Assassins

Hermione strode towards 23 B Winpole Street with more confidence than she expected, and she suspected that Harry's positive reaction had everything to do with it. She'd told him where to be and what time to be there in order to begin his training, and he'd assured her that he wouldn't be late.

She swallowed back a smile when she realized that she was almost skipping to the next recruit's home. It wouldn't do to seem so excited about the project when she wasn't certain that the rest of the recruits would join. So far they were two for two - Harry and Ginny had both agreed. While Hermione knew that Harry was going to play a pivotal part in the drama that was about to unfold, she also knew that he needed the other four players in order to get the thing done right.

She stopped in front of the flat on Winpole and took a deep breath to calm her suddenly raw nerves. This was a delicate situation, and she had to approach it with care - she couldn't afford to alienate anyone. She lifted her hand and rapped lightly on the door.

"Hang on a tic!" a voice called from behind the door. Hermione shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other as she waited. Suddenly the door swung open, and a tall girl wrapped her arms around Hermione. "Oh, Hermione, it's good to see you! Come in and have a cup of tea."

Hermione didn't have time to protest as the woman pulled her inside and guided her towards the kitchen. As Hermione lowered herself into a wooden chair, she gave her old friend a weak smile.

"How have you been?" The woman shrugged.

"As good as I could be, I suppose," she said, rummaging through the cabinets for a mug. "Things have been very different in the last month or so."

"I can imagine," Hermione said sympathetically. "No one thought that anything so horrible would happen."

"I know." She pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and placed them on the table, then waved her wand over them. Instantly steaming liquid filled the mugs, and Hermione reached across the table for the small sugar bowl. "So what brings you by today? Are you out with Ron?"

Hermione's hand wavered slightly as she stirred the sugar into her tea. "Not exactly. I've come to ask you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure how to say this, but-"

"Just say it."

"Right," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "A few months ago, Ron and I went to Dumbledore with a plan to bring down Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"I'm in." Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"B-but you don't even know-"

"I don't care. I'm in."

"You'd basically be secluded from every other living person on the face of the planet, save for your teammates and your trainer, and-"

"Let me repeat myself: I'm in. No questions asked. Just tell me where to go and how to get there, and I'll be there. I want to get those bastards just as bad as anyone else. They killed my husband, remember?"

"I know," Hermione whispered. "Well then," she said, clearing her throat and extending her hand. "Welcome to the team, Angelina."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The final straw had been the brutal slaying of the Weasley twins. Dumbledore's face had turned to stone when he'd found out about their murders, and he'd countersigned the affidavit authorizing the project within an hour of learning the horrible news. Hermione knew that, as did Ron, but they were both too determined to bring their plan into action to dwell on that point. There had been losses - several, in fact - but everyone involved with the Order knew the consequences of this project before going in. The grieving was constant, the waiting torturous, and the outcome uncertain. This mission seemed like the only thing that they hadn't yet tried.

And there was always Harry's part to consider. Ron and Hermione had dwelt on the prophesy - when they were alone, of course - for years. Ever since they were children, they had accepted the part they would play in Harry's journey. They were his scaffolding; his support. They were his best friends, and though they knew he had to do it alone when the time came, that didn't mean that they couldn't help him prepare. It seemed like the only viable option.

Hermione had left Angelina's after giving her instructions, and to her great surprise, was more confident than she had been before she arrived. Three down, one more. Well, one more for her, anyway. Ron was supposedly dealing with the last one. She shivered automatically thinking about the last name on the list, and wondered briefly how they were going to persuade him. She'd heard rumors about him, but Hermione considered herself far too sensible to listen to gossip. There were more important matters at hand, she reminded herself, as she approached the last recruit's home.

She frowned inwardly upon reaching once stately home. Now it held no trace of the beauty she'd once seen; it was old and decaying. Hermione knew his grandmother would be throwing a right tantrum if she could see how her only grandson had let the place become derelict. Taking in the cracked path and dirty windows, the peeling paint and trash scattered on the ground, she wondered how anyone could live in such conditions. As she grasped the dirty brass knocker, she realized that Neville probably didn't give a damn about the condition of his home. He was alive, and that was all any of them could ask for at this juncture. Now she was going to ask him to put himself in jeopardy again.

The door swung open and there stood Neville Longbottom, looking thin and pale, and much older than his twenty-five years. He smiled weakly when he saw Hermione standing on the veranda, but the sparkle that had once shown in his eyes when Hermione paid him any attention was gone. They were dull, lifeless, and encased in purple shadows. He looked like a corpse.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione breathed upon seeing him. She felt her arms stretch out and her feet shuffle forward to embrace him. He didn't resist, and she wrapped her arms around him, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, Hermione." He seemed suddenly embarrassed at her display, and moved away from her, retreating into the house.

Once inside, Hermione could see that the interior of the home was in the same condition as the exterior. Everything looked dingy and old. There was an odd smell like cabbage - a scent no doubt left behind by his formidable grandmother. Neville gestured to an arm chair that was ripped in one corner, and Hermione sat down gingerly, afraid it might break under her weight. Neville fell into a similar looking chair opposite her and closed his eyes.

"I really am okay, you know." His voice was deep; much deeper than she remembered it being.

"I know that. You still come to Order meetings. If you stopped doing that, then I might worry, but I know you're feeling the same way the rest of us are." She fingered some of the brown thread hanging loosely from the chair, and tried avoid his eyes. Of course she was worried about him. His grandmother had been the only family member he had left. His parents were murdered in St. Mungo's after graduation by some Death Eaters who'd managed to disapparate right before the Ministry had arrived. It had been heartbreaking for Hermione to watch Neville revert back into the scared little boy he had been when he entered Hogwarts. He had come so far only to have it ripped away from him again.

"Neville-" she cleared her throat, and reminded herself that this was the last time she'd have to do this. "I didn't come just to check on you." He opened his eyes and looked at her questioningly.

"I need to ask you something." This was harder than it had been with the others, and she didn't know why, but she felt a lump form in the back of her throat. "Ron and I are putting together a team of-"

"Assassins," he finished for her. For the first time there seemed to be life in his eyes.

"Oh, I'd forgotten you were a Legilimens." The corners of his mouth turned upward. He liked it when people underestimated him; it made things easier. "Don't do that!" she chided him. It was bad enough that she had to guard her thoughts around Harry, without having to do it around Neville, too. She could tell from the look on his ragged face that he understood what she was talking about. He nodded and leaned back into the chair again, closing his eyes before speaking.

"All right, Hermione. I'll do it."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Hermione burst through the door of Ron's office, ready to relate all the details of her morning meetings with the recruits. When her eyes fell on long, blonde hair and the smallest skirt she'd ever seen, however, the words died on her lips. Pansy turned and arched an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Like what you see?" she asked, smirking. Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, and she averted her eyes.

"Where's Ron?"

"He went to get something to eat. I imagine he'll be back any-" her words were cut short as Ron entered the room. He dropped a white paper sack on his desk and turned to his girlfriend.

"You're back earlier than I expected you," he began, studying her face carefully. "Does that mean that things didn't go well?" Hermione glanced at Pansy, who rolled her eyes.

"You might as well go ahead and say what you have to say in front of me, Granger," she said impatiently. "Ronniekins here will tell me when you're gone, anyway."

Ron could see the movement of Hermione's jaw as she ground her teeth together. It was a habit that even her dentist parents had never been able to curb, and she only did it when she was extremely irritated.

Ron noted that she was doing it more and more as of late.

She ignored Pansy and turned her attention to Ron. "I visited all three recruits today."

"And?"

"Harry seemed standoffish at first, but he agreed to do it," she said. Ron was visibly relieved - if Harry had said no, they would have had to scrap the entire project and start over again.

"Ever the hero," Pansy remarked. Hermione's jaw began moving again, and Ron turned to the blonde.

"Can you refrain from making comments for five minutes?" he snapped. Pansy shrugged nonchalantly, and he turned back to Hermione. "Thank Merlin Harry agreed," Ron breathed. "That means that so far, we have two out of five. What about Neville?"

"Longbottom?" Pansy shrieked, stricken. Ron and Hermione both turned to look at her. "You mean to tell me that I was passed up for this because you wanted Longbottom?"

"We didn't choose the recruits, you addle brained ninny!" Hermione said crossly, putting her hands on her hips. "Professor Dumbledore did, and obviously he saw more value in Neville than he did in you - and I'd have to say that I agree with him!"

"You'd better watch yourself, you bushy-haired little-" Ron jumped up and stood between them, effectively halting Pansy's advancement towards his girlfriend. Hermione was so angry that her hair fairly crackled with electricity.

"All right, enough of this!" he said angrily. "Pansy, keep your bloody gob shut until Hermione leaves." Just as Hermione shot a triumphant look over Ron's shoulder at the girl, he turned back to her. "And Hermione, finish what you have to say quickly, because I have to contact the last recruit by the end of the day."

"Angelina's in, too."

"Four down, one to go. All right, thank you, Hermione." He moved behind his desk and began shuffling through the parchments that covered its surface, his lunch all but forgotten. Hermione stared at him.

"That's it? Thank you, and I'm dismissed?"

"I don't have time for this, Hermione, and you know it," he said calmly, peering at her over something that he was reading. "I have to report back to Dumbledore tomorrow morning and let him know the status on the recruits."

"What about her? Aren't you going to make her leave too?" Hermione asked, pointing at Pansy.

"She's my assistant," Ron said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tightly. "I can't very well ask her to leave - besides, she has the pleasure of contacting our last recruit." Pansy shot an interested look at Ron.

"Is that so? Well, I'm at your disposal, boss." Hermione snorted and left the room in a flurry, visibly angry, and astoundingly relieved at the same time, since she had been afraid that Ron would have to seek out that nasty bugger himself. Pansy, evil thing that she was, was well suited for such a task. Hermione knew the girl was just waiting to dig her claws into Ron, but wondered if perhaps she'd get distracted by her old flame. When she was gone, Ron turned to the blonde and tried to hide his smile.

"Was that really necessary?" Pansy shrugged and gave him a toothy grin.

"I suppose not, but it was fun, wasn't it?" Despite himself, Ron laughed.

"Are you ready to prove how useful you can be, so I can send a favorable report to Dumbledore in the morning?" Ron asked, his smile fading. Pansy nodded. She was eager to do something - anything - to prove to him that she wasn't just a spoiled little rich girl anymore.

"Sure am, boss." She sat up straight in her chair, and waited for her assignment with bated breath.

"I need you to go see an old friend."