Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
The end of the series from our favorite herione's point of view--discover the millions of things that happened that not even the Boy Who Lived knew about! Follows Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 07 - Chapter 7

Chapter Summary:
So what happened during the month the trio spent at Grimmauld Place?
Posted:
10/26/2007
Hits:
4,056


Morning starts

Like the face of a newborn child

Innocent, unknowing

Winter's end

Promises of a long-lost friend

Speaks to me of comfort

But I fear

I have nothing to give

And I have so much to lose here in this lonely place

Tangled up in our embrace

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall

But I fear

I have nothing to give.

**

"Good night."

"Good night."

"Night," Hermione called as she watched her two friends head up the stairs to their new respective bedrooms. They had camped out in the drawing room for the first couple of nights so they could be ready just in case Kreacher came back with Mundungus at three in the morning. However, after Kreacher returned with Mundungus and it became clear that the Death Eaters couldn't break in, Harry said he was going to sleep in Sirius's old room, wanting to be surrounded by the memories of his parents and godparents. He was probably also still searching for the second part of that torn letter or any other fragments of memories he could preserve. Kreacher had eagerly offered to spruce it up for him so it wouldn't be so musty, and also cleaned up bedrooms for Ron and Hermione. Ron was now sleeping in his and Harry's old room and Hermione was supposed to be in hers and Ginny's. But for the past three nights, she had only been able to sleep with Ron's hand safely in hers; she didn't think she'd ever be able to sleep alone again.

So Hermione only stayed in her room for about five minutes. Ron had left his door open; Hermione peeked inside to find that he was still awake, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. She knocked and he tilted his head to see her. He didn't look surprised in the slightest to find her there. They both remembered all too well the hours they had spent in this room: he on his bed, she on Harry's, discussing everything that had happened during the day that they couldn't talk about in front of the others. Hermione rather hoped that they could continue that nightly ritual.

Ron nodded once. Hermione started to close the door behind her, but paused as she thought of something. "Should we leave it open? Just in case?"

"I think we're okay," Ron replied. "But leave it cracked a bit," he decided as Hermione had nearly shut the door entirely. "Just in case."

"You're right," Hermione said. She wasn't quite sure she was ready to be in a bedroom, late at night, alone with Ron, with the door closed. It had been acceptable two years ago, when she was still sorting things out, but now that she knew precisely what her heart wanted--an overwhelming surge of nerves and yearning crashed over her as she turned back to face Ron--yes, it was definitely a good idea to keep the door ajar.

She resumed her perch on Harry's old bed, tucking her legs up so she could rest her chin against her knees. Ron remained sprawled out on his back, pensive as ever. They didn't say anything for a good while, just basking each other's company and mulling over everything that had occurred over the past few days. "How on earth are we going to get into the Ministry?" Hermione finally asked quietly.

"I dunno," Ron admitted. "That's what tomorrow is for." He looked just as troubled as Hermione felt. "I wish he'd let me go," he admitted tightly.

"I know," Hermione agreed. The idea of Harry sneaking off to the Ministry, even under the protection of the Invisibility Cloak, was terrifying to say the least. She had found an advertisement in the Prophet that Lupin had brought to them offering a ten-thousand Galleon away for anyone who could bring Harry Potter to the Ministry, preferably alive. Now that the Ministry had fallen under Voldemort's control, they had a vast number of new resources under their control that they could use to track Harry down. The last place he should be going was the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic itself. "But I need you here with me tomorrow," Hermione reminded him. "So we can go over everything you remember from visiting your dad."

Ron didn't answer. After discovering that Umbridge currently had the locket, they had decided that they had to find a way to get into the Ministry to find her. Ron had visited the Ministry more than anyone else and had been able to give Harry a very detailed description of how to find the main entrance that the employees used rather than the visitors entrance they had used the night of the Department of Mysteries debacle. Tomorrow, Harry planned to Apparate there to see if he could find Umbridge. If Umbridge used that entrance, they may be able to think of a way to lure her away so they could take the Horcrux from her without attracting suspicion. Meanwhile, Ron was going to tell Hermione every possible thing he could remember from his many visits to the Ministry. She was going to compile a list of notes and maps from his information in hopes of piecing together a suitable plan for getting in and out in the most efficient way possible. There was a very good chance that Umbridge didn't use the exterior entrance to the Ministry, choosing to Floo directly there, so they would end up having to break into the Ministry again. Hopefully, it wouldn't have to come to that, but if it did, they needed to start planning now rather than later.

"He won't do anything," Hermione said warily. "If he does find her tomorrow. He wouldn't try to take the locket from her right then and there, right? He'd wait for us, won't he?"

Ron just looked at her. Hermione nodded knowingly and let out a sigh. "Yes. I rather wish you were going too." She actually wished she was going; she was getting a bit of cabin-fever from being cooped up in the house for four days. However, they both knew it was pointless to argue with Harry on this matter. He had been their leader from the beginning; they weren't going to take that away from him now. As they always had, they were just going to have to trust him. "I can't believe we found it so quickly."

"I can," said Ron. "It's Harry." He folded his arms behind his head confidently. "We'll probably have them all by your birthday."

Hermione smiled at the thought. "I'm not sure about that. If we're going to have to break into the Ministry, we're going to have to spend days, maybe weeks, planning it."

"Yeah," Ron conceded. His grin didn't falter. "It's a good thing we swiped that Polyjuice from Mum. We're probably going to need it."

"Yes, we will." Ron had almost been as pleased with himself for that scheme as he was with the idea to use the ghoul as a decoy and his quick Apparitions to and from her house in Winterbourne. He had noticed that his mother had stashed the supply of Polyjuice underneath the sink so he had engaged Mrs. Weasley into a conversation while Hermione had slipped into the kitchen to steal the large flask and replace it with an empty one. He had so successfully diverted his mother that Hermione hadn't even needed the cloak and for someone as sharp as Molly Weasley, that was a real accomplishment.

Ron replayed the scene in his head, but his good humor faded as he continued to think about his mother. "I hope they're okay."

He sounded so lost. Hermione quickly sat up, poised to do whatever possible to make that hangdog expression go away. "Lupin said they're all right."

"I know," Ron replied. He shrugged. "I still--"

"I know," Hermione echoed solemnly. She felt the exact same way. Ron raked a hand through his hair, hating himself for leaving his entire family behind. It was definitely time for a change in subject. "Can I ask you something?"

Ron sounded relieved to be pushing past this as well. "Anything."

"Do you think you would have been able to do it? If Harry had asked you to?"

Ron didn't even bat an eye at her abrupt question and he certainly didn't need her to elaborate on what she was referring to, even though it had happened four nights ago. "Kill Dolohov and Rowle?" He shrugged uncomfortably. "I reckon. If we had really needed to." He raised his eyebrows at her. "I always said I'd kill Dolohov for you, didn't I?" he joked feebly.

"But you didn't," Hermione pointed out.

"Cause Harry said we couldn't--they'd track us--"

"But if Harry hadn't said that," Hermione interrupted. For some reason, it was very important that Ron answer this question as honestly as possible. She was thinking about how quickly he had been ready to kill those spiders in the bathtub. She had to know if he was willing to do the same to a Death Eater. "Would you have done it?"

Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, it's depends. If Dolohov was trying to nail you with that curse of his and I only had a second to stop him, yeah, I'd do it. Gladly. But like that--with them just lying there like that, unarmed," Ron shook his head. "It wouldn't be right. Not when you could Obliviate them or something."

"But you would do it?" Hermione pressed. "If there were no other options?"

"As a last resort, yeah, sure," Ron confirmed hesitantly. "If I had to." His eyes found hers. "Wouldn't you?"

"I don't think I could," Hermione admitted. "I mean, if it was to save you or Harry, yes, of course, but I'd like to think that I could think of another way. There are thousands of spells; surely one of them could stop Death Eaters just as effectively as killing them."

He grinned in sudden triumph. "And that is why you got an 'E' in Defense,"

"Because I don't like killing people?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"Exactly."

"That's not Defense!"

Ron laughed. "Hermione, the number one defense against an attack is to take out your attacker. You sure you got an 'E'? Maybe it was lower--"

"Ron."

"Look, you said it yourself," Ron quickly dropped his bantering tone and leaned forward intently so she would understand what he was saying. "You said you'd think of another way, right?" Hermione nodded. "Half of defense, Hermione, isn't thinking. It's just doing. Harry doesn't think about half the things he does; he just does it. That's why he didn't want to teach us in fifth-year; he really doesn't know what he's doing most of the time and thinks he just got lucky. That's defense. It's instincts. It's just knowing what to do and doing it, no matter what's getting thrown at you."

Hermione thought back to the way she had hesitated that night, after Ron had been coiled up in all of the ropes, torn between freeing him to keep their advantage in numbers or helping Harry take out Dolohov. That decision had been made for her when Harry slammed against the wall, losing the Cloak and his wand, and she had managed to stop the Death Eater before it was too late. But there still had been that moment of uncertainty that very well could have been the end of them. Ron was right; Defense wasn't about making lists of possible scenarios and devising intricate plans accordingly. Defense was about trusting your gut. Her 'E' wasn't from not understanding the theories of Defense, as she had feared. It was that she needed to trust herself that she could put those theories into context of a battle. And she would be getting plenty of practice in that area over the next few months. She could only get better with time.

Momentarily comforted, Hermione leaned back against the headboard of Harry's bed. "You're right," she said while struggling to keep her eyes open. She had been reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard over and over again in hopes of discovering why Dumbledore had given it to her so her eyes were quite tired. It often happened to her during exam weeks and especially in third-year, when she had fallen asleep on top of a book more times than she had slept in her bed. She was probably going to need glasses as strong as Harry's by the time she was in her thirties. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Ron chuckled under his breath. "Tired?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah." Ron returned. He actually did sound just as exhausted as she did. He slid down so he could nestle his head on the pillow. "We should go to sleep."

There was something of an invitation in Ron's voice. Hermione's heart started to pound so hopefully that it jarred her wide awake again. "Do you mind--?"

Ron had already found the Deluminator he had left on the nightstand so he could click off the lights. He didn't say a word, but it was clear that she wasn't expected to go anywhere tonight. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his easy breathing. No matter what hellish situation they were in, Ron always seemed to manage to fall asleep with the slightest bit of trouble. She was rather jealous; it always took her ages to fall asleep. However, she had noticed that the past few nights, with Ron's hand in hers, she could always drift away in some pleasant dream with the greatest of ease. She was starting to think that she would never sleep properly without Ron nearby; and hopefully, she would never have to.

"Good night, Ron."

"Night, Hermione."

**

Hermione was trying yet again to interpret the pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard when a large sheet of parchment was tossed in front of her. Hermione frowned down at it. "What is this?"

"Family tree," Ron replied as he fell into the chair next to her. "Well, what I can remember of it."

Just as when Ron had made the suggestion to Lupin, Hermione felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach. She closed the book to give Ron her undivided attention. "Ron," she reminded him. "It won't make any difference."

"You said be prepared for anything," Ron said stubbornly. "If they find you, they can detain you for questioning because you're a Muggle-born and then they can ask you about Harry."

"What're the odds that that would really happen, Ron?"

"Well, I don't know," Ron said sarcastically. "I think they went up when you started Apparating over there two times a week."

Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear somewhat impatiently and leaned forward to lay a hand on his forearm. Ron's concern for her well-being was touching, as always, but they really needed to focus their attention elsewhere. She didn't have time to sit with him and study his family tree. "Ron, it would never work," Hermione said gently. "I don't look anything like your family and honestly, I don't think anyone would ever believe that you and I are related." She certainly didn't look at her cousins in the way that she often found herself gazing at Ron.

However, Hermione wasn't so sure Ron understood what she meant. He actually looked rather hurt as he pulled his arm free so he could snatch up the parchment and crunch it into a ball of disappointment. "You're right. It was a stupid idea."

"I didn't say it was a stupid idea," Hermione comforted. "I just think there are better things to do with our time. We need to find a way to get into the Ministry as soon as possible and I still haven't figured out why Dumbledore wanted me to have this book and we should keep talking about where to look for the other Horcruxes so once we get the locket, we can keep right on going, not to mention find another way to destroy them--I don't fancy keeping that locket with us--"

"Yeah. I get it. You're right." Ron didn't appear to be convinced in the slightest. He continued to squeeze the family tree in his fists. "Sorry to bother you."

"Ron--" Hermione tried, but Ron was already gone. Hermione considered following him, but with a glance back at her book, Hermione decided against it and returned to her research. Ron just needed some time to work himself out of his bad mood. They would probably only get into a row. Ron's sensitivity level seemed to have risen dramatically since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place. Actually, all of theirs had. Hermione opened Beedle the Bard again with a sigh. It had only been two weeks into the mission and they were already sniping at each other. It was understandable, of course. They were practically trapped in this gloomy house with Death Eaters poised to enter; their only escape were these long, tedious stake-outs in front of the Ministry under the Invisibility Cloak, unable to talk to anyone else but each other. The three of them were the best of friends and always would be, but it seemed impossible that tempers wouldn't start flaring up while being put through such a stressful situation.

Hermione looked towards the nearest curtained window, wishing she could safely pull it aside to glimpse the late-afternoon sunshine. She was rather tired of breathing all this musty air all of the time. Grimmauld Place was an ideal hiding place, Death Eaters aside, but Hermione rather wished they could find someplace else where they could breathe a bit easier. She was ready to jump out of her skin every time a floorboard creaked or a car drove by or a person breathed out on the street. They were just too close to danger for her taste.

"Miss Hermione would like some tea?"

"Thank you, Kreacher," Hermione said gratefully. The now-clean house-elf beamed as he poured her a mug of hot tea and stirred in a drop or two of milk and one lump of sugar. He didn't even have to ask how she took her tea; he had remembered from the first time he had served her. He gave her a jerky half-bow as he served her. He was still having difficulty willingly serving a Muggle-born, but he got a bit friendlier every day. In time, he could even forget her blood heritage completely.

The front door closed and after he disabled Moody's charms, Harry clattered down the stairs appeared in the kitchen, panting with exhilaration. "All right," he said as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak to the side, searching for the parchment they were scrawling notes on. "It looks like they're using these funny coins or tokens or something to get in now. I saw this witch borrow one from her friend. We're going to need some to get in."

Hermione quickly sprang up to retrieve a quill and a pot of ink, just as excited as he was. This was their first big clue about the new security measures that Voldemort's Ministry had enacted. "Do you remember what they look like? Can you draw them?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry closed his eyes to mentally conjure up the image in his head and began to sketch. "They were gold-colored, about the size of a Knut," he informed her. "And they had letters on them--I couldn't get close enough to see what they were, but they were right in the center of the coin."

"Then we have to find out what they are," Hermione said promptly. "I wonder if we could get close enough to see them."

Harry's brow creased doubtfully. "I dunno, Hermione. They're pretty small. We'd have to be almost right on top of them to get a good look."

"Well, I'm not going to be able to duplicate them if I don't know exactly what they look like," Hermione said fretfully.

"I don't think you should anyway," Harry disagreed. "The security is really tight now--you've seen what it's like. They're going to be looking for forgeries and I know you're the best witch in the European Union--"

"But we can't take that chance," Hermione finished with a nod. "You're right." She gripped a handful of curls worriedly as she tried to think of something brilliant. "We're going to have to get our hands on real ones."

Harry set down the quill and handed her the sketch with an encouraging smile. "We'll think of something."

Hermione returned it and started towards her chair, but stopped short when she saw Ron in the doorway, just watching them with the oddest expression on his face. "Hi."

Ron quickly jarred himself out of whatever stupor he was in. "Hey." He jammed his hand in his pockets and strode into the room so he too could inspect Harry's drawing. "Find out anything?"

"Yeah, they're using these tokens to gain entrance--we're going to need to get our hands on some if we want to get in," Harry relayed excitedly. This was the first concrete clue they had about the new procedures for getting into the Ministry; they were finally getting somewhere.

"Good." Ron kept his eyes on the parchment. "See my dad?"

Harry's fell slightly. "No, I didn't--but I must've just missed him," Harry hurried to assure them. "I was a bit later than usual; he could have got there early."

"Yeah," Ron said heavily, still looking disappointed. Hermione knew that Ron lived for those brief flashes of his father; if Mr. Weasley was still going to work, that meant that he and the rest of the family were safe for the time being.

"Did you take your shoes off, Master Harry?" Kreacher had bustled into the room to hang up the Invisibility Cloak in its proper hook.

Harry quickly kicked off the shoes and held them up for the house-elf to see. "I did, Kreacher. Thank you."

"Thank you, Master Harry," Kreacher returned brightly as he took the shoes from Harry so he could clean them before Harry's next outing. He returned to the stove to place the finishing touches on his famous beef stew. Normally, Hermione would be opposed to using Kreacher for slave labor, but Harry and even Ron had been so kind to him that she had swallowed her protests. Besides, Harry allowed Kreacher to go back to Hogwarts whenever he wanted and it really did help to have a fourth person to help with the cleaning and cooking. Hermione had a feeling if Kreacher wasn't there, she would be the one who was automatically placed in charge of such domestic issues.

Ron seemed to be thinking similar thoughts as he pulled up a chair to examine Harry's drawing. "Not so bad, is he?" he commented absently as he frowned down at the sketch of the coins. "See anything else?"

Harry grimaced as he shook his head. This reconnaissance mission was going much too slow for his taste. "I also missed that little bloke you told me about," he said apologetically to Ron. "I got there right at eight, but I didn't see him at all, so that probably meant he was already there."

"Who is this?" Hermione demanded, scrambling through the notes. "Ron, you didn't write that down!"

"I didn't know if it was something to write down," Ron argued. Hermione gave him a glare and he hastened to continue. "I saw this bloke yesterday. He's starting to get there earlier--he used to come around the same time as everyone else, but now he's coming before eight. He got there at like seven-fifty--"

"Like seven-fifty?"

"Seven-fifty, it was seven-fifty, I checked," Ron rephrased hastily.

"Which would give us about ten minutes before the eight o'clock rush," Harry supplied. "We'd be able to Stun him and get some hairs before anyone saw us."

"If he keeps arriving at the same time," Hermione pointed out. Her quill was already busy recording this latest development. "We'll have to keep watching him. I'll make sure I'm there before seven-fifty tomorrow."

"It's your turn tomorrow?"

Hermione braced herself for the continuation of their earlier row. Ron had never liked her going to the Ministry alone. "It is. Harry went today, you went yesterday, so it looks like I'm next."

Ron continued to examine their notes. "All right."

She almost broke her quill in shock. "All right?"

His eyes lifted slightly and it was only then that Hermione understood; he was only saying these conciliatory words to mollify Harry. As soon as Harry was gone, this would continue and it wouldn't be so easy to win. "Yeah. All right."

"All right," Hermione returned with her chin raised slightly. She wasn't about to give up either.

**

"Do you know what'll happen if they get you for questioning?"

"Well, I have a sneaking feeling that it wouldn't be good," Hermione retorted sarcastically.

"They'll take your wand, for starters," Ron listed on irate fingers, "they'll try to find your parents for questioning, they'll throw you in jail for stealing magic, and that's just if you're an ordinary Muggle-born; if you're Harry Potter's best friend, I reckon it's going to be just a little bit worse!"

Hermione pushed herself up on her knees, the mattress springing slightly under the added weight. "All right. Now let's go over what would happen if they caught Harry Potter's other best friend, who is supposed to be dying of spattergroit." Hermione ticked off her list on fingers, imitating Ron's gestures. "They'll bring you in for questioning to find out why you lied, they'll bring your family in as well--my guess is they're just waiting for a chance to arrest your dad and brothers, they'll throw you in jail for not going to school and then haul you out of your cell everyday to question you about Harry!"

Ron shook his head with gritted teeth. "It'd be different for me. I'm a pureblood; they'll let me get away with more."

"You're not an ordinary pureblood," Hermione disagreed. "You're labeled as a blood-traitor; every Death Eater considers that to be just as heinous of a crime as being a Muggle-born. And if your family wasn't enough, they also know you're the one person Harry Potter would miss the most. They know if anything happened to you, Harry would do anything he could to help you--they could try to use you as bait!"

"They could do the same to you!" Ron argued. "And besides, I'm not the person Harry would miss the most anymore."

Hermione swallowed; she couldn't argue with that. The person Harry would miss the most was probably curled up in her bed at the Burrow, writing in her Muggle diary and wishing she could have been involved in their adventure.

The unexpected pause in the row allowed both of them to take a breath and close their eyes, for the first time admitting just how exhausted they really were. "We're never going to agree," Hermione conceded in a voice of forced calm. "Can we just agree to disagree?"

Ron raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Have we ever been able to agree to disagree?"

"Have we ever tried?"

"Sure we did--that one time!"

"Oh, right, of course, how silly of me to have forgotten that one time!"

Ron flapped his hand to indicate the ridiculousness of this conversation. "Doesn't this prove my point!?"

Just as abruptly, Hermione remembered how very tired she was. She buried her face in her hands and nodded her consent. He had won this round. "I'm tired," she admitted to him.

"Yeah." Ron sounded as miserable as she felt. "Me too."

She dropped her hands so she could read what he wanted to her to do. He was flipping back the blanket and crawling beneath the comforting folds. He held up the corner of the comforter and waited with slightly anxious eyes.

Hermione didn't hesitate, although as always, she became a bit nervous. This had certainly been an unexpected development. She had continued to come up here to sleep in Harry's old bed and had had a nasty nightmare one night and woken up with a shout that had nearly scared the life out of Ron. She hadn't been able to stop trembling so half-awake and rather shaken up himself, Ron had did the only thing he could think of; he twitched his fingers invitingly at her and Hermione hadn't thought twice. She woke up the next morning with Ron's arm looped around her waist and a burning desire to never sleep alone again.

And ever since, they had shared a bed every night so they could finally get some much-needed rest, never thinking about what Harry would think if he found them in such a compromising position. As brilliant as Harry was, he really was adept at missing something that was happening right in front of him. This was just between her and Ron.

Ron reached over her to click off the lights with the Deluminator and kept his arm around Hermione. Somehow, in spite their short tempers, they were able to set aside whatever rows that had undoubtedly occurred throughout the course of the day and gather strength from each other's presence in order to get some much-needed rest. It was the only way they could seem to get up every morning and do this all over again. Hermione closed her eyes so she could quiet her troubled mind and focus on the fantastic sensation of being right here in this room. There was something so dangerous about sleeping so close to Ron, cloaked in darkness, his breath warming her neck, her mind racing with possibilities. Anything could happen. She knew it wouldn't, obviously, but just the anticipation of once again being so close to something was enough to make her skin tingle delightfully, burning away any troubles of the world so all that was left was him. She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of his hair. No matter what he did to her, she didn't think she could ever stop loving this boy.

"Good night, Ron."

"Night, Hermione."

**

A ferrety-looking short wizard appeared in the tiny alleyway, looking pale and anxious as he hurried to the entrance. Hermione checked her watch as he passed although she already knew the answer: it was seven-fifty on the dot. She gave him a little nod although he couldn't see it. They had been chronicling his arrival at the Ministry for the past week to confirm it, but it appeared that Ron was right: this wizard was their best bet.

That's two, Hermione said to herself optimistically. Harry had noticed a funny older witch with rambunctious gray hair--much like Hermione's own, actually, aside from the color--who always arrived at seven-forty-five. She was usually the very first person to appear in the alley and no one came after her for a good five minutes. Both Hermione and Ron had agreed that this woman would be a prime target and the perfect person for Hermione to impersonate. They had been looking for people for Ron and Harry ever since. But now, after today, they could officially confirm that this little wizard could be Ron's identity. They just had to find one for Harry.

That's when things started to get a bit trickier. Aside from these two Ministry officials, everyone else came to work between eight and nine o'clock and none of them had a set time of arrival. Sometimes, Mr. Weasley would be the next person to appear, usually with Tonks or sometimes even Bill; other times, it was a bearded wizard with his friend; there was the woman who had come to speak to Hermione's parents after they had discovered Hermione's magical abilities, a very tall, very intimidating wizard who looked as though he wouldn't mind pounding anyone and everyone into a bloody pulp, Percy Weasley, and many more that Hermione could hardly make out in the swarm of drawn, anxious faces. Hermione hugged the wall to avoid anyone bumping into her and strained to make out the flashes of conversation that were passing by her, desperate to catch something that could help them do this. Her eyes scanned the bags and briefcases to see if anyone had a newspaper she could snatch. A kindly-looking witch with a high bun like Professor McGonagall caught her attention; she had a rolled-up Prophet sticking out of her briefcase. Hermione slipped out her wand and waited for the witch to pass her. After making sure no one was behind them, Hermione murmured a quick Summoning Charm. The newspaper zipped out of the bag and hit the cement inches away from the hem of the Cloak. Hermione quickly lifted the Cloak and dropped it over the paper so she could crouch down and pick it up. She was rather proud of herself; this was the first time she had managed to steal a Prophet. Harry and Ron were much better at that than she was.

She flipped it over so she could read the front-page story under the fold. The blood rushed out of her face. Oh Merlin's pants. Her life had just become infinitely more complicated.

"After you're done, come find me. I'll be up on level one, Dolores wants to see me."

Hermione's head shot up, forgetting all about her current predicament. The bearded wizard who always arrived with his shorter, squatter friend was passing by her.

"Dolores?" the friend repeated. "What does she want?"

The bearded wizard laughed although Hermione could tell that he was rather nervous. "I have no idea. But it probably can't be good, eh?"

They entered the crowded street. Hermione normally didn't follow Ministry officials too far lest that she was discovered, but today she rolled up the newspaper, jammed it in her back pocket, and tiptoed after them. She had to sidestep a few Muggles and by the time she avoided them, the two men had disappeared into the steps that led to the public restroom that undoubtedly led to the entrance. They hadn't dared to follow anyone down the stairs so they had no idea how protocol had been changed within the bathroom itself. Another Muggle bumped into Hermione; alarmed, Hermione hastened back to the alley so she could process what she had just learned. This was the first substantial bit of information that she had overheard directly. Ron had learned a lot from visiting his dad about the layout of the layout of the Ministry, but there were still gaping holes in the maps they had been creating. Learning which floor Umbridge's office would help them immensely.

Hermione wished she could go home right now to tell them the news, but Harry insisted that they stay until the evening rush had passed in hopes of catching the snippet of an outgoing conversation. Hermione impatiently waited throughout the entire day until the last Ministry employee had passed, scowling about all of the security guidelines. Then, with a careful turn, Hermione popped back exactly on the front step of Grimmauld Place. The Cloak remained securely around her. The jinx-figure rose to greet her, but Hermione disabled it without batting an eye and hurried down the stairs to find her friends.

"Umbridge's office is on the first floor," she reported excitedly as soon as she saw them, setting the Invisibility Cloak on the back of the nearest empty chair. Hermione smoothed her hair back and took a long breath. Thanks to the late-August heat, it was always rather warm underneath the Cloak, making it difficult to breathe the stuffy air. "I heard that bearded wizard tell his friend 'I'll be up on level one, Dolores wants to see me.' That has to be it, right?"

Harry dove for the diagram of level one. "Nice going," Ron praised as he leaned across the table to take a look at the map himself. "That's where the Minister's office is and his support staff--if she's got permission to Floo directly there, she probably also has an office on that floor."

Harry pointed to the holes on their plan of the first floor. "Yeah, it makes sense. She must be there. Good work, Hermione." He grabbed a quill so he could label the blank areas as possible locations for Umbridge's office. "Anything else?"

"Yes, I saw your friend, Ron," she relayed. "At seven-fifty on the dot."

Ron grinned. "That's one week. I think he's our man."

"Great." Harry seized the sheet of parchment they were listing possible Ministry employees to impersonate to record Hermione's news. "Did you get a paper?"

"Yes. I did."

Ron instantly stood up at the change in her voice. "What?" he asked apprehensively.

Hermione hesitated, not really wanting to go there, but as both of her best friends stared at her, she knew she couldn't hide it. She threw down the newspaper she had stolen. "I'm in the paper."

"What?" Ron snatched the front page away from Harry so he could scan the list of Muggle-borns who did not present themselves for interrogation and were being directly pursued by the Ministry. Anyone with information about the whereabouts of any person on the list were ordered the contact the Ministry immediately. Hermione's name was clearly printed on the list, along with a special note that she may have information about the whereabouts of Undesirable Number One. He tossed the paper at Harry so he could read it. "You can't go back," he stated stoutly.

Hermione fought to keep from rolling her eyes; they had had this argument before. "Ron, I'm under the cloak, I'm fine."

"Still," Ron insisted hotly. "Do you know how easy it is for a wind to fly up and show your ankles?"

Hermione's heart nearly stopped. "Do you?" She had always worried about Ron most of all whenever it was his turn to go under the cloak; he had grown far too tall for the cloak. He claimed that he always crouched down whenever it was his turn to watch the Ministry entrance, but Hermione knew that he had to straighten up every now and then so his legs couldn't cramp.

Harry dropped the newspaper, almost as panicked as Hermione. "No!" Ron refused to Hermione before turning to Harry, ears red. "No. Nothing's happened, I swear--I'm not an idiot--I wouldn't do that!"

"Are you sure?" Hermione pressed. "Are you absolutely sure?" Maybe Ron should be the one to stop taking shifts at the Ministry.

"Yes," Ron stressed, ears hotter and brighter than ever. "No one's seen me, I swear--you're the one who should stop going! If you're caught by the Ministry and we have to come and save you--"

"If I'm caught by the Ministry, you'll do no such thing," Hermione corrected curtly, her eyes wide. If she was caught by the Ministry, the last thing she would need was to learn that Ron and Harry had been captured as well in a failed attempt to rescue her. "You keep on going and wait for me to find you."

"If you're caught by the Ministry, we're coming after you, no matter what, and that's final," Harry cut in, the ultimate voice of authority. He stood up to make sure that they both understood him quite clearly. "As long as no one's seen anyone or anything--" He paused to give Ron another questioning look; Ron exasperatedly shook his head. "--then we all keep on with the shifts. The cloak hasn't let us down yet; it won't now."

"Fine," Ron agreed tightly. His eyes remained on the Daily Prophet. "But when it's time to go in, I think just Harry and me should go."

"I will not be left behind again!" Hermione shouted, instantly furious. If Ron was going to use the chess analogy he had used the night Dumbledore died again, she may have to slap him.

Harry's brow creased in confusion, but Ron was already shouting before he could inquire what that meant. "You won't have the cloak!"

"I'll be someone else," Hermione reminded him hotly. "That's just as good as the cloak! And if you're sighted, you'll be in just as much trouble as I would be! You have just as much reason to stay behind as I do!"

She placed her hands on her hips so he knew that she would never back down. This wasn't just about he cared about her so much that the prospect of her anywhere close to danger was too much for him to bear. This was about the fact that she was a girl; she was a girl who couldn't defend herself and should be left to wait at home with the house-elf. For the first time, Hermione really hated the fact that Ron finally saw her as a girl. If he was going to think she was helpless, she'd rather go back to being the androgynous best friend so they could finally get some work done.

"I can say I made a recovery," Ron said stubbornly. "That I'm a medical marvel or something."

"And if they actually believe that, they'll either want to study you as spattergroit is one of the deadliest diseases in the wizarding world or they'll send you back to school," Hermione shot back.

"If they find you, you'll be dead," Ron returned just as fiercely. "They want to kill you Hermione!"

"They want to kill Harry and you're not making him stay behind!" Hermione said as she pointed at their silent best friend who was doing his best to stay out of this. "And I have a feeling if they find you, they won't be throwing a parade and giving you a medal of honor!"

"Stop," Harry interjected wearily. He looked as though this was giving him a massive headache. "All of us need to go. I'd like as many of us in there as possible. We don't know what we're going to have to do to get the locket back; I want to be ready for anything." He gave both of them a stern look. "All right?"

"Fine," Hermione agreed immediately. She gave Ron a triumphant look.

He however just looked very disappointed. He couldn't argue with Harry. "Yeah. Fine." He shuffled out of the room. "Excuse me."

Hermione deflated as soon as Ron's back vanished through the door. She and Ron had been rowing a lot more lately. It was always about petty things pertaining to their missions or something stupid like that that would nevertheless lead them to not speak to each other for several hours. Harry forever had to intervene like this and as she glanced over at him, she knew that they were sharing the same thought: they were sick of this.

"Soup is on, Master Harry!" Kreacher proclaimed as he carried in a large tureen and set it on the table. "But where is Mister Ron?"

"I'll get him," Harry offered as he went to the door to call after him, "Ron! Dinner!"

Hermione wasn't surprised in the slightest that Ron didn't appear. The only thing more stubborn than his stomach was his pride. Harry however looked slightly alarmed. His wand came out, but Hermione quickly interceded. "He's alright, Harry. He'll come back when he's hungry." They sat down to eat the soup before it got cold, once again reviewing what little they had. Ron didn't return by the time they finished so she turned to the house-elf as he cleared the dishes. "Kreacher, do you mind making a tray for me?"

"Not at all, Miss Hermione." Kreacher bobbed his head before trotting back to the stove complete the preparations. He offered to take the tray upstairs, but Hermione took it herself; she had a fairly good idea where Ron was hiding. After promising to return to help Harry go over the plan, Hermione carried the tray up several flights of stairs to the small room where Buckbeak had lived. As she expected, Ron was sulking in the corner, a long finger tracing patterns into the dust caking the floor. He looked up when he heard her arrive, but he didn't say anything.

"Hi," Hermione greeted. "You missed dinner."

Ron shrugged sullenly. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, that's just not true," Hermione joked gently. "I don't think I've ever known you to be not hungry."

"Well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think," Ron snapped harshly.

Her heart jolted momentarily, but Hermione ignored it as she carried the tray to the dilapidated dresser. "Well, that's just not true," she repeated. Ron rolled his head towards her to give her a sneer, but he halted when he saw the fragrant steam spiraling up from the bowl of soup. It tickled his nose tantalizingly. "And Kreacher made ginger biscuits," Hermione wheedled, holding up the plate of homemade cookies. Kreacher was obviously a talented chef, but his pastry-making skills were absolutely astounding. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had eaten such delicious desserts so many nights in a row.

That was all the invitation Ron needed. He lifted himself up from the floor and quickly shot a spell to clean his hands so he could start gulping down the hot soup. Apparently, he was rather hungry after all. The bowl was nearly licked clean within two minutes and Ron started in on the biscuits, pausing only for a second to offer one to Hermione.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking a biscuit but not eating it just yet. She turned it over and over in her hand. "I didn't tell you before; I saw your dad. He looked okay."

"Di' 'e?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food.

"He did," Hermione confirmed. "I saw him go in with Tonks."

Ron swallowed his food. "How'd they look?"

Hermione considered. "Better," she answered honestly. "He looked worried, but not as much as most days." Ron nodded in relief before tucking in to the rest of the cookies. "Tonks was glowing," Hermione went on, "She actually looked happy. I suppose Lupin didn't leave her after all." She pictured Lupin the night he had visited them, how he had clutched at his hair in an impassioned frenzy. She had never seen him so out of sorts, but at the same time, she trusted him. Remus was like Harry; he would always do the right thing. "I never believed he would do that," Hermione said.

"I did," Ron said in a low voice.

Hermione lifted her head, thinking she must have heard him incorrectly. "What?"

"I can," Ron repeated. He kept his eyes on the crumb-filled plate. "Not because he wants to, of course. He thinks they'll be better off without him."

"But they won't be!" Hermione disagreed, scarcely believing what she was hearing. It made her heart ache just to consider the idea that someone like Remus Lupin would abandon his family. She had seen the way Lupin had hugged Tonks after she returned with Ron the night Harry had come to the Burrow. He may try to hide it because he didn't feel worthy of her, but he really loved her. Hermione was certain of it. "The baby needs a father--Tonks needs her husband! She loves him--!"

"And he loves her," Ron shot back. "That's why he wants to leave; so she and the baby'll be better off."

Something panged warningly in her gut. For some reason, the image of Ron stepping forward onto the chessboard so he could be clubbed in the head by the giant queen flashed in her mind. "But she won't be," Hermione repeated. "She never could be."

Once again, Ron didn't say anything; he just looked at her, unexpectedly appearing to be several years older, wiser, and infinitely more capable. Hermione couldn't even seem to remember how he had looked that first day on the train with Scabbers in one hand, a handful of candy clutched gleefully in the other; she could only stare at the man on the bed next to her and wonder just when he had grown up, because she thought she may have missed it.

Even at the time, Hermione knew this was a moment she'd always remember. She knew something happening here that would haunt her for ages afterwards. She should have known that there was something in Ron's eyes, something in his gaze, that could have told her what was to come. Later, in a few months, as she would think about this moment, she would groan and bury her face in her hands, cursing herself for not realizing what Ron was trying to tell her right now. His temper was the immediate reason for his departure, but his heart was actually the real reason that he had stormed out of the tent that November night. He had been thinking for some time that his friends would be better off without him, that they wouldn't be hindered by his lack of talent and brains. The Horcrux had just given him the excuse he needed to actually go through with it.

But at the time, Hermione didn't know what that moment meant. She could only stammer for a moment before collecting her senses and asking, "Ron, what's going on?"

"What?"

"You're different."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. "Bad different?"

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. She leaned against the dresser and just looked at him, shocked that she hadn't noticed it before. She spent the past two and half weeks working intensely with him and Harry, spent hours in bed with him, woken up beside him with his face an inch away from hers, and yet, she didn't think she had really looked at him in all that time. Otherwise, she would have seen it. She wished she could reach out and run her hand over his chin so she could feel the short stubble she had only just noticed was there, but something held her back. It wouldn't be right to touch him like that.

"I have to get back to Harry. He wants to go over what we have again," Hermione said in a low voice. She tilted her head hopefully towards the door. "Coming?"

"Yeah. Be along in a bit."

They both knew he wouldn't. Inexplicably, Hermione felt like crying. Somehow, she had just lost something and she wasn't quite sure why. She returned the uneaten cookie to the plate. "Good night, Ron."

"Night, Hermione."


Quote from Fear, Sarah McLachlan