A Thousand Words

Chapter 14: Queen and Priest

Hermione and Ginny arrived downstairs to find that Harry and Ron had, just a few seconds ago, returned to the Burrow from work. The two of them were talking in low voices about something as they took off their snow-dusted cloaks, but they looked up and smiled when Hermione and Ginny stepped off the staircase.

'Hey, you two,' said Harry, trying to stomp the snow off his boots.

'Hullo, Harry,' said Ginny cheerfully. 'I'd hug you, but I don't want to get wet and cold all over again.'

'How was work? And what are you two muttering about?' Hermione asked, stepping over what appeared to be a shattered dish to go cast a drying spell on the puddle of melted snow surrounding Harry and Ron's feet.

'We'll tell you after dinner,' said Harry out of the side of his mouth, nodding his head slightly at Mrs Weasley, who was stirring a pot of onion soup quite vehemently. Her angry expression, Hermione assumed, most likely was linked in some way to the shattered bowl she had stepped over earlier.

'I'm going to go upstairs and change,' Ron announced. To Hermione's surprise, he suddenly sounded very cheerful. Indeed, he even kissed the top of her head before squeezing past her and walking over to the stairs, dripping water as he went.

Shaking her head, Hermione moved over to where Mrs Weasley was standing by the stove and asked politely, 'Can I help, Mrs Weasley?' Dinner was always a frantic affair at the Burrow, and with Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina over, that meant four additional mouths to feed and all the more chaos.

'Could you be a dear and set the table for me, Hermione?' Mrs Weasley asked, looking up from the pot of soup gratefully. 'Watch out for the broken dishes and such - Fred and George were being themselves again -'

'I guess nothing's changed,' came Ginny's wry voice from behind them. Hermione turned around to find that Ginny had already begun placing plates (the ones that had not been smashed) at each of the seats around the table.

Hermione laughed and agreed. 'Where are they, anyway?' she asked as she grabbed a handful of knives and forks and started placing them next to the plates Ginny had lain down.

'Those two took Alicia and Angelina with them to Diagon Alley after wreaking havoc in here,' said Mrs Weasley, sounding extremely irritated. 'Said they wanted to have a nice dinner alone for once.'

'Mum, they're going to be here for the next two weeks,' said Ginny patiently. 'There's no need to get worked up over their absence.'

'I know,' sighed Mrs Weasley. 'It's just that recent murder that's got me on my toes...who knows what's brewing out there...for all we know, the Death Eaters could be plotting to rise up again with a new leader.'

'You're being paranoid now,' said Ginny lightly. 'Besides, they'll be fine if one of Voldemort's old cronies decides to attack them. I'm sure they could pull out a Decoy Detonator and get away before any harm is done.'

Mrs Weasley laughed nervously. 'I suppose...'

'Don't worry, Mrs Weasley,' Hermione said soothingly. 'If we hear anything at work, we'll let you know.'

At that moment, the sound of someone clearing his throat caused Hermione and Ginny to look at the same time. Harry and a very livid-looking Ron were standing at the foot of the stairs.

'Is dinner ready?' Harry asked quickly, looking nervously over at Ron.

'It will be in a few minutes if the two of you sit down,' Mrs Weasley answered without turning around. She was now using her wand to direct the pot of soup to pour a hefty amount of its contents into each of five large bowls.

Concerned, Hermione asked, 'Are you alright, Ron?' as she pulled up a chair and sat down.

Ron glared at her in response and, through tight lips, replied, 'We need to talk.'

Hermione was alarmed to find that Ron's ears were beginning to turn scarlet, which was never an indication of anything good to come. She exchanged a nonplussed look with Ginny, but said nothing, assuming that the 'talk' Ron had referred to would take place after dinner.

'So Hermione,' said Ginny casually as she helped her mother bring over plates of bread and a large chicken and ham pie, 'are you going to come carolling with us on Christmas Eve?'

'Carolling?'

'Yeah, remember, we're going with Neville and his Gran.'

With a small 'Oh!', Hermione remembered what Ginny was talking about. Every year, the Weasleys plus Hermione and Harry went carolling with the Longbottoms. It was a custom they had started two years ago. Mrs Weasley usually insisted on the whole family going, as it was, in her words, 'a good bonding experience'.

Hermione was just about to say that she would be going as always when it hit her that she had offered to meet with Shadow on Christmas Eve. You'll just have to change the date...it's not like moving the meeting a day back will hurt anyone...

'No, sorry, I don't think I'm going to go this year.'

'Why not?' Ron asked sharply above the exclamations of protest from Ginny and Mrs Weasley.

Hermione blinked. 'My schedule...my schedule is tied up,' she lied, wincing inwardly. It's just one white lie, she reassured herself. Just this once.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her, but said no more, and instead ripped a piece of bread apart with more violence than needed.

Confused by Ron's odd behaviour, Hermione returned to buttering her bread slowly. She puzzled over the possible causes of his change in mood. Could it be whatever he and Harry had been discussing that Harry didn't want Mrs Weasley to know about?

'There was another werewolf attack,' said Harry suddenly. Mrs Weasley dropped her spoon, causing onion soup to splash all over her front. She didn't seem to notice, though, for she was staring at Harry in horror. 'That's what I was going to tell you after dinner,' Harry added to Hermione.

Apalled, Hermione put her bread down and brought her hand to her mouth. 'Oh, Harry, that's awful!'

'I know. It happened just a few hours ago, and it was close enough to Hogsmeade that Robards is assigning you and Ginny to join a group of Aurors and Hit Wizards that will accompany the students leaving for the holidays to the train station tomorrow.'

Still stunned by Harry's announcement, Hermione could only nod numbly. It was Ginny who voiced the question she was unable to ask. 'Was anyone...y'know?'

'No, no one was bitten because it's not the full moon. But an eleven-year old girl named Bianca...they say the injuries she sustained are fatal.'

There was silence. Hermione felt dazed and winded, as if she had just run a long distance. Eleven years old? 'Was...' she swallowed and tried to speak up again. 'Was it Greyback?'

'It must've been,' Ron interjected, apparently having been momentarily snapped out of his bad mood by the discussion at hand. 'First the attack in Bristol, and now this. And he's the only one who'd attack kids when he's not even transformed.'

'My goodness,' whispered Mrs Weasley. She had a hand over her heart and looked rather faint. 'Eleven?'

Harry nodded grimly. 'All I know is that she was out at a park with her father, and she was attacked. Her father tried to stun the man - Greyback - but he was stunned from behind. He woke up to find his daughter gone. She...they found her in the forest a few miles away.'

The table fell silent again. For the remainder of the dinner, hardly a word was spoken, for everyone seemed to be absorbing the dismal news Harry had brought.

The moment Hermione was finished eating, she stood up and excused herself. No one said anything, so Hermione picked up her plate, put it on the counter, and left the kitchen as quickly as possible. The atmosphere there was stifling, and she wanted to get away from it.

As Hermione began ascending the stairs, she heard Ron ask to be excused as well from behind her. A few moments later, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and she turned around to face him.

'What is it?' she asked, remembering what he had said earlier about needing to talk.

'This!' Ron said angrily, whipping out a folded letter from his pocket. 'What the hell is this?'

Hermione frowned. 'A letter.'

'Just a letter, eh?' Ron hissed. He shook it in Hermione's face. 'You're still communicating with him, aren't you? And what now? You're meeting each other?'

With a thrill of dread, Hermione realised that Ron was holding the letter she had written earlier to Shadow. How did he get that? she thought numbly, mentally running through her actions earlier that day. She had brought it upstairs with her, then secured it under the frame of her mirror...it must have fallen off and caught Ron's attention somehow.

'Ron -'

'What's your excuse this time?' Ron yelled. He jabbed at words on the parchment. 'Your schedule's full on Christmas Eve, is it? What other rubbish do you plan on pulling out of your arse so you can meet with him? Again?'

'Ron!' Hermione exclaimed reproachfully. 'Will you calm down and let me explain myself?'

'THERE'S NOTHING TO EXPLAIN!' Ron roared. He looked like a mad man; his flaming red hair was sticking out in every which way, and his freckles stood out in stark contrast against his skin, which had turned white in his fury.

'For goodness sake, Ron, we met once and all we did was talk about work!'

'You don't even know anything about him!' Ron cried. 'And now you're lying to us so you can be with him!'

'Be with him?' Hermione repeated in disbelief. Her outrage flared up within her, and she felt her cheeks flush with anger. 'That's it! I've had enough of you minding my business as if it's yours! If you trusted me, there would be nothing to worry about!'

Ron looked stunned by Hermione's outburst. For a moment, his mouth silently opened and closed like a fish out of water. 'Trust - trusted you -' he spluttered.

'Yes, trusted me!' Hermione yelled, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. 'Because that's what good boyfriends do. They have faith in their girlfriends' loyalty!'

'How do you expect me to have faith in your loyalty when you're gallivanting around with some - some bloke you've never even seen - and lying to me about it?'

'Well maybe it's because I know you'd explode like this if you knew!' Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up. 'Stop acting like I can only have eyes for you if I'm going to date you, Ronald!'

'So what?! It's not right for you to -'

'Right?!' Hermione retorted with a derisive laugh, cutting Ron off. 'You're preaching me about what's right and wrong? Do I need to remind you of all those times in school when -'

'I BLOODY WELL AM!' Ron bellowed before Hermione could finish her sentence. 'This is beyond me copying your goddamned homework! You act like everyone has to follow your every wish and command, Hermione. Like I'm supposed to just sit on the sidelines while you go romping around behind my back, like no one is allowed to have a say in your life if you won't have it!'

And with that, Ron grasped the other end of the letter to Shadow and tore it in two. As if this wasn't enough, he drew his wand, looking like he wanted nothing more than to finish off all traces of the letter once and for good. Before Ron could utter a word, however, Hermione grabbed his wrist and snatched his wand out of his hand.

'Stop it!' Hermione screamed, trying to push him away as he attempted to get his wand back. 'Just stop it! Don't think you can control my life, Ron, because you can't!'

And with a choked sob, she shoved Ron's wand back into his hands, pushed him out of her way, and stumbled back down the stairs, across the hallway, and out the front door. Just before she slammed the door behind her, she shouted tearfully back to Ron, 'I'm not perfect, Ron, but neither are you - so don't you dare make me out to be the only culprit!'

Once outside, Hermione burst out crying. For a few minutes, she simply let her frustration and petulance seep out through her tears. It was all becoming too much. Her job, the murder, the werewolf attacks, keeping Shadow a secret, and now Ron.

Why can't he just understand for once? Hermione thought, fuming, as her sobs began to subside, leaving her gulping down large amounts of the chilly night air. Forcibly ignoring the little voice that reminded her she had lied to him and the other Weasleys, Hermione swiped furiously at her wet cheeks. She had chosen not to tell Ron about Shadow because she didn't want him to be upset, not because she thought she was doing something wrong.

It was not long before Hermione became aware of how cold she was. It was still snowing, and now it occurred to her that she had not brought a cloak when she ran out the door. Shivering, Hermione pointed her wand at herself and whispered, 'Tepicorpus!' Immediately, a bubble of warmth enveloped her.

Hermione knew that sooner or later, someone (Probably Ginny or Harry, she reasoned) would come out looking for her. As she was in no mood to return to the house at the moment, she decided to take a walk. To light her way, she conjured up a little ball of flames which fell out of the tip of her wand and onto the palm of her hand - a spell she had learned from Lupin and modified to fit her own needs.

As Hermione set out into the dark, snow-speckled night, her thoughts wandered to Shadow. She wondered where he was and whether he was alone. Her heart ached as she remembered his previous letters and his confessions of loneliness. Would he be spending Christmas alone? As angry as Hermione was with Ron at the moment, she couldn't imagine spending the holidays without the company of someone, whether it be her parents or the Weasleys and Harry.

The idea of Shadow sitting at home alone while faint strains of Christmas carols floated in through an open window troubled Hermione. She looked upwards, and as she did, she was surprised to see what appeared to be a large snowflake descending steadily towards her. Confused, Hermione kept watching the white blob until the vague outline of a snowy white owl became distinguishable.

'What are you doing here?' Hermione murmured once the owl landed on a scraggly bush a few feet away. She edged towards the creature, her thoughts briefly flitting towards Harry's old owl, Hedwig. This owl looked exactly like Hedwig, but they couldn't be the same, for Hedwig had died several years ago.

The owl blinked its dark amber eyes as Hermione approached. As if to answer her question, it stuck out its leg, revealing the letter it was carrying.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, puzzled. None of her friends had a snowy white owl. Curious, she reached forward and detached the letter from the owl's leg.

'Thank you,' she said to it with a small smile.

The owl hooted solemnly at this. At this point, however, instead of taking off back into the night, it simply ruffled its feathers and looked at Hermione expectantly.

Surmising that the writer of the note intended for her to send a reply with the owl, Hermione unfurled the tightly-rolled parchment she now held and glanced at the first line. Her heart skipped a beat when she read the words, 'Dear Starlight' written in small, neat script. The letter was from Shadow.

Hermione looked nervously over her shoulder, as if to make sure Ron wasn't behind her. Then, with a thrill of excitement, she began to read Shadow's words.

Dear Starlight,

To be honest, I had a very long letter written up and ready to send to you. However, I'd prefer to speak to you in person, so I'm going to keep this as succinct as possible: Would you like to meet again? If so, please send a reply back with Latera (my owl) with the date and time.

Sincerely,

Shadow

Her heart pounding more fiercely than ever, Hermione quickly searched the pockets of her robe. She had never been more thankful that she carried a quill and parchment around with her at all times. After a few seconds, she managed to extract a bent but fully functional eagle-feather quill from one of the inside pockets.

As best as she could without a flat surface to write on, Hermione brought her quill to the back of Shadow's letter and scrawled, with only a second's hesitation, 6pm on Christmas Eve.