wasn’t sure if he could handle anymore information right now.

Harry walked into the Burrow just ahead of him and Hermione. Ron smelled potatoes and frying mushrooms and suddenly felt hungrier than he had since the arrival of a certain best friend of his. His lunch dreams were interrupted by a damp hand on his wrist. Hermione’s wild hair was dotted with raindrops. Almost as nice as the rhinestones, he thought and smiled to himself.

“I – I just wanted to say that, well, what you did with Percy was brilliant. Really,� she smiled at him, laced her fingers through his. “I just hope – hope that he appreciates what an amazing brother - family - he has. I want to believe he does.� She grinned at him.

His chest felt as if it were filled with a warm, buoyant substance. He noticed her pink cheeks and felt her fingers pressed into his hand. Bloody hell, he thought, how long is this going to last? I can’t even look at her without feeling like I’ve gone barking mad. But in a good way. “Thanks. Thanks,� he paused, more aware then ever of the places where their bodies almost touched. “Uh…Hermione? You’re going to have to stop holding my hand and stuff, I think...� Then maybe I can actually eat some lunch...if I don’t stare at you the entire time…

Hermione reacted as if his hand had become burning hot. She yanked her own free and stepped away from him. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind before, so I just thought that –� With one step Ron closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her. You git, he thought, grinning into the top of her head, She’s smart, but she’s no mind reader. She has no idea what you’re on about!!

“Ron?� Muffled, from somewhere near his armpit.

“Hermione, I’m sorry, I know the past few seconds made absolutely no sense to you. They hardly made sense to me,� he laughed. She craned her neck up at him. “I was just thinking about how good lunch smelled and Mum’s cooking and all, and then you complimented me –� now he was the one blushing, but she was listening very closely to him, and he was very aware of each breath she took and the warmth of her back through her t-shirt. “- and I was just thinking that – that – if I didn’t figure out a way to be around you without feeling like I do before a Quidditch match, I’d never eat again.�

“Quidditch! With you boys it always comes back to Quidditch, doesn’t it?� But she was smiling. “Ronald Weasely, without an appetite? Seems impossible…� now she was teasing him. She kissed him quickly, but he held her tight for a minute longer.

“What does Lupin want? I know you know.�

“I think I know. I’m not sure but I think it’s –�

“C’mon, you lovebirds, Remus really needs to speak with you lot together, and he’s already running late,� Tonks’ head, sporting a very dark, shoulder-length hairdo, popped out of the kitchen window.

“Hey, Tonks! We were just coming,� Hermione greeted the older girl, her face turning pinker.

As he looked at her, Ron couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of it – the start of their quest. Once the two of them walked into the kitchen, everything was going to change for him, Harry and Hermione.

“Hermione?�

Her hand was on the back door. “Yes, Ron?�

“You…you scared?�

“No,� she said, “No, actually – I’m terrified.�

Somehow, it made it easier knowing this. “Me too,� he replied. “Me too.�

“Well, Mr. Weasely,� she began, trying on a lopsided smile, “Let’s just tackle lunch first – that is, if you can handle it.� Their laughter as they walked into the Burrow didn’t make the fear disappear, but Ron thought it made it a bit more bearable.

* * *

“Ok, we’re all here,� Lupin smiled at Ron and Hermione as they entered the kitchen. Tonks was seated next to him, digging her spoon appreciatively into a plate of shepherd’s pie. Harry and Ginny were standing by the stove, receiving steaming plates from Mrs. Weasely. Ron noticed with a start the pair at the far end of the table. His Dad and Percy were sitting across from each other, oblivious to the rest of the group, talking quietly. As he watched, his Dad said something, and Percy chuckled and muttered, “Well, Dad, you’ve got me there.� Arthur clapped his hand on Percy’s shoulder.

Ron noticed his Mum’s gaze kept sliding towards them, the hopeful look on her face squeezing his heart. She caught him looking and smiled hesitantly. He returned it. I really hope Percy’s telling the truth. I really do. Because if he’s not, I may just have to –

“That’s because of you, Ron,� Hermione’s voice pitched to a whisper, nodding at his Dad and brother. He smiled, took a seat at the table as everyone settled down for lunch.

"Well, I guess we can get started!" Lupin began over the sound of clinking forks and plates, "I'm here for a few reasons, the first being is that I'd like to formally invite four people sitting at this table - all of whom I've had the pleasure of teaching - to become members of the Order of the Phoenix." He smiled at Harry, Ron, Hermione...and Percy, who looked shocked.

"Really Professor? All of us?" Hermione queried, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Ron could tell she hadn't meant to ask this question aloud, and Percy was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes, Hermione, all of you. Percy and Arthur will be working on a special project together for the Order -" he nodded at the two men, "- and, as Harry's had his birthday - oh, that reminds me Harry, I've something for you later - you three are of age and I think that -"

"They may be of age, Remus," Molly interrupted, "but their still students! We made the twins wait until they'd left school, and I know we've discussed this, however -"

"Molly, I understand your concerns. But things are different then they were even a year ago, wouldn't you say? Every single person at this table - and yes, Ginny, you're included in that comment, and you'd be getting your own invitation if you were of age as well - everyone at this table has shown that they are committed to the cause and capable of working against Dark wizards. And I know no matter what anyone says, Molly, Harry's in this 'til the end, or am I wrong, Harry?"

"You're not wrong, Professor. Until the end, as you say. Whatever that end is," Ron hadn't ever seen his friend so fierce, and he noticed Ginny's face pale considerably under its smattering of freckles. She clutched Harry's wrist tightly.

"I expected no less from you, Harry, and I also understand about the bonds of friendship, having been lucky enough to have several extraordinary ones of my own," Lupin cast a significant look at Tonks, "I appreciate the fact that where you go and whatever obstacles you face, these two won't be far behind. If history serves as example," he gestured at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione simply nodded, but Ron cleared his throat, "You're right, Professor. Harry knows that whatever needs to be done, no matter what it is - sorry, Mum! - we're here to help him. There's really no question about it." He looked down at his hands, but he could feel everyone's eyes on him. His risked a glance at his best mate. Harry nodded imperceptibly, thanks filling his eyes.

"Oh, Ronnie!" His Mum was sniffling, looking proudly at him with red-rimmed eyes. Ron felt an odd mixture of seriously uncomfortable and very very pleased. There was a moment where no one spoke.

"Erm...Professor? Ginny mentioned that you were here about Number 12 Grimmauld?" Hermione broke the silence, a tiny gleam in her eye. Oh, Ron knew it. We'd do worse than to have Hermione running the Ministry...though there'd probably be a ridiculous amount of rules. He chuckled to himself.

"Yes, Hermione, I do have a bit of business about Number 12, and if I'm not mistaken, the cleverest witch of her age already knows what it is," Lupin teased her, and she blushed, but there was no mistaking the admiration in his voice. "Do you want to clue everyone else in?"

"Well, no, Professor, it's really Order business, and I'm not entirely sure what's -" Hermione stammered.

"Alright, I'll leave you be for now, but I'd like to say I don't envy your professors this year. You'll be teaching them, more like than not," Lupin finished, and she, Harry and Ron guiltily avoided each other's gaze. “As Hermione so kindly reminded me, I have one other piece of Order business to attend to before I take leave of you all. Harry, I know that Dumbledore told you last year that Sirius had willed you his old family house. We were glad to discover that despite wizarding traditions of property passing from blood relative to blood relative, that you, and not Bellatrix Lestrange, are the rightful owner of Number 12 Grimmauld. This is important primarily because of the house elf, Kreacher, and all the of Order’s business he knows, but also because Number 12 is a powerful house with many many layers of magical history and enchantments on it. The building itself, and the contents of it, are assets to the Order. That is, of course, if you are willing to let us use it,� he finished.

“Of course, Professor, I told Dumbledore last year that the Order could stay at Grimmauld Place as long as they’d like,� Harry said.

“Well, Harry, that’s very generous of you, and I am sure the Order would love, once again, to have a place to call ‘home’. There’s one thing we have to do first beforehand, though, and as the current owner of Grimmauld Place, you are the only one capable of doing so,� Lupin began. Ron felt Hermione’s legs moving anxiously back and forth under the table next to him.

“What’s that, Professor?� Harry asked.

“Well, Harry, with Dumbledore’s death, a lot of people lost a lot of things. The Order, for one, lost its Secret Keeper. I’m here today, Harry, because if the Order’s headquarters is to be Number 12 Grimmauld, you will have to appoint a new one. And I suggest you choose carefully.�

“You have to be the one, Harry. Sirius appointed Dumbledore, and now you have to appoint someone else,� Lupin looked expectantly at him. Harry felt Ginny hand press even harder on his wrist. Ron and Mrs. Weasely had slightly puzzled, worried expressions on their faces. Hermione, he noticed, seemed anxious but not the least bit surprised.

“I don’t understand, Professor. You know where Number 12 Grimmauld is, why can’t you – or anyone in the Order for that matter – appoint a new Secret Keeper?� Harry honestly didn’t want anymore responsibilities right now. The world seemed to be crushing in on him and wait a second there was a flaw to this plan anyway –

“You can’t use Grimmauld place, Professor!!! SNAPE knows where it is!� Harry nearly spat the words from his mouth.

“You’re right, Harry, and that’s why I’m here, because the sooner we appoint a new Secret Keeper, the sooner Number 12 will be safe again, from, erm, any former members of the Order,� Lupin’s normally calm expression darkened for a moment. “How much do you know about the Fidelius Charm?�

Harry exchanged very quick glances with Ron and Hermione. Most of what he knew about the Fidelius Charm came from Professor Flitwick’s brief description nearly four years ago….and never mind that this description was overheard and took place during a conversation that he and his friends had been eavesdropping on.

“Well…I know it’s a tough spell. And that it conceals a secret inside a person. That – that the only way a secret hidden by the Fidelius Charm can be revealed is if the Secret Keeper chooses to reveal it. I also know that by choosing the wrong Secret Keeper, my parents got themselves killed,� Harry said this last bit without realizing how bitter it would sound, without realizing that maybe he was a little angry with his parents…for trusting the wrong person. Lupin seemed like he wanted to address this, but didn’t say anything. “But, Professor, that’s not the point. The point is, how can Number 12 Grimmauld possibly be safe if Snape knows where it is?�

“That’s a good question Harry, and I’m actually going to let the expert handle this one,� he gestured to Tonks, the corners of his mouth twitching with a whisper of a grin. “Nympha - Tonks – was kind enough to accompany me here this afternoon, because she’s the one that will be performing the Fidelius Charm today. I’m going to leave it to her to explain to you.�

“Well, you lot, what Harry said about the Fidelius Charm is right, but it doesn’t give you the full scope of the spell,� Tonks began, waving her hands around in a circle and knocking over her water glass, “Whoops, sorry Molly. Anyway, you’re right Harry, the charm is meant to ‘store’ a secret inside one person. The secret can only be revealed by the Secret Keeper, the person who houses the secret. You’re right to be worried about Snape, but only because, at the present time, the location of Number 12 isn’t protected by the Fidelius Charm.�

“But Tonks, I don’t understand. Snape knows where Grimmauld is. He won’t just – just – forget, right?� Harry was frustrated.

“Ok…hmmm. How can I explain how the charm works?� Tonks drummed her fingers on the table and Hermione reached out to still her newly-refilled, wobbling water glass. “I’ve got it! Think of Number 12 as the Gryffindor common room, the Fidelius Charm as the portrait of the Fat Lady, and the Secret Keeper as the password that lets you in. See? Once the Secret Keeper changes, you start from zero. So, all the people who learned about Number 12 from Dumbledore would no longer have the right ‘password’. Me, Remus, Molly, Arthur, the whole Order, including Snape – the new Secret Keeper would have to tell us again. We don’t forget, per se, but we no longer have the means to enter. It would be the same as if you were standing in front of the Fat Lady without the right password. You know the common room is there, but you can’t get to it anymore. Does that make sense?�

It did, and everyone else nodded, understanding lighting their eyes. Hermione’s, especially, seemed nearly on fire. Harry saw that Lupin’s smile had grown a bit, and he was watching Tonks with admiration.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself! So, Harry, as owner of Number 12, the location is your information to give to a Secret Keeper that you choose.� Lupin’s smile faded a bit as he continued. “I won’t lie to you, Harry. You have to choose someone you trust explicitly, but that’s not all. The Secret Keeper must understand that he or she could wind up being – being tortured – to reveal the headquarters’ location if they ever found themselves at the mercy of a Death Eater. I’d offer myself, but – well, let’s just say the work I’m doing for the Order – not to mention my ‘furry little problem,’-� he gave Harry a strained grin, “doesn’t make me the best candidate.�

Everyone sat quietly for a minute, and Harry could feel both Ron and Hermione preparing to speak. He also knew that if Mr. and Mrs. Weasely weren’t in the room, Ginny’s voice’d be added to the conversation in no time flat. I can’t let any of them put themselves in danger like that, I WON’T let them.

“Professor, can’t I just be the Secret Keeper myself and –�

“Well, Mum, I know you won’t be happy about this, but Harry, I’ll do it if-�

“Harry! I knew this is what Lupin wanted and I’m more than happy to do –�

He, Ron and Hermione had all begun speaking at once. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.

“I won’t let either of you put yourself in that position! Professor, I want to be the Secret Keeper myself for Number –�

“Oh, Harry! Don’t you see? You can’t be the Secret Keeper, it’s so obvious and you already have enough –“

“Hermione’s right, mate, you’ve gotta let one of us take it on, and I don’t think she should, so I’ll do it –�

“What d’you mean, Ronald? I am just as capable as you are of –�

“That’s enough, you lot, though there’s no doubt you’re all Gryffindors. Harry, Hermione’s right, you can’t add Secret Keeper to your growing list of responsibilities. Of course, I anticipated Ron or Hermione offering to fill the position, and, seeing that, at least for another year, all of you will be relatively safe at Hogwarts, this is probably the wisest choice. Well, you’ll be as safe as any of us can be,� Lupin finished. Harry was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable about lying to everyone about their returning to school.

“Professor? Tonks? Mr. and Mrs. Weasely? I’m sorry – but, but I think that Harry, Ron and I need to discuss this, um, privately,� Hermione’s voice was soft and modulated, but she seemed to be sending urgent signals to Ron and Harry with her eyes.

“Of course,� Lupin nodded, and Tonks followed suit. Mrs. Weasely opened her mouth to say something but took a sip of her tea instead. Percy and Mr. Weasely seemed only peripherally involved in the conversation, Percy speaking quickly and urgently to his father.

“Let’s go talk upstairs, guys,� Ron stood up, and he and Hermione ascended the steps. Harry went to follow and realized he wasn’t alone. Ginny was next to him, her face pale and her lips pressed together. They reached the first landing and just stood there for a moment.

“Gin, I just – I don’t know what I can say – it’s not that-,� he stopped. He was out of words for the moment.

“No, Harry, but I do know what to say. I’m trying to keep it together here, but I’m in a very frustrating position. Dammit! I wish I was seventeen! But even then, I’m not sure I’d choose to do what the three of you are doing. Mum…Dad…they’re going to be absolutely mad with worry when they find out what you guys have planned. I know Ron spoke with Percy this morning, and if he knows what you guys are up to, chances are other people do too,� Ginny’s hand tightened on his arm. “Look, Harry, I love you the way you are and I don’t want you to change but…�

Harry lost the thread of the conversation. She’d just said she loved him. He suppose he knew that, but still, his heart bounced up and down a few times in his chest. She loved him.

“…and the danger of it doesn’t faze me. It’s just that, I want to be informed. Tell me everything, even the bad stuff. I just need to know what’s going on. Harry? Harry, are you listening to me at all? Harry?� Ginny’s hand left his arm and came to a rest on his cheek.

“You said you loved me.�

“Well, yes, course I do, but you’re missing the point completely,� she seemed put out by the whole thing, but as she rolled her eyes at him, Harry heart felt lighter than he had since this day began a thousand years ago.

“Ginny, I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but I love you, too,� Harry laughed, and kissed her forehead, her freckled cheeks, then her mouth for good measure. “And I can’t promise to stop protecting you, but I do promise, as you requested to keep you ‘informed’ as best I can.�

She smiled at him, with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Don’t tell me the hero of our age can’t tell when a girl loves him? What did you think, I wanted to be your pen pal or something?�

“Come on, Harry!� Hermione’s bushy head popped around the next set of risers on the staircase, “We really need to discuss this now.�

“Coming, Hermione. But Ginny’s joining us,� they resumed their ascent up the staircase.

“Well, obviously she is, she deserves to know what’s going on. Now, hurry up!� Hermione huffed, spun and walked into Ron’s room.

Harry and Ginny giggled. “That’s what I love most about Hermione, really,� Ginny began, “She’s such a sweet, patient person.�

Harry laughed, but his insides were in a jumble. In a few minutes, he was going to have to choose which of his best friends to put in more danger.

Hermione stood by Ron’s window, looking out at the pouring rain. Ron sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. She heard Harry and Ginny voices in the hall, their muffled laughter. She hoped they came in soon.

She turned around, resting her back again the steamy windowpane. Ron looked up at her but didn’t say anything. She knew they were both keeping their mouths shut so as to avoid a row. This is ridiculous, she thought, we’re going to fight sometimes, it’s practically an unwritten rule for the two of us.

“Ron, can we just –�

“Hermione, let me explain –�

They smiled ruefully at each other and something in her chest loosened. She walked over and sat down on the bed beside him. He was gazing at his hands again, flexing his fingers as if the answer to this dilemma was going to appear out of thin air, and he needed to be prepared to grab it when it did.

“Go ahead, say what you’ve got to say,� she prodded him.

“Why do you want to be the Secret Keeper?� He asked. She could he was struggling to keep his voice calm.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? For the same reasons you do, Ron,� she began, choosing her words carefully. “To help Harry. To help the Order. And…� but she trailed off. She wasn’t going to say anything about the idea that had come to her earlier this morning until Harry and Ginny were here.

“And, what?�

“No, not until the others come in. I have an idea about something...� she trailed off. A look of both admiration and irritation crossed Ron’s face.

“You always have an idea about something,� his voice was wistful. Now he raised his eyes to meet hers. There was a darkness to their blue this afternoon, as if in response to the storm raging outside. “Let me do it, Hermione. Let me. Don’t you get it? Lupin thinks we’re all going back to Hogwarts, that we’re going to have some sort of protection this year, or he’d never let one of us be Secret Keeper! And if we refuse now, it’ll make everyone suspicious. I – I won’t let you do it. I won’t.� He seemed prepared to argue the point.

She fought back the indignation that rose up in her chest. What does he think? I can’t handle it? That I’m not aware of the fact that we’re all headed for some serious danger? She tried to fight it. No matter what, if they were going to investigate her hunch, she or Ron had to be named Secret Keeper. “Ron, listen, I’m just as capable of doing this as you are and I don’t –�

“No, Hermione! You’ve got to listen to me! Don’t you get it? With Dumbledore dead and Vol – Volde- Voldemort gaining strength, witches and wizards from Muggle families are going to be targeted! You’re in more danger than I am of being captured by Death Eaters, and they know you’re connected to Harry –�

“I could say the same about you, Ron! We’re all at risk here, and me being Muggle-born doesn’t affect my odds very much one way or the other! I can’t believe you’re being so stubborn about this! Harry should be allowed to choose one of us on his own,� she finished.

She watched his hands, which kept clenching and unclenching. He was looking down at them once again. “Do you know,� he began, his voice barely audible, “do you know, Hermione, how I would feel if you – you were – were tortured – for information, and I could have been the one in your place? If something happened to you and I could have prevented it?�

She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. “Yes, Ron. I do. Because I would feel the same way if it were you.� He lifted his head up, startled. It seemed that this concept hadn’t occurred to him. “We’re going to have to give up the idea that we, any of us, can really protect each other. Harry’s trying to protect Ginny, and us, you’re trying to protect me, I’m trying to protect you, your Mum is trying to protect all of us…but the best thing we can all do is work together, fight together. Anything else, we’re sunk.�

You’re right…you usually are,� he brought his hands together, creating two fists. “But, Hermione, there’s another reason I want to take on Secret Keeper. I want to do it because it’s something I can do.�

“What do you mean?�

“I mean, I don’t have your brains, or Harry’s driving force…I’m not particularly skilled at anything. But this, this I can do. I can be useful this way,� he stopped, his face flushing.

Hermione thought her heart might break. “Ron Weasely, if I ever hear you talk like that again, I swear I will hex you into oblivion. You are one of the bravest, most loyal people I’ve ever met,� she finished, putting her hand over his clenched fists. He looked like he really wanted to believe her, but wasn’t entirely sure. She sighed, knowing what she had to do. “Ok. Tell Harry it’s you. You’re the new Secret Keeper for the Order.�

She jumped up, unable to sit there any longer without getting upset. I’ve got to keep myself together, or all I’ll be doing is crying all the time. Harry and Ginny swung the door to Ron’s bedroom open. They were still laughing a little. Even still, she heard the soft voice behind her, just above a whisper.

“Thank you, Hermione.�

* * *

“Well, mate, I – I don’t know what to say,� Harry began. Ron had just offered to be Secret Keeper and Harry had looked over at her to gauge her reaction. She nodded very slightly. “I really don’t like the idea of either of you taking this on, but, well, if we say anything about it now –�

“We know. Lupin’ll be suspicious,� Hermione finished for him. “So…we’re all agreed? Ron’s the new Secret Keeper for the Order.� She walked over and stood beside him. Ginny and Harry were sitting on Ron’s bed, her head on Harry’s shoulder.

Ron cleared his throat. “Ok, Hermione ‘fess up. You knew why Lupin was coming to see us, and you said it’d be to our advantage. Explain, O Wise One.�

“Well, it’s only an idea I’ve just thought of, and I haven’t had the time to research or validate the theory so it may be a bit off –�

“HERMIONE!!� Harry and Ginny shouted together.

“Ok, ok. Well, Harry, when you made that comment about Percy and Ron being brothers when we were waiting on the porch, it was as if two things I already knew, sort of – sort of clicked together to make sense. The note in the fake Horcrux locket was signed ‘R.A.B.’, right? I pretty much exhausted the books in the library trying to find witches or wizards with those initials, but your comment about brothers made me think – Sirius’ brother, Regulus Black! The note called Voldemort ‘The Dark Lord’ – only a Death Eater would’ve addressed him that way! And, don’t you guys remember? The summer before fifth year, when we were helping clean out Number 12? Sirius told us his brother had joined Voldemort’s side. But, but more than that,� she was pacing now, eager to share her idea with them all, “Do you lot remember all those bewitched objects and things in that one cabinet? There was a locket amidst all that junk, and no one could get it open. What…what if Regulus Black had a change of heart? What if he realized that Voldemort wasn’t just about purifying the wizarding world, but in fact pure evil? What if took the real Horcrux, replaced it with a fake from his family’s store of treasures? What if he tried to get out – and do what he could to damage Voldemort on his way?�

She paused for a breath. The other three were staring at her, their mouths slightly agape.

“I know, there’s lots of missing information. Regulus Black’s middle initial, for one. But it’s an idea right? And now we have the opportunity to check it out,� she finished.

Harry, Ginny and Ron all exchanged glances in silence. “Thank goodness you’re on the side of the good guys, Hermione,� Ginny finally spoke. The boys chuckled.

“God, Hermione, how do you remember all that stuff? I can hardly remember what we had for lunch,� Harry shook his head wonderingly.

“Shepherd’s pie, you dope,� she shot back, but she was definitely pleased. Ron was still staring at her, saying nothing. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up.

“Now I get it! You knew Lupin wanted Harry to appoint a new Secret Keeper, and you figured it’d be one of us. Then…then, once Tonks performs the Fidelius Charm, I’ll be the only one who can reveal the location of Number 12. So…so what, I only tell you three for now, right? Then we’re the only ones who can come and go as we please, we can plan our next steps and look for the other locket without worrying about being detected?�

“Right, Ron,� Hermione’s stomach still went cold with fear at the idea of him being Secret Keeper, but she tried to push it away. “Eventually, we’ll have to move on. But as we’re still on holiday, I think we can just…just tell everyone -� Lie, you mean. Lie to everyone. But what else can we do? “We can just say that Harry’d like a week or so at Number 12 to look over Sirius’ house before the Order takes it over again.�

They the four of them looked at each other. Harry finally spoke, nearly sighed. “Ok. Let’s go tell Lupin and Tonks the Order’s got a new Secret Keeper.�

The kitchen was filled with an expectant hush. The only sound came from Tonks, who was muttering the Fidelius incantation, her usually boisterous voice a whisper, her face scrunched in concentration. Ron couldn’t even hear the others’ breathing over the sound of his own pounding heart.



Then something happened that made Ron forget everything else. A Snitch-sized, glowing ball formed at the tip of Tonks’ wand and popped off, floating like a bubble over the kitchen table. It revolved slowly in place, a tiny, multicolored planet of light, hovering, waiting. Tonks mouth crooked into a smile. She whispered again, speaking directly at the glowing orb. It shimmered, then headed directly across the table towards him.



The weight of what he was about to do hit him, and he gripped the wooden planks of table to keep himself from bolting. Easy, easy does it, he tried to calm himself. The ball of light hit his solar plexus and burst apart, splashing glowing color across his navy t-shirt. As it seeped in and hit his skin, Ron felt a disconcerting sense of heaviness, as if the light had tremendous weight. Then the sensation disappeared and his shirt was solid blue again.



“Nicely done, Tonks,� his Dad said from behind him, breaking the silence, “And you too, Ron.� The more comforting weight of his Dad’s big, freckled hand on his shoulder.



“Alright, Ron?� Tonks queried, wiping her forehead. She looked as if she’s just run a very fast mile, both energized and spent simultaneously.



“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,� he replied, keenly aware that all eyes were on him, including the green and dark brown pairs of his best friends. “It – it felt – sort of like something was pressing on my chest when that ball-thing hit and broke.� He risked glancing at his Mum. She was standing at the very edge of the table, her arms folded across her chest. To say she looked displeased would be an understatement. But Tonks was saying something to him.



“-perfectly normal, a passing sensation that confirms the information was successfully transferred. All secrets have weight,� she explained.



“Well, I would say this has been a hugely productive visit, all and all. The Order has a new Secret Keeper and four talented new members, and we also managed to wrangle some of Molly’s delicious cooking,� Lupin smiled over at her. Ron noticed his mother’s mouth tighten in response.



“Remus, I really wish you wouldn’t take this business so lightly. I know I can’t, this is my child putting himself in harm’s way –� Ron blushed a bit at being referred to as a child, but said nothing, “- and don’t start in on me with that ‘no one is safe’ line, because there’s a difference between being in danger and specifically going out and looking for it, and now there’s not a single member of my family –� She’s getting revved up, someone better cut her off before she hits her stride, Ron thought, and opened his mouth to do just that when Lupin spoke again.



“Molly, I won’t insult you by pretending to know exactly how you feel, not being a parent myself. But, all of us have people we love out there, working and fighting against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. We can’t protect everyone, that’s the problem with fighting a war. Everyone is at risk,� Lupin paused, looking tired, and Ron was reminded of what Hermione had said less than an hour before. “And you and Arthur are just such great parents that you’ve got strong, brave, good kids. Well-fed, too,� Lupin grinned at her, and his Mum gave a short laugh, dabbing her eyes with edge of her apron.



“Come on, Molls, don’t turn on the waterworks, you know how hard it is to stop when you get started, we’ll all be drowned� his Dad walk over to her and chucked her under the chin, kissed her cheek. The kitchen broke into sympathetic giggles all around, and his Mum squared her shoulders.



“Well, Remus, I can certainly take a hint. I’m going to wrap up some leftovers for the two of you to take with you,� and she turned away from them, busying herself at the counter.



“Thanks, Molly. Especially considering Tonks and I aren’t anywhere near finished our day,� Lupin said.



“What else do you have to do, Professor?� Hermione, seated on his left, who looked about as happy as his Mum, if less teary. She seemed to want to push the whole Secret Keeper business out of her mind.



“Well, Hermione, it’s a combination of a personal call and more Order business, actually,� Lupin began, “We’re going to visit and old friend of mine, Fiora Podlink. She was in school with Sirius, James and I, a few years younger, a Hufflepuff. She contacted me late last year, I think because she had – had heard – of Sirius’ death. I always got the impression she carried a bit of torch for him, though as far as I know, they only were ever good friends. She was one of his strongest advocates when he was sent to Azkaban. She believed him even when the rest of us didn’t,� Lupin sighed, a look of sorrow crossing his face.



“Fiora Podlink, why does that name sound familiar to me?� Ron’s Mum had turned from her packing and joined the conversation.



“I’ve mentioned her, Molly,� his Dad spoke up, “She did some consulting work for the Ministry, and I worked with her on several occasions when I was in the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Very bright witch, and an extremely pleasant person to work with. She’s one of the greatest experts on Transfiguration I know. We’d use her in difficult cases, and she could tell almost right off the bat whether an object was magic or Muggle in nature, and what it’s original composition had been. The Ministry wanted her full time, but she refused to work for them. She never mentioned why.�



“That sounds like the Fiora I knew, Arthur, to a tee. She’d never mind taking some of the Ministry’s money by doing some work for them, but she wouldn’t want to be under their thumb. Loyal as hell she was, but not much for the rules,� Lupin chuckled, “That’s probably why she was closer to Sirius and James than she was to me. I was the good boy.� Tonks snickered at this, and Lupin gave her a warning glance and blushed. Everyone else burst out laughing.



“Oh! I know who you’re talking about! Professor McGonagall’s mentioned her to me several times, actually,� Hermione piped up. “She said that Fiora Podlink was one of the best students she’d ever had.� Ron could tell she was trying to keep the jealousy out of her voice. “I didn’t realize that she was at Hogwarts with you. Why are you going to see her now, Professor?�



“Well, Hermione, as I mentioned, it’s one part social call. Since Fiora contacted me, I’ve not had the chance to visit her, though we’ve been communicating via owl all year. But, her last letter had some interesting and potentially useful information in it,� Lupin paused. “I’ll tell you all what it said, but I don’t know the implications yet,� Lupin looked straight at Harry, “As I mentioned, Fiora never really believed that Sirius was guilty of betraying James and Lily. However, it wasn’t until the news of his death prompted her to contact me that she got the full story. I was able to tell her she’d been right all along, that Sirius was an innocent man and true friend, and had been wrongly imprisoned. As happens with friends who haven’t seen each other is a long time, Fiora and I started rehashing the old days, when we were at Hogwarts and those years right after. I know for all of us, even though we were in the midst of Voldemort’s height of power, they were some of the best years of our lives,� Lupin smiled at Ron and his friends. “I don’t think I need to explain that to you guys. Anyway, Fiora mentioned Peter in one of her most recent letters. I had told her Sirius was innocent but hadn’t yet told her that it had been Wormtail who had been the betrayer all those years ago. Her letter mentioned him with fondness and regret. It’s an old story, and not unique to our circle of friends – Fiora pined for Sirius, and Peter fancied Fiora. Well, a few weeks ago I wrote Fiora and laid out the truth for her – James and Lily’s death, Sirius’ false imprisonment, were all caused by Peter. I got a response from her a few days ago.� He stopped for a breath.



“What’d it say, Professor?� Harry was watching Lupin intensely. Ron figured this wasn’t an easy story for him to hear.



“Well, Harry, you can imagine she was pretty upset. However, she told me something I never knew – that she saw Peter the night before Voldemort killed your parents. And that he asked her to do a favor for him,� Lupin finished.



“What was it Professor?!?!?� Harry’s voice rose and he looked pale.



“I don’t know, Harry, her letter didn’t say. That’s why I have to go see her. To find out what happened that night.�



“Where is she, Professor?� Hermione asked.



“She owns a curio shop in Paris. She’s there most of the time, except when she does work for the Ministry,� Lupin nodded at Ron’s Dad. He stood, stretched. Tonks took this cue and leapt to her feet as well. “Ok, you lot, We’ve got to be on our way, as you can imagine.� Everyone shifted to their feet and started saying their good-byes, Ron’s Mum pressing a brown paper package into Tonks’ hands.



Lupin was at Ron’s elbow. The much smaller man held out his hand. “Ron, I know your mum’s not happy with the state of affairs, but I’d like to say that Harry couldn’t be luckier in his choice of friends. Few people are so lucky,� and Lupin wrung his hand warmly.



“Thanks, Professor,� Ron mumbled, embarrassed but pleased.



“I’d ask you lot to call me ‘Remus’ if I think you’d take me up on it. You’re good kids, all of you, and trust me, calling you ‘kids’ - it’s not an insult,� Lupin shook his head, grinning. “Tonks? You ready? Harry, can you walk us out? I’ve got your birthday gift with me.�



The three of them walked across the lawn, Tonks slightly in the lead, and Harry and Lupin behind, their heads bent together. Ron stood watching them, remembering the ball of light from the Fidelius Charm and thinking of the story Lupin had told about his old friends. 'All secrets have weight.' So do friendships, I guess, he thought, and then felt a real, warm weight at the exact spot on his chest where the Fidelius Charm had exploded. Hermione’s hand. He put his own on top of it.



“I didn’t like seeing it there,� she said. “I knew how the Charm was performed, but I still didn’t like it.�



“It was heavy. I felt it, when it hit me,� he said to her.



“As Tonks said, ‘All secrets have weight.’�



“So do friendships,� he replied.

Tonks was several feet ahead of Harry and Lupin as they traipsed across the yard, giving the men a respectable amount of privacy. She spun around and smiled at them, her face wrinkling up as if she were going to sneeze, and suddenly her hair went from dark shoulder-length waves to a sleek, platinum bob.

“Whadd’you think, Remus? Harry? Something more stylish for Paris, eh?� she called to them.

“Lovely! One of the best yet!� Lupin responded, chuckling.

“Brilliant, Tonks!� Harry added. She fluffed the new style with her fingers, pretended to vamp, and promptly tripped over her own feet. Harry glanced over at Lupin and they both burst out laughing.

“Nympha – Tonks! You alright?� Lupin suppressed his laughter for the moment and hurried over to help her up. Harry could see that she was grinning sheepishly at them through her new blonde bangs as she regained her feet. “Like a swan, so graceful,� Lupin chided her, examining her grass-stained hands and clothes.

“S’ok, green looks good on blondes,� she replied tartly. They looked at each other for a moment, and Harry felt distinctly like he was intruding on something private. Then Tonks shook her head, grinned, and gave Lupin a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth. For good measure, she kissed Harry’s cheek too.

“I know Remus has got something special for you,� she said, “I’ll just go sit – carefully – under that tree over there ‘til you two finish up.�

“Thanks, Tonks. And thanks for your help, for performing the Fidelius Charm, it was – was pretty cool spellwork,� Harry said.

“Cheers, Harry,� and she wandered toward the big maple, whistling to herself. Lupin gazed after her briefly, and Harry had a moment to think of how happy the two of them seemed now, especially considering the listless, cheerless Tonks of last year. Love, he thought, Love. McGonagall said it. Dumbledore’s been saying it to me for years. Guess there’s something to it, after all.

“Harry, I’ve got something for you, that was meant for your seventeenth birthday. It’s from your dad,� Lupin started rooting around in his robes, and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. A gift from my Dad? “I was actually with your father when he bought it for you – you couldn’t have been more than a few days old, in fact. I remember – remember James asking me to tag along when he picked it out, because I think he was afraid our other chums, especially Sirius, would’ve thought it was rather sentimental he was buying a coming-of-age gift for a baby. Which it was, of course, but I for one am glad he did it.� And with that, he pulled a small, grubby package wrapped in plain brown paper out of his robe pocket.

“Thanks, Professor,� Harry replied, trying to clear his throat of the lump that kept threatening to form there. Lupin placed the small object on his palm. It was heavy, despite its size. “Erm…Professor? Why do you have this, now? I mean, if it was from my Dad, how did you get it?�

“After Voldemort killed James and Lily, someone had to handle their affairs,� Lupin began softly, “As you know, Harry, you became the responsibility of your mother’s Muggle sister, but Dumbledore wanted to ensure that your parents’ legacy to you was safe from your aunt or anyone else. All of – of the funeral and monetary arrangements – had to be taken care of, and as your mother’s survivors wanted no part of it, and your Dad’s parents had already passed, it was up to your folks’ friends. I was one of the only ones left.� Lupin sighed, looking very tired indeed. “It was a rough time Harry, no doubt about it. Two of my dearest friends were dead, another one presumed dead, and yet another, a convicted murderer, on his way to Azkaban. Most of the wizarding world was celebrating, but I wasn’t. I was sorting through your parents’ belongings and found that -� he pointed at the package “-and remembered James buying it the year before. How proud he was.� And for the first time, Lupin smiled at Harry. “Well, go on! Open it!�

Harry tried to still his shaking fingers, and imagined his Dad and Lupin, choosing a gift for the infant he had been. He could almost picture them, Lupin less ragged, his hair grey-free, clapping his father on the shoulder, James Potter, proud, excited, hopefully a little less cocky than the fifteen-year-old Harry had seen in the Pensieve a few years ago. James Potter, forever frozen at age twenty-six, still enough of the star Quidditch Chaser in him to feel a bit silly buying a sentimental gift for his baby son.

Harry unwrapped the little package and a beautiful engraved silver pocket-watch and chain gleamed on his palm. His initials were carved across the front in bold letters. He lifted the watch open, and gasped. Tiny constellations revolved on a dark blue background in the silver mouth created by the watch’s two halves, the hour and minutes swirling in a tiny circle around a central star. “Wow,� Harry breathed. He didn’t feel capable of saying much else.

Lupin chuckled. “A bit showy, but your Dad was very proud, Harry. He’d be even more proud of you now. It was my pleasure – no, my honor – to be the one to pass this gift onto you.�

Harry placed the watch carefully in his pocket, and reached out to shake Lupin’s hand. “Thank you, sir. And – and – I don’t just mean for giving me the watch. Thanks for taking care of everything –when, well, when you know.�

“Of course, Harry, I wouldn’t have done anything but. You’re the last person I need to explain friendship to,� Lupin shook Harry’s hand vigorously in both of his.

“Erm…Professor?� Harry had just remembered something else he needed to say. “I know – I know that I just appointed Ron Secret Keeper so that you and the rest of the Order could use Number 12 as headquarters again, but – but I was wondering – I was hoping, to, well, look around myself this week before the Order started using it again?�

Lupin gazed at him appraisingly for nearly a minute. Harry felt as if all of his secrets were written plainly across his face. “Of course, Harry. I understand…you haven’t been back to Grimmauld Place since Sirius’ death and the place is rightfully yours. Just, promise me you’ll be careful, and don’t stay in the house alone. There’s lots of questionable, if not outright Dark, magic in the Black family house. Take your friends along, ok?�

Harry nodded. “Of course, Professor.�

Lupin paused, apparently decided whether or not to say something further. “Harry, look. I know that Dumbledore had a theory, a plan, for destroying Voldemort. I don’t know all in entailed, but based on the different things he had Order members working on, including myself, I have an idea. I also know that he was confiding certain things to you because of your – well, unique, let’s call it, connection with Voldemort.� Lupin stopped again, pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. “I just want you to know, that I’d never try to stop you from fighting this battle. It’s yours just as much, if not more, than most people’s. Molly Weasley, she’s well-intentioned but is trying to protect her loved ones. And she’s not alone. All of us are trying to hold onto what we have, the people that make life worth living. But, despite that, I respect your need to take action. You can confide in me, if you need to. If there’s anything you might need help with.� Lupin searched Harry’s face again.

Harry took a deep breath. He almost told Lupin everything. Almost. With Sirius gone, Lupin was the closest thing Harry had to an adult confidante. But, something stayed his tongue. “Thanks, Professor. But – but, no, there’s nothing I need help with. Everything’s fine.�

“Nothing’s fine, Harry, but I’ll leave you be, for now at least,� Lupin clapped him on the shoulder, shook his hand again. “Take care, Harry, and stay in touch. Tonks and I will be in Paris the next few weeks, at least, if you need to find us.� Lupin walked toward Tonks, who stood up, brushing her robes off. They both waved at Harry, spun in place, and were gone.

Harry turned towards the Burrow, his hand stuffed deep into his pocket, gripping the solid, real weight of the watch his father had purchased for him seventeen years ago. He pulled it out, and again, it gleamed at him, a promise from a lost time. And for the first time since Dumbledore had toppled over that tower on the darkest of nights, Harry felt capable of the task ahead. His Dad was with him again. It was time to start fighting.

Chapter 22 – Number 12 Revisited

The darkened corridor filled with chill, weak moonlight as the heavy door swung creakily open. Hermione crossed the threshold, her shadow preceding her, thin and gantry-like, closely hemmed in by two slightly taller ones.

“Lumos,� Harry muttered on her left, and she and Ron echoed the charm. The lights at the tips of their wands did little to penetrate the thick darkness of the hallway. The door was sighing closed on its hinges.

“Don’t let that door slam!� she hissed, “It’ll wake Sirius’ mum!� Ron caught it with the tip of his dirty trainer, and eased it shut.

“T’so dark in here, what gives?� Ron whispered, and Hermione heard the edge in his voice.

“Place seems so different without Order members running around,� Harry responded. Hermione realized they were all huddled unconsciously together, standing in the feeble golden light cast by their wands. She could feel the house working on her unease and turning it into quiet terror. This is ridiculous, it’s just a house, she thought, shaking her head, there’s nothing here that can hurt us. She wasn’t really sure of that, but she knew something that would make she and her friends feel a bit better.

“Flamarae Restrictae!� she called softly, and several glowing orange balls of light flew from her wand and ignited the iron sconces lining the shabby corridor. The hallway came into dim focus, the faded striped silk wallpaper unraveling in dirty curls. Several portraits lined the walls, the inhabitants muttering angrily as the light hit their painted faces. One of them, thankfully, remained silent.

Hermione stared with revulsion at the portrait of Mrs. Black. Her head, clad in its tight black cap, nodded gently on her chest, emitting tiny sleeping sounds. The chair she sat in rocked slowly back and forth, making her emaciated frame sway slightly. The tattered curtains that once shielded the portrait were no longer in place. Hermione wondered briefly who – or what – had removed them.

“C’mon, let’s get away from it,� Harry said, a look of mild disgust on his face. He headed down the corridor, towards the door that led down into the kitchen. Hermione saw Ron make an effort and tear his gaze away from the gigantic portrait, and follow Harry down the hall. She hurried to keep up and slipped her hand into Ron’s. He squeezed it tightly, turned and gave her a lopsided grin as they descended the stone stairs and entered the kitchen.

Hermione muttered the restricted flame charm again, and the overhead lanterns and various candles came to life and bathed the kitchen in a warm glow. The long wooden table that dominated the room reflected their mellow light, as did the battered copper pots hanging from the eaves. Ron sat down on one of the benches and rested his chin in his hand. Harry wandered over to the standing cupboard and surveyed the boxes and cans sitting on the dusty shelves. Hermione sighed and walked towards the stove. She saw a box of tea on the counter and reached out for it, realizing as she did her hand was shaking.

She thought back to her other memories of this kitchen, the low dim place filled with chatter and laughter; Tonks switching up noses for she and Ginny, all three of them giggling into their cupped hands; Mundungus Fletcher telling off-color jokes to Ron and the twins; Mrs. Weasley’s ever-comforting figure at the stove, creating an endless supply of delicious meals; Sirius, eyes shining, clapping Harry on the back after his successful appearance before the Wizengamot the summer before fifth year.

“Anyone want some tea?� She lit the burner under the worn teakettle and turned towards her friends, her voice wobbling. Harry had joined Ron at the table, and the two of them were passing a box of chocolate biscuits back and forth and, she noted, getting crumbs all over the table.

“This place is bullocks, Harry. Sorry, mate,� Ron said, spraying cookie pieces everywhere. He crammed another one into his bulging cheek. “You’d be well shed of it, I think. It doesn’t have – erm, whaddy’callit – ‘homey charm’.� Ron shook his head, and the three of them burst into uneasy laughter. Hermione joined the boys at the table. Ron handed her a biscuit. She chewed thoughtfully.

“It’s different being here alone, isn’t it?� she said.

“Yeah,� Harry replied, “Yeah, now I know why Sirius was mad to get out sometimes – can you imagine being cooped up in this house for very long?� Harry turned his gaze upwards, “I can almost feel the house on top of us.� He finished, and Ron whitened and choked on his cookie.

“God, you put it that way, mate, and I don’t really fancy being in this kitchen too long,� he jumped a little at the teapot’s shriek.

“It’ll probably be better in the morning,� Hermione reasoned, and got up to fix the tea.

They had, in fact, planned on arriving here earlier in the day, but time seemed to have gotten away from them. First, it was mundane traveling issues, such as whether to bring the animals (they had decided against it – Crookshanks would only get into trouble and Harry couldn’t very well use Hedwig here, it’d draw too much attention to them). But it soon became very clear to Hermione that they were all loath to leave the safety and comfort of the Burrow. Staying for breakfast became staying for lunch became staying for tea. Ron had hovered close to his mother’s side, being uncharacteristically solicitous. Harry and Ginny had wandered away from the house hand and hand, and had been gone for over an hour.

Hermione has finally put her foot down. She felt for her friends (and herself, for that matter) but all this maudlin behavior was going to make people suspicious, especially Mrs. Weasley, whom Hermione suspected saw and heard and understood pretty much everything going on around her. She was afraid they’d give themselves away – as far as the Weaselys were concerned, this was supposed to be an interesting overnight excursion for them and no reason for, say, Ron to attach himself inexplicably to his mum’s elbow for an entire day. They had finally left with the sun very low in the sky and with a reluctance none of them wanted to admit.

Now, sitting in the dank gloom of this horrible house, Hermione cupped her hands around her warm teacup and looked across the table at her friends. They both looked as dubious as she felt.

“This place is a mess! Looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages!� Ron exclaimed suddenly, running his hand across the dusty tabletop. Hermione got the distinct impression he was trying to lighten the mood.

Harry, who had his tea mug to his mouth, gasped, choked on his mouthful of liquid. “You guys!! I know – I hope I know – where that locket is!� He wiped his hand hastily across his face. “Hermione, Ron, don’t you see?� He got to his feet.

“Harry, what is it – oh!� Hermione’s stomach began bouncing in anticipation. “Kreacher!! You think Kreacher took the locket when we were cleaning, right Harry? � She was a bit put out that she hadn’t thought of it first.

“Right, Hermione. Remember when you gave him that blanket at Christmastime during fifth year? He had a bunch of portraits and stuff squirreled away – right over there,� Harry pointed his finger towards a tiny door just to the left of the cupboard. Hermione remembered with pity Kreacher’s dirty little nest under the pipes. The three of them had gotten to their feet instinctively, looked tensely at the shabby little door.

“Well let’s not just stand here! Let’s go check it out,� Harry seemed impatient to begin the search.

“Harry – wait. We need to think about this. If the locket is in there, if it’s the real Horcrux, we have to figure out how we’re going to destroy it. I – I’m not sure exactly what’ll happen, but think of what happened to Dumbledore’s hand when he destroyed a Horcrux – and he was one of the most powerful wizards that ever lived. If he had a hard time destroying one, we certainly will,� Hermione’s brain was working top speed through every spell she knew.

“Fair enough. But – but – I’ve got to know if it’s there Hermione. One thing at a time. Destroying it is the next step,� Harry explained as the three of them closed in on the door to Kreacher’s old lair. Hermione clutched her wand tightly and saw that Ron was doing the same. Harry glanced back at both of them and pushed the shabby door open with one final nod.

The cubby-sized room was pitch black. Hermione pivoted and grabbed a lantern off the kitchen table. The orange flame illuminated the sagging bed covered with rags and the sooty pipe that hung over it. Several portraits, including small prints of Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius’ dad, were stuck haphazardly to it. She felt terrible that anyone lived like this, even a creature that had muttered and cursed at her, treated her with scorn because of who she was.

“Whaddya reckon?� Ron asked. “Under the, erm, bed, you think?� He moved forward, hunching his tall frame to avoid hitting the ceiling. He knelt, rummaged around, and with a grunt, revealed a tied-up sack made from a ratty, moth-eaten tablecloth. He heaved it up onto the bed.

“Open it, Ron,� Harry said, his voice tight with tension. Ron complied, tearing the make-shift sack open. The three of them gasped.

Hermione had known that Kreacher had been rescuing Black family heirlooms from destruction, but she hadn’t known to what extent. A glittering array of jewelry, silverware, knickknacks and objets d’art were now sprawled across the worn bedspread. She couldn’t begin to estimate their value.

Harry moved forward and began rooting through the stolen booty with determination. Ron and Hermione exchange glances. There was a fierceness to his search that neither of them had ever witnessed in him before. “It’s not here! Dammit!� He swore, swiping his hand through the stash, scattering things to the floor. “I just thought – it could be anywhere – how are we-� he stopped mid-sentence, reached out with one hand and tore away the photo of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her image sneered at him as he tossed the picture to the floor. The picture had been fixed over a hole in the pipe. Before she or Ron could even react, Harry reached his hand in. A look of triumph crossed his face.

“I’ve got something!� He pulled his fingers out. They, as well as the object from the pipe, were covered in greenish sludge. It was a large gold locket. As it twirled on Harry’s tented fingers, Hermione could see, etched in muck, an ornate “S� across it’s gleaming face.

Hermione’s heart leapt with fear and excitement. She grinned over at Ron. Harry’s yelp of pain surprised her. He had dropped the locket and was clutching his hand to his chest. She looked down at it. It was emanating a molten glow.

“It got hot. Very very hot,� Harry gasped, revealing an angry red oval burned into his palm. The three of them stared at the pulsing locket.

The sudden crack startled them all.

“Master deserves what he gets! Master shouldn’t have sneaked, oh no, he certainly shouldn’t have. Master was bad, nasty Master with a blood traitor and filthy Mudblood for friends,� Kreacher laughed maliciously, and in one smooth motion, had scooped the locket from the floor.

Ron stood rigid with surprise, towering over the squat, ugly form of Kreacher, who was leaping wildly up and down. Harry and Hermione seemed just as unable to move. Hermione’s eyes were brimming with tears (Ron never quite understood Hermione’s pity for house elves, especially this one) and Harry’s mouth was an “O� of surprise.

A disturbing smell wafted into Ron’s nostrils. He heard a sizzling sound that reminded him of his Mum’s cooking and suddenly remembered the burn on Harry’s palm. He stared in fascinated horror as smoke rose in lazy tendrils from Kreacher’s gnarled fist. Ron’s stomach rolled. The locket was baking the elf’s skin.

“Locket’s smarter than Master, yes it is, tells me that Master is here, sneaking where he’s doesn’t belong! Master is not a noble Black! Master is some half-pure mixed-breed whelp of a boy who does not deserve any of the Black family treasures, no no no, he doesn’t,� Kreacher’s wet, protruding eyes rolled back and forth, and Ron realized that loneliness and bitterness had driven him mad.

“Kreacher,� Hermione knelt down so as to be on eye-level with the elf. Ron got his wand ready, saw Harry do the same. “Kreacher, listen to me. That locket doesn’t belong to the Black family. It’s a very very dangerous object, and it’s hurting you. Can’t you see?� Hermione kept her voice low and reasonable, gestured to his clenched hand.

“Filthy Mudblood thinks she can speak to Kreacher, tell Kreacher all kinds of lies,� Kreacher averted his eyes away from Hermione and clutched the locket compulsively, “Kreacher knows something though, yes he does, because the locket tells him so.�

“What?!?!?!� Harry shouted, then looked annoyed at himself for doing so. Kreacher jumped a little, but remained glaring at Hermione.

“Kreacher,� she began calmly, “What do you mean, the ‘locket told you so’?�

“No no no, stinking Mudblood girl will not find –�

“Oi! You slimy little devil! Call her that one more time and see what happens!� Ron pointed his wand at Kreacher’s snout.

“Ron, it’s fine. It’s just a word, and anyway, he’s so brainwashed that it doesn’t really mean –�

“No, Hermione, it’s not fine, it makes me sick in fact. He has no right to talk to you that way. You’ve only ever been kind to him and –� Ron was so angry he couldn’t go on. His blue eyes locked on Hermione’s brown ones. Why? He tried to transmit the question to her, Why treat such a foul creature with so much understanding?

“Kreacher, you may not have to answer Hermione. But you do have to answer me,� Harry began, his voice level. “Tell me what the locket, erm, said to you.�

“Master knows Kreacher cannot disobey him, filthy slime of a wizard, but what he does not know, wretched boy, is that when Kreacher wears this locket,� Kreacher slipped the chain over his long neck, closed his eyes. A look of immense calm came over his ugly features, “When Kreacher wears this locket, Kreacher is more than just Kreacher.�

Ron’s stomach plummeted when the house elf said this. He looked over at Harry who seemed as unsure as he did. They both leaned over and tugged Hermione from her position on the floor, and the three of them backed slowly away. Ron could feel the doorway to the kitchen directly behind them.

“What do we do?� He whispered to Harry and Hermione. There was no doubt in his mind that the locket resting on Kreacher’s bony chest was a Horcrux. Everything’s happening too quickly, but we can’t let him get away.

“We have to get it away from him,� Harry muttered back, a grim expression on his face, “Trust me, I’ve seen what happens when Voldemort possesses –� at the utterance of that name, the name, Kreacher’s eyes popped open. Their irises had a reddish tinge. He was still grinning, but his gaze was unfocussed and far away.

“Oh my god,� Hermione breathed beside him. “Harry, how are -?�

“Master doesn’t have anything else he wants to tell Kreacher to do, does he? Kreacher was foolish to keep the locket here, Kreacher sees that now. Kreacher should keep the locket with himself all the time, to protect it. Not like bad Master Reggie, who tried to ruin it! Master Reggie, who was old Mistress’ favorite child. But Kreacher knew Master Reggie’s secret, yes he did. Kreacher saw him hide the locket before – before –� The elf’s speech was cut off abruptly.

The locket glowed star-bright and burst open. A swirling red mist tangled itself around Kreacher’s small figure, danced as if blown by a strong wind. A high-pitch shriek emanated from the center of the scarlet storm and as they watched, the mist began to absorb into the elf’s dull grayish skin. Kreacher seemed less there somehow, as if he were being replaced by someone or something else…

“Ron!!! Hermione!!!� Harry’s shouted over Kreacher’s yelps of pain, “We have to do something, and do it now!! That mist – that’s Voldemort ¬– we need to destroy it now!� Harry pointed his wand and Ron followed suit. Their eyes locked. Ron knew there was only one spell that would do the trick, and from the set look on his face, so did Harry.

“On three, ok, mate?� Ron voice sounded stronger than he felt. He’d never killed anything intentionally in his life, and he didn’t feel great about starting now, especially with this pathetic wreck of a Kreacher. Is this what being a hero is about? Can I really do this? Before his thoughts could go any further, there was an anguished cry.

“NO!!!! RON!! HARRY!!! YOU CAN’T KILL HIM!!!� Hermione shrieked, knocking their wand hands down.

Ron fumbled and managed to catch his, but Harry’s slipped from his fingers, and it landed within the red corona surrounding Kreacher. Harry dove for it, but the elf reacted quickly and snatched it up, a look of cruel cunning on his face. He pointed the wand at Harry’s face and opened his mouth. When Kreacher wears this locket, Kreacher is more than just Kreacher, the thought flashed across Ron’s with a shiver, but then he simply did what needed to be done.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!!!� Ron screamed it, meant it, because he knew if he didn’t his best friend was as good as dead. A cold green light exploded out of his wand and struck the elf in his solar plexus, right above the golden oval of the locket, and Kreacher crumpled to the ground. The red mist around him glowed brightly, briefly. Then it wink out. He was still. Very still.

Harry touched the elf. Kreacher did not move. He removed the locket carefully from the prone figure, and held it out in his burned palm. It was still lovely, a beautiful piece. But something was gone. It had lost its significance, its power. It was now, once again, only a locket.

“Dispersium,� Harry murmured, having retrieved his wand as well. The locket dissolved into thousands of tiny golden specks, disappearing into the air around them.

Ron helped Harry to his feet, though he was on the verge of collapse himself. His entire body was vibrating minutely. It was if he were cold, so cold, at the very center of his being, he’d never be warm again.

“Thanks mate,� Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder, “for saving my life,� he added. They both turned to Hermione, ash-white, pressed against the doorframe. Ron waited fearfully.

“What have you done?� She looked at him as if he were someone completely unknown to her, a dangerous stranger.

“He did what he had to do, Hermione,� Harry spoke. “Kreacher was possessed by Voldemort, don’t you understand? He was going to use my own wand to kill me.�

“So – so – that’s how it is then? What if it had been me that was possessed? Or you, Harry? Or your mum or dad or Ginny, Ron? Wouldn’t you have paused for just a moment to consider the value of the person before blindly killing him or her? Or do you just do that with disposable individuals, like house elves?� Her face was calm but her voice had a hysterical edge to it.

“Hermione,� Ron moved towards her. He couldn’t stand what he saw in her eyes, heard in her voice, but part of him was angry, too. “Listen, will you? This is a totally different situation. I mean, I wouldn’t just go around killing house elves, but Kreacher wasn’t the nicest guy around, you know? It’s not right, Hermione, or logical. You have a blind spot for them, for some reason, and it’s not fair, it clouds your judgment. Kreacher was never good, or caring, never was deserving of your kindness at all, except that he was a house elf –�

“-and he had a hand in leading Sirius to his death. And don’t think that he would have hesitated for a second, Hermione, to go straight to Bellatrix Lestrange with everything he knew about the Order, if he could have. Ron’s right, Hermione, you’ve got a weakness. I don’t feel great about Kreacher’s death, but you can’t compare him to people we all love,� Harry shrugged.

Ron held his breath. Hermione looked at her hands for a minute, then stared past the two of them towards Kreacher’s prone figure. “I’m going to get some sleep, if I can. You two can handle that,� she spun on her heels, and Ron heard her footsteps echo away as she climbed the staircase to the first floor.

“Do you think she’ll forgive you?� Harry asked.

“For killing Kreacher to save your life, to destroy the Horcrux? Probably,� Ron sighed. “For showing her she was wrong? I doubt it.�

Harry and Ron stood at the top of the stairs, their bags slung over their shoulders. Harry glanced over at his best friend. He looked absolutely exhausted. They both considered the long corridor of bedroom doors in front of them.



“Well, I guess I better find her,� Ron sighed.



“Ron, listen, you did what you needed to do,� Harry chose his words carefully. “She’ll get over it, just give her some time. Look, I don’t want to start a row with you or anything, but this is what you and Hermione do, you know? You argue, you both get your knickers in a twist, then everything settles down again, right? It’s happened dozens of times in the past few years.�



Ron scrubbed his hands over his face. Harry could see they were shaking a little. “Yeah, I guess so. But this feels a little different, Harry. I mean, we’re not arguing about, you know, homework or Crookshanks or Quidditch, right? And while I don’t always agree with Hermione, I usually know where she’s coming from. But this thing she’s got about house elves makes no sense to me. I don’t get it at all, do you?� He paused.



“Not really, mate,� Harry stifled a yawn. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure Ron would understand, and it was too late to get into it anyway. Hermione, like Harry himself, was an outsider to the wizarding world for more than half her life before she found out she was a witch. She had to learn to fit in, just like he had. And did she really, even now? Her smarts prevented her from being warmly accepted by everyone, and though Harry loved her dearly, he knew her bossy attitude alienated her from some people. He thought, maybe, her obsessive empathy with house elves had a little something to do with that sense of not fitting in, or being treated fairly for who she was. “But…but if you really want to talk to her, then listen to what she has to say too. I – I think it’s important to her, even if she’s not totally right about it.�



“Yeah, ok,� Ron surveyed the row of bedroom doors. “Are you going to take the one you were in during fifth year?�



“No, I don’t think so. That portrait of Phineas Nigellus was in my old room,� Harry shook his head, remembering the snarky, rude, disembodied comments from the old painting. “He can travel between his portrait here and the one in Dumbledore’s – sorry, McGonagall’s – chambers. He’d love the chance to rat us out, I think. We better just stay away from that room altogether,� Harry sighed. Traveling unnoticed was going to be more difficult than he had first thought. Scrimgeour, spies, portraits, house elves, he thought bitterly. Suddenly, Harry felt as exhausted as Ron looked. His mind wandered to Ginny. He wished she were here. He groped for the knob of the nearest bedroom door, noticed a thin fan of light emanating from underneath the one two rooms down and across the hall.



“There she is, Ron, if you really want to talk to her,� Harry nodded. He didn’t have the energy to do much more.



Ron shuffled down the hall, rapped lightly on the door. After a few moments, it swung open. Hermione appeared in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, bruised circles of exhaustion under her eyes. She glanced down at Harry, gave him a strained smile. Ron took her hand and whispered urgently to her. She stepped aside and let him into her room. The door closed softly shut behind them.



Harry stood another moment at the doorway of the bedroom he’d chosen, swaying on his feet a little. He hated to see what the path to Voldemort was doing to his friends, and himself. It was one thing to think about murdering Voldemort, quite another to see a wretched being like Kreacher destroyed in front of his eyes. He knew it was necessary, but it didn’t make it easier for Harry to remember that small, lifeless form. He shuddered, thinking of the price that was paid to house a piece of Voldemort’s soul.



Harry lit the tiny bedside lamp and threw himself across the mouldy-smelling bedspread, closed his eyes. He could hear a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Mrs. Weasley’s telling him to at least take his shoes off, but he couldn’t muster the power.



He breathed deeply, watching red and black pinwheels of light spin behind his eyelids. Hermione and Ron’s strained faces swam in and out of focus, mildly accusing in his mind’s eye. Then the tendrils swirled and morphed into the red vortex that had consumed Kreacher. Harry tried to dispel that image, and the strands of scarlet lightened to a burnished golden orange, danced and revealed a sweet, smiling face. Ginny’s. He let his mind travel backwards, to earlier in the afternoon, half a day and miles away from this cold, threatening house.



The day had been mildly overcast, the sun peeking out in golden glimpses. Harry and Ginny had wandered away from the Burrow, strolled through a field buzzing with fat bumblebees and butterflies, and come across a chuckling stream. They had arranged themselves carelessly on the damp grass, both of them stretching and settling into the lush greenness.



Though Harry felt a knot of apprehension building in his stomach when he thought about leaving this place and starting his march towards Voldemort, something loosened in him and seemed almost to seep into the ground. He turned his head, breathing deeply the heady mix of grass and Ginny’s hair, which pillowed her freckled face, inches from his own. He leaned over and kissed her.



“So,� she said when they broke apart, “You’re on your way – all of you.�



“Yeah, I guess we are,� something in him resisted the idea, though, of course, he was the reason for this vendetta (and he truly began to think of it that way in his mind) in the first place. Do I really have to? Someone else could destroy Voldemort…it doesn’t have to be me…Harry knew these thoughts were fleeting, at best. They had everything to do with Ginny’s face and the warmth of her touch, and nothing to do with the bigger picture. He understood, in the darkest place in his heart, that he wouldn’t, couldn’t rest until he destroyed Voldemort. He also had plans for Severus Snape as well. He dearly hoped he’d run into Snape, at a time and place that Snape wasn’t expecting it.



“Ginny?�



“Mmmm?� Their noses touched, barely.



“You understand why you can’t come with us right away, don’t you?� This had been a bone of contention with them – Ginny wanted to leave today, right now, with he, Ron and Hermione, but Harry had balked. He was at war with himself – part of him wanted her by his side, no matter what. The other, saner part of him wanted to keep her safely at the Burrow, and then at Hogwarts. Ginny didn’t agree with this line of thought.



“No, not at all – though I am trying to be reasonable,� she murmured, her eyes shining with that steely gleam of hers he loved so much, “And I understand, because of my age, certain –erm, restrictions – are placed on me that the three of you don’t have to worry about.� She kissed him lingeringly. “But, I DID convince you to let me stop by tomorrow, right? I’ve got the little piece of paper with Ron’s directions on it. I’ll be there after you all make it safe for little Ginny?� She pinched his cheek.



“Ow!� He smacked her hand away, laughing. “Gimme a break, Gin. I am trying not to be a ‘dense hero’ or whatever you called me, but you can’t blame me for wanting you safe.� They both sat up, cross-legged, from each other. She had grass in her hair, a leaf, a stray, white daisy. “I want to show you something,� he said, rooting around in his pocket. He pulled out the watch Lupin had given to him yesterday.



“Wow! That’s gorgeous,� Ginny breathed, cupping her hand around the shining metal and ball of light. “Lupin gave that to you? But he doesn’t have that kind of money!�



“Actually, not,� Harry smiled down at the gift, “It’s from my dad…from a long time ago.� And he told her the story Lupin had shared with him. His dad’s excitement, embarrassment, pride in his son.



“It’s like a beautiful, perfect, little universe, isn’t it?� She whispered, uncharacteristic tears making her eyes shine.



“Yeah, it really is,� but Harry wasn’t looking at the watch anymore. He was looking at her. She heard something in his voice, and caught his gaze. She leaned over and kissed him, the tiny constellations from the watch reflecting rainbow lights across their faces.



Harry opened his eyes, smiling at this memory, feeling lonely. He took the watch out of his pocket and it swung in lazy circles over his head. He was snapped from his reverie by a noise coming from the stairs. He jumped up, his heart beating fast. Someone was on the stairs. Even as he listened, another riser creaked. He hadn’t heard anyone walking from the opposite direction, so it couldn’t be Ron or Hermione. Then it could only be – he headed for the door, glancing at his watch. It’s three in the morning!! What’s she – he flung the door open, his wand up and ready just in case.



“Don’t even try a Bat-Bogey Hex on me, Mr. Potter. That’d be like the student teaching the teacher,� Ginny stood there, real, not a day dream or a wish. Harry said nothing, just took her in his arms. And, for a few brief moments, it really was a beautiful, perfect, little universe.

Hermione wanted sleep to claim her, but it wasn’t complying. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ron’s unfamiliarly frightening face, a flash of emerald light, and Kreacher’s prone form crumpled on the dirty floor of his hideaway.





She bolted upright, her hair tumbling into her face. You’ve got a blind spot for them…you’ve got a weakness…Ron and Harry’s words came back to her with a clench of…guilt? Fear? Confusion? Anger? All of them, I think, for three years she had felt fully justified, proud of herself even, for standing up for house elves. When she thought of Dobby’s wide-eyed adoration of Harry or Winky staunchly defending that crazy Mr. Crouch, Hermione’s sense of injustice flared up. Now she wondered if her feelings were, well, justified. They aren’t treated right, I’m not wrong about that. Wizards take advantage of house elves’ natural servility and eagerness to please. But…she wasn’t quite ready to admit that her friends might have been right about Kreacher.





She heard low voices, someone approaching her door. There was a soft tapping, almost indiscernible, on the wood. Her heart jumped. She figured Ron would simply ignore the situation, and pretend everything was alright again tomorrow. Maybe it’s Harry, she got to her feet and padded to the door, pausing briefly. She considered not answering it, but then her curiosity got the better of her. She twisted the knob.





Ron was there, big as life. It was odd – she both wanted and didn’t want him to be standing there. She both wanted and didn’t want him to wrap his arms around her. Harry was by the top of the stairs. She tried smiling at him, if only to avoid Ron’s gaze for another few moments. He returned her tired grin; he looked exhausted. Harry mightn’t be smiling at you at all, tired or not, if Ron hadn’t done what he did, and the truth of that thought forced Hermione’s head back round to Ron. She said nothing.





He took her hand, very gently, “Listen, I’m terrible at this sort of thing, so how ‘bout cutting a fellow a break and letting me in for a moment?�





She looked at him, really looked at him. He seemed on the verge of collapse. She didn’t trust herself to speak quite yet, but she let go of his hand and step aside. He came into her room and the door shut with a squeak. The silence was deafening. He wandered over to the dark wooden vanity, picking up and putting down various things – her hairbrush, a bottle of perfume, a barrette – his back hunched and his shoulders sagged. She watched him, curled up on the big armchair across from the bed and waited.





He suddenly turned around and Hermione was surprised to see a smile on his face. A real smile. He had something in his hand, a piece of paper or something. He was looking at it, and his grin got bigger. “I don’t remember this being taken,� he held it out to her.





It was a photo of her, Ron, Harry and Ginny sitting by the lake at Hogwarts. In the background, she could see the purple tentacles of the giant squid waving from the water’s glassy surface, plus patches of blue sky and green grass. But the main focus of the photo was the four of them, arms draped around each other, mugging and laughing at the camera. As they watched, Ginny stuck her tongue out and the Hermione in the photo giggled so hard tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.





“That was a good day. You don’t remember? Colin Creevey was walking by, he snapped it. It was after Harry and Ginny started going out, just before…� she trailed off.





“Everything went to shite?� he replied. She couldn’t help it. She laughed. She saw something loosen in Ron’s face when she did. “Shove over, would you?� He moved to sit down with her in the chair.





“Ronald Weasley, do you actually think you can fit your gigantic self into this chair with me?� She huffed, not entirely displeased with the notion.





“That’s the plan,� he lifted her legs up and plopped himself down, leaving about six inches of cushion for her. He pulled her onto his lap. “See, it worked.� He put his head on her shoulder, muttered something she couldn’t hear.





“What did you say?� she asked, resisting the urge to rest her cheek on his head, to stroke his hair.





“I said ‘Let’s not have a row,’� he said, louder this time, not moving.





“I don’t want to have a row with you,� her hand hovered over the dark ginger hair, touched it. He looked up at her. “But – Ron, I’m scared. Scared of what this is doing to you. No, that’s not fair, really. It’s not just you, it’s all of us. The things we’ve done so far, the things we’ll have to do – this is changing us, forever,� she couldn’t go on.





For a moment she felt angrier than she’d ever felt in her life. Angry at Harry’s quest, angry that they had to lie and sneak around, angry that anyone, even Kreacher, had to turn Ron into a murderer. Angry that she may have been wrong – not about house elves in general, but about Kreacher specifically. She pounded her fist on the arm of the chair, trying to assuage her frustration. A plume of dust rose up, and she watched the tiny specks dance around. Her ire was still bubbling near the surface when Ron grabbed her clenched fist.





“Hermione, I think I’m going to invest in a punching bag for you,� he said, “You’re prone to fits of random violence, and I don’t want to be your next victim.� He unraveled her fingers, put his hands on her face. “So tell me. Tell me what it is about house elves,� he said softly. She looked in his eyes for any sign of mocking or teasing. She saw neither.





“I – I’m not sure myself,� she began, and suddenly realized it was the truth. “It’s just that – well, they seem to get the short end of the stick, you know? It’s as if wizards take advantage of the fact that house elves are subservient. It seems like an abuse of the status quo.�





Ron didn’t say anything for a minute. He seemed to be considering and rejecting several answers. “Hermione, ok, fair enough. A lot of house elves are treated shoddy, for sure. But – but – wizards have had house elves for thousands of years. It’s – it’s just – the way things are.�





“That’s not a reason Ron, it’s an excuse,� she leaned back a little from him, could hear the steel enter her voice, “Listen, from – from an outsider’s perspective – I think the whole system is screwy. Maybe you can’t see it, because, as you said, wizards have been doing it forever.�





“You’re not an ‘outsider’ Hermione,� Ron looked almost as upset as if she had referred to herself as a ‘Mudblood’. “You’re a witch.�





She shook her head. He was missing the point. “But I grew up Muggle, Ron. I knew there was something, erm, a bit different about me, but I’m not like you – I can never be a witch the way, say, you’re mum or Ginny is. I came late to the party,� she suddenly realized that this feeling had a lot to do with her sympathy for house elves – the feeling that, no matter how many times she read Hogwarts – A History or how many spells she learned, she’d never really be a wizard, she’d always be second-best, somehow intrinsically lacking, to someone born into a wizarding house.





Ron looked disgusted. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a better witch than any pure-blooded witch or wizard our age. You’re top of the class, Hermione!� Somehow the conversation had drifted from house elves and landed directly on the real problem, Hermione suddenly realized.





“Does that really matter? Does it? No it doesn’t – because if knowledge, and honor and treating people right really mattered, words like ‘Mudblood’–� she spat it out like something poisonous – “wouldn’t exist, would it? But so long as pure-blooded wizards can use that word, and look down on non-human magical creatures, it gives them the sense that they’re better than the rest of us. To them, they’d rather be the worst witch born than the best witch made.�





She jumped out of his lap, paced the room. Her cheeks were burning and her hair flew out around her head in a dark cloud. Ron remained on the armchair, a mixture of awe and trepidation on his face. He cleared his throat.





“Hermione, if you felt this way, all along, why didn’t you ever say something? Harry and I would’ve understood how you felt – actually, would’ve cleared up some of the wonkier things you’ve said about house elves and ‘SPEW’ and all that, so you know –�





“RON! It’s not ‘SPEW’!! It’s the Society for – for the Promotion of – of –� but she couldn’t go on. It all just seemed ridiculously funny to her somehow. She cracked up, and could hear a slightly hysterical edge to her laughter. She wasn’t sure how something so serious could also be funny, but it was – it really just was. She caught sight of Ron’s flummoxed expression, and began laughing even harder, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. Just like she was in that picture of the four of them.





She caught sight of it resting on the arm of the chair, by Ron’s big, freckled hand. She picked it up, smiled at it. “Shove over,� she said to him.





“No shoving, just sit,� he opened his arms. She sat down, put her arms around him. No matter how out-of-place she sometimes felt in the wizarding world, this was one place that felt completely right to her. With him. “You know, you’re absolutely nutters, I can’t really account for my attraction, honestly. You’re a bit scary sometimes, you know.� His tone was kidding but the kiss that followed was totally serious.





“I guess not being normal isn’t so terrible, is it?� She pressed her cheek against his. Nothing was really resolved, but she felt like something good had happened nonetheless. She felt calmer.





“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be normal. If you were, I don’t think I’d lo-� But whatever he was going to say was lost under the pounding on her bedroom door. She and Ron jumped up. That was Harry shouting – and, and was that Ginny she heard?





“Hey, you two!! Hope you’re decent, we’re coming in,� Ginny’s gleeful voice cried. But Hermione heard tension underneath the joking tone. She and Harry tumbled into the room.





“Gin! What in bloody hell are you –� Ron began.





“No time, Ron, this is serious,� Harry’s curt reply cut him off.





“What is it?� Hermione notice a piece of parchment in Ginny’s hand.





“It’s Lupin – and Tonks. They never made it to Paris. They’re missing,� Ginny responded grimly. Ron and Hermione exchanged stunned glances. “Go ahead, Harry, read it to them,� Ginny handed the piece of paper to him. Hermione wondered, waiting to hear what obstacle had entered their path now.

Chapter 26 – Fiora’s Letter



Ron breathed in the scent of Hermione’s hair, felt her flushed cheek against his. An overwhelming sense of relief flooded through him – he had prepared himself for a huge row, and instead they’d had an actual conversation – she’d even laughed!



“I guess not being normal isn’t so terrible, is it?� she murmured.



And maybe it was because she was so close, but not looking directly at him, that he was able to muster the courage to clear his throat and say, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be normal. If you were, I don’t think I’d lo-� Unfortunately, just before the word left his mouth, they were both startled by a racket at the door. Sounds like someone’s let a few Bludgers loose in the hallway or something…Ron thought, as he and Hermione jumped up. He gave her a fleeting glance. I love you, you know? He sent the thought out to her right as a very familiar voice piped from the other side of the bedroom door.



“Hey, you two!! Hope you’re decent, we’re coming in!� Ginny and Harry burst through the door.



“Gin! What in bloody hell are you –� Ron raged, very put out at being interrupted at such a time. He wasn’t one to declare his love every day, and he felt the opportunity slipping away from him. But his best friend interrupted tersely.



“No time, Ron, this is serious,� Harry’s eyes were worried.



“What is it?� Hermione, on Ron’s right. He put his arm around her shoulder.



“It’s Lupin – and Tonks. They never made it to Paris. They’re missing,� Ginny responded grimly. Ron turned to Hermione, saw his own shock reflected on her tired face. “Go ahead, Harry, read it to them,� Ginny handed a piece of paper to him. Ron hadn’t noticed it until that moment. It looked like a letter of some kind.



“Well, actually, they may have made it to Paris. But they didn’t see Lupin’s friend, Fiora Podlink,� Harry clarified. “This letter is from her. They never made it to her shop. I saw them Apparate with my own eyes on Sunday afternoon. Lupin said they were heading to Paris directly. It’s Tuesday now and –�



“Wednesday, actually,� Hermione interrupted. “Wednesday morning –erm-� she checked the wall clock over her dresser, “Three-twenty-seven a.m.�



“Two and a half days,� Ron said, “They should have been there. Way before now.� The four of them stood in morose silence for a few moments, letting that fact sink in.



“I saw them Apparate!!� Harry seemed to want reassurance from this. “Anyway, Gin, you’d better tell them what you told me before I read this letter,� he waved it like a white flag, in defeat.



“Wait a minute, wait a minute,� Hermione interrupted as they all sprawled in various places in her room, “Where did you get the letter, Ginny? How do we know it’s really from Fiora Podlink?�



Ron saw Harry and Ginny exchange smirks. “Well, I sort of – well, lifted it,� Ginny hugged her knees to her chest, rocked back and forth. “Kingsley Shacklebolt came to Mum and Dad with the letter, let’s see, about two hours ago? I was, well, making myself a midnight snack in the kitchen and couldn’t help but overhear -�



“Eavesdropping, is what you mean, right, Gin? Playing innocent?� Ron interjected, laughing a bit.



“Well, in this case, I’m glad they underestimated wittle Ginny,� she made a face, and Harry laughed and hugged her.



“Let’s focus, everyone,� Hermione stated in a steely voice, puffing a long strand of hair out of her face. Ron glanced over at her, and couldn’t help thinking how cute she was when she got bossy. Knowing how peeved she’d be if they started goofing off, he bit the sides of his mouth to keep from grinning. Hermione continued, “Lupin and Tonks are, very likely, in danger. This isn’t helping.�



“Yes, ma’am,� Ginny replied, a twinkle in her eyes, “Well, apparently Lupin’s been staying with Kingsley in London for awhile –�



“Not with Tonks?� Ron asked. Even he could see how cozy those two had become recently.



“Ron! Focus!� Hermione smacked his knee.



“Yes, ma’am,� he answered, imitating Ginny perfectly. Harry and Ginny burst out laughing, and even Her Royally Focused cracked a smile.



“Anyway, Lupin’s been staying in Kingsley’s flat for awhile, working on whatever he’s been working on for the Order in town,� Ginny continued, “And Lupin instructed him to receive all owl post for him while he was away. Kingsley knew where Lupin and Tonks were going, he even mentioned knowing Fiora Podlink from her work at the Ministry. Lupin and Tonks had arranged to stay at a flat in Paris, some friend of Tonks’ dad. Well, Kingsley got a little nervous when he didn’t hear from them all day Monday – Tonks said she’d send word when they were settled – and then tonight, this letter arrives,� she gestured to Harry’s hand.



“Well, go on, Harry!! Read it!� Hermione gripped one of the bed’s posts. She was sitting on the floor, leaning her head against the side of the mattress. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and began reading,



“Remus,



I hope this letter finds you, and finds you well. I am sitting in the shop, worried sick about you and your friend Nymphadora. Although it’s late Tuesday evening, and I was expecting you two days ago, I cannot help but glance up each time a figure walks by my door, expecting to see your familiar face. Now I am afraid, that by asking you here, I have put you in danger somehow. I regret not getting your Parisian address ~ I am hoping the owl I send this with finds you, wherever you are.



Remus, several things have happened in the past few days that have caused me great concern ~ one which occurred less than an hour ago. The first is something that has been whispered about for the past several weeks ~ that Fenrir Greyback and his cohorts have been prowling both banks of the Seine in search of young victims ~ both magical and Muggle. I know that it has been a concern of yours as well, but I hadn’t realized that he had crossed to the Continent. Now I understand your eagerness in visiting me ~ it wasn’t simply to rehash old times!



The other thing directly relates to Peter and all we’ve discussed about him. I told you I did him a favor many years ago, the night before Lily and James were killed. At the time, I thought it was insignificant ~ this was, of course, before we found out the terrible news. As you know, I was working part-time for the Ministry then and was looking towards setting up my own curio shop. Well, you know how Peter was; he was always bringing me little knick-knacks and other objects of interest, telling me they were for the ‘great shop I would own someday.’ It’s still so hard for me to reconcile that sweet, shy young man with the subservient killer he actually is.



Anyway, from the time he graduated Hogwarts, several times a month Peter would bring me these ‘gifts’ and I would of course receive them gladly. But that night, it was something very different. I look back now and realize what I fool I was, but how could I have known? As you have said, it’s time to stop blaming, and time to start fighting. And you’re right.



That night, the night before that horrible, horrible night, I had no idea what news awaited all of us. I was in my flat in London, eating a late dinner, when Peter arrived. He looked a bit more flustered than usual, and he didn’t often arrive at such a late hour, but you remember Peter ~ he was always a bit dotty around girls, and this seemed like little more than his usual nervousness. I offered him tea, which he accepted distractedly. He said he had something for me. I confess, the way he said it ~ I was afraid whatever it was he had was going to include a declaration of his feelings for me. But that wasn’t the case.



Peter lifted a beautifully carved ornamental cup from his robes and set it on my table. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and even before I attempted any spells on it, I could tell it was a powerful magical object. I protested that he could not give something of such worth to me ~ I could clearly see the badger on the side of the cup and knew that it has surely belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. He interrupted me ~ he said that this particular piece wasn’t for me, but he needed me to protect it. He wanted me to Transfigure the cup into something else, anything else, and keep it safely with my growing store of objects. Which I did willingly. I held onto the cup, and didn’t ask Peter where or how he had gotten it. And then, we got the terrible news about James and Lily and Sirius, and I assumed him dead, like the rest of the wizarding world.



I was foolish, Remus, and my ego got in the way of clear thought. I knew Peter had strong romantic feelings for me, and I never felt like he would put me in harm’s way. From you, I have learned he wasn’t the man all of us thought he was. And then, there was what happened earlier this evening.



I still have the cup, which is still in its Transfigured state. Roughly an hour ago, I noticed a red light emanating from the storage room. I went to investigate, and the cup was in a state of flux ~ it kept switching back and forth between the object it really was and the object I had turned it into. And it was glowing, brilliant red. I was afraid already because of your absence, but this has terrified me, Remus. I am taking a terrible risk putting this down on paper, but I don’t know what else to do. I bewitched the storage room but I have no idea what magical powers this object has. I dare not write my worst suspicion in this letter.



I will wait another two days here in Paris. If I do not hear from you by then, I am going to contact Arthur Weasley directly, he is an Order Member and a trustworthy source.



~ Fiora�



Harry finished the letter, his voice hoarse from reading aloud. They all sat in solemn silence. Ron felt warm with shock. He couldn’t believe it. Hermione jumped to her feet next to him and began scooping her belongings into her knapsack.



“What – what are you doing, Hermione?� Ginny queried. She didn’t seem as dazed as he himself was, but Ron suddenly remembered she has read this letter before, at least once.



“What do you think? We’ve got to get to Fiora before she writes that letter to your dad! We all know what that cup is! And – and – what it did? Glowing red? A few hours ago? That was exactly the same time as –as Ron – as Kreacher –� Hermione didn’t complete the thought aloud. She looked helplessly between Harry and Ron.



“What about Kreacher?� Ginny asked, confused. The other three exchanged glances, as Harry and Ron got to their feet.



“No time now, Gin – Hermione’s right, we’ve gotta get a move on,� Harry ran his hand distractedly through his hair, making it stand on end. Ron knew he had to move, but couldn’t seem to make his frozen limbs work.



“Where are we going?� Ron asked this superfluous question because he couldn’t quite get a grip on reality. Everything was spinning out of control. He was so very tired, more tired then he’d ever been in his life. And sleep wasn’t coming any time soon.



“Ron!� Hermione practically shrieked, and he could tell she was barely keeping it together. “You heard me! We have to get to Fiora now.�



“We’re going to Paris?� Ginny exclaimed.



“Not you, Gin,� Harry and Ron spoke this together.



“Dammit!! Not this again!� Ginny stamped her foot.



“No, they’re right Ginny,� Hermione has stopped moving finally, “Not only can you not Apparate, but we need you to go back to the Burrow and do some damage control. You have to return the letter, as well. We’ll also need one other thing from you, because the three of us aren’t going to the same place.�



“We aren’t!??!?!� Again, Ron spoke in tandem with his friend. His stomach turned icy at the determined look on Hermione’s face.



“No, I don’t think so. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this, and fast, we’re going to have to split up,� Hermione shrugged. “I don’t see any other choice.�

“I really don’t like this,� Ron’s voice was muted as he, Harry and Hermione craned their necks skyward, watching Ginny’s broom swoop gracefully away in the distance, darting away from Grimmauld Place and London. Harry stared up a bit longer than the other two, certain he could still see the glowing red banner of her hair. Neither do I, neither do I. Any of it, he thought.





Harry looked at his two friends, standing tiredly in the milky five o’clock light of Wednesday morning. For a moment he had the disturbing impression he was standing with two ghosts – the eerie pre-dawn light and their exhaustion had sapped Ron’s and Hermione’s skin of any color.





“I really don’t like this,� Ron repeated, turning to Hermione, “I still don’t think we should split up.� Before she could reply, Harry spoke.





“Ron, I don’t like this either,� Harry could see Hermione dying to argue and continued before she could, “However, Hermione has a point. There are two extremely important things here – one, getting to the Horcrux cup before anyone else does, or before it possesses Fiora Podlink. That’s Hermione’s job. Not trying to destroy it on her own, of course,� Harry said, raising his eyebrows at her, “But securing it, with Fiora’s help, until we can get there. The second is finding Lupin and Tonks. I have a feeling that Lupin had at least some inkling about the Horcruxes, based on what he said to me before they left. You and I have to go the flat where they were supposed to be staying,� Harry finished. He had the address of the flat on a piece of paper in his pocket. Clever Ginny had remembered it from Kingsley’s conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Weasely. That was the other thing Hermione had wanted from her.





“I don’t think you’ll find them,� Hermione started, meekly for her, “but maybe you’ll find some sort of clue as to where they are, or something they were working on. We don’t know they didn’t make it to that flat...� she trailed off, glancing surreptitiously over at Ron, who was now avoiding her gaze.





“And if they did, and someone surprised them there, or followed them there…?� Ron queried.





“That’s why you and I are going together Ron, we’ve been over this,� Harry was exasperated. He, too, honestly didn’t like the idea of splitting up. But the truth of the matter was, they knew what awaited them at Fiora’s shop – the flat was a big old question mark. He wasn’t crazy about Hermione striking out on her own, but they all knew she was cleverer than most two witches put together. Besides, it was only going to be for a few hours…





As if reading his mind, Hermione piped up. Harry knew she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for long. “Look, Ron, we’re only splitting up for what, half a day? I’ll go to Fiora’s, talk to her before anyone from the Burrow can get there, and –�





“But why on your own? That’s what I’m not keen on, Hermione, and you and Harry haven’t really given any good reasons for it!� Harry could see an argument brewing and spoke.





“Ron, ok, again – Hermione knows her way around Paris, she’s been there a few times. She also speaks some French, which is more than I can say for either of us,� Harry paused, “Also, even though I don’t know her, I can imagine Fiora Podlink is probably a mite nervous, scared really, right now. She doesn’t know us at all, and I think if Hermione goes on her own, she’s got a better chance of keeping her calm,� Harry took a deep breath, grinned a little to himself, “Plus, Fiora Podlink seems like another know-it-all, what with being McGonagall’s favorite and everything – the two of them should really hit it off.�





“Oh, very funny, Harry,� Hermione grouched, but Ron was chuckling, and that’s what Harry had been hoping for.





“So, then, alright. Harry, you and me, we go to the flat where Lupin and Tonks were supposed to be staying, check everything out, if there is anything to check out. It’s half five now, so in Paris, it’s almost breakfast time. No matter what happens,� at this, Ron placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, gripped it tightly, “No matter what, Harry and I will head to Fiora’s shop at six o’clock this evening, exactly. We’ll Apparate into the nearest alleyway. We’ll expect to find Hermione and Fiora in the shop, the Horcrux contained but not destroyed –�





“Unless we have to,� Hermione interjected, seemingly unable to help herself, “Don’t look at me like that you two, it might come to that. If we have to destroy it on our own we will. We could handle it, you know. I could handle it,� Hermione finished.





Harry could sense she was preparing for a protest from at least one of them, and without her noticing, he stepped on Ron’s foot. Ron glanced over, his mouth open to retort, and Harry shook his head. His best mate didn’t say anything.





“What happens if you two don’t show up? As Harry pointed out, you two have no idea what you’re in for. You better be careful,� fear had made her voice squeak up nearly an octave.





“You’re right Hermione. If we don’t show up at Fiora’s by midnight –�





“Midnight? You expect me to wait that long, Harry –�





“Yes, and don’t panic. Just because we may be delayed doesn’t me we’re in any immediate danger. I have a feeling, too, that by that time, there’ll be quite a few more folks in Fiora’s shop, Mr. Weasely and Kingsley at the very least,� Harry surmised. “You have to stay there, Hermione, and tell them what’s going on. Don’t come looking for us. I don’t suppose the Horcruxes are going to be kept secret much longer, anyway. Lupin almost surely knew, which is probably why he and Tonks are missing. And from the sound of her letter, Fiora Podlink has very strong suspicions as well…� Harry trailed off, pulled his newly-acquired watch out of his pocket.





“We better get going then,� Ron said in a tight voice. He was looking up at the brightening sky.





“Yeah, we better,� Hermione echoed him. Now that the time had come, she seemed to have lost some of her fierceness.





Harry felt disquiet enter his heart. For someone who’d plan on taking this journey alone, he was suddenly loath to part from either of his friends. The three of them stood in a sloppy triangle for a few moments, not speaking. Hermione broke the silence.





“Well, you know you two, now we’ll be able to say ‘We’ll always have Paris,’� she smiled ruefully at her friends. Ron looked utterly perplexed, but the line sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, calling up images of a man in a smoky bar and the tear-stained face of a classically beautiful woman.





“What in bloody hell are you on about?� Ron asked gruffly. Harry had the sneaking suspicion he was holding back tears. Harry felt his own eyes prickling a bit as well.





Hermione laughed. “It’s from a very famous Muggle film, Ron,� she sighed. “‘We’ll always have Paris.’ I was trying to be funny, you both look like you’re sending me to my doom,� Hermione concluded. Harry was struck again by the bravery of his friends. While Hermione did appear nervous, she also seemed excited and ready for the task at hand. “I guess I’ll go first.�





“Seeing as you are the Apparation expert of the group, why not? Determination, destiny and detonation, as that old fart from the Ministry would’ve said, right Hermione?� Ron muttered, and the three of them really did laugh. Ron and Harry stood on the same square of sidewalk as she walked a few paces away from them.





She paused, turned and rushed back. She flung her arms around Harry, hugging him tightly around the neck. He hugged her back. Let her be safe, he wished. “Be smart, Hermione, be careful.� He whispered into her hair.





She pulled back a bit, gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, you know I’ll be smart. Careful? We’ll see what’s called for, Harry - ‘careful’ isn’t always possible…� She let him go, turned to Ron.





“Don’t even start with me, Ronald, I’ll be seeing you by dinnertime and have to watch you stuff your face –� But Ron had gathered her up, practically lifting her off the ground, and had stopped her admonition with a kiss. Still weird, Harry thought with a grin. Weird, but so right, somehow.





Hermione backed away, her eyes locked with Ron’s. She had her hand pressed to her mouth, as if she wanted to hold his kiss there awhile longer. Ron gazed at her for a minute, said nothing, and tilted his head back up at the sky. Hermione stood there a minute longer, her face wrinkled in concentration. Then she spun, with some grace, her eyes closed tightly. “We’ll always have Paris, you two!� She cried.





Harry blinked. His best friend was gone, the space where she had been a moment ago now just a blank, sun-dappled square of cement on a lonely London street.

It was absolutely inappropriate considering the circumstances, but Hermione couldn’t help but smile when she opened her eyes. She was standing on a tiny, cobbled Parisian street, the early-morning sun casting fans of pink and gold on the sides of the buildings. To her left was a café opening up for the day. Three elderly women - Witches, Hermione noted, taking in an espresso cup hovering mid-air by one’s gnarled hand and the dubious smoke rising from the mug at another’s – sat close together at a table on the street, giggling softly. The oldest of them tipped Hermione a wink. She surprised herself by winking back.

She turned away from the café and examined the storefront on her right. “Curiousities et Trésors� was etched on the plate-glass window in scratched gold script. This is it, Hermione noted the small sign hanging on the door that read “Fiora Podlink, Proprietress�. She’s not going to have the shop opened so early, if at all, Hermione glanced over at the trio of witches again, as they burst into girlish laughter. She missed her friends already. She took a deep breath and rapped on the door of the curio shop. The door opened a fraction of an inch, and a hesitant voice spoke.

“Est-ce que je peux vous aider?� Hermione’s brain translated the French slowly. Fiora Podlink was asking if she could help her; she probably hadn’t expected a stranger on her doorstep at 7 a.m. Only a sliver of her cheek and one frightened, wary eye was showing through the gap in the doorway. Hermione thought she could see some of the fear leave that startled blue eye when Fiora saw only a lone teenaged girl on her doorstep. She tried to figure the best approach, hoping to keep the woman calm.

“Ms. Podlink? My name is Hermione Granger, I am a friend of Harry Potter’s – Sirius Black’s godson,� she remembered Lupin’s story, Fiora’s soft spot for Sirius. It seemed the best way to go. “I was a student of Remus Lupin’s, as well. I know he’s missing.�

There was a short intake of breath and a small hand reached out and pulled Hermione inside the shop. Before her eyes could adjust to the dimness of the crammed interior of the store, Fiora Podlink was speaking to her, in confused, excited bursts. Her voice was husky and melodious.

“Harry? You know James’ son?? My god, you’re practically an adult! He can’t possible be that old, how time flies – good lord, I’m getting old, getting old. Please tell me –Hermione, is it? – do you know where Remus is? How did you know to come here? You seem awfully young to be in the Order, but I suppose that…can I make you some tea?� Fiora seemed to realize she was rambling, and stopped. She bustled around the room, readying the drinks. Hermione finally got a good look at her.

Hermione didn’t usually think of herself as particularly tall, but Fiora Podlink made her feel like Hagrid. The woman stood at just barely five feet, very neat and petite, which contrasted jarringly with her sweet yet raspy voice. Her features were pretty in a pointed, avian way. The biggest thing about her was her hair – Hermione could have been gazing at her own unruly tresses, other than the fact that Fiora’s were, instead of mousy brown, a sunny yellow color. The over all effect she created was that of a startled baby canary. She was the brightest thing in the room, which was filled to the ceiling with artifacts and old furniture of all kinds.

Hermione couldn’t help but turn in place, her eyes darting from one item to the next – from the mundane, such as a an old Muggle globe, to the fascinating, like what appeared to be a large glass case filled with enormous, jewel-encrusted butterflies. She realized with a start that Fiora was waiting for a reply from her. The past twenty-four hours threatened to crash down on her, but she shook her fear and exhaustion away for the moment.

“Ms. Podlink, I am very sorry to – to come – to you like this. I can explain. Yes, I am a very close friend of Harry’s, as well as Ron and Ginny Weasley – two of Arthur Weasly’s children? As you guessed, I – and Harry and Ron – are members of the Order. New members, really. We’ll be in our final year at Hogwarts in the fall,� she said. If we live that long… “Harry and I were staying with the Weasleys this past week, we saw Professor Lupin and Tonks just a few days ago. Harry saw them Apparate in the Burrow’s backyard…� Hermione paused, feeling overwhelmed by the entire situation. She was so very tired.

Fiora Podlink took her by the arm, and the tiny woman led her to the counter that held the register. There were two small stools situated there, and she made Hermione sit on one of them. Without a word, she brought over two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. Hermione was so grateful to be sitting, and eating, she had to force the cookie past a lump in her throat.

“Hermione. You seem like you’ve had a tough few days, and I can tell you’re upset about Remus and his friend, but I really need to understand how you came to be here,� Fiora’s eyes kept listing towards a small, closed door towards the back of the shop. Hermione knew the woman was very afraid of what was back there. The cup. The Horcrux.

“Well, Ms. Podlink, there was the letter you wrote Lupin last night…� very haltingly, Hermione told her how she and her friends has gotten their hands on that letter, and were afraid for Lupin and Tonk, but more importantly, “…Ms. Podlink? It’s the cup that Wormtail – I mean, Peter – gave you that worries me. I’m not sure how to tell you this, but, well, you said in your letter that you were afraid of writing what it might be. What do you suspect?� Hermione clutched her teacup compulsively.

“Oh my god. From the look on your face, young lady, what I suspect that – that thing – to be, is true,� all the color had left Fiora’s face. Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper. “Please tell me, it’s not a Horcrux?� She gripped Hermione’s arm tightly.

Hermione merely nodded at her. “I can’t believe this. I was afraid it might be, but I didn’t imagine that Peter was that accomplished – or evil – of a wizard. I keep forgetting he’s not the man I thought he was…� she trailed off, looking up at the wall behind the counter, which was cluttered with various receipts, photos and drawings.

“Ms. Podlink? Fiora? It’s – it’s not Peter’s soul in the Horcrux. It’s Voldemort’s,� Hermione kept her voice low. She was about to explain Kreacher’s demise to the horrified woman, but Fiora interrupted her.

“Don’t say his name!!� She hissed. “That cup has been doing very odd things since last night. Creating a Horcrux is the darkest of Dark magic, and it’s possible that it has an awareness, that it knows we’re speaking of it. I hate to sound immodest, but I am an extremely accomplished Transfigurer. The fact that the cup is able to reveal its true nature – even sporadically – indicates that it has a mind of its own. Or a soul,� she finished, shuddering.

“That’s why I came, to warn you about the Horcrux,� Hermione started. “Harry and Ron are headed over to where Lupin and Tonks were to be staying, to see if they can find any trace of them there. But we had to let you know what it was that you had – I have a feeling that Lupin suspected something as well, that may be why he’s disappeared…� she was suddenly distracted by one of the photos pinned on the wall.

The picture was an older one, curling at the edges. It showed four teenagers, in close-up, two boys and two girls. The lake at Hogwarts glimmered in the background. It was the boy on the left end that had caught Hermione’s eye. She finally understood what everyone, from Hagrid to McGonagall, had been saying to Harry for the past six years. There was no doubt in her mind that the boy was James Potter. Aside from the eyes, it was like looking at a photo of Harry…Well, maybe not exactly. Harry’s dad, who was mugging at the camera, seemed cockier, less sweet, than Harry. James had his arm slung around a beautiful red-haired girl who had to be Lily Potter – or, Evans still, probably, seeing how young they were in the picture. She smiled solemnly at the camera. The girl next to her was a bit younger – it was Fiora Podlink, looking radiantly happy, her cheeks in full rosy bloom, her blond curls flying in the breeze of that long ago day. The very handsome, dark-haired boy on her right snatched one of the curls, pretending it was a mustache, and she laughed even harder. Hermione gasped. It was Sirius. Sirius Black, at eighteen or twenty, the death of his friends and thirteen long years in Azkaban still several years in the future. No wonder Fiora fancied him, Hermione thought sadly.

“I’m the only one left,� Fiora’s voice startled her. She walked over to the picture, and pulled it down, placing it on the countertop. “This was taking at Hogwarts, on my graduation day. It’s terrible to me to think that I knew James and Lily so well, but their son never really did…�

“But he got to spend some time with Sirius, at least,� Hermione whispered. “And he looks just like his dad.� She reached into her bag and pulled out her favorite picture, the one that Ron had removed from her vanity mirror just a few hours ago. The one with the four of them laughing by the lake. She handed it to Fiora, who gasped.

“That’s unbelievable – it’s like looking at a ghost,� she touched Harry’s smiling face, looked up at Hermione. “Weasleys, I’m sure, the other two? Those Potter men have a thing for redheads, don’t they? But looks like you do too, right, Hermione?� And she even laughed a bit as Hermione felt her face grow warm. Fiora put the photograph down, and spoke in a more serious voice. “I’m very glad Harry got to meet Sirius, and knew he was an innocent man. I only wish I’d gotten to see him again myself. Since corresponding with Remus, I’ve wondered again and again why he didn’t get in touch…�

Hermione didn’t know what to say, but Fiora shook her head and clapped her hands together. “Ok, enough rehashing the past. You came here, and I thank you, to take care of that Horcrux with me. Do you feel up to the task?�

“Well, I did promise Harry and Ron we’d wait for them to get here…�

“I think we can handle it together, you and me. I really shouldn’t say this to you, because nothing’s at all definite – what really is, in this world anymore - but Minerva McGonagall has written to me several times in the past few weeks. With the passing of Albus Dumbledore, she’s now Headmistress of Hogwarts, and is trying to recruit me to replace her as Transfiguration Professor. Me! Rule-breaker extraordinaire! A teacher!� Fiora’s raspy giggles made Hermione smile, despite the circumstances. “But, I have been considering it, and even though it took me this long, I realize that you, my dear, are the ‘Miss Granger’ she speaks so highly of all the time. ‘Like you, Fiora’ she says ‘Clever girl, but getting herself involved in questionable adventures at times.’ It’s the ‘questionable’ that makes me think you’re up to the task, Hermione. What say you?�

Before she could reply in the affirmative, a shadow crossed the through the sun streaming in the plate glass windows. There was a slim, cloaked figure standing at the locked front door. Fiora clutched Hermione’s wrist, squeezed, let go.

“It’s alright. I had one early appointment scheduled this morning, a wizard who arranged to pick up a package on his way to work. Why don’t you wait for me in the storage room?� She gestured towards the small, closed door, where the Horcrux was. “It’s back there, on the second shelf, in a dark blue box. Don’t touch the box until I come back there, ok, Hermione? I’ll take care of this customer and I’ll be there in a few minutes.�

Hermione went towards the storage room with trepidation. She hoped Fiora would be quick – she didn’t want to be alone with the Horcrux any longer than she had to be. She went into the small, shelf-lined room, but could bear to shut the door. She left it open a sliver, muttered “Lumos,� and stared hard at the plain blue box, innocent-seeming, sitting on the shelf.

Though she didn’t take her eyes off of the box for one second, she listened to Fiora’s light chatter as she let her early-morning customer in. Then man wasn’t very talkative – or he was responding so quietly to Fiora’s small talk that his voice was inaudible from back here. She tip-toed over to the cracked door and peered out at the shop. Fiora was behind the counter, rummaging for her customer’s package. The wizard was tall and thin, dressed in a long black cloak, the hood obscuring his face from view.

Something about him stirred unease in Hermione’s stomach. She didn’t understand why, but she went over to the box housing the Horcrux and stuck it into her knapsack, cinching the bag shut tightly. She walked back over to the doorway.

“Well, you should be all set, then,� Fiora was handing the man a small, wrapped package. Hermione noted she was speaking in English, not French. Then wizard wasn’t local, then.

“No, actually, not,� the wizard began, but he was speaking so softly Hermione could barely discern the words. “This isn’t really what I came for, Ms. Podlink. I came for something else entirely. Something that you’ve had for a long time, that doesn’t belong to you. Something very very dangerous.�

Hermione didn’t like the words, nor the tone. It seemed neither did Fiora, who was reaching for her wand behind her.

“Don’t do it, Fiora. Though we were at Hogwarts together, we weren’t ever what you’d classify as chums, were we? In fact, we ran in pretty much opposite circles. My courtesy extends only so far,� the man hissed, louder this time.

Hermione gasped, ripped the door open, wand held high. The wizard turned, and before she could even think a spell at him, she was disarmed, her wand rolling uselessly across the floor. She dove after it and collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

The cloaked wizard stunned Fiora in one swift move and towered over Hermione. She pushed her hair out of her face and nearly screamed as his hood fell away.

“Snape!� There was a brief flash of light, and then Hermione saw only darkness.

As always, the minute Ron felt the pressing sensation (which he found far less unpleasant than Harry did) he associated with Apparating subside, his hands flew to his eyebrows. Having officially failed his Apparation test by leaving one behind, he subconsciously assumed he was bound to repeat the mistake at least once again.



"They're both there," Harry smirked as he took a lungful of air.



"Well, yes of course, just checking, you know," Ron muttered, putting his hands down as the two of them exited the small alleyway where they had just appeared. When they reached the narrow street crammed with tiny bistros and coffee shops, both of them stood for a moment, forgetting their worries, completely charmed.



Rue du Dragon read a nearby street sign. A café owner across the tiny street was unfurling a wine-colored canopy over several miniscule tables. A man with a jaunty hat and a smelly cigar walked passed Harry and Ron, the basket of lemons in his arms a bright splash of color on the shady street. Heading in the opposite direction, a young woman several years older than them breezed by in a puff of expensive perfume and a flutter of silk scarf. She assessed them briefly with storm-colored eyes and continued along without looking back. As she passed, Harry gave Ron a bit of a nudge, and they grinned shiftily at each other.



Hermione would've smacked us both for that, or at least rolled her eyes, and said "Boys" in that way she has, Ron's grin faded a little and he regretted not finishing the sentence that had been interrupted by Harry and Ginny what seemed like a week or so ago. You'll tell her you love her when you see her later today, in less than twelve hours, he consoled himself. But why did that feel untrue?



"Ok, let's see if we can find this place," Harry drew the scrap of paper with the flat's address out of his pocket. His eyes flitted over several buildings, landing on a dark brown building diagonal from them. "That's it - let's go." He and Ron rushed across the street, stood at the door of the apartment building for a moment.



"Bit posh, no?" Ron surveyed the building and the shops around it. He always tossed Lupin and Tonks into the same category as his family - scraping by, just barely. Though he'd hardly admit it to himself.



"Well, it doesn't belong to Lupin, or Tonks, or even her family - remember? Ginny said it was a friend of Tonks' dad. A Muggle friend, in fact," Harry walked closer to the door, examining a small white box affixed to the side of the doorframe.



"What in bloody hell is that?" Ron had never seen anything like it.



"It's a Muggle alarm system, it prevents people from breaking into the building, and alerts you if someone does get in," Harry grinned a bit at Ron's confusion. "Well, other Muggles at least. I think Alohamor-"



"How does it work?" Ron interrupted, tapping it with his wand.



"Careful with that, mate, I don't think this is a wizarding neighborhood," Harry whispered urgently.



"What? Oh - right - of course-" Ron tucked his wand away. In that instant, the little white box made a hissing sound and was suddenly burning merrily. Whatever it was made of was now running down the dark bricks of the building in dripping white tendrils. Harry and he just stared at the mess for a second - the flames were dying out but the material of the security box was now hardening into a lumpy mess on the side of the entryway.



"Good thing Hermione's not here, or I'd get the what-for," Ron muttered. Harry burst out laughing and Ron joined him. It felt good - no, it felt great. Between killing Kreacher a few hours ago, finding out that Lupin and Tonks were missing, and letting the girl he loved for who-knew-how-long go gallivanting straight towards a seriously evil object all by herself, Ron needed a laugh.



"God, I'm tired," Harry said, still chuckling, and clapped Ron on the back with one hand, swiping at his eyes with the other. "Ron, listen. We don't know what we're going to find up there. Be ready for anything, and prepare yourself to use a stunning spell at anytime. Oh and - we'd better use this," he rummaged in his knapsack, and furtively pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. Harry took a quick look around, ascertaining that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves by disappearing in the middle of the sidewalk, and tossed the cloak over both of them.



Harry pointed his wand at the door, muttered, and it popped open easily enough. They both hustled into the dim foyer, and Ron was struck by how crowded it was under the cape - had it been that long ago that all three of them had fit beneath it comfortably? Time flies - whether you're having fun or not, boy does it fly.



Harry pulled the cloak off of both of them, stuffed it away, and re-shouldered his pack. “Wand ready?� He murmured. Ron nodded, gripping it compulsively. “Second floor, follow me,� Harry took the risers two at a time. Ron followed closely, his heart pounding in his throat, wondering what awaited them in the flat above.



They reached a small landing flooded with sunlight from a narrow window. There was a door straight in front of them. It was slightly ajar. Harry noted it too – he nodded towards it, at Ron, raised his eyebrows, and ticked off three fingers. On three, then. Ron steeled himself. They both rushed the door, slamming it against the wall.



“Impedime-� but the spell died from their lips. There was no immediate way to tell if Lupin and Tonks had been here. Someone had been here, someone or several someones. But there was no one here now. That was for certain.



Having lived his entire life with family member on top of family member in the crammed, crazy environment of the Burrow, Ron was pretty used to messes. Even messy messes, not just clothes and papers and toys everywhere. But nothing he’d experienced beforehand prepared him – nor, did it seem, Harry, who was staring in wide-eyed horror – for the scene they had crashed in upon in the flat’s tiny sitting room.



Ron’s first impression was that someone had eaten their way through the space. There were angry tears in the paisley upholstery of the upended sofa, its guts of foam liner spilling on the to floor; the pale wall paper was gouged through in numerous places, as if something hungry had tried to gnaw through the walls, shredding the wood underneath. The curtains hung in tatters, streaked with what Ron was very afraid was a stomach-turning combination of blood and dirt.



There were other, lesser things that screamed to them something violent had happened in this room not so long ago. The shards of picture frame glass and bits of pottery from what once had been a table lamp crunched underfoot. Ron winced. Feels like walking on bones, he shuddered, and tried to banish the thought.



Harry stared at the destruction surrounding them. “Maybe – maybe – they weren’t here?� It came out of his mouth like a question, a plea for it to be true. But Ron noticed something under a splintered end table.



“No, Harry. They were here. Look,� he bent down, and pulled a dark green travel bag from underneath. It was Tonks’. They had both seen her with it at the Burrow. But then Ron found something even more unsettling. “Worse news. At least one of them is without their wand.� He proffered his second find at Harry, who tucked it absently into his back pocket.



“Someone knew they were going to be here. And – and from the looks of it – that someone was Fenrir Greyback,� Harry choked on the name of the werewolf as it left his mouth.



Ron’s stomach turned to ice. “Do you really reckon, Harry?� He walked over to the window, examined the curtains closely, then immediately regretted it. He didn’t think it was blood on the curtains. This close up, he could say for sure – it was.



“Look around, Ron. There wasn’t a magical battle here – someone did all this damage with physical violence. An animal, a vicious killer. Fenrir Greyback,� Harry finished.



“What do you suppose they wanted? You don’t – you don’t reckon they killed Tonks and Lupin, do you?� Ron’s throat got tight at the thought. This business just kept getting more and more serious by the moment. His mind turned unwillingly to Hermione and what she may have found at Fiora Podlink’s shop. God forbid it was a scene like this…



“No…if they had only wanted to kill them, Ron, we would’ve…would’ve…found their bodies here,� Harry struggled with the words, “If it really was Fenrir Greyback, which I think it was, they took Lupin – and Tonks, because she was with him – to teach them a lesson. You heard Lupin talk about Greyback – he’s ruthless, bitter, vicious- and he hates non-werewolves. But more than that, he hates werewolves like Lupin, decent people who are simply trying to live their lives as normally as they can…�



They were startled by the sound of rushed, pounding footsteps echoing up the stairwell. Harry gestured to Ron and frantically pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. He threw it over both of them hastily. After they had burst through the door a few minutes ago, it had bounced partially shut, blocking their view of the hallway. They crept up behind it just as the footsteps reached the second floor landing. There were at least two people out there, breathing heavily. Then they got their second shock of the morning.



“Ron Weasely? Harry Potter?� A deep, harsh voice whispered from the hall. “We know you’re in there, don’t make any sudden moves, for your own safety!� Ron could almost place the voice…it was vaguely familiar…



“Ron! Harry! We’re coming in!� That voice Ron had no problem recognizing. He glanced over at Harry and they gave each other relieved smiles. They threw off the Invisibility Cloak and Ron pulled the door open.



“Dad?�

Relief coursed through Harry’s tired body when he saw the tall figures of Arthur Weasely and Kingsley Shacklebolt standing, wands poised, in the doorway of the destroyed flat. He hadn’t realized until this very moment how utterly, sorely wiped out he was. He propped himself up on the doorframe.

“Dad?� Ron murmured, staring at his father as it had been decades rather than days since they’d last seen each other. An expression too complicated for Harry to read crossed Mr. Weasely’s face. He clamped his hand down hard enough on Ron’s shoulder to make his son sway on his feet. It didn’t help matters that Ron had to be as exhausted as Harry was himself.

“Ron,� Mr. Weasely choked out, turning to Kingsley with a wry grin. “Harry. What in the bloody blue blazes do you lads think you’re doing here?�

“Dad, we can explain, it’s just that –�

“Mr. Weasely, it’s my fault, Ron wouldn’t have come if –�

“Harry! What d’you mean, I wouldn’t have if –�

“Alright fellows,� Kingsley interrupted with a low rumble, “Now’s not the time for semantics, Arthur. Besides, as you noted to Molly,� Kingsley raised his eyebrows, nearly smiling, “As you noted to Molly not fifteen minutes ago, the boys are of age and official Order members, as of Sunday.� Harry couldn’t believe it. The two men seemed like they were trying not to laugh.

Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Are you guys taking the mickey?�

At that, Mr. Weasely and Kingsley did burst out laughing. “No, Ron. Not at all. In fact, there’s really not much to be laughing about,� he gestured to the totaled living room, “It’s just that you kids – sorry, young folks – are so damned brave, you’re constantly turn we adults on our ears. That stunt that Ginny pulled, I can’t believe she took Fiora’s letter – flew to London in the middle of the night – well, you can imagine your mother’s reaction – I’m surprised you can’t hear her shouting from here, in fact.� Arthur Weasely rubbed absently at his balding pate, surveying the destruction around him.

“My god, Kingsley, someone did find them,� he righted the overturned sofa, sat down heavily. “Fenrir Greyback and his cohorts, it appears.� Ron slumped down next to his father.

“There’s a leak in the Ministry, Arthur,� Harry turned to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who spoke solemnly, running his hands over the gouges in the wall. For Harry, the tall, dark man always exuded a quiet, serious intelligence that calmed him. “Your son confirmed that. Someone in the Ministry – or, I hate to say it – the Order. Someone’s getting and spreading information around. Maybe not someone with evil intentions – but someone careless, someone the Minister’s got on his secret payroll.�

“What do you mean, Kingsley?� Harry’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Are you talking about the conversation that Percy overheard the Minister having?� Ron shot him a concerned look, but Harry resigned himself to the fact that some things could no longer be secret. That, if they were all going to survive, something should no longer be secret.

“Yes, Harry,� Kingsley sighed. “The Minister is keeping tabs on you, because you didn’t offer him information voluntarily. I don’t particularly care for Scrimgeour, but I also don’t think he’s a Death Eater, or working for You-Know-Who either. But before tonight, I thought I was the only one who knew that Nymphadora and Remus would be here. This is bad – very bad. Someone is getting important information from our side, Order information, and selling it to the Minister – for power or money or influence,� he finished.

“You don’t – you don’t reckon the Minister – or his spy - told Fenrir Greyback that Lupin and Tonks would be here, do you?� Harry sputtered.

“No, no Harry. As I said, Scrimgeour isn’t my kind of leader, but he’s a decent man. And I don’t know who’s gathering information for him, but I don’t believe – I can’t believe – he’d work directly with a Death Eater or someone of Fenrir’s ilk. But knowledge is power, and can be just as dangerous in the hands of someone careless or greedy as it is in the hands of someone evil. Discretion is the better part of valor,� Kingsley finished.

Mr. Weasely seemed to be shaken from contemplation by this comment. “We need to alert the rest of the Order to this, fellows. And we need to find Remus and Tonks, quickly – or I am afraid we won’t find them alive,� Arthur Weasely’s face was very pale under its smattering of freckles.

“We want to help, Mr. Weasely, whatever we can do, we will,� Harry spoke firmly. He was still itching to continue onward on his quest, and especially felt a pull to visit Godric’s Hollow, but he couldn’t do anything more until he knew that Lupin and Tonks were safe. He hoped fervently they were. And as for the Horcruxes, the rest of them would just have to wait for now, there were more important things to – “Hermione!� Harry gasped out loud. Ron swiveled his head towards Harry, jumped to his feet.

“Dad! Kingsley! I don’t know how much – what Ginny said to you – we ran into some trouble at Number Twelve – I – Hermione – Kreacher. We have to get to Fiora’s shop – if, if what you say is true, Kingsley – someone – might’ve – oh, god, Harry, what about Hermione? Why did we let her go on her own?� A look of pure panic crossed Ron’s face.

“Ron,� his father spoke to him in a soothing voice. “We – erm – we got enough information from Ginny to know that the three of you had split up. That Hermione went to Fiora’s shop. We’re going to go there now – all of us,� Mr. Weasely stated firmly. “We’ve got other Order members meeting us there. But let’s not buy trouble beforehand, alright? Everything is probably just fine there. Fiora – and Hermione for that matter – are clever witches. We have to handle things calmly, ok?� Ron nodded mutely, caught Harry’s eye. Despite Arthur Weasely’s soothing tone, a feeling of dread was beginning to form in the pit of Harry’s stomach.

“Mr. Weasely? There’s something you ought to know – erm, well, we’re pretty sure that – that – well, in Fiora’s letter to Lupin, it said that she had something from Wormtail, and well, we think that it’s-�

“A Horcrux, I know Harry. I was very afraid that was the case, after Kingsley and I read the letter. And don’t be upset with Ginny – she, well, was rather in a spot to be helpful and was terribly worried about you all,� Mr. Weasely finished. “Ginny also hinted – but refused to say any more – that the three of you ran into some trouble at Number Twelve. Care to fill me in, Harry?�

Harry opened his mouth, not sure how to begin, but Ron interrupted him. “Harry! You can tell him later – we have to get to Fiora’s shop now!� His best friend looked ready to bolt, with or without the rest of them.

Harry strode over to him, put a hand on his shoulder. He tried to catch Ron’s eye. “She’s alright, mate, you know that, don’t you? She’s just fine. She’ll probably be put out that we came to check on her.� He hoped this would coax a smile onto Ron’s face, but it didn’t work. Harry couldn’t blame Ron. The disquiet in his heart was building with every second. He wanted to make sure Hermione was safe as well.

Ron shrugged Harry’s hand off and strode out the door, Tonks’ green bag still clutched in his hand. His voice rebounded behind him, “We don’t know she’s fine. Nothing else is. Nothing at all.� The other three men stared at each other solemnly for a minute, then followed him out of the demolished living room, down the stairs, and into the city beyond.

* * *

Harry barely had the opportunity to gather his bearings before he heard people talking excitedly all around him. He filled his lungs with cool, late-morning air and saw Ron doing the same, brushing his hands absently over his eyebrows. Mr. Weasely and Kingsley, more accustomed to Apparating, were already striding over to another person standing in front of Fiora’s shop.

“Minerva! Hope you haven’t been waiting too long for us. Where are Mundungus and Charlie?� Kingsley called out. Harry realized with a start that it Professor McGonagall standing by the shop, her usually impassive face flushed with concern – and Harry was surprised to see – a touch of fear as well.

“Well, Arthur, that’s a good question,� McGonagall shook Mr. Weasely’s and Kingsley’s outstretched hands perfunctorily. “You know how Mundungus operates – chances are, he saw something shiny of value and ‘accidentally’ got waylaid. Charlie should be here shortly – he was at Hogwarts when I got your owl, visiting with Hagrid.� She paused, pursed her thin lips, and turned to Harry and Ron.

“Potter. Weasely. Well, it’s comforting somehow to know you’re also embroiled in trouble during the summer holidays, and not just during term,� her dark eyes twinkled as she shook each of their hands in turn. But then her face became serious again, the gleam in her eyes fearful rather than teasing. “The door’s open. I was waiting for you all to arrive before I went in. I – I have to say, it’s not a good sign,� she shook her head, gestured towards the shop door, which hung open on its hinges.

Before anyone in the group could react, Ron was dashing into the shop, calling Hermione’s name.

“Foolish boy! He doesn’t even have his wand out!� McGonagall sprinted lithely after him, considering her age, her wand held high. Harry, Mr. Weasely and Kingsley followed.

As they entered the cluttered shop it took Harry’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the change in light. He mental steeled himself for another scene of chaos and destruction. But when his pupils dilated, Harry could see that, while the shop was cluttered and messy, nothing particularly violent appeared to have happened here.

Ron was standing a few feet from Harry, breathing heavily. “They’re not here. She’s not here!!� He pounded his fist on the nearest surface, which happened to be a precariously balanced trunk. Several layers of objects tumbled to the floor with a clatter in a puff of dust.

“Mr. Weasely, please calm down. We don’t know what happened here. I know Fiora Podlink very well, and she’s a brilliant witch. I am sure she and Miss Granger are quite alright,� but nothing in McGonagall’s face confirmed that statement. Harry could see she was worried – very worried.

“What do you think, Minerva?� Kingsley’s soft voice rumbled. Harry watched as he and Mr. Weasely began running their wands over the stacks and cases nearby, muttering softly, looking for traces of whatever happened to Hermione and Fiora. Harry wandered over to a Ron, and grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Mate, let’s have a seat for a minute, alright?� Harry muttered. If something’s happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself…Harry was afraid Ron wouldn’t forgive him either. Ron plopped down, looking distracted and muttering to himself.

“…should’ve told her, you git, chance’s gone now, gotta find her…� Ron put his forehead on the counter. Harry noticed a piece of paper near his friend’s ginger hair. He picked it up and gasped. His mum and dad. A small, pretty blond witch. And Sirius. All of them, smiling and laughing, young and happy. Alive.

“What is it?� Ron lifted his head up and Harry handed him the photo. He took it, examined it for a minute. “That’s so weird, Hermione’s got one almost exactly like this, of the three of us and Ginny. Right by the lake and everything, you can see the giant –�

Ron suddenly reached out and grabbed another photo sitting on the counter. Someone, - either in carelessness or haste or fear – had spilled tea across it. It shook in Ron’s hand, drops of liquid flying off of it. Harry stilled his friend’s wrist, and stared at the picture of the four of them, his heart aching. Very tenderly, Ron took his wand out and siphoned the picture dry. Harry didn’t look at his friend, but stared at the picture instead.

Another, new drop of moisture hit the picture, splashing onto their smiling faces. “Hermione,� Ron whispered, whisking the tell-tale streak of wetness from his cheek.

Hermione’s journey towards consciousness began with the soft yet insistent sensation of pressure. Pressure in the general vicinity of her ankle – something clutching her, grabbing at her, shaking her gently but unceasingly – but everything was dark, so dark. Her thoughts were hazy – it felt as if several hippogriffs had been marching through her skull, flapping their enormous wings, stirring her thoughts into a confused whirling –

“Hermione!� Soft. A woman’s voice, barely above a whisper. “Hermione! Can you hear me?�

It’s holiday, Mum, I want to have a bit of a lie-in, Hermione’s confused mind thought she’d spoken aloud. But if it was school holidays, that meant it was summer – so why was the air so cold and dank? And why did her bed smell of mildew and rot?

“Hermione!� Louder this time, more urgent, more desperate. “Hermione! It’s Fiora! Can you hear me?� Then, more to herself, mumbled, “Dammit. He really walloped her with that stunning spell. Severus Snape! Of all people! Surprised he didn’t kill us both…� The pressure returned to Hermione’s ankle, and she swam closer to awareness. The pressure was a small, chilly hand – and the voice wasn’t her mum’s, but someone else’s, someone she could almost remember –

“Fiora?� Hermione hardly recognized her own voice. It was thick and froggy with disuse. What time is it? What DAY is it? She fought the panic building up inside her and attempted to open her resisting eyes. They felt so heavy. Her vision slowly resolved itself as she propped herself up on arms that felt like overcooked pasta. The first thing that came into focus was the small blond woman sitting next to her, clutching her ankle.

Hermione’s first fuzzy thought was that Fiora looked terrible. Her wild blond curls were matted to the left side of her face with a dark maroon substance that Hermione’s rolling stomach figured was blood. Her clothes were covered in dirt and some sort of dark-green slime, as if some large version of a flobberworm had tried to eat her for breakfast, but then thought better of it and spit her out. And yet, she was smiling at Hermione.

“You’re back in the land of consciousness! Thank goodness! I’ve been trying to wake you for ages – and without my wand – and there’s nothing in here that could help me either…� Fiora’s voice trailed off.
Hermione’s brain was still trying to catch up with her body, which was even now becoming aware of her surroundings. She ripped her gaze from Fiora (the sight of all that blood on the older woman’s cheek wasn’t doing much for her queasy stomach anyway, truth be told), sat up straighter, and fought another wave of dizziness. She propped herself up against the wall let out a yelp, her hands flying to the nape of her neck. The back of her head was swollen and raw; her fingers came away bloody. No wonder I can’t see straight, she stared at her reddened hand in mingled horror and fascination.

“Fiora what happened? Where are we?� She got shakily to her feet with the help of Fiora’s steadying grip, unconsciously rubbing her hand clean on her jeans leg. Hermione’s eyes darted from the hard, dirty feather mattress she had been lying on, saw its twin where Fiora had been sitting. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a mean-looking wooden chair. The room was small and round and made of odd, shiny-looking grey stones that gave off a faint, eerily yellow light. In fact, the walls appeared to be the room’s only source of illumination.

“What is this place?� She whispered fearfully, moving closer to Fiora. She tilted her aching head back and saw that the walls of the round room stretched upward into gradual darkness. She couldn’t see a ceiling, a door, a window – the room gave nothing to them but the spooky, ochre-colored light.

“I can’t be sure, but – but I think it’s an Oubliettium – a kind of magical dungeon, or prison,� Fiora’s hoarse voice responded. Hermione felt claustrophobia tickle her spine. The round walls seemed to squeeze in on her.

“I’ve read about Oubliettia – for each Oubliettium, there’s only one way in, one way out, right? And the method of exit or entry could be anything – a verbal password, a series of movements, a soft spot on the wall – anything!� Hermione felt her hysteria rising. Every cell in her body screamed. OUT! Out! How are we going to get out?

“Hermione,� Fiora reached up, grabbed her shoulders. Hermione appreciated the strength she felt flowing through those tiny hands. “Hermione. Listen to me. He’ll have to come back some time – don’t you see? He’s planning on keeping us here – him, or You-Know-Who. They want something from us – don’t you understand? Something other than what they’ve already got, that is…for now, we’re more valuable alive than dead. That works in our favor. Also, I know Severus Snape, better than he thinks I do…� she trailed off, a grim expression creasing her bird-like features.

“Snape!� Hermione exclaimed, remembering that familiar, pointed face, surrounded by oily black hair, towering above her in Fiora’ shop. How could she have forgotten? “He came into your shop…he said he’d come for something – oh god. The Horcrux that Peter gave you. Snape knows about it and –�

“The only solace I have is that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t find it. That perhaps, it’s still sitting in its place in the storage room,� Fiora muttered, more to herself than to Hermione.

“Oh, no. Oh, god no. Fiora! I put the Horcrux in my knapsack!� She frantically began looking for her bag, though there was nothing in the room other than the two women, their beds and the lone chair. “Why, why did I do that?� Hermione clutched her aching head.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Hermione,� Fiora said, though she had paled considerably, “Horcruxes are very powerful objects, they contain a portion of someone’s soul – and in this case, a very persuasive someone�. Fiora cleared her throat and continued, “Well, now that you’re back in the land of the living, you and I need to put our heads together and figure a way out of here…I’ve been trying the past few days…�

“Days? We’ve been in here for days?� Hermione couldn’t believe she’d been out that long, it felt so unreal. That had been some Stunning Spell, alright.

“Yes – though it’s nearly impossible to keep track of time in here, my watch is pretty reliable. I would say it’s probably very early Saturday morning. Besides, someone has been leaving food for us – well, for me, since you haven’t been awake – while we’re sleeping. The food’s come – or been left – twice. Once on Thursday, once on Friday, probably before dawn. I’ve been trying to stay awake so I can see where it’s coming from – may give us some idea of how to get out of here…� Fiora trailed off, thinking. If Ron or Harry had been there, they’ve recognized that look of fierce concentration – Hermione wore a very similar expression many a time.

Hermione was trying very hard to digest everything at once. She opened her mouth to respond, when Fiora jumped and let out a stifled shriek. Someone was sitting on the wooden chair in the corner. A tall someone, with a curtain of black hair, a sallow complexion and a hook of a nose. Severus Snape. His eyes widened a bit then narrowed again immediately when he saw the two women standing there, awake. Hermione inched instinctively closer to Fiora, who placed a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Well, well, well…look who’s up and about so early this morning,� Snape oiled softly, putting down a box which Hermione assumed contained food. “Decided to catch me in the act, Fiora?� His tone was cold, slightly mocking. And possibly – admiring?

He pulled a wand from his pocket, paced a few feet – as much as the cramped quarters would allow – and turned his eyes on Hermione. “Ah, Ms. Granger, finally decided to rejoin us, eh? Probably boring Fiora to death with your inane chattering of statistics and facts. A regular tiger for facts, our Ms. Granger is…hardly need a textbook when she’s around, she just spews it right back to you. A bit like a trained bird, really. Has about as much imagination as one, at least,� he finished.

Hermione swelled with indignation. Now that she knew what Snape really was, she had no qualms saying what was on her mind, “YOU! You – you – murderer! Traitor! You taunted Sirius so much he dashed to the Ministry to help us – basically makes you a murderer twice-over, really! I was starting to believe you were on our side! Everyone trusted you! Dumbledore trusted you! You were our teacher!� She saw something flicker – was it regret, could it have been? – in Snape’s dark eyes at this last bit. But then he gathered himself up and spoke.

“What a lovely display of histrionics, Ms. Granger. Now, seeing as you are both alert and obviously ready and willing to talk, I do believe there’s somewhere we all need to go,� his voice was barely above a whisper. “Right now.� Hermione tried to still her pounding heart. She couldn’t even manage being afraid at the present moment. She was so angry blobs of red floated in front of her eyes. She had nearly forgotten about her fellow captive.

“Severus,� Fiora began, stepping away from Hermione and walking towards Snape. To Hermione’s surprise, Snape backed away as Fiora approached, as if she were the captor, the one with the wand in her hand. “Severus. The girl has nothing to do with this, she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Let’s leave her out of it, shall we? I know what you want, and I’ll tell you where you can find it,� her voice was low and reasonable, and she quickly caught Hermione’s eye.

Fiora! No! Don’t tell him! Hermione silently pleaded with the older woman.

“Fiora, Fiora, Fiora. As intelligent of a witch as you are, you just got everything as wrong as you possibly could. First of all, this girl has everything to do with the situation. You must know who her friends are. One friend in particular, in fact. Secondly, while I appreciate the offer,� he paused, a sneer twisting his thin face, “While I appreciate the offer, I already have the object you are so willing to give me. All nice and tidy in Ms. Granger’s bag, just like a kitten in a sack. So you see? It’s really Ms. Granger that I need. Though, of course, you too could prove useful, in time.�

“I won’t help you find Harry! Or hurt him! You’ll – you’ll have to kill me, then!� Hermione’s heart was ready to explode out of her chest. But she realized she meant it. And she was terrified as to what was going to happen in the next few seconds.

To her shock, Snape burst into laugher, real, belly-shaking laughter. “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Granger. The Dark Lord will find a way of getting what he needs from you without resorting to murder. At least, for the present time.�

Snape wiped his hand across his eyes, still chuckling a bit. “Now, I really don’t have time for any more chitchat, as interesting and entertaining as this has all been. If you two would please step over here –Fiora, you first – not that I need to explain, but I will be performing a Stastasi spell on you, putting you into a light state of unconsciousness until we reach our destination�. As he explained, he leaned forward to Fiora, pointed his wand at her blond curls, and muttered several words in her ears. She immediately slumped forward on her feet, her eyes open but glassy and unseeing.

“Ms. Granger,� he turned to her. She moved forward. I have no other choice! We’re trapped!

Snape leaned forward, close enough that she could feel his breath tickling her ear, smell his musty robes. “Ms. Granger, do not react to what I am saying or we’ll all be dead before you can think it. They are watching us. When I back away, slump forward with your eyes open, like Fiora. Pay attention to everything.� This was said in a rush, in less than five seconds. Snape moved away, a cold, hard look on his face.

But there was something else – something she almost missed, it was that quick. Before he straightened up, Severus Snape had winked at her.

Ron was aware of only three things – the incessant howling of the summer wind (or was it the howling of something else, something approaching rapidly?) over the dark, glimmering ripples of the river several yards away; his relentless exhaustion, which threatened at every moment to pull him off his feet; and, most of all, the reassuring camaraderie of the three people huddled around him.

“Steady, Ron,� Neville’s whispered hoarsely and propped Ron up with the palm of his hand. Neville’s voice squeaked with worry, but he held fast. Ron still couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go on this reconnaissance mission with Ron, Harry and Ginny. Especially considering that it completely flew in the face of what the older members of the Order of the Phoenix, including his formidable grandmother, had expressly told them only hours before. Neville had arrived with Mrs. Longbottom at Number Twelve Grimmauld, which had reclaimed its standing as Order Headquarters, on Wednesday evening.

The gloomy house had once again become home to a frenzy of activity, with Order members rushing in and out over the past three days and nights, at all hours. It wasn’t unusual for Ron and Harry to sneak down to the kitchen for a late-night snack only to find the room alive with people – his Mum at the stove, dishing out a midnight supper to a surly Mad-Eye Moody and a more serene Kingsley; Professors McGonagall and Flitwick pouring over ancient spell books filled with charms to use against werewolves; or a weepy, angry Hagrid, sitting with a cup of mead in one hand and a handkerchief the size of a pillowcase in the other. The house was so busy, in fact, that no one noticed when the four teenagers snuck out several hours ago…

The night was bathed in the eerie half-light of the nearly-full moon which floated in the expanse of sky like a cracked crystal ball, foretelling only danger to those below. The Seine flowed blackly past the group of teenagers, as the skeletal frame of the Eiffel Tower, darkened at this late hour, menaced in the distance. The walking path that separated Ron and his friends from the river was nearly deserted – only one couple stood staring at the water, the young man’s arms around the girl’s shoulders, hugging her close. As the couple ambled down the path, Ron’s heart ached for Hermione. At the idea that this place could actually be romantic and not terrifying. But he pushed these feelings away. He had to concentrate.

“Dad would have our hides if he knew what we were up to!� Ginny muttered gleefully. She had taken the news of Hermione’s disappearance very badly at first – nearly as badly as Harry and he himself had. But now, with a dangerous but specific mission in front of her, his little sister had revived herself admirably. Like he himself, she seemed happy to have something to do, even if it didn’t get them any closer to finding Hermione. “Harry, when should we head out there?� She nodded towards the gravelly path, the tension and excitement noticeable in her voice.

“Ginny, you do realize that this is either going to be completely fruitless, or very very dangerous, right?� Harry pitched his voice low. “We aren’t talking about hexing or freezing spells here, we’re talking about a cold-blooded killer. An animal, really.�

“Oh, please, Harry,� Ginny scoffed. “Honestly, I love you dearly –� at Harry’s face flushed, and Ron and Neville couldn’t help but exchange foolish smirks, “-but this whole ‘hero’ thing is wearing a bit old. Neville and I were with you lot in the Ministry, and with these fellows at Hogwarts when the Death Eaters attacked, I am sure you and I can handle one werewolf, especially with the element of surprise on our –�

“Shhh! Hear that?� Harry stayed Ginny’s speech with a warning hand on her shoulder. The four of them were quiet, breathing as shallowly as possible. Ron tensed, straining to hear something above the whistle of the wind through the shrubs they were hiding in, over the beating of his own racing heart. And then he heard it – the distant sound of people approaching. Two or three people, talking in low tones. One sounded more like a snarl or bark than anything remotely human.

“That’s Greyback, I’m sure of it – but he’s not alone,� Harry’s jaw clenched, and he eyed Ginny warily, “Listen, Gin, maybe this isn’t such a great idea –�

“No, it is a great idea, didn’t we all think of it together? Now let’s do this before we lose our chance!� She stood up, her back rigid, at attention, ready for the next step.

Harry relented, holding out his hand to her. “Ron, Neville – mates, you know what you’re supposed to do, right? The timing may be different, you may have to think on your feet and –�

“Go on, Harry! Ginny’s right, we’re going to lose our chance!� Ron’s head cleared of everything except for the present moment. The distant voices were getting closer, and their plan relied on two things – misdirection and the element of surprise. They were going to lose both if Harry and Ginny didn’t get a move on.

Harry and Ginny took a deep breath, grinned nervously at each other, and then Harry started snogging her fiercely, backing her out of the shrubbery and onto the path. Ginny giggled shrilly in a very un-Ginny-like way, and stumbled a little, her arms around his neck. Ron rolled his eyes at Neville, who covered his smile with a trembling hand. Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t they, Ron thought dryly as his sister and best mate weaved sloppily from the bushes to the gritty path. They looked for all the world like two tipsy, vacationing teens who had snuck away from their class trip – but Ginny’s wand was clutched tightly in her fist behind Harry’s neck, and Harry’s wand was stuck in Ginny’s jean pocket, right above his clutched hand. They were ready.

But appearances were what mattered right now – and right now Harry and Ginny looked like fresh bait. Fresh bait for a restless, ruthless werewolf on the prowl for young victims. And that’s what all four of them were counting on.

Ron’s line of vision was blocked partial on the right – the direction the low, growling voices were coming from - by a large, ferny bush. He risked inching up a bit, crouched low to the ground. He saw a misshapen silhouette about fifty yards away, moving haltingly down the path. The shape resolved itself slowly into two men – well, one of them hardly resembled a man. It was Fenrir Greyback, caught somewhere in the lunar cycle and his own vicious instincts between wolf and man. His long, hairy arms were roped with muscle, his mouth a slavering maw. His eyes gleamed blue in the moonlight as he caught sight of the unsteady couple, now smack in the middle of his deadly path.

Greyback had his arm companionably around a smaller, thinner man, who was having a hard time walking. Greyback appeared to be urging him on. Ron leaned even further out, ignoring Neville’s intake of breath behind him. Though the men were now merely several dozen yards away, Ginny and Harry continued to pay attention only to each other, for all intents and purposes, appeared blissfully unaware of the danger coming to meet them. The smaller man twisted away from Greyback, and Ron caught his familiar profile in the moonlight. His heart sped up, and he clutched his wand firmly.

Neville’s intake of breath this time signified surprise rather than warning. “Professor Lupin!� He murmured, horrified. And the staggering man did, just barely, resemble their former teacher. His clothes, threadbare but usually neat as a pin, were filthy rags barely clinging to him. Lupin had never been a big man, but the transformation Greyback was forcing on him – against all things moral in Lupin’s heart – had ravaged him in a few days. Unlike Greyback’s partial transformation, which seemed to strengthen him, Lupin’s was destroying him. He kept letting out tiny, dog-like yelps, then seemed to catch himself, muttering nearly coherent sounds.

Ron could now hear Greyback’s jolly growl, “Lupin, my friend! Don’t you see what lies yonder in our path? Just the ticket to cheer you up!� Greyback clapped him on the back. “You will learn our ways, my friend, eventually. You and that clever Metamorphmagus you are so taken with – she could be mighty helpful if she chose to be. Even if we have to make the choice for her, right?� Greyback finished in a cheerful whisper. Lupin attempted to wrest himself free of the larger man, but Fenrir held him tight. They were now no more than twenty-five feet from Ginny and Harry, who were still keeping up the pretense of not knowing the men were there.

Harry murmured something unintelligible to Ginny and she giggled drunkenly. He spun her around by her waist and caught Ron’s eye. Ron locked gazes with his best friend and he knew the time had nearly come – and that Harry’s determination was only bolstered by Lupin’s unexpected presence.

“Get ready, on Ginny’s cue,� Ron muttered to Neville, and they both slowly got to their feet. “And try not to hit Professor Lupin, alright?� Neville grunted in what Ron took to be agreement.

Greyback was preparing to launch himself onto the “unsuspecting� couple, and drag his unwilling partner into the fray. Ron wasn’t sure that, once the fighting began, Lupin would be able to resist attacking his former students. He only hoped that he and his friends could act quickly enough, to prevent such a terrible dilemma.

Two things happened at once – Ginny giggled again, shrieked playfully, and backed away from Harry, shouting, “What kind of girl do you thing I am?� This was Ron and Neville’s call to action, and they burst from the shrubbery with their wands held high. The other thing was Fenrir Greyback, in one fluid motion, pushed Lupin forward and leapt upward, landing heavily on Harry with triumphant howl.

Ginny’s shriek became authentic and she screamed at the others, “Now! Ron, Neville! Before he bites Harry!� The three of them turned towards the hulking form of Fenrir Greyback and shouted, “IMPEDIMENTA!� Greyback let out a frustrated yelp and collapsed on top of Harry.

Ginny hurriedly pointed her wand at fallen werewolf. “Levicorpus.� The enormous man became airborne momentarily and a rumpled but intact Harry rolled out from under him. Ginny waved her wand again and the unconscious Greyback fell in an untidy heap in the middle of the path. She rushed over to Harry and helped him to his feet. They smiled unsteadily at each other and Harry planted a kiss on her forehead.

A low moaning sound diverted their attention. Ron spun around. Lupin. The four of them approached him warily. Though their former teacher seemed more human than Greyback, it wouldn’t do to forget that he was, in fact, a werewolf.

Lupin got unsteadily to his feet, raised his head. Other than a slightly elongated snout and a slight paw-like curving of his hands, he looked like himself. Ravaged, exhausted, haunted – but himself. Ron glanced at his mates and his sister, saw that they all had their wands pointed shakily at the very man who’d taught them how to handle this kind of situation. Lupin tossed his nearly-human face back, gazed up at the almost-full moon. A low, sad, keening sound escaped his mouth. Then he looked directly at Harry.

“Stun me, Harry,� he moaned. “Stun me now, before I attack one or all of you.� He twisted his head aside and barked feebly, as if disgusted at the mere thought of it.

“No, Professor, I won’t,� Harry’s voice was calm. “You know who you are, and the moon isn’t full. Greyback is unconscious, and whatever trick he pulled to force your change will wear off. You can fight it. We’ll wait.� Ron had no idea if this was true, or if Harry himself believed it, but he knew that none of them wanted to harm Lupin in any way unless absolutely necessary.

Lupin’s eyes were full of misery and doubt. “Alright, Harry, but if I try to attack any of you…you must contain me. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I had subjected any of you to this…this sort of life,� Lupin closed his eyes, sat calmly, deep in thought.

Ron exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Neville, who gestured at Greyback’s still form. They both hurried over to him, conjuring rope that wound itself tightly around the large man. Ron saw Ginny and Harry gathered closely around Lupin, murmuring encouragingly. He had curled himself up tightly, his hands wrapped around his head. And much to Ron’s surprise and relief, those hands were each second smoothing out – becoming less animal-like and more human. Lupin was doing exactly what Harry had said he could do. Convince himself human again.

Lupin removed his now normal-looking hands from his head, stared at all of them. He put one arm around each Harry and Ginny, who helped him to his feet. Ron was startled to see tears in his old teacher’s eyes. “You kids saved my life,� he began, letting go of Harry and Ginny. “If not in the literal sense, at the very least you saved me from damnation. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I would have eventually weakened, given in to Greyback’s way of thinking, either through manipulation or threats or just pure old werewolf instinct.� He walked over to Greyback, rustled in his cloak, and emerged with his wand. He swayed a little on his feet.

“Professor?� Ron queried. “Professor? We really ought to get you back to Number Twelve, the whole Order is there, in fact they’ll probably have our hides for pulling this stunt, but who really cares at this point, fact is you’re safe and that’s all that –� Ron realized he was rambling and cut himself off.

“We can’t go back yet,� Lupin said softly. “I am almost ashamed to ask this of all of you, but I can’t do it on my own, not in the state I’m in.� He paused, thinking hard. “I won’t go anywhere without Tonks. And I have an idea of how to get her back…�

The four of them gathered closely around Lupin as he spoke, the moon now seeming to grin conspiratorially down on them, encouraging them onward.

This night is never going to end, Harry thought, and it seemed like the truth. I’m just about dead on my feet. He sighed internally. The night was only half-over, at best.

Harry figured very centrally into Lupin’s plan to rescue Tonks. He and Lupin were hurrying along the shadowy, still, late-night streets, one or the other occasionally glancing behind them, confirming that Ron, Ginny and Neville were still trailing them from a distance.

“I could have asked one of the others to do it, Harry,� Lupin murmured next to him. “But – but, if I bring you back, it’ll be the bigger coup – a greater distraction. Plus, I figured you were the best equipped to deal with this sort of situation.� Lupin paused, held Harry’s gaze with very blood-shot eyes. “It was your faith in me, Harry, that saved all of us back there. I cannot tell you how grateful I am – and always will be.� He clapped Harry hard on the shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything, Professor,� Harry was bewildered. “I just knew you had it in you to resist, that’s all.�

“Harry – let me tell you something. Aside from love, and maybe loyalty, faith is one of the most powerful things in the world. Faith in the ability of others – and in yourself. Never forget that, ok?� Lupin held his gaze for a moment longer as they rushed along a particularly dark alleyway, then stopped short at a tiny, round, wooden door carved into the side of a dank building.

“This is it,� he breathed. “You look pretty convincing. You remember what to do, right?� Lupin was looking Harry up and down critically.

He had performed a complicated spell on Harry, the result of which was Harry now looked like he’d gotten into quite a tussle with a werewolf. And had lost spectacularly. There were seeping, painless wounds showing through his torn, bloodied t-shirt and jeans.

“Yes,� Harry nodded. He felt fine, though he looked a wreck. He grinned tiredly at Lupin, who was still surveying the results of his Pain-Free Slashing Spell.

“Just one final touch – not all people react to a werewolf attack immediately, and the moon isn’t quite full, but I’d like this lot to think you’ve ‘gone wolf’ as they like to say,� the older man paused, an uncharacteristic sneer turning his mouth down. “So, I’m going to, well, use some tricks Tonks taught me to make you look more the part.�

Lupin studied Harry’s face, murmured under his breath. Harry felt a tingling sensation emanating from his hands and the tip of his nose. He looked down and saw coarse, wiry black hair sprouting on his forearms and down towards his fingers. Suddenly a dark, round shape appeared in the center of his vision. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at his own nose, which had elongated to become a bit snout-like. He let out a startled chuckle that sounded suspiciously like a bark.

“So. Brilliant! Very convincing. Just remember, I’ll deal with getting Tonks out of there. She doesn’t have her wand, so we’ve got to be very careful. You’re the distraction, Harry, so, well, make the most of it,� Lupin grinned rather fiendishly. The two of turned again to confirm the blurred outlines of the others, saluted briefly. “Ok, let’s do this.�

“Yes, let’s,� Harry decided this was going to be fun. He let out a snarl, for practice’s sake, and found it suited him just fine. Lupin pushed the undersized door open, and they were devoured by the darkness that lay beyond.

* * *
Harry kept his eyes half-closed, attempting to paste a drowsy, confused look on his face. Lupin was carrying him in his arms, as if in offering, and Harry could feel his muscles snap and pop with tension. His former teacher was breathing heavily, and Harry knew he was nervous – nervous to pull this off, nervous to get to Tonks – and get the hell out of there.

They were making their way slowly down a dimly lit, rounded passageway that made Harry think of a large, dried-out sewage pipe. Harry could imperceptibly feel the stone path ramping downwards, sinking lower and lower beneath the streets of Paris.

“We’re not going to be able to Apparate, unfortunately,� Lupin muttered. “But, there’s two brooms in there – your job, Harry, is to get them, and get them fast. I am going to grab Tonks. On my word, pass me one of the brooms. It’s going to be tough flying Harry – we’ve got to move quickly and carefully. You slam into one of these walls, and you’re through. But I have a feeling you’re up for the task,� Harry could hear the smile in Lupin’s voice. And in fact, he agreed. He hadn’t been on a broom in what seemed like forever – he was looking forward to the ride, even if it was a bit dangerous.

They had finally stopped, and Harry cracked his eyelids open a sliver. Directly in front of them was a rounded metal door, similar to the bank vaults in Gringotts. Lupin stepped very close to it and growled out a phrase, his voice reverberating down the dim corridor behind them.

A slot in the center of the door opened like an eye, and half of a hairy, ravaged face appeared. “Where’s Fenrir, Remus? What have you done to him?� The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, despite its raspy, guttural quality. Her blue eyes gleamed from the room beyond the door.

“There’s no time to explain, Monnie – open the door! Can’t you see who it is laying in my arms here?� Harry could feel Lupin’s heart beating rapidly, and through the haze of his own eyelids saw dawning comprehension on the face of the she-wolf called Monnie.

“My god, Remus, is that --? Could it be --? What will You-Know-Who do --?� Her face moved away from the portal and the door swung open with a shriek of surprise. Lupin crossed the threshold and took a deep breath.

“NOW HARRY!� He cried, releasing his grip on him.

Harry landed unsteadily on his feet, gained his balance. He had less than twenty seconds to survey the room – but his darting eyes, searching for the brooms that Lupin spoke of, took in a large, dank space with a dozen or so people, all of them obviously werewolves, sitting at a large table to left of the door. They appeared to be studying large paper schematics – what looked suspiciously like sewer blueprints. Behind them, against the far wall, was a heap of dirty clothes lying in an untidy pile.

The werewolves turned as one, lifting their heads from their studious labors, their not-quite-human eyes blazing at Harry. Without even thinking, Harry leapt away from the door, mere seconds before the largest of them pounced halfway across the room, landing exactly where he’d been standing a split second before.

Harry noticed a network of beams above him, and jumped with all his might, grasping a thin pipe and swinging his feet directly into the giant wolfish face. The man went down with a growl, and Harry risked letting go with one hand. Dangling, he pointed his wand at the supine form and shouted, “FRIGARIO!� His victim turned momentarily white, then still, frozen in place. Two more werewolves were advancing on Harry – Monnie, the woman from the door, and a small, black-haired man with long teeth.

“Don’t worry about them, Harry, get the brooms!� Lupin shouted from across the room, pointing. He had Tonks, who appeared to be unconscious, slung over his shoulders. Harry realized with a start that what he had mistaken for a pile of laundry a few seconds before had actually been the fallen Auror. Three werewolves lay in a heap in front of Lupin, stunned or frozen by his wand.

Harry tightened his grip on the ceiling pipe, inched his way along it and out of reach of the grasping claws of the black-haired werewolf. He saw the brooms now – they were hidden under the table. He pointed his wand and cried, “ACCIO BROOMS!� They zoomed towards him like obedient dogs, and Harry grabbed one and tossed it to Lupin in one fluid motion. The other hovered patiently under his hanging body, and he let go of the pipe and landed on it with a grunt.

“GO, HARRY! GO!� Lupin, astride the other broom, shouted. Tonks was draped precariously over it, in front of him. There were still half a dozen werewolves standing, and two of them upended the large wooden table, launching it across the room at Lupin’s broom.

Harry’s heart nearly stopped. “Destructio!� The table splintered into a thousand tiny shreds, dusting the room with a snowstorm of wood. “Go, Professor! Now!� Lupin gave Harry an appraising glance, his hair dusted with shards of the table. He aimed the broom at the door and shot through it into the corridor. The remaining werewolves howled in frustration

“You’re not going anywhere, Potter!� Monnie snarled, standing in front of Harry’s only way out.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong!� Harry responded gleefully. He couldn’t believe how great it felt to be flying again. He pointed himself directly at her, like a human missile. She wouldn’t know what hit her. He flew at her and saw her hideous face wrinkle in surprise – she jumped towards him, meaning to pull him down, but Harry dodged her easily. He hadn’t been the youngest Hogwart’s Seeker in a century without reason.

He slipped out the door and sped up the corridor, loving the breeze created by the motion of the broom, swerving carefully, quickly, around the twists and turns he’d recently taken on foot. He could hear Lupin ahead of him, and the werewolves following behind, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. The battered broom was no Firebolt, but damn, it was amazing to be airborne again. He pressed himself flat against the old broom, relishing the speed and grace of flying.

The dim tunnel slowly brightened, and Harry saw Lupin’s broom soar through the round “O� at the mouth of passageway. There were shifting shadows that he knew were the others, preparing to attack if necessary the minute Harry cleared the doorway. The entryway was approaching – he was less than ten yards away. He saw more clearly the tall silhouette of Ron, flanked by the shorter ones of Neville and Ginny.

“Harry! Duck!� Ginny yelped, brandishing her wand. He didn’t even think, he just tucked himself closer to the broom’s rough handle. He felt Ginny’s spell shoot over his head, hear a dog-like yelp of pain behind him as one of his pursuers tumbled to the ground. The humid, sweet summer air hit his face and he shot into the sky briefly, circling around and skidding to a halt in the alleyway just in time to see the mouth of the tunnel collapse onto itself.

Ron, Neville and Ginny pocketed their wands. Ginny turned to him, her eyes gleaming. She dashed over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He brushed her messy hair away from her face.

“Nice flying there, Potter. No wonder you’re the Quidditch Captain.� She smirked at him.

“Well, nice hexing there, Weasley, you saved my skin yet again,� he grinned back at her, kissed her nose. He turned to Ron and Neville. “Well done, mates.� He nodded at the blocked entrance, from which the sounds of the werewolves’ outrage could clearly be heard.

Neville’s usually sheepish face was alight. “Y’know Harry, I sorta forgot how interesting this whole fighting evil thing is – scary and all, but interesting, for sure!� He wiped a smudge of dirt from his round cheek. Harry almost laughed out loud, then he saw Ron’s tired face.

“We’re going to find her, Ron,� he said firmly. “We are. Don’t think twice about it.�

“As if I could think about anything else,� Ron replied bleakly. Harry and his best mate stared at each other for a moment. They were interrupted by Lupin, who was kneeling over Tonks’ prone figure.

“Tonks! Tonks, can you hear me? It’s Remus!� Harry and the others walked over and knelt around the young witch. Harry noted with relief that her chest was moving up and down – she was alive. Lupin looked unsure of how to revive her. “I think I better get her to St. Mungo’s – I don’t want to use the incorrect spell on her. I am not sure what they’ve done to her�. His face, still partially transformed and wolfish in the moonlight, looked all the more human because of his deep concern.

Lupin brushed her face tenderly with one hairy paw, pushing the back the short blond bob of hair that Harry had last seen her with. “Nymphadora? Please, please wake up,� Lupin placed his head across her stomach, seemingly completely exhausted. Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances. Just then, Tonks’ hand fluttered, landed in Lupin’s knotted hair.

“Remus? For god’s sake, ‘Nymphadora’? Please don’t tell me I’m dying or something, because that would be the only reason I’d let you get away with calling me ‘Nymphadora’�! She pushed herself into a sitting position as Lupin and the others gaped at her. “Nope, definitely still alive!� She cried, squeezing her eyes shut, wrinkling her nose, and producing the trademark pink spikes of hair.

“So, what’d I miss?� She grinned at the rest of them as Lupin showered her face with kisses. “Anything important happen?�

He just winked at me! Professor Snape just winked at me! Hermione was hardly aware that, in her shock, her brain had reverted to addressing Snape by his formal title. However, despite her racing mind (and racing heart) she did her utmost to keep her face blank as smooth, as Snape had advised. There was a faint tickle in her chest, and that tickle felt a heck of a lot like hope – hope that there was a way out of this mess in one piece. And maybe, she thought further, maybe, even with the Horcrux, too.

Snape was standing before her and Fiora, who had a similarly dazed expression on her face. His wand was pointed steadily at them, and he was murmuring softly to himself. His eyes were as impermeable as two tiny oil wells. Hermione couldn’t quite reconcile that Snape really had given her a sign of collusion mere moments before. What about his incessant, petty grudge against Harry? And not just Harry! Ron and I have put up with a lot from Snape simply by being Harry’s best friends! She was remembering times that she’d suffered deep embarrassment because of her former Potions professor, not the least of which were being called a “know-it-all� in front of all of her classmates and being taunted about her teeth when Malfoy’s spell against Harry went awry during fourth year. And Dumbledore…Snape killed him. But why? Hermione tried to still her thoughts – something told her that an answer was forthcoming. More importantly, she needed to be ready, ready for whatever was coming next.

Snape was gripping his wand tightly, still muttering under his breath, and beckoning them forward with his long, thin fingers. He was backing slowly towards the single chair in the oubliettium, drawing them forward. That must be the exit! He’s getting us out of here…but where is he taking us? And to whom? Hermione’s heart thumped crazily against her ribcage, as she edged dreamily forward, towards the chair.

When she and Fiora got close enough, Snape pointed his wand at them. Hermione felt her feet lift gently off the ground. She was being pulled, tugged towards Snape much like a metal shaving would be pulled toward a powerful magnet. Snape seated himself on the chair, and grabbed each she and Fiora roughly with his hands. Hermione felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck. Her stomach rolled mutinously. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen very soon. Be ready, be ready…she cautioned herself.

Hermione managed to peek at him through her half-opened eyes and tangled hair. Snape was gazing at her again, still speaking under his breath. A hard glint came into his dark, haunted eyes and she felt the smallest amount of added pressure from his hand on her arm. He’s warning me – get ready, Hermione, get ready – and before she could think of anything else – two things happened.

She suddenly felt the slim, solid, reassuring weight of her wand in the back pocket of her filthy jeans. No sooner had she joyfully registered this fact than she realized she was moving - the world began spinning violently. All she saw were two faces – Snape’s, long and homely, surrounded by stringy black hair, eyes blazing; and Fiora’s, her eyes still dreamy and distant, her yellow hair a fluffy cloud whipping around her head.

The world stopped whirling at the precise moment Hermione thought her stomach could take no more. She crashed painfully onto rocky ground, Fiora tumbling on top of her. Hermione reached a shaky hand behind her, extracted her wand from her pocket. Before she could push herself up, Fiora was already on her feet, wand in hand, pointing it at Snape’s long nose.

“What is this Severus? Where are we?�

Snape rolled his eyes, grabbed Fiora’s slim wrist. “There’s no time for theatrics, Fiora, though I do know you enjoy them. You and the girl have to take the Horcrux and go, don’t you see? There’s very little time before we are missed! If we are found now, there will be nothing I’ll be able to do for any of us. We’ll be as good as dead.� Snape released Fiora’s arm and shoved her carelessly backwards, but she managed to remain upright. There seemed to be more than anger in his expression as he glared at her, but Hermione couldn’t tell what.

Hermione was still in shock, stunned literally to silence. Fiora was helping her to her feet. Snape…on our side? Snape…risking his life to save us? Snape…giving us back the Horcrux? But –

“You killed Dumbledore?� Hermione’s doubt turned the statement into a question. Snape, who was rummaging around in his cloak, spun towards her. Hermione flinched at his chilly gaze but didn’t lower her eyes. The curiosity that was deeply ingrained in her nature won out over Snape’s ability to intimidate her. He had a familiar blue box in his hand. He handed it without a word to Fiora, who was also staring at him, fascinated.

“You doubt it, Ms. Granger? You doubt the one topic of conversation that has not waned for a single second on the lips and in the ears of everyone in the wizarding world for the past two months? Or do you doubt that I have the power to kill one of the greatest wizards who ever lived?� Snape leaned in, very close to her. He seemed to be divining the answer from her widened eyes. “I never really admired your way of handling yourself, Ms. Granger - you lack subtlety. However, I have always thought that you were far too intelligent to think that everything is always what it seems on the surface. I am – glad - to be proven correct.�

Hermione was trying to catch her breath after this admission – and backhanded compliment – from a man she’d always viewed with fear and, if she admitted it to herself, faint disgust. Before she could find her voice, Fiora spoke.

“What are you saying, Severus?� Hermione could see Fiora’s small frame trembling. “That this was all set up, all along? That Dumbledore told you to kill him? That you’re – what? Playing double agent, that you have been all this time?� Hermione realized that Fiora wasn’t shaking from fear or shock, but repressed anger. “You may be able to trick a former student, Severus, but you’ve forgotten the other half of your audience – I remember you from Hogwarts, skulking around, looking down at anyone who came from a Muggle family. As if you were Pureblood yourself, what a joke! And then right after graduation, the company you kept when we were all working in London – Nott, Lucius Malfoy and that snooty blond cousin of Sirius’ that he married –�

“Fiora, as much as I enjoy having my loyalty impugned, we have no time for this now!� Snape hissed, his voice quiet but hard with fury. “As for thinking that you know me because we were students together, that you can spew off all of these ‘facts’ about me, especially considering the company you kept –� Hermione could see that Snape wanted to defend himself against Fiora’s rant, and wondered why it was so important to him. He fancies her…but before Hermione could clarify that thought, Snape continued.

“I suppose to expect a single word of thanks from either of you would be expecting a word too much,� he sneered. “However, you should know that I’ve turned the Horcrux temporarily into a Portkey – not the safest proposition considering the object, but it’ll get you where you need to go. It’s going to transport you in –� he checked his pocket watch, glanced at the moon riding high in the sky, “-in about nine minutes. It will take you a turnip field about five kilometers from Arthur Weasley’s house. Tell Arthur – tell him that I will be in touch with him before the week is out, by owl post. The correspondence will not have any traceable marks on it. Tell him he will have to use the ‘Scriptoureous’ incantation and only he will be able to do so. You should also tell him he has a leak in the Order, although I don’t know whom.�

“This is insane! You actually expect us to trust you? You! A murderer and a liar and a –�

“Fine! Be my guest! Stay here, by all means, Fiora, get yourself and the girl killed. Worse than killed, actually. The girl’s valuable to the Dark Lord because she’s close to Potter, she’ll have information he’ll want. Feel free to stay here, and watch her be tortured by the Cruciatus Curse! Is that what you want? Is it? Is it?� Snape was inches from Fiora, and there was a look of desperation on his face that Hermione had never seen before. And suddenly, she believed him.

“He’s telling the truth, Fiora,� her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t really understand it all yet, but he’s not lying.� Hermione was thinking back six years, to a time when she’d set Snape’s robes on fire. She had thought he was trying to kill Harry – when in fact, he had been protecting him.

“Hermione, you simply don’t understand what this man is capable of and I –�

“No, Fiora, actually I do. I just remembered. That’s why I am taking a leap of faith,� Hermione interjected, staring hard at Snape. His face was as impenetrable and cold as always, but his eyes flitted away in what Hermione thought was embarrassment. Embarrassment at being recognized doing something honorable, and good. Who convinced you that you were such a terrible man, Professor? She thought this, but didn’t have the guts to say it out loud.

Snape cleared his throat, looked at his watch again. “You have one minute. Miss Granger, I suggest you take hold of that Horcrux right now.�

At his words, Fiora dubiously opened the blue box. The Horcrux was glowing redly, now permanently the ornate cup it had always been. The two women gazed at each other in the scarlet light, then each placed a tentative finger on its golden rim.

Hermione reached her other hand out, grasped Snape’s robe. She felt him recoil involuntarily. “Thank you, Professor. Thank you for saving our lives.� His face softened slightly and she released his sleeve not a moment too soon. The next instant, Hermione was yanked forward, and the world once again began to spin. The only thought left in her mind was of the Burrow, and getting there as soon as she could.

* * *
“It’s just over this hill, I recognize the big maple!� Hermione gleefully gasped as she caught sight of the stately old tree that dominated the Burrow’s backyard. They had landed with a crash in Snape’s turnip field, as he’d promised, but the five kilometers had felt more like fifty to their exhausted minds and bodies.

Fiora nodded weakly. “I sure hope you’re right.� She shifted the blue box containing the Horcrux in her arms.

“I am. The Burrow is one of my favorite places in the world,� despite her exhaustion and confusion, Hermione couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

Fiora caught a bit of her excitement and smiled tiredly back at her. “Arthur was always going on about what a good cook his wife is. I sure hope he wasn’t entirely blinded by bias in that department.�

Hermione burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh. “No, he wasn’t. Mrs Weasley really is one of the best cooks I’ve ever met.� She paused as they crested the final hill to the backyard. Hermione had wondered the entire walk whether or not anyone would be at the Burrow. She appreciated that her disappearance, and Fiora’s, were bound to cause a stir. And she had no idea what Harry and Ron had found at Lupin and Tonk’s flat in Paris…

But there was a dim, lone light burning through the Burrow’s kitchen window. And then she saw the familiar, enormous shape sitting guard on the back porch.

“Eh! Who goes there in the middle of the night? Show yehselves!� Hagrid had jumped to his feet, pink “umbrella� in hand.

“Hagrid!� Hermione replied, dashing forward. “It’s me! Hermione! And Fiora, too, we’ve just-� but before she could continue, she was lifted off of her feet into muscle-crushing hug, Hagrid’s large tears splashing onto her head.

“Hermione! Yeh don’ know what we’ve all ben goin’ through, not knowin’ where you two had gotten to. Boy, yeh both are a sight for sore eyes, says I,� Hagrid released her unceremoniously, and she wobbled on her feet. Hagrid had scooped Fiora, who let out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a gasp, up in a bear hug.

“Hagrid? Is anyone else here?� Hermione asked.

“Yeh better believe it. Molly, Fred and Ginny. Harry – and Ron too. I tell yeh, Hermione, neither of those boys have gotten a lick of sleep since yeh disappeared, and the whole lot of ‘em managed to rescue Tonks too. I think Ron’s knocked out across the kitchen table, actually. Yeh better get in there and wake ‘im up,� Hagrid’s eyes twinkled a little, and not just with tears.

Hermione opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. The safe, warm smells of old, polished wood and roasted chicken dinner enveloped her like a blanket. And there he was. Way too tall and big and unwieldy, sprawled snoring across the wooden planks of the table. His copper hair falling across his eyes, which looked bruised with exhaustion.

She walked over to him, stroked his flushed, freckled cheek. She couldn’t help it. The minute she touched him, the tears overflowed. She didn’t bother to brush them away.

“I love you, Ronald Weasley,� she whispered into his ear. His eyes popped open.

“Hermione?� He croaked. He grabbed her hand, held it. He stared blearily up at her. “Are you a dream? Or are you real?�

“Real,� she managed through her tears. “Really real.� He stood up, and she could see he was crying too. He seemed unable to say anything else, but he gathered her in his arms. And for a few minutes, words were completely unnecessary. They both had everything they needed.

Ron knew that he must be dreaming. He thought he heard Hermione’s voice, very close by.





“I love you, Ronald Weasley,� was what the dream had said. He knew the voice couldn’t be real. Hermione was missing, and it was just his over-tired brain creating some kind of wonderful fantasy that she was here, with him. But, then why could he feel her breath against his ear? Her warm hand against his face? The sound of her feet, shuffling on the kitchen’s wooden floor? His eyes sprung open, and he lifted his head up.





There she was. One of his best friends, the girl he loved. Her jeans were covered in unidentifiable greenish muck, her t-shirt was torn at the collar. Her lovely, wild hair was matted and gnarled with what appeared to be blood, and Ron’s heart leapt in concern. Tears cut two clean tracks down her sooty, dirty face. He wasn’t sure how someone who looked so entirely spent could also look so wonderful. But she did. This dream, this apparition. He was almost afraid she’d disappear if he moved or spoke, but he couldn’t stop himself.





“Hermione?� His voice was a froggy whisper. He gazed up at her, and her tears dripped onto his jeans. He groped for her hand, felt its warmth. “Are you a dream? Or are you real?�





“Real,� she was shaking, he could see. “Really real.� For once, his darling know-it-all seemed incapable of saying anything more. He stood up, unable to speak himself, feeling hot tears overspill his own eyes, but any embarrassment he felt was washed away when he put his arms around her. He pressed her close, trying to sooth the shivers that vibrated her body.





Ron didn’t trust himself to speak yet. All that mattered was her arms around his middle, her dirty, matted hair underneath his cheek, the feeling of her breath moving her ribcage up and down. He took her face into his hands, brushed the tears away with his thumbs. He opened his mouth, shut it. He didn’t know what to say to make things better. How can we all do this, from now on? He thought, staring at her. She, too, seemed at a loss for words. How can we stand to let each other out of the other’s sight, knowing that it may be the last time we see each other, ever? Voldemort must be stopped.





Never had this seemed more true, or more necessary. Ron finally understood the stories his parents had told about the Dark Mark appearing years ago, about some unsuspecting witch or wizard coming home and finding it hovering overhead. Families, friends, lovers – how they all must have dreaded separation, even for work or school or a quick shopping trip. It was like that again now. Everyone was fair game. Including the people Ron loved the most.





Hermione reached up and put her hand on his cheek. Ron couldn't remember her being so silent for such a long stretch of time. She said she loved me a few minutes ago, I heard her. Didn’t I? I don’t think it was a dream… He wanted to say it back, had been dying to say it to her for the past week, but his tongue simply wouldn’t follow his brain’s command to speak. He started to feel antsy, nervous, uncomfortable. Then she finally spoke.





“I missed your freckles.� The minute it was out of her mouth, she blushed deep scarlet. “God, that sounded – I mean, I don’t know what I am saying – it’s just that we’ve – me and Fiora, that is – oh, that’s right, you haven’t actually met Fiora –� she paused, gesturing towards the porch, where Ron just now spotted a tiny blond woman standing next to Hagrid’s towering form. “-we were stuck – caught – I mean, he came to the shop and stunned us, trapped us for days, but it was just a trick – not a trick on us, well, I don’t think it was on us, in fact I think his behavior over the past few years is finally falling into place…� she drifted off, her hand still on his cheek, but instead of the unfamiliar vulnerability he’d seen on her face a moment before, he saw something he could recognize any time, anywhere – Hermione, brain at full throttle, trying to puzzle something out.





“Hermione? Earth to Hermione? We humans still need you here,� Ron prompted her. He felt a very familiar mixture of exasperation and deep affection as she dragged her eyes back to his. He opened his mouth to say what he’d been dying to say for so long, but she spoke first.





“Right,� her eyes gleamed, and Ron felt the moment passing him by. “We really ought to wake everyone that’s here. What time is it? Fiora and I really must speak to everyone in the Order – especially your dad. Actually, I really need to prepare Harry too – he’s never liked Snape, I mean, for good reason, of course, but he’s quite prejudiced against him, and I don’t know how he’s going to react to –�





“HERMIONE!�





“Well, really, Ron, you don’t need to shout,� she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just trying to tell you that –�





“Hey, I know it’s very, very important, and that you have to save the world with your brilliance and all, but how about a few more minutes about you missing my freckles?� He unfolded her arms and put them back around his waist.





“Well, now you’re just being ridiculous,� but the corner of her mouth twitched a bit and she held him tighter. “Who misses someone else’s freckles? Besides,� she continued, “You really look terrible, no one in her right mind would miss the way you look just now.� She seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh, and he chuckled a little himself.





“That’s funny,� he answered, taking in her matted hair and filthy clothes. “I was just thinking you’ve never looked better.� He brushed a few stray curls from her cheek, and he could feel her breathing quicken.





“See, you really are being ridiculous…� but there wasn’t much conviction behind her chastisement.





“Oh? I was wondering, before all that nonsense about freckles, and being real, and all that – what was it you said to me? When you thought I was asleep?� Ron knew he was being a bit mean, but his heart was racing crazily. He knew he was going to say it to her, and he was terrified. He just needed a little reassurance.





“What did I – oh! Right, oh,� she ended feebly, her cheeks blooming roses again. “I didn’t realize that you’d heard me.� She wouldn’t look at him.





“Hermione,� it must have been something about the way he said her name made her look up so quickly. “I – I – erm. Don’t be – uh – embarrassed, or whatever. I wanted to tell you – I was going to tell you, the same thing. Right before Harry and Ginny came into your room at Grimmauld Place? With Fiora’s letter? I was about to tell you – to tell you,� he paused again. Why was this so hard? He took a deep breath.





“You’re smarter than me, and Harry. You probably figured this all out ages ago, but I really can’t say exactly when I – when I started caring about you so much. But I do remember when I – when I realized that I loved you.� He could feel his face heating up, but he held her gaze and kept pushing on. “It was right after that row we had the night of the Yule Ball in fourth year,� Ron saw the tiniest of smirks cross her face and touched a warning but gentle finger to her lips.





“I thought – I thought it was just one of our usual rows, you know, we got into fights so much, all the time really, it just seemed like, like part of our friendship.� He stopped again, sighed, remembering the agitated fourteen-year-old he had been. “And I went upstairs to the dormitories that night, just completely put out with you, truth be told, and thinking how ridiculous you had been, and how much I truly hated Victor Krum…� he trailed off. Even now he felt a slight twinge of jealousy for the Quidditch champion, though he knew how just plain silly that was. Hermione was full-out grinning at him now, though tears were once again streaming down her face.





“But I just stayed up all night, and I just kept thinking, ‘I hate Victor Krum’. And, it didn’t make any sense to me, at all. Honestly, for awhile I couldn’t understand why I despised him so much,� he was almost done, he just had to push on with it. “Then, well, it took me a few more days, and suddenly, in Herbology class or something, it came to me – I hated him because I thought you might love him, or that he might try to get you to love him, and I knew I couldn’t compete with a famous Quidditch player, and then suddenly, what I kept thinking…what I kept thinking….was ‘I love Hermione Granger.’ And I do. I love you,� he stopped, smiled back at her. It wasn’t so bad now that it was out there, out in the open. “Only taken me two years and then some to let you know. Not bad for a git like me, right? Missable freckles, and all?�





She stomped her foot and more tears splashed down her cheeks, and before Ron knew it, her lips were on his, the tears from her cheeks mingling with his own. Ron kissed her and kissed her, not really ever wanting to stop. But they broke apart, and she grinned wickedly at him. “You were right – I did say that I love you. Now come on – we have to wake the others. We have to save the world – together.�

Harry wasn’t completely sure as to what was going on all around him. All he knew was this: his best friend was safe. Both he and Ron had their arms slung companionably around Hermione, who for once seemed perfectly content to remain in their protective embrace instead of buzzing around, tossing out theories and ideas. The three of them kept grinning foolishly at each other, all of them feeling, without having to say anything, they were all much happier to be together, working as a team again. It just seemed wrong otherwise. Harry took a moment to glance around him.

If someone had suddenly appeared in the Burrow’s kitchen at this very instant, he or she would have no idea that it was close to four o’clock in the morning. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were standing at the old stove, Mrs. Weasley stirring several pots at once, and Ginny primarily rolling her eyes at her mother as she was instructed to ladle this onto a plate or pour that into a dish. Hagrid was stationed by the back door; George had gone to fetch Lupin and Tonks from Number Twelve, and all three were expected back shortly. Mr. Weasley was deep in conversation with Fiora Podlink, who seemed, at first glance, to be an interesting combination of Ginny and Hermione – sassy, outspoken, bold and very very bright. Fiora saw him looking over and tipped him a wink. Harry felt himself blush and turned towards the sound of Fred thundering down the stairs.

“Mum!! Smells fantastic – it’s about time we added another meal to the day, aside from the standard three,� Fred hovered over Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder, sticking his finger directly into pot she was stirring. She swatted it away absently and waved her wand at a drawer. Silverware zoomed out, glittering projectiles. Fred managed to catch most of them.

“Mum! Are you trying to dismember me?� He huffed mockingly, beginning to slap knives and forks haphazardly onto the table. He reached Harry and placed a fork in front of him. Harry was flummoxed to see that Fred’s lip was trembling, his eyes brimming with tears.

The Weasley twin was making doe eyes at Hermione, who was speaking softly to Ron. She hasn’t noticed Fred gazing at her yet. Harry stifled a smirk. He had a feeling something entertaining was coming…and Fred’s pinch on his shoulder confirmed it.

“How can you…can you just sit there, ignoring me? After all the hours I’ve spent, weeping into my pillow, concerned for your safety?� Fred’s lower lip jutted out, wavering. His leaned forward, unmindful of Harry, and clasped Hermione’s shoulders tightly.

Harry chuckled and could see Hermione trying not to do the same. Ron looked irked. But Fred was on a roll. “And look! You’ve made it back safely, and you’ve even managed to pretty yourself up for the occasion,� now the whole kitchen was watching with wry smiles, because Hermione looked exactly as she should look at this particular moment – tired, covered in muck, her hair standing in out in every direction - certainly not her best.

“Fred, honestly, now, you really are –� Hermione’s voice was scolding, but she spoke through a grin as he clambered over Harry and engulfed her in an enormous, sloppy hug. Harry burst out laughing, trying to push Fred off of his lap. Ron looked thunderous, which for some reason, made the whole situation even funnier. Harry caught his best mate’s eye, shrugged, but couldn’t stop chuckling.

“Mum! MUM! Quick! Hermione’s fading away here, honestly, Mum, she needs something to eat. Also, it looks as if her hair could use some maple syrup…� Fred busied himself fluffing Hermione’s already wild curls, and Harry wasn’t sure whose face was redder – hers or Ron’s.

“FRED! Oi! Geroff her, stupid git -� Ron began wresting his older brother’s hands free from Hermione’s tresses. Now all four of them were shrieking, laughing, yelling and pretty much tangled in Hermione’s hair.

“ENOUGH!� Mr. Weasley’s voice was loud but amused. “You lot are Order members, can you show a touch of decorum, please?� Fred removed himself from the fray and the other three disentangled themselves. Harry kept grinning at Hermione, who was still chuffing laughter, though Ron seemed less entertained.

Fred ambled over to the stove, slung his arm around his little sister. His face was quite serious now, not a hint of the silliness from a few minutes before. “Honestly, Hermione,� he began, and Ginny turned to listen to her brother. “Honestly – we were all very worried, the lot of us. It’s good to have you back – you’re nearly a Weasley yourself.�

Harry caught Ginny’s eye and she smiled at him. Hermione appeared to be blowing her nose. Ron was staring thoughtfully at his brother, his face calm. These Weasleys. Is there any other family like them? Harry thought gratefully.

Then Fred continued, looking right at Ron, a slightly wicked grin on his face, “I mean, you’re not a Weasley yet – but you will be one day.� The entire room broke into nervous giggles as Ron and Hermione’s faces went from red to purple. But Harry noticed neither of them contradicted Fred’s insinuation. He also saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchange a warm, knowing grin.

“Ok, this is more like it – walking into the Burrow’s kitchen with everyone smiling about something, instead of in sackcloth and ashes,� a voice at the back door made everyone’s heads turn. Tonks was standing there, a huge smile on her face, her hair in purple whorls around her head. Lupin, George and Hagrid stood slightly behind her. Fiora dashed across the room and engulfed Lupin in an embrace.

And for few minutes, Harry lost himself in the greetings and hugs and warmth of friends reunited, of order restored. They’d get down to business soon enough.

* * *

“Well,� Lupin scrubbed his hands across his weary face, smiled ruefully at the rest of the table. He caught Harry’s eye and his grin broadened. “That’s how Harry and I, and the rest of that merry crew, managed to retrieve Tonks from imminent peril,� he and Tonks exchanged smirks, but their eyes were serious. “Fiora, Hermione? If you would, I’d like very much to hear what the past four days have held for the two of you…?�

Harry, like everyone else in the room, swiveled his head towards Hermione and Fiora Podlink. Ginny, who was seated next to Harry, squeezed his hand in anticipation. The two women exchanged glances. Hermione, who was leaning against the far wall, Ron’s arm around her shoulder, stared hard at Fiora, her brow wrinkled. To Harry, the older woman, who was seated between Lupin and Hagrid, appeared to be struggling for words.

“The most important thing you have to know is that Severus Snape is –� Fiora began.

“Harry! We we’re wrong. Professor Snape actually –� Hermione turned towards him, her eyes pleading for understanding.

The two women stopped mid-sentence, smiled at each other. “Go ahead,� they said in unison, then both started laughing. But Harry saw no humor in the situation.

“Hermione! What is it about Snape?� Harry could feel his heart beating faster. It seemed as if a red curtain was being drawn over his eyes. He couldn’t think of Snape without a nearly-paralyzing mixture of anger and shame. Anger at Snape for killing Dumbledore in cold blood, and shame at being unable to prevent it. Harry drew away from Ginny, stood up and faced Hermione, his arms folded across his chest. “What has he done now?�

“Well, erm, Harry, actually – actually, Snape was the one who set us free – he saved us,� Hermione murmured tentatively, glancing at Fiora for support. “He – he also gave us the Horcrux.�

The reaction from the room was varied – the twins let out cries of disbelief; Hagrid and Ron’s parents gasped in a surprised, hopeful way; Ron, Lupin and Tonks had matching expressions of confusion and doubt on their faces. Harry barely registered all of this. All he could here was the pounding of his heart, louder and louder, in his ears.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione! Have you forgotten what happened less than two months ago? Snape killed Dumbledore! He murdered him! Right in front of me! He’s evil, Hermione, can’t you see that? You’re supposed to be the smart one!� Harry suddenly realized the rest of the kitchen had fallen silent, that everyone was staring at him guardedly.

“Harry, listen to me,� Hermione left Ron’s side, stepped forward, placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I – I understand where you’re coming from. I wouldn’t believe it myself if it hadn’t happened to me. But – but – we have to leave the possibility open that Snape might be on our side and that he’s –�

Harry angrily shrugged her hand off. This was insane. The very thought of Dumbledore’s murderer being on the same side of this battle as he himself was, was ludicrous. He briefly wondered if Snape had placed the Imperius curse on his friend. A look of annoyance crossed Hermione’s face, but before she could speak, Fiora did.

“Harry,� the small woman’s voice was sweet and scratchy. She was standing on the other side of him, her tiny hand resting on his arm. “Harry, I understand how you feel. I knew Severus Snape at Hogwarts, and he was, well, not the most likeable bloke around.� She paused, caught Lupin’s eye. “But, truthfully, he had more than ample opportunity to kill both of us, or to bring us to You-Know-Who. And he didn’t. He let us go. And not only that, he gave us the cup back. The cup that Peter brought to me the night before –� Fiora abruptly closed her mouth.

“Before my parents were killed, right? That’s what you were going to say!� Part of him felt ashamed to be yelling at this woman he didn’t know, this woman who’d been so close to his Mum and Dad, to Sirius, but he couldn’t contain his rage. “Do you know why they were killed? Do you?� Harry addressed the entire kitchen now. “Snape! SNAPE! Because, because Snape overheard Trelawney’s prophecy! Because Snape went to Voldemort with the information! That’s why!�

“Harry, I really think we ought to at least –� Lupin stood, spoke softly.

“I’m not listening to this, Professor. Sorry, I’m just not,� he brushed Lupin aside and went out the back door onto the porch.

The sun was rising, turning the horizon a milky blue. Birds twittered, carefree and unbothered by human distractions and worries. He stood gazing at the brightening sky for awhile, not thinking. Then he heard someone behind him. He was sure it would be Lupin – or perhaps Ron, sent by Hermione to smooth things over. Ginny’s voice surprised him.

“It wasn’t your fault,� she spoke slowly, carefully. She wrapped her arms around his waist, stared hard at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ginny,� he replied, but he fought at the lump rising in his throat. “I’m not blaming anyone but Snape here.�

“You know what I mean, Harry,� her eyes were blazing. “There was nothing you could have done. I know you miss him. But he wanted to protect you. Did you – did you ever consider, that, well, Dumbledore let Snape kill him? That he’d asked Snape to do it?�

“That’s insane, Ginny,� he couldn’t look at her, or the tears that threatened would spill down his face. But he was remembering…

Dumbledore, his face looking haggard and older than Harry had ever seen. Snape, advancing on the Headmaster, his dark eyes blank and unreadable. Dumbledore begging the Potions professor, “Please, Severus…please!� Harry had thought, on that terrible night, that Dumbledore had been begging for his life. But…but what if Dumbledore had been begging for something else…was that possible? Could it be? But why? Why?

Ginny must have seen some of this in his eyes. She put her hands on his face, made him hold her gaze. Harry felt twin tracks of tears roll hotly down his cheeks. Ginny brushed them away, kissed where they had been. “It’s not your fault,� she whispered again, firmly. Harry’s tenuous control broke.

“But it is! It IS my fault, Ginny,� he choked into her shoulder. “Dumbledore was protecting me! Don’t you understand?� Her hands soothed over his rumpled hair; the flowery smell of her calmed him down.

“What I do understand, Harry, is that things aren’t always what they seem on the surface. I wasn’t there, but I do remember you all talking about your first year at Hogwarts, and how the lot of you thought Snape was trying to kill you at that Quidditch match. But, Harry, he was trying to protect you. I am not saying that we go out and nominate Snape for Wizard of the Year or anything, but…there may be more to this than meets the eye. You should at least consider the possibility, hear Hermione’s story. She’s nobody’s fool, as we all know,� Ginny gave him a wry grin, and he chuckled reluctantly.

“I can’t promise anything, Ginny,� he began, pushing her ginger hair out of her face. “But I’ll try – I’ll try to have an open mind. I’m at least ready to listen. I just can’t promise I’ll believe.� He put his arms around her, kissed her.

They walked towards the kitchen door, and Harry thought maybe, just maybe, he could let go of his guilt. And perhaps, when he did, he could hang on to faith – faith that anyone, even Severus Snape, could have good intentions.

Stranger things have happened I guess, Harry thought to himself with a reluctant smile. He was, after all, a wizard, wasn’t he? He knew miracles took place every day.

Hermione opened her eyes and was immediately confused. She was standing in the deserted front hall of Hogwarts, in her pajamas. It was late afternoon, based on the quality of light streaming in from the high windows. But how did she get here?

The last thing she remembered was sitting in the Burrow’s kitchen, staring hard at her best friend. Harry, grim and quiet after Ginny retrieved him from the porch, calmly listened as she and Fiora recounted their capture and escape from the Oubliettium. Hermione knew that she may have won the battle this time, but the war had just begun; there were far too many hard feelings between Harry and Snape for one brief conversation with Ginny to smooth everything over.

Hermione stood for a moment, gathering her bearings. She realized her wand was in her hand, and she held it aloft. Though her breath puffed out before her in tiny, regular clouds, she didn’t feel cold. She hesitantly walked forward, towards the Great Hall, the stones of the floor cool but not unpleasant beneath her feet.

She heard a steady rustling sound emanating from an archway ahead. It was the stairwell that led to the dungeons and Snape’s old Potions classroom. Hermione peered curiously at the stairs, sensing movement in the shadowy dimness. She suddenly saw what was making the whispery, rustling noises.

A large, purple, bird-like creature, about the size of an eagle, flapped out of the darkness into the hallway. Its skin was shimmery, almost as if threads of gold were imbedded in its feathers. Its stomach was bloated and seemed to be slowing it down – the bird-thing waved its wings up and down but was barely moving through the air. As Hermione stared in revulsion, another, identical creature appeared from the gloom of the stairway. The first bird locked gazes with Hermione as it aimlessly circled the air above her, sadness and fear apparent in its green eyes.

“I must be dreaming,� she surmised, as a third and fourth creature joined the first pair in from the stairs, their bellies heavy and burdensome as well. And she suddenly knew she was dreaming. She moved forward, towards the archway, still afraid somehow, but knowing that if there was any enlightenment to be had from this dream, she’d find it in the dungeons.

She head down the dank staircase as dozens of the slow-moving, aubergine-colored birds fluttered sluggishly overhead, their bellies full and heavy, their eyes wistful. She wasn’t sure why, but she avoided contact with the creatures. There was something about them she really didn’t like.

She reached the bottom of the staircase and stood for a moment, debating her next move. She heard muttering and bursts of irritated grunts coming from Snape’s old classroom up ahead. Even without these, she would have known where to go – the stream of miserable avian creatures was coming from this room. Hermione ducked under one of them and stepped into the classroom. What she saw horrified her.

Snape stood at a large stone slab in the center of the otherwise empty classroom. He was surrounded by a complicated network of glass beakers and pipes, which were filled with a sticky-looking, gooey black substance. Clutched in his long, thin hand was one of the purple birds, which was struggling to break free. With his other hand, Snape was forcing a beakerful of the black liquid down its throat. The animal seemed terrified but unable to avoid swallowing the stuff.

Snape looked up, straight at her. He continued to grasp the bird in his hand, but, surprisingly, he grinned broadly at Hermione, as if she were an expected and welcomed guest. This dream-version of Snape was pleased beyond belief that she was here, standing barefoot in her pajamas, watching him perform some kind of tortuous experiment on weird-looking birds.

“Miss Granger! It’s about time!� Snape went back to force-feeding the black liquid to the creature in his hand. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show up at all!� He rolled his eyes fondly at her, in a decidedly un-Snape-like manner, as she approached the stone slab he was working on.

“What are you doing to those...those…birds, Professor? What is this stuff?� Hermione’s stomach rolled as she watched the oily goo move sluggishly through its glass pathways.

“Oh, this? It’s secrets, of course. Secrets - and lies, too. Someone’s got to pay the price for them, don’t you think?� Snape released the bird and it began its laborious journey out of the classroom and up the hallway. Hermione watched it go with pity. She turned back to Snape and saw, with no surprise, that another bird had appeared in his hands.

“But…but Professor, can’t you see? You’re hurting these creatures! They look like – like they’re in pain. Like they might…die,� she finished quietly.

Snape pondered this for a moment. His cheery expression faltered a bit as he stared hard at the bird in his grip. But then he smiled sunnily back at Hermione. “Well, I guess them’s the breaks! I am just trying to get by here, I can’t be responsible for the consequences!� He chuckled and went back to feeding the black liquid to the new bird.

Hermione was flummoxed. She didn’t like this thoughtless, though cheerful, version of Snape anymore than she cared for the real, snarky version. “Well that’s a fine attitude Professor! It’s not your problem, you’re just ‘trying to get by’?� The real Snape, though he had many shortcomings, was never one to shirk personal responsibility.

“Why are you acting like this?� She demanded.

“Well now, I don’t know Miss Granger, this is your dream, after all. It’s your brain that has me doing these things, behaving this way. You’re the genius, figure it out,� Snape abruptly threw the bird down on the stone table, turned away from her, and picked up an object Hermione hadn’t noticed.

It was a hand mirror, and it looked familiar. Snape had his back to her, but he held the mirror up to his face and she could see his reflection. But it wasn’t Snape’s homely, sallow face smiling back at her. It was Sirius’ handsome features. The reflection spoke.

“Think on this, Hermione. Put the pieces together. Things aren’t always what they seem. Most people aren’t just bad or good, evil or saintly. Most of us are a combination of positive and negative qualities – and many people act selfishly. Even if they don’t really want to harm others, they think of themselves first,� Sirius’ face looked sad but resigned. As she watched, Sirius’ features dissolved and reformed into Lupin’s pale, friendly image.

“Sirius is right, Hermione – and so is Snape, truth be told. Almost everyone has something to hide at some point – whether it’s decency, or greed, or love, or fear – but in this case, secrets really can kill. You have to figure it out. All the pieces are here, it’s just a matter of putting them together. Do you understand?� Before Hermione could answer Lupin, the face in the mirror changed again, and a woman’s face swam into view. McGonagall’s.

“This is about personal responsibility, Ms. Granger,� her intellectual idol intoned, pushing her glasses up her nose. “It’s not about intent, it’s about actions. And someone has been behaving very irresponsibly, someone who’s heart is usually in the right place, even if their actions aren’t always, well, sensible.� She clucked her tongue, and the mirror’s reflection shifted again. Hermione felt dizzy, felt an irresistible urge to wake herself up, but she knew she didn’t have the answer…yet. Arthur Weasley’s red hair and crinkly smile, so much like Ron’s, beamed back at her.

“You’re nearly there, Hermione. Think of the message Snape wanted you to pass on to me – there’s a leak in the Order! Someone who should know better is passing information on to the Ministry – Percy himself heard Scrimgeour, remember? If we don’t get to the bottom of this, well, it could put those we love in grave danger…�

Mr. Weasley’s visage dissolved, and a sudden rush of faces – Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ginny, Fred, Molly Weasley, Dolores Umbridge, Hagrid, Belletrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy, many others – sped by in the mirror, faster and faster until Hermione felt nauseous and their features all blurred together. The mirror dropped to the cobblestone floor and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

The person holding it turned around. It was Harry. His eyes were as green and as wistful as the purple birds that still flew overhead. He pulled something from the back pocket of the jeans he was wearing. It was another mirror. He placed it in her hand, face-down.

“There’s two of them, remember? That’s the key, that’s always been the key,� Harry told her gravely. “For over a year, I’d look and look into the mirror, but he was never there. It hurt too much. So I chucked it. Someone found it – and found the other one as well, apparently. Someone who’s very good at taking stuff that doesn’t belong to him…but this time, he’s gone too far. He’s going to get me killed if we don’t stop him. And just because he didn’t mean for it to happen, that it was mostly selfishness and carelessness on his part, that won’t make any of us feel better, will it?�

Her best friend held her gaze and Hermione realized that everything was dissolving around them. She was about to wake up, she knew it.

“Harry! Who is it? Tell me, quickly! Who’s Scrimgeour’s spy?� She reached out for him frantically, but he was disappearing before her eyes.

“You know, Hermione. This is your mind’s way of telling you. The pieces were all there, it was just a matter of putting them together. Go on, take a look…the mirror…� Harry was gone.

Hermione, her heart racing, flipped the mirror in her hands over…

* * *
…and bolted awake in the Burrow’s full rumpus room, the sleeping shape of her friends all around her. She woke them all as she gasped, “Mundungus Fletcher!�

Ron rubbed his eyes sleepily and bit into a fortifying piece of toast with blackberry jam. He yawned hugely. I wish Hermione could plan her bursts of brilliance with a bit better timing, he thought grumpily, staring out the kitchen window. The sun was just barely peeking over the far hill, staining the indigo horizon with streaks of pink.

All of the teenaged members of the Order of the Phoenix (plus Ginny and minus Neville) were seated sloppily around the kitchen table staring blearily at Hermione, who was pacing the length of the kitchen, trying to untwist the most recent knot in their aborted journey to Godric’s Hollow. Apparently, the time for secrecy had past, and the time to rely on those they trusted most had come.

She looked the way Ron loved her best: hair flying crazily about her head like some demented cloud, chewing on her lower lip, her brow furrowed in concentration and her cheeks full of color.

“Don’t you lot see? That’s why Percy only heard the Minster speaking in the supply closet! Because Mundungus and he were using the mirrors! Sirius’ mirrors!� Ron saw her eyes fly in Harry’s direction, gauging how this new betrayal was affecting their friend. Harry remained stolidly silent, one hand resting lightly on Ginny’s hair, so Hermione continued.

“God only knows how he laid his hands on them –� Hermione was interrupted by Harry. Ron could hear barely contained anger in his mate’s voice.

“Oh, I know alright, Hermione. Don’t you remember? When we literally crashed into Mundungus in Hogsmeade that day? He has all sorts of stuff from Number 12, he was selling it off for a profit. He probably took Sirius’ mirror during one of his forages through the Black family treasures. As for my mirror, the one Sirius gave me…well, Mundungus was on ‘Harry-watching’ duty a lot the past year or so, he could’ve nicked it from me a number of times,� Harry looked disgusted and disappointed.

“You know,� George piped up, speaking in a much quieter voice than Ron was used to hearing from his older brother. “You know, Harry, I have to say – are we sure about this?� George looked a bit cautiously at Hermione, who, Ron knew, most certainly did not like her theories challenged. She merely pressed her lips together, but said nothing. George took that as a sign to continue. “I mean, Dung isn’t the most honest guy around, but this is irresponsible and underhanded, even for him. Petty thievery, yes…but out and out deception? Betraying the Order, betraying you? I just don’t know…�

“It really is a bit of a stretch,� Ron jumped in to the discussion. He didn’t want to annoy Hermione, but he wasn’t sure about this idea of hers. Wasn’t sure at all, truth be told. “I mean, Dung? Really? He wasn’t the most honest bloke any of us knew, but was he capable of this? He was so loyal to Dumbledore and Sirius and –�

“Loyal enough to nick his stuff after he died, you mean,� Harry spat back at Ron.

“Right,� Ron sighed, shook his head. “I just – it’s hard for me to believe, is all.� Ron heard a frustrated grunt and turned in Ginny’s direction.

“You boys are missing the point completely. Hermione is not saying that Dung is evil or working for – for Voldemort or something. Not that the Ministry of Magic is my favorite organization right now or anything, but they aren’t Death Eaters,� Ginny rolled her eyes, continued. “All Hermione is saying is what we all know about Mundungus Fletcher: his main motivation is money. It always has been. And not just money, but easy money. Think about it.� Now Ginny was on her feet as well, and Hermione was grinning at her.

“Think about it,� Ginny started again. “Mundungus had - probably had – Sirius’ mirror some time last year. Sure, it wasn’t very useful to him without its twin, but he probably knew what it was and was hoping to find the other one. Sirius may have even mentioned he’d given the other one to Harry.�

“He might have known about mine first, actually,� Harry said solemnly, avoiding eye contact with the group, the boys especially. “If the Order was still keeping tabs on me last summer – and there’s no reason to think they weren’t – well…� he trailed off, and Ron could tell his friend was struggling with his words. “Well, you know, Sirius - Sirius – death wasn’t easy for me. That mirror – he gave me that mirror in the middle of fifth year, so we could stay in touch�. He paused again, and Ron could see how much it took for his friend to say what he did next. “I – I spent a lot of time after Sirius’ death, looking into that mirror, knowing it was pointless but not being able to help myself. ‘Specially when I had to go back to Privet Drive, and the Dursleys, I’d take it out after they all went to sleep and just – oh, I don’t know - wait for something – something –�

“-- magical to happen?� Fred finished for him, his face atypically serious. Harry nodded resignedly. Ginny, who had walked back over to the table, placed a small freckled hand on Harry’s shoulder. Fred continued. “Yeah, I understand that feeling, Harry. But getting back to business, shall we have a show of hands? Percy smelled a rat – or rather, heard the Minister talking to one. Who thinks the rat is Mundungus Fletcher?� Fred stuck his hand over his head.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny’s hands shot quickly up into the air. George looked as unsure as Ron felt. And, much to Ron’s surprise, Percy’s narrow face expressed doubt as well. Ron was afraid to look at Harry or Hermione, but he did. Hermione’s furious stare was bad, but the disappointment in Harry’s eyes was worse.

“I – I just don’t know you guys. I mean, wasn’t Mundungus in Azkaban for part of the year? How did he spy on us from prison? Aren’t we making a bit of a leap here?� Ron muttered, feeling his face growing warm, but sticking to his guns anyway. He wasn’t going to accuse a possibly innocent (if somewhat shifty) man based on a dream that Hermione had.

“Well, you’ve just proven my point, Ronald,� Hermione stated icily. “Mundungus got tossed in Azkaban during a robbery, right? For impersonating an Inferius, okay. So, he gets tossed in Azkaban – who’s heard from him since? Did the Order try and help him out? I mean, loyal to Sirius or not, loyal to Dumbledore or not, he must have been pretty peeved when the Order didn’t try to help him out of there. I bet – I bet the Minister knew, or found out he was an Order member, and bribed him with the promise of early release – and, probably, a few Galleons in the bargain as well - if he’d keep an eye on Harry – and the rest of us,� Hermione finished, staring around the room, waiting for a reaction from the others. She was pointedly not looking in Ron’s direction. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her one-on-one after this group conversation.

Ron didn’t know what made him do it, but he just wasn’t convinced of Dung’s guilt. It was all theoretical at the moment. “But how can you prove any of this Hermione? I mean, it sounds good and all, but just because you had some dream about it – � gosh, the look on her face was terrifying – “doesn’t make it real. It doesn’t mean it’s true. At all.�

Before she could answer, Percy spoke up. “Well, we may not know if Hermione’s guess is correct, as of yet,� he paused, and the pompousness that Ron was used to in his brother’s voice returned for the first time since his arrival at the rehearsal dinner what seemed like ages ago. “However, I would like to point out, that if you believe my story, then you do know that the Minister is speaking with someone who has inside information. And I know he’s capable of enlisting spies – he had me for awhile, I am ashamed to say,� Percy’s snooty tone had dampened a bit, and his ears flamed red, just like Ron’s did when he was upset or embarrassed.

“But you came back to help us, didn’t you, Perce?� Ginny reminded him.

“Yes. Yes I did, though I wasn’t sure if you’d have me,� he gave a sidelong glace towards the twins. Ron couldn’t read his brothers’ expressions. “Anyway, if the Minister has a pet rat, and we think that rat’s name is ‘Mundungus’, we have to hand the Minister some cheese to feed to the rat, don’t you think? Preferably the kind that stinks to high heaven.� He had an uncharacteristically sly grin on his face.

Ron noticed the side of Fred’s mouth twitch into the ghost of smile. “And who’s going to do that, pray tell?�

“Why, I will of course. I’ll serve him the biggest slice of cheese you can imagine,� Percy was full-on smiling now. “And he’ll gobble it down. Now, you lot, listen up, this is what we’re gonna do…�