Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End

Pop.

Hermione opened her eyes, and, much to her relief, she was precisely where she had intended to Apparate to. She was standing in the middle of Jeremy Bateman's front yard. Looking about to make sure that no one had been alerted to her arrival, she swept the folds of the Invisibility Cloak over her and cautiously began making her way to High Street, so she could find the Dirty Goose. It was past ten o'clock by this point, so the streets of Grantham were deserted, the only noise coming from her trainers as they scuffed across the pavement. Although she couldn't move very fast under the bulky cloak, nerves and desperation fueled her steps, and she reached High Street in record time. She shivered slightly, although it had to be at least ten degrees warmer here than it was in Hogsmeade. She didn't particularly fancy the idea of carrying on this part of their mission completely alone, but it was the only choice they had.

After Luna had left, the four friends had talked over what would be the best way to arrive in Grantham as quickly and as safely as possible. The idea of all four of them simply Flooing into the pub where Antonin Dolohov could very well be sitting and sipping a drink was not the most prudent course of action, so Hermione had suggested an alternative. Since she had been to Grantham before, due to those hateful teas with the Batemans, she could Apparate ahead of them, find the pub, inspect the interior under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak, and simply Apparate back to Hogsmeade to report her findings. Ron, Harry, and Ginny had all been apprehensive about her suggestion, but once Harry had been convinced and had handed over the cloak, Hermione Disapparated, not waiting to listen to Ron rant on about why she shouldn't go alone. He was probably going to say a few choice words to her when she saw him again, but she didn't care very much--she had a few words of her own that she was dying to throw in his direction, such as, 'Are you honestly stupid enough to think that breaking up with me will somehow protect me?' which should shut him up quite successfully.

Hitching the cloak more tightly around herself, Hermione continued down the darkened High Street, having to step aside once or twice to allow Muggles to walk past her. Her heart started to thud a bit faster as she reached the end of the street without any sign of the pub--she had thought she knew where it was, but now she wasn't so sure. When she had been nine, the Batemans and the Grangers had gone for a walk down High Street, and when her father had suggested that they stop at a pub for something to drink, she had eagerly pointed out a small pub that had intrigued her. It hadn't been interesting-looking or glamorous in the least, but there had just been something about it that had drawn her irresistibly toward it. Everyone else, however, had just laughed at her foolishness at suggesting they dine in an abandoned building, and selected another pub. She hadn't realized that she must have been seeing a pub for witches and wizards until a few minutes ago, and she somehow knew that the Dirty Goose must have been that pub she had seen nine years ago. Now all she had to do was find it once again.

She turned back around with an anxious frown. Where was that pub? Her eyes finally caught on a small wooden sign, creaking as it swung slowly in the blustering winter wind. Thank goodness, she thought with relief when she spotted the faded calligraphy that spelled out 'Dirty Goose' that surrounded a carving of a duck. She stepped up onto the stoop and examined the front of the small building--there were no windows to peek into. Harry had suggested that she try to stay outside if at all possible, but now it appeared that she would have go in, despite her friends' warnings. Well, Harry and Ginny had warned her--Ron had still been insisting that she shouldn't go at all. Prat, she thought with a shake of her head, but it was the thought of her prat that allowed her to square her shoulders and continue on. She boldly whipped open the door, intending to make it seem as if a violent gust of wind had blown it open.

"Bloody weather," the nearest patron shouted irritably as he waved his wand to close the door. Hermione jumped slightly as the door slammed shut behind her, and with a writhing stomach, she scanned the pub for a glimpse of the wizard who had nearly killed her--twice. Relieved air rushed noisily through her lips when she realized that there were only three patrons in the pub, and a rather weary looking bartender. None of them were Dolohov. She gave the dank bar one more careful glance to double-check before Disapparating back to Hogsmeade. She closed her eyes, kept a firm grip on her wand, hugged the invisibility cloak tightly around her, and thought of the alley she had been standing in earlier.

Pop.

"She'll be fine, Ron." Ginny's voice covered up the sound of Hermione's arrival and since she had Disapparated under the Invisibility Cloak, her three friends were quite unaware of her return. Hermione was about to pull the sleek cloak away from her, but she paused for a moment, biting her lip as she watched Ron pace back and forth with clenched fists. Honestly, she loved that he worried about her, but she hated that she put him through so much every time she was in a dangerous situation, which was turning out to be fairly often. She wasn't worth the hell he was putting himself through.

"It's safe," Hermione reported briskly as she pulled the cloak off of her shoulders. Everyone started slightly with surprise, and they all turned in her direction with nearly identical expressions of relief on their faces. Her hair stood up on end from the static electricity, and she absently smoothed it down. "We can go." Harry nodded and walked to the end of the alley, so he could look both ways to ensure that no one was coming. She hesitated briefly; she had thought of a flaw in their plan while wandering around Grantham, and she had also thought of a way to rectify it. The problem was whether or not she had the guts to do it.

Hermione balled up the cloak, and, very purposely avoiding Ron's eyes, she hissed, "Harry!" As he turned, she tossed the cloak to him. "I'll Apparate ahead and meet you there."

"Hermione," Ron snapped immediately, and his hand shot out to stop her. However, she was already concentrating on the stoop of the Dirty Goose, and before he knew it, she had vanished with a pop. "Son of a bitch!"

Hermione blinked a few times upon her return to Grantham--Apparating several times in quick succession had always made her rather dizzy. Keeping her hand on her wand, Hermione steeled herself for the task ahead of her. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all extremely recognizable, what with their respective lightening bolt scar and trademark Weasley red hair, and if this was a town where friends of the Malfoys fraternized, it wouldn't be very wise of them to make a noisy entrance. Therefore, a diversion was quite necessary, even if Dolohov wasn't one of the men that were currently enjoying the seedy ambiance of the pub.

Hermione gritted her teeth and resolutely pushed open the door. All eyes shot over to her, and to her consternation, a loud, shrill whistle of appreciation assailed her ears. The bartender eyed her warily, trying to determine if she was of age, before shrugging carelessly and returning to his work. The wizard at the counter focused again on drowning his sorrows into the mug of mulled mead in front of him, but the two men seated at the table appeared to be especially delighted by her arrival. Hermione suppressed a shudder of repulsion. This was not the distraction she had been intending on creating.

The first wizard greeted her with a lewd sweep of her figure. "'Ello, luv, glad you could stop by."

"We don't get many like 'er 'ere," his companion agreed. Both of them guffawed.

No, really, Hermione thought sarcastically as she rolled her eyes with annoyance. She attempted to make her way to the bar in order to distract the bartender. However, the first wizard swung around in his seat and kicked up his legs, propping them up on the table to her left and effectively blocking her path "Need a drink on me, dear?" he inquired with a leer.

Hermione was prepared to make a snappy retort or even pull out her wand if this disgusting man even tried to touch her. Then she realized that even though he appeared to be a slobbering alcoholic, he could be a useful slobbering alcoholic. "Actually, I'm looking for someone," she informed them haughtily. She knew it might be a more plausible and effective idea to play coy and perhaps even flirt a little in order to elicit the needed information, but Hermione just couldn't bring herself to do it. Honestly, she had only flirted with one person in her entire life, and that was only because she'd been in love with him. How on earth could she manage to put on an act for a disgusting, slimy git like this one? The sound of someone falling to the floor came from over near the fireplace, and before everyone could turn to see who had arrived, Hermione raised her voice loudly. "A Lucius Malfoy--do you happen to know where he lives?"

To her relief, all of the patrons were looking at her again. The first wizard still hadn't lowered his foot from in front of her, and he peered curiously into her face. "Why would a pretty thing like you want to go see old Lucius?"

"Lucius is in prison," the bartender called out tersely. He was glaring at Hermione suspiciously, but all that mattered was that he didn't notice that Harry Potter was shaking ash out of his hair and flattening his fringe to hide his telltale scar. His glasses had already flown off upon his bumpy arrival and he squinted myopically, but without those spectacles Hermione had to admit that he looked quite different. The customer at the bar glanced over at Harry, but when he saw only a tall, dark man in Quidditch practice robes, he paid little attention to him.

"No, Lucius Malfoy escaped last summer," Hermione replied argumentatively. "I heard he lived around here." She folded her arms over her chest and focused on the wizard who was blocking her path, since he appeared to be the drunkest and therefore the most likely to give up important information. "Is that true?"

However, he ignored the question. "Oh, I get it now." The first wizard nudged the second. "She must be tryin' to find young Draco."

"Ahhhh," the second man drawled out in a very Malfoy-like manner. Hermione didn't think it would prudent to yell in denial at the moment, so she cemented her lips together and remained silent. Harry's eyes narrowed as he blindly tried to examine the two men that Hermione was speaking to, but had to give up and stick his glasses back on. "Whassa matter, luv," the second asked. "Lose your boyfriend?"

There was another bang and Ron Weasley skidded across the floor on his back, turning as he slid, so that he bumped into Harry's heels, knocking him slightly off balance. "Bloody hell, Hermione, don't do that!" Ron chided as he got to his feet with Harry's assistance. "You know I hate it when you just run off like that!"

"I think she just found the boyfriend," the second wizard commented in a loud stage-whisper.

"Too bad," the other wizard commented with disappointment, and he leaned back in his seat, taking a deep swig of the contents of his mug. He gave Hermione a bawdy wink. "Well, if you ever change your mind, luv, you come find me."

Ron's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening step forward. "Who're you calling love?" he demanded as he roughly pushed Harry away from him and pounded over to the table.

"Ron, no!" Hermione hissed furiously. They could not be wasting time getting into a bar room brawl right now--they had to get the hell out of here and head to the Malfoy manor.

"Well," the first wizard said slowly. "I don't think I was talking to you." His eyes slid back over to Hermione. "So I must be speakin' of her." He pushed himself out of his chair. He flinched as he suddenly realized that although Ron had to be at least twenty years younger them him, he was also at least six inches taller. However, the firewhisky was still dictating all of his actions, so he continued on. "You got a problem with that, boy?"

"Yeah, I do," Ron snapped in return. But before he could move an inch, Hermione tugged on his wrist pleadingly, while Harry stepped in between Ron and the now glowering wizard.

"Come on, Ron, let's go outside," Harry said with a pacifying clap on the shoulder. He kept his other hand over his fringe in pretense of a headache, and casually nodded at the two wizards. "Evening, gents," he added politely. He steered Ron over to the door, and Hermione trailed behind them.

"Hey, maybe you were talkin' about that one," the second wizard cackled as he pointed to Ginny Weasley. She had just gotten to her feet and was shaking ash out of her hair. Hermione had been so intent on making sure that Ron didn't punch the rude patron in the nose, that she hadn't even heard Ginny arrive. Ginny caught the suggestive nature of the wizard's tone, and immediately responded by flashing him a big smile and sauntering over. Hermione gasped--it appeared that Ginny had the guts to play-act the coy routine, and what was even more courageous about it was that she was willing to do it in front of Harry and Ron. They both stiffened when they realized what Ginny was about to do, and Hermione quickly sprang into action. Ron appeared to be the most irate at the moment, so she yanked him out of the door, but allowed Harry to return inside to help Ginny. Harry would keep his temper in check much better than Ron would...she hoped.

The night air assaulted her instantly, but she hoped that it would be just the thing to help Ron cool off. She pushed him out onto the sidewalk, positioning herself between him and the door. "Just calm down, Ron," she said soothingly. "Harry won't let anything happen to her."

But when Ron wheeled around to confront her, it wasn't to chastise her for forcing him to leave Ginny. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?!" Ron demanded furiously, erupting like a volcano with a red face and heaving shoulders. "You shouldn't have Apparated off like that--did you hear what he said to you--do you know what he was thinking--what he wanted to do with you!?"

"Of course I did!" Hermione snapped. "But in case you haven't noticed, he isn't having his way with me, because I wasn't about to let him--I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can!" Ron shouted back. "But, Merlin, Hermione, you know what it does to me when you--when I don't know if--if you--oh, bugger!" He threw his arms in the air desperately, so worked up that he couldn't find the appropriate words to express how he felt, relying instead on an inappropriate one.

"Ronald!" Hermione chided habitually before putting her hands on her hips and glaring defiantly at him. She knew precisely how to make him shut up. "Honestly, would you stop trying to protect me all the time?!"

The words weren't particularly damning themselves, but Hermione's inflection and the intent behind them caused Ron to whip his head around, eyes wide and mouth dry. "Y-y-ou--you know?" he croaked incoherently but it was enough. Hermione's fury had vanished by this point, although her stomach was still twisting and her heart was still beating wildly, only now for very different reasons. She managed to nod, and Ron's fists instinctively clenched as he tried to pace away from the situation. Hermione just stood very still, biting her lip and wishing that she hadn't said anything at all, but he had just made her so angry that she'd had to say something. Ron looked at her, then back down at his feet, and finally back up at her again. Their eyes met for only a brief moment, but it was enough to remind her that she was going to love him for the rest of her life. Hermione took a step back and broke away before she could lose herself in his eyes, and Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. There was a soft rustling sound, and she heard Ron step towards her. "Here," he muttered. "You're freezing." He pushed his jumper into her hands, but she continued to stare at her feet, knowing that it would be extremely unwise to look up at him again.

Without a word, she slipped the jumper over her head. She caught his spicy scent instantly, and it sent a thrill up and down her spine. The jumper had been Bill's before it was his, so the wool was no longer scratchy and uncomfortable, but softly well-worn. The sleeves fell past her wrists, and the jumper itself was about fifteen centimeters too long, but Hermione knew that if it hadn't been part of Ron's uniform, he'd probably never get it back; she rather fancied the idea of wearing it forever.

They both jolted when the pub door flew open, revealing a triumphant Ginny Weasley and a glowering Harry Potter. "All right," Ginny said briskly as she gestured to her left. "We take this street right to the edge of town. Then, we make a right, and that road should take us straight to the Malfoy's." She took off down the street without so much as a backward glance, and the trio quickly moved to follow.

"How'd she figure that out," Ron asked Harry through gritted teeth, somewhat relieved to find something else he could project all of his pent-up Hermione-induced frustration onto.

Harry just shook his head with a mixture of misery and fury. "You really don't want to know, mate."

**

"Damn," was all that Ron could manage to get out as the four of them stood behind an iron gate with a large scrolled M perched atop the highest peak. They took a moment to gawk at the massive grounds. The gate was situated at one end of a long, gravel path that led up a steady incline to the massive manor. A mixture of Gregorian and Gothic architecture, the breathtaking castle consisted of narrow, immense towers, stucco facades, and numerous tapered rectangular windows. Hermione could tell that the composition of the manor consisted of the same lovely, off-white limestone that built the famous city of Bath. At night, however, the light from the torches on the outer walls and the candlelight from the interior, coupled with the moonlight, illuminated the entire castle in an eerie greenish glow. That, along with the heavy aura of Dark magic, made the structurally breathtaking castle anything but welcoming.

It had taken over an hour to walk all the way to the nineteenth century manor, and once they arrived, they had to find a way to get over the twenty-foot high fence that surrounded the entire grounds. They had finally settled on taking turns Levitating each other over it, and were now making their way cautiously down the main path, frequently checking for booby traps which they quickly disarmed with ease--D.A. had trained them well.

"Right," Harry said slowly as he rapidly tried to concoct a viable plan of action. He had just missed getting caught by a strategically planted patch of Devil's Snare only a moment before. Ron was still kicking away a leathery tendril that had been wrapped around his shin as Hermione was busy trying to banish it with one of her special flames, but he managed to nod at Harry to continue. "I don't think all of us should go in--Luna ought to have reached Dumbledore by now, and I'm sure he'll come with some members of the Order. Someone should wait for them, and besides, it's going to be hard enough for two of us to sneak around." Hermione pocketed her wand and glanced over at Ginny, who was watching Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry, however, didn't appear to notice. He continued on, looking at each of his friends steadily for a moment. "So, Ron and I'll go in, and Ginny, you and Hermione stay out here and wait for the Order."

Hermione politely waited for Harry to finish ordering her around before speaking up vehemently. "You are not leaving me behind!"

"Me either," Ginny chimed in stubbornly.

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation, but to Hermione's surprise, it was Harry who impatiently grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the side. "I am not leaving you behind," Harry insisted in a low voice. "I'm not the one Riddle's really after--you and I both know that he wants her more than anything." His eyes darted over to where Ginny and Ron were now arguing, and he waited until Hermione followed his gaze. A picture flashed into her mind of Harry picking Ginny's limp unconscious body up into his arms, and Hermione's stomach clenched at the thought of it happening again. "She can't go in there, and she can't stay out here alone, and since I have to go in there, I have to leave her with the person I trust the most."

Hermione couldn't stop her jaw from dropping at Harry's words. He couldn't mean what he was saying--he trusted Ron more than anyone else; Ron was always his companion of choice. She and Harry were very close friends, but it was common knowledge that he and Ron had a fraternal bond that they would never have. She assumed that Harry must be trying to get her to remain behind without a fight so that Ron could be the one go in with him. However, as Hermione carefully gazed up at Harry's face as it shone in the moonlight, she was startled to find that he wasn't lying.

"You're the best at Defense," Harry reminded her steadily. "You can keep your head in a crisis. If anyone does find you, you can...you know--" He gestured with his index finger towards her head, "--ring Ron up and let us know. We're not in the same groups from the Ministry--it all fits, Hermione; it's the only way!" Hermione chewed on her lip, still not entirely convinced. Harry grabbed both her arms and looked directly into her eyes. "I'm not leaving you behind, Hermione; it's just that I need you to take care of her for me."

Hermione swallowed hard; Harry knew her well--he had laid out all of the facts in a logical manner so that she couldn't counter his argument. She had to let him go. Harry had been the first to relent when she had insisted on Apparating to Grantham alone; he trusted that she could handle herself, and she trusted his instincts. Right now, his instincts were telling him that she should stay outside with Ginny.

She nodded slowly, and Harry let out a relieved breath. "Thank you," he told her earnestly. Hermione threw her arms around Harry in a tight hug, silently pleading with him to be careful, and Harry reciprocated. "Make sure you take care of yourself, too," he added seriously. He gently pulled away, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "We need you far too much." Hermione smiled weakly; Harry had never said out loud that he needed her. Of course, she knew that he did--you always need your best friends, but something about hearing it out loud solidified her decision to obey his request. She threw her arms around him once again. They remained like that for a moment, until Harry stepped back and turned his attention to Ron and Ginny, who were still arguing.

"Ready?" he said loudly, voice carrying over Ginny's rant about why she wasn't a helpless little girl anymore. Ron nodded, and Ginny wheeled on Harry next, leaving Ron free to look over at Hermione. She was biting her lip anxiously, hugging the bulky wool of his jumper close to her. Hermione suddenly realized that she wasn't so anxious for her own behalf--the nausea aching at the pit of her abdomen was all from the thought of Ron and Harry going into the Malfoy manor alone. When you really thought about it, this was such a stupid idea, and Hermione knew she should be arguing for her friends to turn around and head back to Hogwarts; it was a school night after all, and this was Lucius Malfoy and Tom Riddle they were talking about sneaking up on. And those were just the people that they knew for certain were in the manor; who knew who else was lurking behind those stone walls?

But she couldn't do it. She had promised herself that she was no longer going to try to dictate Harry's actions--she could argue to him that they shouldn't do this, but once Harry made up his mind, there was no going back. They weren't children anymore; they were adults now and could make their own decisions. And despite the overwhelming odds against him, Harry was choosing to run straight into danger once again, and Ron, being the loyal prat that he was, was choosing to go with him. She couldn't try to force them to walk away; all she could do was help out all she could. She personally didn't have to be here, but she chose to be. She knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't think any less of her if she had opted to go back to the castle with Luna, but she was also past the age where she could just follow the rules and be fine with it. There were so many more important things than the blasted rule book, and this was one of them. Protecting her friends was more important than anything else in the world, and although she was scared to death for them, there was no turning back now. Her two best friends were going to sneak into the Malfoy Manor.

Hermione walked slowly over to Ron, biting her lip even harder when it started to tremble. "I--I--" Hermione's breath was abruptly quite ragged, making speech almost impossible. She wanted to tell him millions of things, but the first thing that flew out of her mouth was a bit silly. "I'm sorry I said you were like Percy." She couldn't look up at him, and stared down at his trainers instead, so she didn't see how he reacted to the irrelevant statement. "You're not, you know." Hermione wondered if it was possible to become physically ill from extreme anxiety, because she thought that if things got any more nerve-wracking, she was going to collapse right here on the spot. "You're so much more, Ron." It was all becoming too much for her, so still without looking at him, she tried to walk away, intending on helping Harry to pacify Ginny.

However, Ron's hand snaked out, and he took hold of the sleeve of his jumper to stop her. She halted, and her eyes shot up to him, feeling the firm pressure of his fingers on her forearm and loving it. Ron took a step forward, still not looking at her, both hands inching lower and lower until they became entwined with hers. Hermione stared down at their locked fingers, marveling at how well her hands fit in his, how secure and strong his grip was. She could feel his hands shaking slightly, and his palms were more than a little moist with nervous sweat, but all the same, she had the irrational feeling that somehow everything was going to be all right.

"Be careful," he said sternly, both ordering and begging her at the same time.

"You too," she whispered, suddenly feeling that she had no voice and no knees. Ron looked like he wanted to say more, but she could tell that he didn't have the nerve, and frankly, neither did she. She did know exactly what she wanted him to do with all of her heart, but at the same time she rather hoped that he'd just drop her hands and walk away before she did it for him. His breathing was starting to get a bit more labored, and Hermione shivered, not from the cold, but rather the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Ron, you'd better get back to me so that we can finally, finally get things back to the way they were meant to be, she thought fiercely at him, and he nodded as though she had spoken the words aloud. Hermione swallowed hard, her lips starting to burn with anticipation--God, if he told her he still loved her now before rushing into a Death Eater's house to kill a reincarnation of Voldemort, she was going to literally implode on the spot from the overwhelming climax of the eternal debate--whether to slap him, or kiss him with all of her might. Or, she thought as she looked at him, he might just skip the 'I love you' part and go straight to the kissing. He was looking at her in the way he usually did when he wanted to kiss her and he licked his lips, further drawing her attention to them. Hermione was glad that she was still biting down on hers, because she was thereby able to stifle the quiet moan that she couldn't help emitting. Ron was staring as though hypnotized by her mouth, and Hermione didn't mind admitting to herself that she was as equally enraptured by his. Her chest tight from longing, she slowly brought her lip out from between her teeth and wondered if it would be appropriate to physically show Ron just how much she was aching for him to make it through this alive.

And then it happened. A life-changing, mind-reeling, heart-stopping kiss finally, blissfully happened between two people who were so utterly in love with each other, but for stupid reasons thought it was best to fight those feelings and hide the truth. But it wasn't the kiss itself that was so shocking; it was who the two people were.

Hermione and Ron's attention was successfully diverted away from each other when Harry abruptly seized a furiously arguing Ginny and planted his lips over hers. Ginny gasped slightly into his mouth, but almost immediately drowned herself into the joy of finally kissing him after years of longing and desire and infernal waiting. She drank him in, eagerly consuming every inch of him that she could manage, because she knew very well that this could be the only time in her life that she would experience this dizzying ecstasy. Ron couldn't help grimacing slightly at the sight of his little sister kissing another boy in this manner, but Hermione could tell that he was anything but displeased at this turn of events. Her jaw had again dropped at the sight, and her lips curved upward in a subconscious smile. It was about bloody time.

It only lasted for about ten seconds, but it was enough to make Ginny's limbs turn to mush and her cheeks burn with joy when Harry finally broke it off, still clutching her around the shoulders. "And that's why you're not coming in with me!" He shoved Ginny away from him, and she stumbled, still too weak in the knees to put up a fight. "Come on, Ron!" he snapped. Without a backward glance, Harry barreled up toward the manor.

"What the--did he just--my sister," Ron sputtered wildly.

"Yes, but you have to go, now. You can't let him go up there alone," Hermione ordered, her brisk tone and efficient manner back in place now that Ron was no longer touching her and gazing at her with those eyes.

"Yeah...." Ron still couldn't help lingering for a moment to tuck behind her ear one of the many wild curls that were falling into her face. Hermione swallowed hard as he allowed his hand to slide down to her cheek onto her chin, and then he was gone, jogging hastily after his best friend. Her chest was now almost unbearably tight as her heart screamed out inside her trembling ribs, telling her to follow them and not let them out of her sight, because this could be the last time she ever saw them. It took a great deal of willpower not to call after them, begging them to stay and not go into a place as evil and sinister as this. It just felt so wrong not to be going along with them, but she had promised Harry that she was going to take care of Ginny and she never broke a promise unless it was absolutely necessary, especially if that promise was made to a friend.

"Oooo!" Ginny hissed furiously from her kneeling position on the ground. She had fallen to her knees after Harry had released her, and didn't appear to be able to stand just yet. The surprised elation that the unexpected kiss had elicited had passed, and what he had just done to her was now beginning to sink in. She had known that she loved Harry Potter from the moment she had first laid eyes on him at King's Cross station, and after years of torment and waiting, he finally had shown her that he felt the same way. And then he had promptly run off, possibly to get himself killed. She slapped her hand angrily into the dirt. "Men!"

"I know," Hermione said sympathetically as she dropped to the ground next to her. She put an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"Why do they do that--why?!" Ginny demanded wildly. "Why do they only let you know how they finally feel when they know they might never see you again?!"

"It's in their nature to be idiots," Hermione consoled her.

"Yeah, well, nature's a bitch." Ginny sat back on her heels and wiped her eyes angrily. She twisted her hands anxiously in her lap as she stared down at her nervous fingers. "What did Harry say to you?" Ginny sniffed as she abruptly changed the subject.

"He told me why he wanted me to stay, and I have to admit it did make a good deal of sense, so I agreed," Hermione replied vaguely, recalling just why she had allowed her best friends to rush off into danger. And then she realized--life was all about choices, and she couldn't make choices for other people.

"Oh," Ginny glanced over at Hermione with exhausted resignation. "So I'm going to have to fight you, too?"

Hermione paused before answering. She had adhered to Harry's request to remain behind because it was the safe and logical thing to do. He had trusted her with Ginny's life, and she wasn't about to betray that trust. But she could protect Ginny in and outside of the manor, and besides, as she had just remembered, life was all about choices; she could choose to be as reckless and illogical as she wished--that was her choice. Promise or not, she was going in.

"Oh no," Hermione said lightly before rising determinedly to her feet. "No, I'm right there with you, Ginny." She held out a hand to help her friend clamor to her feet, and squinted down the path. There was no sign of either Harry or Ron. They had either disappeared under the cloak or were already in the house. There was no way of telling for certain, so she was just going to have to risk it. "Come on." They jogged down to the massive manor, shoes crunching on the gravel.

"And just how are we going to get in?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione glanced at the numerous doors and windows before her eyes rested on a promising side door far over to the left. "Let's try that one," she suggested. The two girls headed quickly over to the door, and Hermione bent down to pick up a piece of gravel. She tossed it at the solid oak, and both girls flinched when the small rock struck the door, and in a flash of red light, was promptly obliterated to a pile of white dust.

Ginny sucked in a shaky breath. "So, not that one, eh?" She frowned as she turned to inspect the other doors. "Do you think they all have that spell on it?"

"Probably," Hermione conceded reluctantly. She peered up at the windows. "The windows probably do, too." She really wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, but that would be childish and immature. However, Hermione did it anyway. "Ron, how did you get in?" she hissed to him, although she knew he couldn't very well answer her.

"They could still be out here," said Ginny with wide eyes, as she suddenly realized that they might be lurking near them underneath the protection of the Invisibility Cloak. At this moment, she looked almost as afraid of Harry's wrath at finding her sneaking after him as she looked when they were in the Department of Mysteries.

"No, Ron would have blown up at us by now if they were still here," Hermione said absently, still peering up at the while mentally racing through the book on magical architecture she had read a few years ago. "Come on, we need to find the servants' quarters."

"Why?" Ginny asked as she followed Hermione to the side of the manor. This portion of the grounds was considerably less ornate, and was covered with several shrubs and overgrown trees. There weren't as many windows on this side of the castle, but Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Is this it?" Ginny inquired.

"Yes." Hermione stepped over a pile of fallen twigs so she could stand closer to the wall. "You can always tell where the servants' area is, because the owners of these sort of estates never wanted their servants to be seen by the outside world." She pointed up to the first row of windows. "That's why those windows are up so high--so when servants walked through the corridors, no one would catch a glimpse of them." She frowned up at the windows, trying to think of the best way to test them. "There's a good possibility that Lucius Malfoy is arrogant enough not to properly protect this portion of the manor, because he frankly doesn't care if someone breaks into this section."

"Hey," Ginny called. She was crouched down, pushing aside one of the shrubs that was planted against the wall, because it was shielding a small window. Ginny snapped a branch off of the bush and flicked it carefully at the glass. Nothing happened.

Ginny scooted out of the way as Hermione knelt down next to her. She bent forward, ear inches from the ground, so she could peek into the room. It was a pantry of some sort, and there was not a person in sight. Hermione glanced over at Ginny before pulling out her wand. "Alohomora." The lock clicked open and Ginny yanked on the frame. The window swung out toward them. It was fairly narrow, so it took a great deal of maneuvering, pushing, and squirming before Hermione could gracelessly drop down into the cluttered room, almost knocking over a broken wooden chair in the process. Swiftly repairing the chair with a swish of her wand, Hermione stepped up onto it so that she could help Ginny squeeze her way through.

But before she could grab Ginny's ankles, a loud gasp startled her. She jumped off of the chair into a crouch, wand out and at the ready. Her assailant, however, was now at eye-level with her, so Hermione quickly lowered her wand, instead holding out a reassuring hand. "Please don't be frightened," Hermione whispered desperately. "I'm not going to hurt you." Her long eyelashes gave Hermione the impression that she might be female, although it was rather hard to tell with house-elves.

The scared little creature backed away from her, her tennis-ball shaped eyes wide with fear. She was remarkably similar in appearance to Dobby, making Hermione suspicious that she might somehow be related to the Malfoy's former house-elf. "Binky must know who miss is, please," she requested warily.

Hermione swallowed hard; although the house-elf didn't look threatening in the least, she knew how powerful they were. If she made one wrong move, she could be in a world of trouble. "My name is Jane," Hermione lied, using her middle name. She didn't think it was a very good idea to be saying the name Hermione Granger around this house. "I-I just wanted to talk to you, that's all." Hermione smiled at the timid house-elf. "Do you know Dobby?"

"Dobby, miss?" Binky's eyes lit up with pleased recognition. "Miss Jane knows Dobby?"

"Yes, I do," Hermione replied. "He's working at Hogwarts now--for wages."

"Wages!" Binky appeared to be incredibly shocked that a house-elf was requesting pay for his services, but instead of appearing repulsed, like all the other house-elves had, she looked hopeful. "Dobby is asking for wages?!"

"Yes, he is." Hermione cocked her head to the side sympathetically. "How do you know Dobby?"

"Dobby is Binky's brother, miss," Binky squealed. Her wizened face fell after a few moments of glee for her brother's good fortune. "Binky misses Dobby."

Hermione knew that this may not be the best time, but it was probably the only opportunity she was going to get. "Binky, have you ever thought about leaving the Malfoys?" Binky stared at Hermione in horror at the thought of fleeing without being properly released. "They don't own you, Binky, you're not an object--you are a magical being that has rights, and that includes the right to choose where you're employed." Her voice became more passionate, and she shifted down to the floor into a sitting position. Binky absently followed suit, intent on the young woman's words. "I've started an organization that unfortunately I have not been able to pursue lately, but I do plan on expanding it further once I leave school--it's called the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare..."

There was a loud cough from the window that sounded suspiciously like 'not the time,' but Binky was too busy backing away and shaking her head to notice. "No, no, no, miss, no," Binky protested wildly. "Binky cannot leave without receiving clothes." She looked extremely disappointed, but her hand was itching to fly toward her skull, a clear indication that she was breaking rules just by talking to Hermione. "And Binky must tell her mistress that you are here."

Hermione's stomach dropped to the floor as she scooted forward slightly to stop Binky from leaving the pantry. She couldn't let Binky call Naricissa Malfoy. "You could rebel, Binky," Hermione urged. "You have very powerful magical abilities that could easily overpower any wizard--let alone one as awful as Lucius Malfoy." Binky let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "All you have to do is stand up for yourself."

Binky looked incredibly confused as her arm trembled violently, while she repressed the urge to beat herself on the side of the head. "B-B-B--Binky is sorry, Miss Jane, but Binky must get her mistress."

"Binky!" Hermione hissed as the house-elf darted out of the room.

Ginny stuck her head through the window and held out a helping hand. "Hermione, get out of there!" Hermione lunged toward the window, but the door to the pantry was already creaking open. Hermione slapped Ginny's hand away and took a giant step back from the window so that Narcissa wouldn't notice the red hair that was visible from where Hermione was standing. If she was going to get caught, she didn't want Ginny to go down with her.

But it wasn't the tall, thin, and stately woman who often looked, as Harry had once eloquently put it, as though she had a pile of dung under her nose. A robust middle-aged woman shaped like a tea pot appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a well-worn, patched, and faded house dress with a paisley apron and a kerchief in her hair. To Hermione's relief, there was only a dishrag clutched in her meaty, calloused hands, so Hermione hastily snapped her wand behind her back. She didn't know why she didn't hold her wand to the woman's throat, but her instincts were telling her not to harm this woman, and instead listen carefully to what she had to say.

"Well, look what we 'ave 'ere," the woman said with surprise as she looked Hermione up and down.

"Oh--I, um," Hermione brushed some hair out of her face as she frantically tried to concoct an excuse for why she had just broken into the manor.

The woman however shook her head at the girl, wiping her hands on the dirty rag she was wringing. "Don't lie to me, love, I know what you're up to." Hermione bit down on the inside of her lip and her grip around her wand tightened. She had to wait until the woman turned away before attacking.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked tightly.

"You're tryin' to escape," the woman said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Hermione blinked in surprise--what? The woman pushed her backside against the swinging door and held it open for her. "Come on, then--I'll give you a cup of tea before takin' you back down to the dungeons."

Hermione swallowed hard as she glanced anxiously over at the pantry window where Ginny was still hanging on every word. If she went into what was obviously a kitchen along with this woman, Ginny could sneak into the pantry and attack from behind if necessary. If she jumped the woman now, she could risk being surprised by someone else. But if she played along and pretended to be whomever this woman thought she was, she could not only learn a little bit about what Lucius Malfoy was up to, but she could get Ginny in safely as well. She surreptitiously tucked her wand into her back pocket, pulling Ron's jumper over the conspicuous bulge, and followed the woman and house-elf into the kitchen. It was a beautiful, with high, pointed arches in the massive, drafty room. It contained several butcher-block counters, giant stoves and ovens, numerous sinks and cupboards. Several house-elves were bustling around, preparing some sort of meal, although Hermione had no idea who they would be entertaining at eleven o'clock at night. The woman gestured to a nearby stool for Hermione to sit down while she bustled over to one of the burners. She picked up the wand she had left on the counter and waved it over a kettle.

"I'm Miss Crockett--the 'ousekeeper," she introduced herself. "What's your name?"

"Jane," Hermione replied.

Miss Crockett nodded. "Good, sensible name, you've got," she commented. The kettle began to whistle, and she waved her wand so that a mug and saucer sprang up to greet her. She filled the mug with the scalding hot tea and handed it off to Hermione. "I know you must be scared, Jane," Miss Crockett counseled. "Bein' taken away from home to a strange place like this and findin' out there's a whole other world out 'ere." Hermione stiffened slightly; this woman thought she was a Muggle, and apparently it was common practice in the Malfoy Manor to bring teenaged Muggle girls home and throw them into the dungeons.

The housekeeper however was starting to realize her mistake. She was leaning against the counter, overseeing the flurry of action in the kitchen, but that didn't stop her from breaking her concentration to frown at Hermione. Hermione glanced down at herself and realized that the woman was staring at Ron's jumper. "That's a Hogwarts jumper," she said slowly, reaching out to finger the wool. Hermione's hand quickly jumped to her back pocket in anticipation, but the housekeeper's hand was only on her arm for a moment or two. "Not like Master Draco's though," she continued musingly. "Red and gold--red and gold--you must be a Gryffindor?" Hermione nodded slowly, wondering what this woman was playing at. The jowls in the housekeeper's face sagged in puzzlement. "Well, that's odd, they don't usually take Muggle-borns this early." Her eyes wandered over the baggy jumper again, and she lit up when she realized that it was much too big on her. "Ah, so that's why you're one of the early ones." She gestured to the jumper again. "That your boyfriend's?"

"Yes," Hermione answered without really thinking. What in the hell was this woman going on about? Why on earth would Lucius Malfoy be kidnapping teenaged Muggle girls? Her stomach jolted as she remembered Harry telling her about the couple Muggle girls who had reportedly been so mutilated in death that only a piece or two of their bodies had been found. What if one piece was all they could find--what if they had pulled a Peter Pettigrew with those girls: leaving behind something to imply that something had happened to them, when really they had been whisked away to the manor.... Hermione fought the urge to groan and bury her face in her hands. This was why Lucius Malfoy wanted her; he had always considered her to be a Muggle, and he needed Muggle girls for some bizarre reason. so of course he would select one who was Harry Potter's friend--and the top student of his son's year.

And there was something Miss Crocket had said about having a boyfriend, which led Hermione to make another shocking revelation: this was what Ron was protecting her from. It would be just like those Death Eaters to torture him while he had been kidnapped, by informing him that Lucius Malfoy had plans for her, and when Ron had learned that her involvement with him would put her even further at risk, he had ended the relationship. This was the reason for everything that had happened, and it was so stupid, yet so wonderful that he had done this that Hermione didn't know what to think just yet.

So Hermione instead turned her attention back to the Muggle girls. She had to find out what Malfoy was planning to do with these girls if it was the last thing she did. She took a sip of tea and glanced over at the housekeeper expectantly. "I have to admit that I'm a bit confused about why I'm here."

"Sorry, luv--can't tell you that. Don't know meself." Miss Crockett glanced almost anxiously over at the door. "Master Malfoy just tells me that some Muggle girls will be joinin' the guests in the dungeons."

"Guests? Who?" Hermione inquired sharply. The housekeeper gave her a surprised look, mixed with suspicion, so Hermione quickly lowered her eyes in feigned bashfulness. "I'm sorry--I was just curious. When I was down there earlier, I didn't see anyone else, that's all."

"Oh, that's all right, dear." Miss Crockett patted Hermione reassuringly on the shoulder, making her wonder how such a nice woman--who reminded her more than a little of Mrs. Weasley--could work for people like the Malfoys. "You're in a different wing than those men are--there's two men down there, I think."

Hermione gulped down the rest of her tea at these words. She wasn't sure if they would keep Tom Riddle in the dungeon, but it was worth a look--especially if in the process she could find out who else Lucius Malfoy was holding hostage--or why on earth he was taking Muggle girls as prisoners.

"Oh, looks like you're finished." Miss Crockett sighed as she Banished Hermione's mug over to the pile of dirty dishes across the room. "I'm sorry, dear, but you're going to have to go back to the dungeons--I don't know how the devil you managed to get out, but we can't be havin' you wanderin' around the manor." She chuckled somewhat sadly before lowering her voice. "I don't like what he's doin', Jane, but I have to follow my orders, understand?" Hermione nodded. "So if I see you again, I'll have to stop you from sneakin' out," she warned. But the housekeeper glanced around again before leaning even closer. "But I won't tell him I saw you, and if you manage to get out again, just don't let me catch you, got it?"

"I understand," Hermione answered.

"Hop off," Miss Crockett ordered briskly before turning to call over to the house-elves that were washing dishes. "Binky!" Binky scurried over and gave a low bow. "Binky, could you walk Jane back to the dungeons with the other girls, please? And make sure that Master Malfoy or anyone else doesn't see you." Binky nodded eagerly, but Miss Crockett still narrowed her eyes a bit. "That's an order, Binky."

"Thank you, Mistress." Binky bowed down in a low curtsey. Hermione glanced over at the door to the pantry, wondering how on earth she could get Ginny to follow her safely, only to realize that she couldn't. She didn't know if Ginny had managed to get inside of the manor but it didn't matter. Ginny was now on her own.

Sorry, Harry, she thought as she followed Binky out of the kitchen. They were now in a low, stone corridor, making Hermione suspect that they were in the basement of the manor. Binky led the way to a long, spiral staircase that took them even deeper underground. Hermione waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs before speaking. "Binky," she said in the soft voice she often adopted around house-elves, "don't you want a life of your own?"

Binky stopped dead in her tracks, and couldn't stop herself from violently bashing her head into a nearby stone slab. Hermione quickly darted over to stop her, and Binky nodded, breathing heavily, not able to say the words aloud. Hermione crouched down, so that she was on the same level as the timid house-elf. "You can leave, Binky--Mr. Malfoy can't stop you--especially if all of you rose up against him. You don't need socks, or shirts, or anything like that to let you know that you're free, because you really are--you're a magical creature and you have that right. You can leave and go to Hogwarts and see Dobby again, and I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore would hire you. You could be working for wages, Binky. How does that sound?" Hermione said all of this very quickly, because she knew that she was sorely lacking the time to lay out all of S.P.E.W.'s aims and goals. And besides, as devoted as she was to house-elves' rights, she had to admit that there were ulterior motives at work in trying to convince Binky to rebel.

"Binky thinks that sounds very nice," she admitted in a meek voice.

"I'm not saying you have to rebel straightaway," Hermione pressed. "But I know that you must have had these thoughts for some time now--how could you not? Who wants to spend their entire life chained to someone else? You deserve so much more than this, Binky, so I just want you to think about it, okay? Can you do that?" Binky just stared, wide-eyed, too agog to respond. Hermione nodded back toward the stairs. "Why don't you go back to the kitchen and think about it? I can walk back to my cell by myself." Binky scratched her floppy ear and nodded before turning and scurrying bemusedly up the stairs, confusion clouding her judgment and making her forget her orders. Hermione smiled as she got back to her feet. That was easier than she expected. She felt a bit guilty for manipulating Binky's emotions like this, but she couldn't very well let Binky lock her up in a cell.

She extracted her wand from her pocket, and started to jog quietly down the long corridor. The floor slanted upward as the hallway ended in a T-intersection. Hermione hesitated for a moment before randomly deciding to head to the right; she could mark the walls as she went, so in case she didn't find those Muggle girls, she could at least find her way back to search the left hallway. The hall turned sharply to the right again, and as Hermione rounded the corner, she found a row of cells on her left side, and all of them were empty. The right wall was adorned with burning torches, and nothing else. Hermione hastily walked past the rows of bars, stomach clenching as she imagined all of the cells being full of crying Muggle girls who were utterly confused about why they were here, or why they were hated for not understanding magic. The hallway now took yet another sharp turn to the right--she could very well be running in a square, ending up right back where she started. Hermione sighed; maybe those crosses she had marked in the wall at every turn had been useless.

Another row of cells greeted her. Hermione walked past the first two, but stopped dead at the third. Someone was in there--a wizard from what she could tell. It must be one of the guests that Miss Crockett had been referring to. He was wearing a dark cloak that he had wrapped around him to block the moon and torchlight from streaming into his eyes while he tried to sleep. Hermione thought about walking right past and continuing on her way, but a sense of déjà vu made her reconsider. She cautiously walked over to the door, tapping her wand against one of the bars in order to discreetly attract the prisoner's attention. "Hello?" she called softly. A head poked out from under the robes, revealing a thin, exhausted, but infinitely kind face that Hermione knew very well. She was so shocked that she almost dropped her wand. "Professor Lupin!"

"Hermione?" Lupin sat up as straight as he could manage, an arm around his abdomen. "What the devil are you doing here? I told Harry that if anything happened to me to stay put and not try to find me!"

"We weren't looking for you," Hermione admitted as she tried the Alohomora spell on the cell door, but unfortunately it was useless. She bit her lip for a moment before a brilliant idea flashed in her mind and she extracted a bobby pin from her hair--the bun had fallen out ages ago, anyway.

"No, Hermione, don't," Lupin ordered sternly. He was leaning against the wall with a grimace. "You can't let me out. Especially not that way," he added as she started jiggling the lock with the bobby pin.

"Of course I can," Hermione said. "Ron taught me how to do this ages ago." She thought it might be best to distract Lupin from whatever injuries he might have, so she kept babbling away. "When I stayed with him one summer, we made a deal; he taught me how to pick a lock the Muggle way, and I taught him the spell to lock a door." Her chest inadvertently tightened as she spoke; that had been the summer after fifth-year, the three magical days she and Ron had spent alone without ever mentioning Voldemort. Those had been the best three days of her life. "Lucius Malfoy may have charmed the doors to keep out spells, but my guess is that he's arrogant enough--" she frowned in concentration and paused as she felt the tip of the pin touch the bolt of the lock, and remembering Ron's lesson vividly, twisted in the precise place. With a loud click, the door unlocked and Hermione yanked the door open. "--not to protect the doors from Muggle methods," she finished triumphantly.

"Hermione, I can't leave," Lupin insisted weakly. "It's--that time." He nodded in the direction of the moonlight that was streaming into the tiny cell, lighting up about three-quarters of it. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Of course they would put Lupin in the cell that received the most moonlight during the full moon, thereby forcing him to cower the night away in a corner. Although turning into a werewolf would allow Lupin to break out of his cell--and probably get out of the manor, Lupin would never do that. He was too good of a person to purposely turn himself into a vicious creature, because although he would be free, he would probably injure numerous people in the process. Hermione's fingers tightened around her wand--she hated that the Death Eaters were taking advantage of Lupin's kindness like this.

"I can seal up the window," Hermione suggested as she took a few steps into the cell to get a better look at the rectangular window. Lupin was shaking his head and struggling to sit up straighter, so Hermione quickly got to her knees to help him.

"You can't do magic in here," Lupin told her with a grunt. "The walls." He gestured weakly to the stones around them, and Hermione nodded with understanding. She had read about a type of stone that wizards had been using for centuries to imprison fellow witches and wizards, because it was powerful enough to block magic. "Just go," Lupin wheezed. Hermione didn't obey, and focused instead on trying to determine the extent of Lupin's injuries. He had several scratches on his face and arms, but they were all of a superficial nature. Whatever they had done to him couldn't be seen. Hermione gasped slightly in realization--they must have used the Crucio curse. Lupin sighed at her stubbornness. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Followed Percy," Hermione explained as she helped Lupin sit all the way up. "We thought that Riddle was here, and you know how Harry is."

Lupin jerked away in order to gape at her, and he clutched his side. "Harry's looking for Riddle?"

"Yes," Hermione answered edgily. Lupin looked absolutely terrified. It wasn't often that Lupin was openly emotional--he was the most patiently calm person she had ever known. If he was rattled, then something really had to be wrong.

"Block that window somehow," Lupin ordered. Hermione quickly turned to obey, whipping off Ron's jumper and holding it over the hole, effectively blocking any moonlight from seeping through the cell. Lupin leaned his back against the wall and scooted himself upwards into a standing position, face slightly green from exertion. After a few deep breaths, he managed to wobble out into the corridor, where he promptly doubled over, panting. "You'll have to help me." Hermione nodded as she stepped over to him. Lupin was a few inches taller than her, so it was at a bit of an awkward angle that he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She passed her wand to him, knowing that he was the stronger wizard. He was also at a better position to use it, since she was staggering slightly under his weight. "Now where is Harry?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "We split up when we got here."

"Damn!" Lupin swore as they slowly maneuvered their way down the corridor. "We'll just have to try to cut him off and hope that he hasn't gotten to Riddle yet."

"You mean, you know where they're keeping him?" Hermione gasped.

"Yeah." Lupin limped as fast as he could manage. "He's right down the hall."

"What?" Hermione couldn't help exclaiming, even though the reason she'd come down here in the first place was to see if he was there. "Why would they keep him in the dungeons?" Hermione asked.

"Because until they need him, he's a threat," Lupin explained. "He could try to claim power." He gritted his teeth and shifted his weight to ease the burden on Hermione's now aching shoulders. "They have to keep him under constant surveillance."

"But Professor," Hermione protested as she suddenly thought of something, "Riddle can't do magic down here. Even if he can do wandless magic, it shouldn't matter." Lupin's lips were pressed in a thin line of pain and his breath was coming out in quick spurts, so she couldn't tell if he understood what she was trying to say. "So, Riddle can't hurt Harry--c-can he?"

She had hoped that these words would reassure Lupin so that he'd stop straining himself and take it easy. She was anxious to get to Harry and Ron, but she also didn't want Lupin to injure himself even further. However, Lupin only quickened his pace. "That's not what troubles me," Lupin bit out. He struggled for a fresh breath. "It's what Harry will do to Riddle."

"Harry!"

Hermione's heart stopped when she heard Ron shriek out Harry's name as if he was being murdered, and actually had to stop herself from abandoning Lupin to dart around the corner in order to discover just what was happening for herself. Lupin managed to hobble faster, his own anxiety mounting at the sound of Ron's fearful voice, and they both rounded the corner. To her surprise, Ron was the only one in the deserted hallway. There was only one torch illuminating the entire length of the corridor, and only one large, square window with bars on it. Ron was standing in front of this window, shouting down to someone, presumably Harry.

"Ron!" Hermione called. "Ron, what is it?!"

"Hermione?" Ron whirled around, and Hermione wondered if he actually would have the gall to yell at her for following him, but fortunately for her, he was distracted by the man slumped over her shoulders. "Professor Lupin?" Ron quickly strode over to relieve Hermione of her burden, draping one of Remus' arms around his shoulders and shifting the majority of Lupin's weight onto them.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione demanded as she kept a steadying hand on Lupin's limp arm.

Ron glanced over at her and looked away quickly. "Let's sit him down," Ron suggested. Hermione obediently complied; Lupin was now a decided shade of nauseated green, and he had to get off of his feet before he collapsed. Ron crouched down with him and helped him gently to the floor. Hermione waited until her former professor had leaned his head exhaustedly back into the wall and closed his eyes before giving Ron one of her glares. She didn't even need to voice the question again; Ron silently jabbed his thumb in the direction of the window, and Hermione quickly sprang over.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled when she spotted the untidy head of black hair bobbing and weaving away from splatters of the vivid sparks that were shooting at him at an alarming rate. Her fingers started to wrap around the bars that separated them from Harry, but Ron leapt up and grabbed her wrist just in time.

"Don't!" he warned vehemently. He flinched slightly, and Hermione immediately realized why he had grabbed her. He guided her arms a safe distance from the window, and opened his fist to reveal a long, hot pink burn across the portion of his hand directly below his fingers. "Charmed," he explained somewhat awkwardly when he saw the anxious expression on her face.

The burn was still sticky, indicating that the protective epidermis must have been burned clean off, so Hermione quickly pulled out the handkerchief she always carried with her. "Now, what happened?" she asked as she carefully wrapped the clean fabric around his hand to prevent any infection from occurring.

"We got down here without any trouble," Ron relayed, watching Harry battle in the giant cell below. "And then we saw him down there--and I don't know how Harry did it, but he was just gone and next thing I knew he was down there shouting at Riddle. Right before you came around the corner, they started fighting."

"Well, we have to get down there," Hermione said briskly. Ron was getting more than a little flustered from his worry about Harry, so she carefully lowered his bandaged hand, but she didn't release her fingers from his. "Now, help me with Professor Lupin."

Ron nodded, and together they pulled Lupin back to his feet. Lupin's coloring had lost its unhealthy greenish tint, and he walked with greater ease, much to Hermione's relief. However, by the time they finally found the stairs leading down to the lowest level of the dungeons, Lupin was sorely out of breath again and had to sit down once more after they had clattered down the stone spiral stairs. "Go," Lupin got out in an agonizing burst. "I'll be along in a minute." Hermione hesitated, not wanting to leave him on his own while he was in this condition, and a glance at Ron indicated that he felt the same way. Lupin managed to press Hermione's wand back into her hand, and weakly pushed her away. He appeared to be only moments from passing out. "Go!" he slurred, eyes drooping.

Hermione and Ron didn't need any further encouragement. Both whirled around and sprinted down the corridor. "Harry!" Ron shouted as they finally reached the row of bars blocking their entrance into the chamber. Apparently, Riddle was given a much nicer cell than the other inmates. This cell had to be at least five times the size of the ones Hermione had seen, and was decorated with a four-poster bed, desk, plush chairs, luxurious rugs, and velvet draperies that hid the bare stone walls. However, the majority of the furniture was broken and shattered from the flurry of spells that were being flung about the room. They could only see about three-quarters of the entire room from where they were standing, and saw no sign of Riddle. However, Harry had ducked behind an overturned chair only a few feet away from them, so when Ron's voice rung out at close range, Harry turned instinctively in the direction of his friend. His jaw dropped when he saw that Hermione was with him, but he waved frantically in their direction.

"Get out of here!" Harry ordered. He jumped back when the chair exploded in front of him, wincing as splinters from the now shattered wooden legs flew into his face, but was still able to fire a spell in Riddle's direction. Ron was trying to open the door with the Alohomora spell without success. He growled in frustration and started to lower his wand, but Hermione grabbed his wrist and jerked back upright as she swung her own wand up.

"Together!" she shouted to Ron, remembering how effective Disarming Snape had been back in third-year, when all three of them had used it together.

"Alohomora!" The lock exploded out of the door, twisting the nearby bars sorely out of shape and knocking one of the top hinges clean off the wall. Ron kicked the door open just in case these bars were also charmed to burn anyone who touched them, but with the broken hinge, the door hung awkwardly in place, only partway open. Hermione managed to slip through the narrow opening, and she ducked down to the floor and rolled into the room, wand out in the protective manner that Harry had taught her in D.A. Ron was much too tall to maneuver himself through the opening, but with another well-placed vicious kick to the door, the bottom hinge snapped off and he was able to spin into the room, using the fallen door as protection from a spell that shot his way. Hermione was trying to get over to Harry, but a painfully yellow ray of light blocked her path. She ducked back toward Ron so that she, too, could use the door as a shield.

Slow, steady clapping filled the chamber as Tom Marvolo Riddle sauntered toward the pair, mocking them. It was really starting to bother her that Tom Riddle was so good-looking. It just wasn't fair that someone so twisted and evil was one of the few tall, dark, and handsome men left in the world. He looked a bit like Cedric Diggory, as a matter of fact, and of course, there was another person who Riddle had a startling similarity to, but Hermione didn't want to think about that. "Well done," Riddle praised. "You two certainly know how to make an entrance." His tone was light and sarcastic, but his eyes were so cold and furious that Hermione swallowed hard, praying he wouldn't notice that her wand was trembling. Riddle stopped clapping, and kept his hands clasped together as he leaned forward with a sardonic air about him. "You've been taking lessons from the great Harry Potter on how to play hero."

Ron let out a low growl and angrily stabbed his wand in the air. He bellowed out a curse, but no sparks came out. Hermione was about to exasperatedly remind him that these cells were built with a type of stone that would not allow them to use magic, but then she remembered that Harry and Riddle had been using magic a moment before. However, Riddle had no wand in his hand. As he wiggled his long fingers playfully in their direction, both of their wands shot out of their grasps and landed neatly in Riddle's outstretched hand. Hermione bit her lip anxiously; now what were they going to do? Ron glanced over at her, and Hermione's hand was suddenly flooded with reassuring warmth as Ron's fingers found hers. He didn't have to say a word; it was almost as though reassurance was flowing from his mind, down his arms, through her fingers and into her soul. It wasn't as though he was using his empathic connection to speak to her; it was simply a deluge of emotions that plainly told her that he was there, he was going to do everything in his power to get them out of this, and that in the end, everything was going to be all right as long as he was around. Hermione let out a little sigh, and hoped desperately that he could sense the similar thoughts that she was trying to send out to him. Like him, she was going to fight until her dying breath to prevent Riddle from harming either him or Harry.

"Leave them out of this." Harry finally got to his feet, although he appeared to be slightly winded, and kept one hand clutched to his side. His eyes, however, were anything but dazed and exhausted. On the contrary, they were radiating power--a kind power that Hermione had never seen from him before. In fact, she had only seen this kind of unbridled, sheer power once--when Dumbledore had been furious after Mundungus Fletcher had left during his shift the summer before fifth-year, and Harry had been attacked by dementors. It had taken her breath away when she had witnessed Dumbledore like that, and she had to suck in a shaky breath when she saw that same aura of power radiating around Harry. "They've got nothing to do with this," Harry continued. He positioned himself between Riddle and his friends. The two men were about the same height, and became dead-locked in an intense stare.

Riddle's lips twisted upward in what must have been a smile, but it was one of the most horrible things Hermione had ever seen. He dropped Hermione and Ron's wands to the floor nonchalantly, and kicked them behind him, eyes never leaving Harry's face. Hermione watched her wand roll to a far corner of the room, making a quick note as to where it had landed. Riddle took another step closer to Harry, but he didn't back down. "You're such the courageous Gryffindor, aren't you?" Riddle looked at Harry disdainfully. "Go, go, Gryffindor," he cheered with a teasing thrust of his fist and a thoroughly mocking air. "Go, go!"

On the last 'go', Riddle snapped his fingers. With a violent thrust, Hermione was wrenched away from the security of Ron's fingers, and she landed with a pained "oomph" on the far side of the chamber, backside cracking into the leg of the bed. Ron had been forced in the opposite direction, and had smacked into the wall only three feet away. He landed flat on his back, head thudding into the floor, along with a tumble of velvet draperies. Harry's head whipped around when he heard his friends cry out, and Riddle began to laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing throughout the entire chamber was one of the top ten most chilling sounds Hermione had ever heard in her entire life.

She gritted her teeth as she tried to sit up. Unfortunately, this wasn't the best idea she'd ever had; a hot lump of pain flared up from where her spine had cracked into the thick oak, and it prevented her from moving just yet. Ron's eyes shot over to her as he also pushed himself up into a sitting position. I'm fine, she reassured him instantaneously, not even realizing they were empathically connected. She didn't even ask him if he was all right--she could immediately sense that he wasn't, but the situation was so desperate at the moment that she couldn't wallow in perpetual worry. She started to get to her feet, but paused when her eyes caught on the wall that Ron had been bashed into. The impact had yanked one of the artful draperies clean off of the wall, revealing that the stones behind it had been systematically gouged out. Hermione gasped soundlessly. No wonder Riddle could do wandless magic--he'd been using the draperies to shield his efforts to undo the obstacle that was keeping him from doing magic, but he had only taken out enough stones to allow magic from those powerful enough to use the wandless variety, thereby making any attack on him ineffective.

But Harry had been doing magic in here, Hermione reminded herself. The image of Harry crouching on the floor flashed in her mind, and as she watched him send a shower of sparks in Riddle's direction, she gasped. She glanced over at Harry who was still squaring off to Riddle, keeping himself protectively between the sorcerer and his friends. She looked down at his hands, and for the first time realized that Harry hadn't a wand, either--Harry, her Harry, could do wandless magic. It wasn't that major of an accomplishment in and of itself--loads of adult wizards and witches could manage simple charms without the use of a wand. Animagi, for example, could transform into their animal form without use of a wand. But Harry had actually been dueling without a wand, and that was almost unheard of.

"Nice to have your friends join us," Riddle continued as he circled Harry threateningly, hand still outstretched in Ron's direction to prevent Harry from attacking. Harry's fists were clenched at his side, eyes shooting back and forth between his two best friends. Hermione realized that he couldn't tell if they were hurt or not, so she quickly pushed herself up, using the bedpost behind her for support and kept the soothingly cool wood against the knot that was already forming on her back. "I'd always wanted to meet the perfect big brother Ginevra told me so much about," he said scornfully in Ron's direction. Ron scowled right back as he clamored to his feet, but a glance over at Harry and Hermione convinced him for once that he ought to keep his mouth shut.

"And then of course, there's the Mudblood over there." Riddle waved his hand dismissively in Hermione's direction, and his eyes followed, boring straight into Hermione's wide, frightened ones. Hermione didn't want to look into the stormy, intense dark eyes, but at the same time she couldn't make herself turn away--it was rather like watching a train wreck or something; it's horrible, awful, gut-wrenching, and nauseating, and yet you can't bring yourself to look away. He smirked as he realized what effect he was having on her, and cocked his head in false consideration. "How is your face by the way?" His smirk grew even wider. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard, but you certainly took quite a tumble, didn't you?"

Harry immediately stiffened, and shocked, Ron let out another slew of curse words. Hermione immediately sighed. Bugger. She hadn't told Ron or Harry how she had hurt her face, because she knew that both of them would flip their lids if they learned that Tom Riddle had actually slapped her. Mercifully, Riddle's eyes went to back to Harry, and Hermione had to shake her head from side to side to rid herself of the paralyzing aftereffects of his gaze--she was starting to understand how a girl as spunky as Ginny Weasley could fall under the spell of someone as slimy as Tom Riddle. It was as though she could still feel his power over her, and she had a sickening feeling that if he had tried something on her, she wouldn't have had the willpower to prevent him from having his way.

"But we're missing somebody." Riddle spread his hands cockily to the side in fake puzzlement, and for the first time, his fingers were not pointed toward Harry, Ron, or Hermione. "Where's my Ginevra?"

Ron's eyes rocketed over to Hermione. Where is she? Hermione bit her lip as she shook her head miserably from side to side. She really did have no idea where Ginny was. Harry, however, was not interested in finding Ginny at the moment. His aura of power augmented almost off the charts as his hand flew up toward Riddle. Hermione gasped and ducked out of the way as a splatter of sparks exploded into Riddle's chest, knocking him well over Hermione's head and onto the bed. There was a loud creaky moan before the bed collapsed from the force of his landing, and Riddle grunted as he hit the floor. Before she knew what was happening, Harry was rushing past her, pushing her aside and out of the way, his face twisted in such a mask of anger that for a disorienting moment, Hermione didn't even recognize him.

Ron's blessed, wonderful hands were on hers immediately afterward, and he spun her around. "You all right?" he asked firmly, but Hermione could sense the underlying concern behind his words. She nodded mutely as Ron's fingers lightly touched the cheek that Riddle had slapped a month earlier. "We've got to help him," he added anxiously, eyes on Harry and Riddle.

Hermione turned to follow his gaze. She swallowed hard as she watched Harry have his way with Riddle. "Ron, I don't think he needs our help."

And he really didn't. Harry was winning. Not only that, Harry was kicking ass. He had just shot out another spell, striking Riddle in the abdomen. Riddle doubled over, knees locking, causing him to stumble to the floor. Harry mercilessly waved his hand again, and Riddle's jaw snapped backward as if an invisible fist had given him a fierce upper-cut. Another sharp jerk of Harry's arm sent Riddle tumbling head over heels. His attractive face was now obscured with blood, and as the back of his skull cracked into the wall thanks to another ruthless wave of Harry's hand, Hermione started to shake her head from side to side.

"This is wrong," she muttered. "He shouldn't be doing this."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?!" Ron demanded tersely as he kept his eyes riveted on Harry's battle.

"It shouldn't end like this," Hermione explained hastily. "Harry's attacking out of hatred, fear, and a whole load of other negative emotions--and that's the primary stimulus fueling his use of wandless magic. Ron, if his actions are being induced by negative emotions, then that means he's using Dark magic!" Ron's eyes left Harry's to meet Hermione's in mutual wide-eyed fear. "You can't fight evil with evil! Well, you can, but it's much more effective to fight evil with good! If Harry keeps using these Dark powers--I don't even want to think about how this could affect him." She took a step forward, trying to think of a way to communicate these thoughts to Harry, but she knew that he wouldn't listen to her. Harry kicked his foot out viciously, and Hermione could hear Riddle's patella shattering from the magical blow. She winced; Harry was in such a rage that she didn't even think he would listen to Ron. And they didn't know where Ginny was.... Then, it hit her. "Stay here!" she ordered Ron. "Try to talk to him--I'll be right back!" Hermione took off toward the door, and raced back into the corridor. "Professor Lupin!" Hermione shrieked as she spotted his hunched form. He must have just regained consciousness, and was slowly stumbling to his feet. "Quick!"

Lupin didn't need to ask. He just took off as fast as his trembling, throbbing limbs could manage. He dove into the room with an agility that only sheer desperation could produce, with Hermione hot on his heels. Ron was shouting at Harry frantically, but Harry was ignoring his best friend completely. Riddle was lying flat on his back wheezing for air, and Harry was standing a few feet away. He moved his hand as if to strike Riddle with another magical blow, and as Riddle flinched, Harry laughed. He twisted his wrist, and with a huge jolt, a glittering, silver sword encrusted with rubies appeared in his hand. It was Godric Gryffindor's sword.

"Harry, no!" Hermione screamed when she saw the look in his eyes. She had seen it in the Shrieking Shack the night he had first confronted Sirius; he had been ready to kill a man, then. Now, four years later, he was even more willing--and able--to take a human life. Hermione knew that Harry had to kill Voldemort, or be killed by him, and that was difficult enough for her to accept. Riddle needed to be stopped, yes, but for the first time, Hermione desperately wished that Harry didn't have to be the one to do the deed. It was painful enough to know that he was going to have to be murderer in order to survive--she just wanted him to kill the one enemy, and not worry about anyone else.

Harry wielded the sword in such an deft, expert manner that Hermione knew he'd had to have taken fencing lessons at some point, because otherwise there was no way he could have handled that sword so well on the first try. The blade flashed in the torchlight as Harry continued to expertly twist the sword and stride toward Riddle.

"Harry."

Harry jerked as though he had been hit with a spell, and he turned away from Riddle. His eyes were wide, and for a moment, wonderfully reminiscent of the eleven-year-old boy who had watched with wonder as their Transfiguration teacher had turned her desk into a pig. "Remus?" Lupin hid any trace of a limp as he walked steadily over to Harry with his trademark sober smile. "What are you doing here?"

Lupin held out his hand. "Give me the sword, Harry."

Harry's joy abruptly vanished as he jerked his hand away from him. "No."

"You don't want to do it like this," Lupin told him soothingly. "Harry, I don't want you to have to kill anybody--especially not like this. You have to remember, Harry, that this is not Voldemort. You don't have to kill him. You do have a choice in this matter."

"He deserves to die," Harry argued hoarsely.

"There's no denying that," Lupin interjected evenly. "But you are not like him, Harry; you're better than him." He stared down at Riddle for a moment, with no trace of remorse. Riddle sneered up at him, revealing a row of jagged, bloodstained teeth. "If you kill him like this, Harry, you're no better than he is. And then, he'll have won." Lupin's hand rested lightly against Harry's heaving chest. "Feel that?" he said quietly. "That power?" Harry nodded slowly. "That's the power that made Voldemort what he is today." Lupin's hand pressed even more firmly into Harry's chest. "Do not let it get the best of you. It's easy to be consumed by anger and hatred, Harry, but it's not as easy to be good." Remus' hand now clapped onto Harry's shoulder. "All of us have had to fight these battles. The most honorable people I know have had these sort of fights--Dumbledore, Sirius, your mum, your dad. It's not a shameful thing to be tempted; it's only the outcome that matters. It's how we overcome these battles that make us who we are." He stared steadily into Harry's now confused vivid green eyes. "So who do you want to be, Harry?"

Harry swallowed hard, fingering the handle of the sword and staring at Riddle. Lupin paused before he said exactly what he needed to, in order to clench Harry's decision. "A very talented wizard once stopped me from making this same mistake. He told me that he reckoned his dad wouldn't have wanted me to become a killer for a rat like Peter Pettigrew." Harry's jaw started to tremble. "Harry," Lupin said slowly. "I'm now going to say these same words to you. I know James wouldn't have wanted you to become a killer over someone like Tom Riddle."

There was a long, horrific and terrifying silence in which everyone held their breath. Finally, with a loud clatter, Gryffindor's sword slid out of Harry's limp fingers and onto the stone floor. Hermione let out a dry sob of relief, and she felt Ron's chest relax against her back. Turning her head slightly, Hermione realized that Ron was standing behind her, and that she was leaning the back of her head against his chest in the same way she had been at Dean's funeral. She had been so intent on Harry and Lupin that she hadn't even realized she'd actually gone to him upon arriving back into the cell--and that Ron had been all too willing to comply. Lupin bent down to pick up the sword, keeping his hand on Harry's arm. "Thank you," Lupin told him sincerely.

And then, with a flash of the sword and a burst of speed, Lupin lunged away from Harry, twisted the blade downward, and plunged the sword directly into Tom Riddle's blackened heart. Riddle, Ron, and Hermione all let out a cry as a huge spurt of red-black blood spurted out of his chest when the tip of the blade severed major arteries. Hermione desperately wanted to look away so that she wouldn't have to see someone die, but she could only stare, eyes transfixed in horror. Riddle's chest heaved, and with several wracking spasms, he let out a dying hiss of rage before the storm in his eyes quieted, his breath stilled, and his body went motionless.

Harry let out a choked cry as he started toward Riddle's body, but Lupin darted back, seizing Harry by the shoulders. "Your father wouldn't have wanted me to be a killer, Harry, except if it was to save you from being one." Lupin sniffed hard and tried to smile. "You're going to have to go through this all too soon, but I just thank Merlin that I can keep you from it for a little bit longer."

Harry just stared at him, and quite abruptly, Lupin hugged him with all of the fierce love that a father could have for a son. Harry's face screwed up at the gesture; no one had ever hugged him like this, not even Sirius. "That's the only way I want you to kill, Harry," he told him in a low, intense voice. "Kill for love, Harry, not hate." A sob broke through Harry's lips. Hermione blanched at the sight--she had seen Harry come close to crying on several occasions, but she had never actually seen tears roll down his face until this moment, and it was killing her. Lupin's arms instinctively tightened around his surrogate son, and his voice lowered so that Hermione could barely make it out. "I killed him because I love you."

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. In the midst of this horrible scene, something beautiful was happening, and it was this moment that was making the tears bubble up, not the grisly murder she had just witnessed. She turned around in Ron's grasp and buried her face in his chest. She knew she really shouldn't--she was certainly sending Ron mixed signals; one day she was telling him that they needed to act only as friends, and the next she was clinging to him as if they were the last two people in the entire world. Ron, however, didn't protest, and he brought his arms up to encircle her back, two of his fingers comfortingly rubbing the bruised knot that had flared up. It did nothing to dissolve the pain, but it actually helped more than Ron would ever know. She knew it was wrong to do this, but it certainly wasn't wrong to need someone at this moment, so she allowed herself to hold on to him. They couldn't linger here in the cell, anyway, so Hermione knew that the embrace couldn't last--not to mention that by tomorrow they'd have to go back to their tired old "just friends" attitude. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed painfully, her head swimming, and decided that right now she'd stop thinking so bloody much, and just enjoy being in Ron's arms for as long as it lasted.