The Price of Harry Potter

The Price of Harry Potter

Chapter One: Memories

It was cold. Hermione almost believed it was colder inside the manor than out in the snow. The black floor and dark, marble columns reflected the light, making the entire entrance hall look like an ice palace. A palace of black ice: freezing and deadly.

A silver tree stood in the curve of the grand staircase, reminding her that Christmas was scarcely three days away. A lifetime away.

"Can you reach? Here, let me lift you up." Her father's warm hands on her waist. "You chose that one when you were five. You said you liked the 'sparkles.' I think sparkles are good on a tree, sweetie. Festive."

The spicy sent of cinnamon floated in the air, warm and welcoming. She could hear the sound of the huge log fire crackling and her hands had thawed out after her snowball fight.

"Here's the angel for the top. Shall I put that one on last?"

"Yes, I'll get the ladder down from the attic. What's in that box?"

"Um.. the glass castle."

"Oh yes. That was an engagement gift from your mother's friend. 'Your happy-ending castle,' she called it."

Hermione turned the ornament so that it caught the light. "Happy-ending castle," She repeated. "How romantic..."

Her father grinned at her and wrapped his arm around his wife's waist. "Well yes. We believe in happy-endings."

Happy Endings.

She felt the searing heat of the fire on her face, her voice hoarse with screaming and smoke. Harry's hands around her waist, holding her back, yelling at her that it was too late. She couldn't save them. Why was she outside when they were in there burning? Dying?

Yells barely drew her attention from the burning Burrow. Two of Ron's brothers had also been outside. Together they helped Harry haul her backwards, their faces scratched and bleeding from her nails. Their eyes blinded by tears of futility.

Happy Endings.

Hated organ music playing in solemn dignity as the coffins were carried past. Hermione's eyes were dry: she had done enough crying.

Happy Endings.

A lifetime away.

She sat with Percy and Bill on a bench in the graveyard. There was nothing to say. Harry knelt a few paces away, his head resting on the granite slab:

Here lie Arthur and Molly Weasley

Beloved Parents

R.I.P.

With Charles, Frederick, George, Ronald and Virginia.

Together in peace, in death as they were in life.

Murdered by the hand of Lord Voldemort.

The gravestone didn't mention Voldemort. But it should have. Murdered. Hermione shivered again. Had it really been three months? She could hear them screaming as if it were happening around her. As if this cold hallway were the burning Burrow. She could still feel the panic, the pain of realisation that they were trapped. That she and Harry and Percy and Bill could not get the others out. That the fire crews would be too late.

She would have broken in. She would have saved them. Harry had held her back, prevented her. The rational part of her knew it was to protect her, but her boiling heart could not forgive. Not yet. The grief was still too near.

Somewhere above her she could hear footsteps coming down a hallway. Unconsciously she shrunk backwards, towards the door, towards freedom. The silver Christmas tree seemed like a mockery. Silver and black against the deep, pine green. Hardly festive. But beautiful in a clear and painful way. Like her decision.

Another funeral, another grief.

Harry's hand resting helplessly on her shoulder, unable to console, unable to absorb her distress. The shoulder of his inconspicuous, black Muggle suit damp with her tears. At least their deaths had been quick. They had not known who the men in long black robes were, protected as they had been from events in the wizarding world. They had not known what those words would do, they had been unprepared for that final flash of brilliant green.

But all the same they must have feared. As she feared. One by one the people she loved torn from her. Her life more at risk than it had ever been. And all for one simple reason. To get to Harry.

Her parents, Ron, his family, the Dursleys, Sirius, all killed to make Harry obey.

By the order of Voldemort, murdered by the hand of the man who was descending the marble staircase to meet her.

For the millionth time she wondered why she was here. It was too late to change her mind. Too late... where had she heard that before?

Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows and extended his hand to her.

"Miss Granger, I am glad you came. I am sorry for your losses." Amazingly, although the words were in his usual drawl, she almost believed him; the smirk did not quite reach his eyes.

Her expression was calculatedly bland, waiting patiently to hear him out.

"I'm afraid the deaths were... necessary. You understand I am sure. We bear nothing against you personally. Your blood is unfortunate, but your intellect is admirable. You, my dear, are a worthy adversary."

Hermione felt her blood boil at his cutting words.

"That boy. He, of course, must be disposed with. You on the other hand could be valuable. I believe my son put our proposition to you."

"Harry is nothing to me." She whispered the words, knowing they were untrue. She had lost everything else: Harry should be everything to her now. But the mere mention of his name conjured hatred she had never felt before. Not the disgust and rage that she felt here, standing in front of Malfoy. But pure, seething white hatred.

His fault. I could have saved them. His fault. They were murdered to get to Harry. Her family. Ron. His fault.

"I suspected that I would enjoy dealing with you, Miss Granger." His icy smile was charming. "You do much to encourage this sentiment."

Harry's fault.

"Why do you want Harry?"

"He has had every chance we can give him - but even under our threats, our deeds, he has refused to join the side of the right. As long as he exists to oppose us then others will follow him. He offers a choice. He must die."

Through her anger and hatred, although she had known this was coming, Hermione still flinched at Lucius's words.

She steeled her heart, knowing what was coming next. She had known since that evening in Hogsmeade with Draco. She had known since he asked her if she wanted her family back, since he told her it was possible...

"We want you to betray him."