A Long Way from Home

Chapter X

Ron let out a loud snore and Harry jumped slightly in his chair. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and taking stock of the room. It was daylight, but he was unsure of the time. Hermione’s door was still closed and a quick scan revealed that the wards were undisturbed. Ron was sprawled out on the floor, flat on his back and taking up what appeared to be every square inch of floor space. He was leaning in an overstuffed chair and had been sleeping against a little cushion of some sort. Frowning, he looked around the room carefully, as if to verify that it had indeed been Ron’s snoring that had awakened him.

Barely moving, Harry cast a silencing charm over Ron’s prone figure and waited for a full ten seconds of silence. Hearing nothing, he pointed his wand at the door and waited. The door handle glowed a cerulean blue and he knew that the room had been undisturbed since he’d put the wards up last night.

Sighing, Harry ran his fingers through his hair before leaning forward and perching his forehead against his hand, feeling out of sorts and bothered. Truth be told, it was the best night of sleep he’d had in weeks and he strongly suspected it was largely due to Hermione’s closeness, but he couldn’t help feel uneasy about the fact that he’d slept so soundly. If they were to leave for Romania in just a few hours, it wouldn’t do well that he was so unused to being in the field. Standing, Harry stretched and looked towards the heavy wooden door that led to Hermione’s sleeping chamber, debating whether he should wake her.

After looking once more at Ron, Harry moved silently to the door and opened it quietly. Hermione was still sleeping, curled on her right side. Her hair was a mess on her pillow and she had the covers wound securely around her legs. He watched her for a few moments as an odd pain welled up inside his chest. He knew that he had hurt her and that it was very possible they’d never get back what they’d built over the past few months. Crossing to her bedside quietly, he knelt down next to her and placed his hand on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered. He wanted to reach out and touch her but knew that doing so would be crossing a line. He leaned back on his heels and said her name again, this time a little louder.

She opened her eyes instantly and looked at him coldly before her gaze softened.

“What time is it?” she said quietly, yawning.

“Close to noon. I’m going to get our supplies soon, would you help me?” asked Harry, looking down at the deep red carpet upon which he kneeled and purposely avoiding direct eye contact with her. Every time he’d look at her over the past twenty-four hours, it had felt as if his heart was breaking afresh. He couldn’t fathom how he’d let everything get so out of hand that he’d hurt her as badly as he had and he wasn’t yet willing to think over what it had and would cost him.

“Of course. Let me have a shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchens. Is Ron awake yet?”

Harry just shook his head. She nodded silently in response and rose out of the bed, gracefully letting the covers fall back. He stood and turned to walk out of the room.

“Harry?”

He turned and looked at her for the first time since she’d spoken. “Yes?”

She regarded him silently, her face completely passive. “Nothing,” she replied and quickly went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Harry left the room silently and checked to see if Ron was still sleeping. The silence charm was still holding as Harry went back to the main part of the castle.

The panic and frustration from the night before had mellowed to an organized and purposed bustling. There were groups settled around him, all working on various tasks and preparing for various situations. There was a quiet voice coming from the fireplace in the kitchens and he noticed that Remus was kneeling in front of it, carrying on a conversation with someone’s disembodied head.

His old professor noticed him and without turning, waved Harry over.

“You’re expected in Sighisoara by moonrise, in three days. If you have not arrived at the castle by that time, you will not be permitted an audience with the Council.”

“I understand,” Remus replied, his voice passive.

The head in the fire bowed imperceptibly and the flames went out. Remus’ shoulders sagged and he looked up at Harry. “I hate the bloody Council’s travel rules. We can only Floo so far as Vienna, Austria and from there, we’ll have to take a magical train into Sighisoara.”

Harry rolled his eyes. The Order had dealt with the vampires in the past, he knew, and there were multiple stories of their strange and secretive ways. “Hermione and I will pack everything we need from a magical standpoint. I trust everyone can take care of their own personal affects.”

Remus nodded and stood from the hearth, brushing his robes absentmindedly. “I’m going to spend some time with my wife then. I’ll see you at five.”

Harry watched as his old friend and mentor walked out of the room and let his own shoulders sag. He was wary of having to travel by train and not only because it meant so much time in close proximity to Hermione. Traveling by such slow means made them vulnerable and open to attacks. At least they could use the time to formulate a more concrete plan and gain some knowledge about what was happening.

Harry sighed and settled down at a rough-hewn wooden table, large enough to easily seat two dozen people. He mentally traced the wood grain, remembering times long past spent staring at this very table. Many meals had been eaten here and hours spent studying and preparing for their final battles. It was the room they used when they needed to get away from the library for awhile and it was where they spent a great deal of their free time, enjoying the coziness and warmth of the room and the always-available snacks and hot drinks.

“Harry?” a welcome voice beckoned to him quietly.

“Have a good shower?” he asked, his voice falsely bright as he joined Hermione across the room.

She nodded barely and turned to head back out the door. They made their way to the cellars next to the kitchen, navigating the dark staircase in silence. Hermione whispered some spell and a gentle, orange light bathed the room. There were stocked shelves lining the stone walls, bearing extra wands, field medical kits, homing talismans, communication bands and nameless other tools left over from the days of the war. This had been the base for countless missions, both reconnaissance and offensive. Hermione took down two of the many black knapsacks hanging on hooks and set it on the ground. Harry also grabbed two and set them down in line with the first ones.

With a wave of Hermione’s hand, the bags were standing rigid and open, waiting for supplies. Wordlessly, they moved about the room, adding kits and charms, bandages and potions. It was familiar work, uncomfortably so. They each knew too well what was recovered for times like this.

After several minutes, Hermione finally spoke. “Did you remember to put cloaking charms over that blood-replenishing potion? It insults the vampires if they can smell it.”

“Vampires are pompous arseholes,” Harry said quietly, casting a cloaking charm over the ruby red bottles.

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed for a moment before laughing heartily. “They are, aren’t they? I must say, I never thought I’d see the day when we’d be asking them for help. Last time, they were so quick to join up with Voldemort that I’m surprised by their hesitation.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m sure they have their reasons, it’s not as if it’s in their hearts to do some good and help their fellow man.”

“Indeed,” Hermione replied distractedly, as she had begun to run over a mental checklist of their packs, occasionally adding additional items. Harry watched her work, a sadness permeating him as he watched how she bit her lips and crinkled her brow in concentration. It felt like ages had passed since he’d kissed her on Christmas. On Boxing Day, he had brought her here and had kissed her hurriedly, expecting to be back within several hours. And the hours passed, and then the days. The thought of her out of the castle, in danger’s path, kept him awake at night. He resolved that it was best for her to stay at Idyllwild and he trusted that she would agree.

But he couldn’t gather the courage to tell her that – not in a letter and definitely not to her face. He was a coward for not talking to her and for ignoring everything that had happened at the Burrow, but he couldn’t ease the image of Hermione being kidnapped by dark-cloaked wizards and taken away from him. His desire to protect her had won out and he had left her alone in the Order’s headquarters, confident that he was doing the right thing.

He was a coward and a fool. Keeping Hermione tucked away had cost him her knowledge and attention to detail. She was always the one to help him work through issues, always the one by his side into the wee hours of the morning. She was his right hand and the one constant thing in his life; even in all the time they had spent apart. She had been with him always, for the voice of his conscience was hers.

Without her, he had floundered, been lost and fairly confused. He felt as if he had been grasping at straws all along and the attack in Hogsmeade had caught everyone off guard. His fears and selfishness had cost them too much. But she was here now and she would be the one to save them all, just as she always had been.

He studied her carefully as she checked through their items a final time. Satisfied, she nodded and wandlessly shrunk each pack to the size of a cigarette box. Harry scooped them up and motioned for Hermione to lead him from the room, his face grave and passive as she walked past him. They were silent as they went upstairs to see if Ron had awakened.

***

Ron checked once more to make sure the locking charm was cast over the bathroom door. He pulled a thin envelope from his robes and opened it gingerly, easing the pictures contained within into his hand.

Fred had dropped the envelope off while Harry and Hermione had been gone and he hadn’t yet had a moment to look into it.

There were two snapshots, one Muggle and the other magical. The Muggle photo featured Andie, alone in the frame. She was cast into shadow by the light streaming in a 13th story window at some hotel in New York City. He had asked her to marry him the night (You’ll marry me won’t you? Yes! Of course, yes!) before and silhouetted in the photo was his new bride-to-be, looking thoughtfully down at what Ron knew to be the small but beautiful diamond on her left hand. You couldn’t see the ring in the photo, but her fingers were held loosely, her hand outstretched from her body. Ron took in a shaky breath and put the photo behind the second shot.

In this one, they were standing together at Hogwarts, framed by the castle looming above them on a gorgeous June day. They both wore their professors’ robes, but unfastened. Ron had his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks and was laughing. Andie wore a knee-length straight skirt and a thin gray sweater over her white blouse. She was primly kissing his cheek and laughing at him. He would turn to whisper something in her ear and she would nod before they started all over again.

Closing his eyes, Ron tucked the photos into an interior pocket of his robes and tossed the envelope into the trash bin. He counted to ten before steeling himself and unlocking the door. His friends were waiting for him and it was time to bring his wife home.

Countless hours later, the Trio was huddled in their double bedroom suite on board one of the magical trains that left daily from Vienna. Remus had gone off in search of food and Harry and Hermione were sitting quietly, as if they were purposely not talking to each other. He had decided not to pay it much mind and now Ron was staring out the window; it was dark outside and he could only make out shadows of trees through the foggy and rain-covered windows.

His thoughts wandered around aimlessly, playing over and over memories of his wife. The little things, her laugh and the way she tucked her hair into a loose knot when she was reading for one of her lessons. The full movie-like scenes playing out in his head, a long discussion about Quidditch between Andie and McGonagall had led to a fiery debate with Ron. Much to his delight, the Cannons had absolutely trounced the Harpies and he didn’t care about the team record at all. Andie owed him a dinner at the Three Broomsticks.

He thought of the flannel pajamas she wore each night and how every morning, she sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea from a thick, hand-made mug and wearing obnoxious slippers that looked like dragon feet. She always hated how her hair looked without a good taming charm and couldn’t stand the small gap between her front teeth. She had three freckles on her nose.

Leaning forward, Ron rested his forehead in the palms of his hands and took several deep, raspy breaths. Hermione, who was sitting next to him, leaned forward and reached over to rub his back gently. She didn’t speak and after a few minutes, the waves of nausea crashing over him subsided and his breathing returned to normal. He lifted his head to find Harry looking directly at him, an unfamiliar sadness shadowing his eyes. Ron stared back at Harry, willing his friend to say something, anything.

Anger flared up inside Ron, inexplicably.

“Why? Why did they have to take her?” he said loudly, angrily. Hermione shifted uncomfortably next to him.

“Ron,” she said quietly. “You know we don’t know the answer to that. We can only guess, and I really don’t think it will do us any good.” Her gaze was piercing, but strangely gentle and he felt himself calming down once more. He nodded once and turned to stare out the window at the passing countryside. He felt Hermione’s arm loop over his shoulder and he sighed wearily at the comfort and care that gently flowed from her. During their roughest times in past adventures, she had been the solid force right by his side. It had been different then – he had loved her. Now, however, it was the embrace of a sister, a best friend.

He sensed rather than saw the look that passed between his best friends and wondered vaguely what had happened between them. Only a few months ago, they had seemed closer than ever and now, they could barely look at the other. Shrugging inwardly, he decided that if they weren’t going to discuss it, whatever it was, then neither was he. Harry and Hermione were his closest and oldest friends, but he had other issues weighing on his mind.

The familiar tap of an owl sounded at the window and Ron opened it just wide enough for a large spotted owl to squeeze in. He saw a parchment tied to the leg of the bird as Hermione stood to cast drying charms over the avian messenger. She untied the parchment and handed it wordlessly to Harry, opting instead to feed the owl treats and stroke its feathers.

Ron recognized the owl as belonging to Tonks and saw that the note was in her handwriting. Remus ducked into the suite as Harry scanned the letter. He scribbled something at the very bottom edge and tore the parchment in two, handing his reply back to Hermione.

In a flash the bird was off again and Hermione had the letter in her hands.

“We have received news and confirmation of three separate attacks, at various magical sites,” she read aloud, her voice even. “Will owl ahead to Romanian ministry for use of secured Floo.”

“That’s it?” Ron replied. “That doesn’t tell us anything.”

Hermione sighed and handed the paper to Remus. “I would bet money…” she said softly, almost to herself before crossing over to her vacated seat and taking a leather portfolio from her knapsack. She flipped through several leaves of parchment before handing something over to Harry.

“Stonehenge? Avebury? Castlerigg?”

Ron perked as Harry spoke the names aloud. “What about Castlerigg?” he asked.

“I’d bet money that’s where the three attacks were,” Hermione replied.

“What makes you think so?” Remus asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder at Hermione’s notes.

“The break-ins. Of course,” Harry said quietly, his eyes on the piece of parchment. “Hermione, why didn’t you send this to us sooner?”

For some reason, at least one unbeknownst to Ron, Hermione didn’t answer him, but merely glared. Harry glared back for a moment before sighing and giving the parchment back to her.

“I’ve only been formulating this for about a day,” she finally said. “I… well, I trained at Avebury. And Harry, you were at Stonehenge, weren’t you?”

“And I was at Castlerigg,” Ron interrupted, standing to join his friends.

“I think that all this, whatever it is, might have something to do with that, but I can’t put my finger on just what it might be.” She turned to look at Remus, who had noticeably stepped back from the group and was looking very uncomfortable.

“Remus? Do you know something?” Harry finally asked.

“Not really,” he replied quietly. “I only know my role in everything that happened. I’m sure that Professor McGonagall was aware of the full process, but I wasn’t privy to the same information that she was.”

“You must be joking,” said Hermione. “You really have no idea?”

“I was still considered a young member of the Order, Hermione, as was Professor Snape. We were given orders and we followed them.”

“What do you mean, younger member? You were in the original Order!” Hermione replied.

“Yes, in a way. But this group goes back much farther than the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione. You ought to know that. The Order is just the latest reincarnation of the group-“

“The group that has long fought to rid the world of evil and darkness, yeah, we’ve heard that all before,” Harry cut in, shaking his head. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything, Remus. You performed all these complex rituals and taught us some ridiculously complicated magic and you didn’t even know why?”

“Well, of course I knew why. It was that you could defeat Voldemort.”

Ron groaned and took his seat, his head aching slightly at the escalating argument.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said. “That these three places are being attacked right now doesn’t exactly smack of strange coincidence, Professor.”

Remus held up his hands. “Listen, I’m telling you what I know. I was told to train Ron for a specific role in the spell that the three of you would use to defeat Voldemort. I was told to do this by McGonagall and I just did my job. I do not know of any other motivation behind what was done.”

Ron watched as Harry seemed to consider his Professor’s words before resuming his seat across the way. Remus’ shoulders sagged and he too took his seat, leaving only Hermione now standing.

She began pacing back and forth across the small suite; Harry’s eyes followed her every motion. Ron frowned and stood up, saying his goodnights and heading into the small room where a pair of bunk beds were set into the wall. He climbed into the bottom bunk and slid the curtain around for privacy. Hermione and Harry exchanged a few words and Remus soon entered the sleeping room.

The exterior lights dimmed behind his curtain and Ron settled deeper against his thin pillow, willing that sleep might finally come.

***

Hermione hefted her knapsack over the shoulder of her black traveling cloak and sighed. To be sure, magical trains traveled faster than the muggle counterpart, but they had just spent over twenty-four hours cooped in a small suite and she was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic. She checked her watch, a gift from her mother, and saw that it was nearly ten p.m. She silently hoped they wouldn’t have any problems getting into the inn Remus had set up for them.

Harry moved silently to stand next to her and together, they followed Remus and Ron out of the train station. It was a clear, frosty night in the ancient city, but she could see dark clouds moving in from the west. Despite the circumstances of their travel and the so obviously looming storm, Hermione was mildly delighted that she could see the medieval architecture so easily. She had read about Sighisoara many times, but had never visited before. Remus and Tonks typically dealt with magical creatures, but even they had had rare opportunity to meet with vampires.

The train station that they had exited was in the Muggle part of the city and they would have to trek some distance to reach the magical quarter. Remus stopped briefly on the stone sidewalk outside the station and cast his head in either direction. After a moment, he nodded and they began their long walk.

After several turns and thirty minutes, they had arrived in front of a darkened and run-down bookshop. It was beginning to rain steadily; the long drizzle that had plagued them for the past quarter of an hour had finally strengthened and her cloak was beginning to soak through. The few passersby moved quickly past them, never looking up from the dark and slick sidewalk. She was reminded of the charms surrounding the Leaky Cauldron and knew that they must have arrived at their destination. She paused as Remus checked for anyone watching them before ducking into the store. She felt Ron nudge her through the portal and heard Harry close the door behind him.

The shop was empty and smelled strongly of damp mold. Remus led them across the dusty and uneven wooden floor towards a curtain set in the wall. With a casual wave of his wand, the curtain moved itself aside and displayed a heavy metal door.

Without fanfare, they opened the door and Hermione glimpsed over Remus’ shoulder a bustling and lively main thoroughfare. Surprised, she felt herself instinctively look for sunshine. The street that they had entered onto was as busy as any Saturday in Diagon Alley. Looking closer, however, she saw that it was peopled by a far different crowd. There were very obvious vampires lurking about, ducking in and out of stores and talking in hurried whispers on the street. A group of what appeared to be banshees and hags were gathered around a flaming cauldron and talking in shrill voices. Ron and Harry both momentarily paused as they passed two long-legged Veelas seated at a café table. She clucked her tongue at them as they resumed their slow pace through the odd crowd.

Hermione took a chance to look around at the magical street. One had the sense that Diagon Alley had been squeezed into the spaces between other buildings in London. Its shops were close together and the cobble-stoned streets were quite narrow. The wares peddled at the various stores often spilled out into the street and it was not uncommon to have duck in and amongst the crowds of people. This area, however, was open and orderly. The stores were all properly closed up and the groups of people huddled off to the side and out of the way. Strangest of all, however, was that the entire area was walled in and in the very center of everything loomed a large, terrifyingly black castle. In the moonlight and rain, it looked like slick, polished marble. She could see the two large towers clearly, but the bottom edges of the castle were obscured by the buildings surrounding it. She knew from her readings that this was the home of the Blood Council, but felt she would have known that just by looking at the place.

The Blood Council was the reigning government over all vampires. Employing dozens of vampires world-wide, the Council acted as a sort of intermediary between the different Magical governments. They had sovereignty in this part of Romania and due to crafty legislation, many vampires fell under the jurisdiction of the council. Hermione knew that in Britain’s case, the Ministry greatly preferred that the vampires deal with their own issues and were all too happy to hand over any rogue, vampiric criminals they happened upon.

In years past, the Council made decisions for the vampire community as a whole. In the last war with Voldemort, however, they had been split evenly on a course of action. Approximately half of all vampires had sided with Voldemort, while the rest had remained as neutral mercenaries.

“We need to get an owl to our liaison at the Council,” said Remus, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts. They formed a tightly knit group as they walked down another one of the busy streets. Various confounding and silencing charms had long been cast over them and they were easily able to converse without worry of eavesdropping.

“We’re a day early – do you think there’s any chance we can meet them early?” Harry asked.

“I doubt it,” Remus replied. “The invitation is for tomorrow and they will stick to that.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

“This is where we’re staying,” Remus said, gesturing to the three-story building they had stopped in front of. “I was only able to get two rooms on such short notice.”

Harry and Ron both shrugged and Hermione just waved his words away. “We’ve shared far worse sleeping arrangements,” she supplied. “This will be no problem.”

They checked in at reception and were quickly led to their lodgings. Wordlessly, Ron walked into the first room and turned to face them. “Seeing as Remus and I are the married men here, I suppose we ought to share. It seems as if each suite has two bedrooms anyhow.”

Hermione leveled a glare at her best friend, but couldn’t fault his logic. She was the odd one out and it made the most sense for her to share with Harry. She fully intended to lock herself in her room and take a hot bath before going to bed.

She felt a hand on her elbow as Harry began to guide her down the hall. She waved goodnight to Ron and Remus before pulling her arm away from Harry and falling in step behind him. She had noticed in the lobby that this was a magical hotel, but she now saw that each door had a wand-triggered locking mechanism built in. Despite its somewhat imposing and gloomy atmosphere, the inn seemed fairly up-to-date.

“Here we are,” Harry said quietly and slid his wand through the keyhole. There was a small click and the door swung open noiselessly. Harry lit his wand and went through the door, checking the corners of the immediate room they walked into. Hermione watched as he cast a few security spells and after several moments, he gave her the go-ahead to come into the room.

“This isn’t bad at all,” she said, wondering if her words sounded as hollow as they felt.

For his part, Harry just nodded and looked away from her. Her chest constricted as she saw the cool gaze that was resting on his face. He’d barely looked her fully in the eyes over the past few days and she felt something inside her shatter every time he locked his gaze on something over her shoulder or didn’t even bother to turn his head up to her.

“Harry…I, about everything I said the other day…”

“Yeah?” he replied, finally looking at her. She saw a flicker of something briefly and was startled when she realized what it was. For the past few days, Harry had regarded her with a blank look on his face. There was no trace of kindness or years of friendship or even, only very recently, love. He had merely looked at her as if she was some stranger in the room. His cool gaze had driven home the force of all she had said. Just now, however, she had seen something new: anger.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, about the way I said everything that I did.”

“What do you mean, the way you said everything?”

“Yes, nothing came out the way I meant it,” she said weakly.

Finally, another emotion seeped into his eyes, though it was only confusion.

“I was hurtful, Harry. I said some terrible things to you, things that you didn’t deserve and for that, I apologize. I know that you were doing what you thought best for me.”

Her words seemed to release something within him and he sat on one of the worn leather chairs that were grouped around an oppressively large and dark stone fireplace. He nodded his head. “Do you really understand, Hermione?”

She frowned sadly and sat in the chair opposite him. “I’m sorry, but no, I don’t understand, Harry. I know that’s what you were doing, but it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I was trying to protect you! Keep you safe-“

“Yes, but what changed, Harry? You used to want me by your side.” She hated herself even as she said it, wondering vaguely if she always sounded so whiny. She held her ground anyway and looked at Harry rather severely.

In a breath, Harry had moved from his chair and was kneeling next to her. There was a look of fear in his eyes. “Hermione, please, it wasn’t that. You have to understand, that I know I had no logical reason to keep you away, but I couldn’t escape the idea that you would get hurt, or captured,” he added, wincing. “I’m selfish, Hermione. I love you and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“But I’m with you now…” she said quietly.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you and I can’t bear the thought of not having you by my side at every moment.” He took both of her hands between his and looked at their intertwined fingers.

Hermione followed his gaze and was silent for several moments before she spoke, letting the tears build up in her eyes without bothering to try and wipe them away. “You have been my best friend for half my life, Harry. Even when we were apart for so long, I still considered you the closest person in the world to me. I’ll always be by your side, but I’m not some secret thing you can keep locked in a castle. I’ve spent half my life right next to you, by choice, battling with you and carrying you when I had to, just as you carried me. But it’s still my life, Harry. And I need to live it by my own standards, not yours.”

“I know that it wasn’t my decision to make,” Harry replied after he’d let her words sink in. “What can I do so that you’ll forgive me?” he asked and she longed to fling her arms around him at that very moment. Her heart was bursting and she knew that she was a fool. She was in love with the man kneeling before her, and probably had been forever. He had been everything to her, since she was a very young girl and it was in her very nature to forgive him any and all transgressions. Something, however, told her to hold her ground for now.

“I need to know that I can trust you… to trust me. I need you to do let me do what’s best for me.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She frowned. “Not just okay, Harry. You’re going to have to – to show me and you’re going to have to give me time.”

This time, he didn’t speak, but merely returned his gaze to their joined hands. With some reluctance, Hermione pulled away from him and kissed him gently on the top of his head. “I promise you, when this is all over, we’ll have the conversation we’ve needed to have for a very long time,” she said softly into his hair. “I love you, Harry James Potter and that will never change.”

She rose out of her chair and went to her private chamber before she lost all resolve. It had taken every fiber of her being to walk away, but she knew it was what had to be done. She could not, however, bring herself to look back at Harry.

Hours later, someone was knocking gently on her door.

“Hermione?” Ron’s voice came to her through her early morning fogginess.

She sat up and allowed herself a moment to more fully awake before she put on her dressing gown and started across to answer her door.

“Good morning, Ron. What time is it?”

“It’s after eleven, sleepyhead,” he said sarcastically. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?”

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled the dressing gown tighter around herself. “Well, what’s going on?”

“We’re going to have a little strategy meeting over breakfast and after that, we have to go to the Romanian ministry about using an international fireplace.”

Hermione nodded and chewed thoughtfully at her bottom lip. “Have you seen Harry yet?” she finally asked Ron, avoiding his gaze.

“He’s with Remus, actually. He was leaving as I came in, so I decided to wake you up.”

“Oh,” she answered quietly, feeling somewhat sad that Harry hadn’t decided to wake her up himself. Immediately, she chided herself for being so foolish. Hadn’t she just asked him for space and a little bit of time? She was annoyed with herself for being so fickle about this entire situation. One minute she wanted to strike out and claim independence and the next she wanted to curl up in Harry’s arms and have him tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She was being a ninny and she knew it, but for some reason seemed powerless to stop.

“…Hermione?” Ron asked, looking at her strangely. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts and looked at him more clearly. “Of course I am. You needn’t worry about me Ron, not now.”

She could immediately tell that he didn’t believe her at all, but for whatever reason he didn’t press the issue.

Finally, he just shrugged. “Get ready and come to the other suite as soon as you can. And bring your notes.”

“I will. See you in a few minutes,” she said as he turned to leave. Feeling forlorn and lonely, Hermione walked into her en-suite bathroom to clean up before breakfast.

Her traveling companions were waiting in the other suite amidst a surprisingly English breakfast. Ron was seated before a plate filled with eggs and sausages, while Harry had beans piled high over a couple of pieces of toast. They both nodded greetings to her as they ate and she smiled gently in return. When Remus gestured to a teapot in the center of the table, she nodded and gratefully took a hot cup of tea.

“Did you sleep?” Remus asked.

“I did. Quite well, actually. These are far better accommodations than we’re used to on these types of trips,” she replied as she peered over the serving trays and selected a baklava from the pastry basket.

Both Harry and Ron grunted their agreement.

“It’s common here,” Remus said. “The tourists usually rent out castles in this area, but frequently, travelers on government business are only in for a few nights. Everything is, I guess, like business class.”

“I hope they’re this hospitable at the castle,” Ron said as he shoveled fried egg into his mouth. Hermione smiled slightly at the comforting sign of Ron eating well.

“I’m sure they won’t be,” said Harry.

“I don’t think it will go badly. The Council has been very agreeable so far,” Remus said. “After we eat, I’d like to head down to the Ministry.”

“Do we have a contact?” Hermione asked, before taking another bite of the sweet sticky pastry.

“Olivia Petrescu is a good witch and a long-standing ally of the Order. She’s also an old schoolfriend of Nymphadora’s. I’ve owled her since Ron woke you – our appointment is in ninety minutes.”

“Shall we leave soon then?”

“It’ll take a bit of time to get checked in at the Ministry and we’ll need to be at the Castle by five.”

Silence settled over them as they quickly finished their breakfasts. Hermione looked over her companions and was relieved to see that a good night’s rest and plenty of food had put them in better spirits. They had a long day ahead of them and so far, it was off to a good start.

The trek to the Romanian Ministry of Magic was long and convoluted. The streets weren’t nearly as busy as they had been during the night, but there was still the hustle and bustle present in any large wizarding quarter. When they were delivered from the twisting, winding streets to the front of the Ministry building, Hermione was relieved to be out of the crowds.

It took thirty minutes to get through security, which involved both a wand test and some sort of blood test to make sure they weren’t vampires disguised as regular witches and wizards. She knew better than to say anything about it, but felt the last measure to be rather unnecessary considering they had just stepped out of broad daylight into the Ministry lobby.

“It’s good to see that government is bloated and nonsensical the world over,” Ron whispered over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs as they entered the lift.

On the fourth floor, a petite, dark-haired, olive-skinned witch dressed in midnight blue robes met them at the doors of the lift. She smiled warmly at Remus and reached up to kiss both his cheeks.

“Domnul Lupin, it is so pleasant to see you again. I presume that these are your companions?” Remus nodded, making brief introductions and she continued without much pause. “Bine ati venit! It is good to meet you; I hope that I can be of some help to you.”

She gestured for them to follow her and the group started off down a long pathway, past several rows of desks. It seemed like any other Ministry office Hermione had ever seen, so she found herself easily distracted from their surroundings by what Olivia was saying.

“The past few days have been a nightmare,” she said. “Ever since the attacks in Britain, the entire international community is outraged. We’re not getting any straight answers from your government and everyone is understandably panicked, wanting to know if this is one of…” she lowered her voice and looked around cautiously, “Voldemort’s followers.”

“I’m afraid we really can’t offer you too much information at this point,” Remus replied. “We’ve had limited contact with anyone at home over the past few days and when we left, there were very few solid facts about anything.”

Olivia merely nodded as she let them into a small office. Despite its size, it was well-appointed and neatly organized. There were several chairs gathered around a small, stone fireplace and the antique wood desk was set against the wall. A handful of filing cabinets were next to the desk and Hermione saw an empty cauldron on top of one. There was also a rack of various inks and quills and several bookshelves.

“Won’t you all have a seat?” she said, gesturing to the chairs. She knelt in front of the fireplace and wordlessly started a small fire in the box. After a few moments, the flames had built up significantly and she began waving her wand in an intricate pattern over them. She tossed in a handful of aqua-colored floo powder and turned to Remus.

“The international connection to Britain is set,” she said. “You may place your call now.” She stepped back from the fireplace and took Lupin’s vacated seat next to Hermione. Remus cast a cloaking charm over the fireplace, so they were able to see him sitting at the fireplace, but could not see his contact or hear what he was saying.

“How was your trip?” Olivia asked after several beats of silence.

Hermione couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Grueling. I hate traveling so far by train.”

“Yes, the Blood Council is very set in its ways. I’ve never had it confirmed, but I believe they find their travel regulations to be some sort of endurance test. They don’t like to have their time wasted and only the most dedicated are willing to make the journey through the mountains.”

Hermione nodded. “What is your job within the Ministry, Domnisoara Petrescu?” she asked, the Romanian rolling off her tongue with surprising ease.

“I am the liaison to the Blood Council. In order for magical Romania to be governed successfully, we must work closely with them to insure our interests are the same. I would not want the vampires as enemies,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. Hermione felt unease settle in the pit of her stomach as Olivia continued, “It’s been uneasy around here, as I’ve not been able to get an answer out of Lilith as to the alliance of the vampire council. There are all sorts of calls for the British Ministry to make a pre-emptive strike against this new group, to make sure they don’t have too much time to amass any followers, but the Ministry doesn’t even know who they are, much less where they would even launch such an attack.”

“What does this have to do with the Council?” Hermione asked.

“They’ve got a secret, I think. They know more than they’re letting on.”

“What do you think it is?” Harry asked, as he had obviously been listening to the entire conversation.

“I couldn’t even venture a guess,” Olivia replied, shaking her head. “The Council guards their secrets well, as I’m sure you’ll soon find out.”

Hermione sighed. “Any suggestions for a smooth meeting?”

“Do not forget that you must show the utmost respect. They are an ancient group, older even than many of the Ministries around the world. The three heads of the Council are old enough to remember ancient Rome and you must never forget that. Their methods may seem outdated and self-satisfying, but they are ways that have served the group well for thousands of years.”

Harry and Ron both seemed agitated by Olivia’s advice. “How can a group of dark magical creatures demand so much?” Ron asked.

“In Romania, we recognize vampires as wizards, Domnul Weasley. There are only a handful of countries, including yours, that do not do this. They have their own magic and their own laws, why should they only be recognized as dark creatures? It is far too simple a classification for them.”

“Do you support this idea?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Olivia replied. “Not all vampires are evil. Many try to live simple lives, work, raise families and affect the humans around them as little as possible. I think they deserve all the rights and protections afforded to other witches and wizards.”

Further conversation was preempted by Remus removing his cloaking charm.

“You were right, Hermione, about the other attacks. No one was captured, but several people were hurt.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad then, in perspective,” Hermione remarked.

“Well, it gets strange. You see, all three sites have just disappeared, right into thin air.”

Hermione couldn’t stop herself from gasping. “How is that even possible? Three places?”

“Hasn’t one of your castles already disappeared?”

“No, not disappeared. It imploded, but so far, there’s been no concrete proof that the implosion was magical in nature.”

Olivia looked at her with a skeptical twinkle in her eye. “I do not believe in coincidences,” she said.

“So, we need to find some information and fast – McGonagall has called together the High Council of the Confederation.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “That seems like an extreme measure.”

Remus shook his head. “No one wants this to get out of control, like what happened during Voldemort’s initial reign. The world governments waited too long to act.”

“When is the meeting?” Harry asked.

“They’re to convene within twenty four hours. If possible, Minerva would like you to accompany her to Ireland.”

“How would that be possible?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “In very rare instances, I am able to get the approval of the Blood Council to allow portkey travel. They may be open to allowing it in this special circumstance.”

Remus smiled at his old friend. “That would be excellent.” He looked down at his watch. “We need to head out, we have to be at the castle by five and it takes some time to get there on foot.”

Olivia smiled graciously at them and began to escort everyone from her office. After winding their way back through the Ministry hallways and being left at the doors by Olivia, they exited onto a busy thoroughfare, at the very bottom of the hill that the Castle was perched on. Hermione heard Ron sigh audibly and chuckled slightly. Some things would never change.

They began their steady climb through the streets, falling into two pairs easily. Ron and Remus were leading their small group and she and Harry brought up the rear. Another cloaking charm had been cast and Hermione was positing on the various ways whole archaeological sites could suddenly go missing.

It took them nearly an hour to reach the castle gates that had been obscured through most of the journey. By her watch, Hermione saw that it was just five. A tall, black hooded and cloaked guard was waiting for them by the small side gate. As they approached, the figure pushed back his hood, revealing a pale, gaunt face.

“Are you the party for the Order?” he asked, his voice low and lips barely moving.

Remus nodded and cleared his throat. “We are here to request a meeting with the Blood Council.”

“Request? What do you mean? I thought they had agreed to meet us?” Ron interrupted, looking at Remus and crossing his arms.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Ron, pulling him back in line with her and Harry. “We have to follow protocol, Ronald,” she hissed. A quick glare silenced the snickers from Harry.

“My apologies for my companions, sir. The mountain air is a new sensation for them,” Remus said respectfully. He inclined his head and the disdainful look of the guard mellowed slightly.

“Many humans cannot tolerate these altitudes. Your request has been granted, relying of course, on the standard guarantees. You will have an audience in thirty minutes’ time.”

Remus nodded and signaled for the others to follow him. The guard led them through the narrow gate and out onto a tall bridge, built precariously over a seemingly bottomless pit. As soon as they were within the castle walls, all remaining daylight had vanished and they became enrobed in a mix of inky darkness and cool, blue light being thrown from torches scattered throughout the structure. In narrow, single file, they started across the stone bridge, Hermione counting her footsteps and focusing her vision on the heavy castle door that was straight ahead. She nearly sighed audibly when Harry pressed a gentle hand against her back, instantly steadying her and calming her nerves. She was relieved he had volunteered to follow after her.

Endless minutes later, they arrived in front of the wooden door she had been so focused on. Its wood looked as if it had long ago been charred. Its dull black surface conflicted with the shimmering stone of the castle itself.

“Welcome to Castle Strigoi. If you will again, follow my lead, I will take you directly to the Council chamber.”

Seeing no reason to argue, the group trudged after their guard, entering through another narrow side entrance. They entered a stone-lined passageway that couldn’t have been taller than six and a half feet. Both Ron and the guard were very close to bumping their heads on the ceiling. They walked in pairs again, following their lead silently. After nearly a quarter of an hour and a very unnerving downward slope, the passage let into a large, marble-floored chamber. Tall tapestries depicting various and predictable monstrosities lined the walls and there was a knot of additional cloaked guards waiting at the very end of the room. They waited for the travelers to reach them before signaling them to halt.

“Wands out. Sleeves up,” barked the smallest guard, his voice thick-accented and greasy sounding.

They were subjected to the same security tests seen at the Ministry, but Hermione noticed additional wand scans, for which she did not know the purpose. A collective nod from the group seemed to grant them permission to proceed and they were finally escorted into the Blood Council’s chambers.

The double, blood-red doors opened into a high-ceiling circular room. On three-quarters of the circle was a raised dais, around which were seated seven women. The central three women were seated on a higher platform than the others and Hermione noticed that these were the only faces she could make out clearly. She had never been easily spooked, but her senses were overly alert in the chamber. She could smell a faint tinge of blood in the air and felt her stomach turn as the scent invaded her nostrils.

“Representatives of the Order of the Phoenix, you now stand before the highest members of our sacred Council. The Countesses have agreed to meet with you today on the topic of Alliance. You will have only thirty minutes for your request,” said another vampire guard that had stepped forward. This one sported a deep-red cloak and had some sort of official insignia across his chest. He bowed his head deferentially to the three figures seated at the head of the room.

“May I first present, Countess Lamashtu of Moldova.” At the right side of the dais was a slight, dark-haired vampire. She looked at them without a single emotion on her flawless face. Her blood red lips and onyx eyes betrayed the careful innocence etched on the creature’s face.

“Countess Ardat of Tara Romaneasca.” The vampire to the right had hair as golden as any Hermione had even seen. It hung in long curls over the tall, thin woman’s shoulders. Her face wore a look of amused interest as her amethyst eyes darted over each of the visitors. As she eyed each of them, she held her mouth slightly open and Hermione would have bet ten galleons that she had seen a bit of shining, white fang.

“And finally, our Mother, Countess Lilith of Ardeal.” The guard bowed deeper as all faced the most central vampire. The older, yet still amazingly beautiful vampire looked over them with cool detachment. She held her chin high, causing her long auburn hair to flow down her shoulders and back regally.

“Good evening,” she spoke, her voice as smooth as silk. Momentarily, Hermione felt entranced by the vampire’s voice as it seemed to stretch into her very skin and send flames of warmth through her body.

“I will speak only with your female directly,” Lilith said. “The rest of you may remain in the room, but will stay silent. Is this understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied softly, understanding effortlessly that she was the one who should answer. Lilith’s sapphire blues eyes pierced her and Hermione wavered slightly as everything else in the room seemed to disappear.

Why have you come to me?

She wondered briefly if someone had spoken aloud or in her thoughts. Shrugging slightly, she answered anyhow.

“My best friend’s wife and several schoolchildren, have been kidnapped by a group that we know nothing about. Professor Remus Lupin has been contacted by a werewolf group and we’ve learned that they are staying neutral.”

And you expect me to help you somehow?

“Have you been approached with any sort of alliance with this group?”

You are Hermione Granger, yes?

“I am.”

You have upset them greatly, you know. I will tell you this only because I have not yet decided on a course of action, Ms. Granger. My Council has been approached with an alliance, not because of our magical powers, but for our powers of reproduction.

“Vampires can produce offspring.”

Yes, when we are not so heavily regulated as we are by the Confederation. This new…group, as you have called them, is interested in that particular magic. Would you like to venture a guess as to why?

Just like her previous words, the answer was available in her head immediately. In the haze of thoughts, she was unaware of when she had ever learned anything she was talking about. “You can reproduce without new blood, and therefore, new magic. Your magic is organic, it’s a part of you because magic is what created you. You have no need of a wand.”

Precisely. They want our magic, because you have single-handedly caused such distress. Hermione felt a tinkling laughter float through her mind. It is not everyday I come across people so desperate to learn our ways and for that I thank you.

“What have they offered you?”

Hermione saw Lilith cock her head slightly to the side. Independence.

“But you can’t teach them anything. It’s not a skill to be learned, you simply are or you are not.”

You are very wise for such a young soul. I have not decided on a course of action, Ms. Granger, so there is little I can do for you or your companions in this matter. I can, however, provide for your lover to leave this place quickly. I have received word of the necessity.

“He’s not-“

If he’s not perhaps he should be. She heard the strange laughter again. You may take your leave now and I will be in touch via screech owl within twenty-four hours. For your intelligence and logic, I will grant you as much information as I deem you worthy of.

The fog disappeared and Hermione instantly felt the presence of everyone else in the room. Without much fanfare, they were once again led away, this time out of the castle grounds.

“Well, that was bloody useless, wasn’t it?” Ron said, exhaling sharply as the castle gate closed behind them.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hermione said quietly, still replaying the strange conversation in her mind.

“What did she say to you?” Harry asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She looked at him strangely for a moment, unsure herself of what had been communicated. “She’s granted you a portkey,” she answered finally, feeling unsatisfied with her own response. “And something else, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s perfectly normal, Hermione. She used something like legilimens to communicate with you and it’ll be awhile before you can properly remember your conversation. If we stop off for a minute, I’ve got some chocolate in my pack that should set everyone to rights,” Remus said as he pulled the small black bag out of his cloak pocket.

They each took a moment to savor the sweets and Hermione instantly began to feel more like herself.

“I’d like to write everything down and we can go over it later. It might be awhile before I have all the information ready for everyone.”

Harry seemed worried by this, but he didn’t say anything to her. “What about the portkey? Is it for all of us?”

“I’m not sure, but I doubt it. I believe the request was made only for Harry.”

They began to head back to the Ministry. Hermione glanced at the westward sky and saw that a rather severe storm seemed to be headed in their direction. Already a swift wind had picked up and it was blowing her cloak around her ankles as they trekked downward.

When they reached the street that passed by the Ministry, a steady rain began to fall and she breathed a sigh at the good luck of remembering sensible dragon-hide boots for the trip. A figure dressed in Slytherin green was approaching them quickly. When it came within ten yards of them, a small object was tossed at Harry. With his Seeker reflexes still in tact, his hands shot out and caught the chipped teacup. As soon as his fingers grazed the cracked china, two things happened simultaneously: Harry Potter disappeared and the sky opened.

Hooded figures appeared in a swirl of rain and wind, wands out and ready. As soon as their feet hit the ground, the robed wizards began firing random curses at the people gathered on the street. Ron and Remus headed into the fray, but Hermione quickly lost sight of them as she took off running after the green-hooded figure. She heard spells ricocheting off stone as she bounded down the steep hill. The figure darted between the Ministry building and a small bakery, Hermione close behind.

As she rounded a corner, she took a chance and cast a silent stupefy! There was a thud and she knew that she’d hit her mark, with an amazing bit of luck.

The drenched figure was collapsed in a heap right in the middle of the dark alley. In a few long strides, she was atop the figure and had used her wand to flip the person over. She shoved back the hood of the cloak and looked into the frozen, stunned face of Olivia Petrescu.

“Ennervate!” she shouted over the rain and the strange, flapping sound that was steadily filling the air. The witch underneath her quickly came to and began laughing loudly as she noticed who had stunned her.

“You stupid little swot! You’ve all walked right into this trap and it doesn’t matter what you do to me, you will never get to Potter now.”

In a flash, Hermione had her wand at the throat of the Romanian witch and yanked the witch’s head forward by her hair. She didn’t hesitate to let the tip of her wand dig in a little.

“Olivia Petrescu, if Harry Potter meets any harm because of you, I will hold you responsible for the rest of your days. And I. Will make. You. Pay.”

“Hermione!” she heard Ron’s voice behind her as she stared down at Olivia. The other witch had stopped laughing and was glaring fiercely at Hermione.

“Hermione! Who is it? Where did that portkey take Harry?”

“You tell your Order,” came a steely, accented voice from the end of the Alley, “that the Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest has taken Harry Potter to Castle Corfe. Tell them also, that the Brotherhood is now the sworn enemy of the Blood Council and of Countess Lilith of Ardeal.”

Hermione backed away and stared, astonished, at the vampire floating three feet off the ground. Her sapphire eyes were flashing wildly and her auburn hair whipped wildly in every direction. Hermione screamed as a bolt of lightening hit somewhere nearby and she was able to see the ancient creature thrash her large, black wings and snatch the green-robed figure of Olivia Petrescu away into the stormy night sky.

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Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.