The Prophecy

Chapter Fourteen

Viktor and Moody apparated back to Grimwauld place. It was like they had never left. Hermione was still in the kitchen, sitting with her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. She stared at the tabletop with an expression of deepest worry, but as soon as Viktor walked through the door, she leaped up and ran to him, knocking the air out of him with her fierce hug.

"Hermione..." Viktor breathed; there was quite a bit of strength packed into that small body. "I am alright, as I told you I vould be." He stroked her wild hair, but didn't move, wanting to hold her in his arms for just a moment longer. Unfortunately, the rest of the house gathered quickly, and the kitchen was once again crowded with a sea of redheads. They were separated in the hustle and bustle of moving bodies.

Mad-Eye spoke above the din. "We need to call Albus and the rest of the Order immediately. Molly, is Arthur at the Ministry?" he asked as Mrs. Weasley made her way through the kitchen, quieting her brood with glares and threats of even more housework.

"Yes, but he should be back any time now. I'll call Albus. Are you all right, Moody? Did something happen?" she asked worriedly.

"Molly, let's wait for everyone to arrive. Then we'll talk about it," he replied. This answer seemed to worry her even more. Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasley children were politely excused from the room; as usual, their many protests were ignored.

Soon the entire Order was seated in the kitchen once again. Hermione, having not been told to go elsewhere, sat down quietly next to Viktor. As polite greeting were exchanged amongst those assembled, she wondered briefly how so many wizards, many of them high-level officials, managed to gather here all at once without the Ministry becoming suspicious. She looked at Viktor out of the corner of her eye. The expression on his face was inscrutable.

Dumbledore stood, and the murmur of conversation ceased instantly. The meeting began the moment that he spoke.

"Alastor, did you find the location?" he asked. Hermione's stomach clenched. She was determined not to cause a scene this time, but her nerves were already frayed, and she did not know exactly what to expect.

"I believe so. The house is on the outskirts of the town; the prior actually told us where it was without a fuss. I asked if there was anything interesting happening in the area, small talk as usual, and he mentioned foreign visitors, whom he thought were there to cause trouble. We went on that hunch, and observed the location from a distance. I saw some familiar faces in there, at least five Death Eaters pacing around. Names on my list, ones that that I've longed to put away for years, just walking around in there, unaware that they were being watched." His voice was a mixture of disappointment and excitement, and his remaining eye was sparkling madly. Viktor was suddenly glad that he hadn't insisted on a confrontation with the occupants of the house.

"Did you see my parents in there?" Hermione interjected. The entire room turned to look at her, but she ignored them, meeting Alastor's eyes with her own unwavering gaze.

He looked back at her, his voice as kind as he could manage. "Ms. Granger, I did not see anyone resembling your parents in there, but we didn't have much time to observe. They could have been in the basement." She looked at him with stunned disbelief. Hadn't the whole point been to see if her parents were being held captive there? Her face reddened with frustration.

Viktor stared at the floor. He couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes; he didn't want to see the accusation there. He shared the guilt with Moody. They had been right there! If they had simply stayed for another five minutes, they might have been able to see into the rest of the house. So close...

"Hermione, Alastor followed his orders exactly," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. "He and Viktor were supposed to see what they could, and return immediately. There is something more to this house than what could be observed in a few short minutes. We will get to the bottom of this, but do not be angry with them for not giving you the information that you want." He paused, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing.

"I received news from our contact near the town. Mr. Cyganov, if you all remember, the one who was afraid to meet us. He has given me more information, which confirms what Alastor and Viktor discovered today. It is the same torture house that Karkaroff mentioned to Viktor, and two muggles are being held there. We have good reason to believe that they are Hermione's parents." Dumbledore looked up at Hermione, who now clutched a small hand over her mouth.

"What are we going to do, Albus? Should we get the Ministry involved, then? More wizards means more help!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

"Alastor said that he saw five Death Eaters; we do not know if more have arrived since then, or if Voldemort himself will be making an appearance. We do know that as of this morning, Hermione's parents are safe; Mr. Cyganov has informed me of that. As for what we are going to do..." he paused.

"This needs to be well-organized. It is unlikely that we will get another chance such as this. I know there are many wonderfully skilled wizards in the Order, but I think we may need the help of the Ministry. This is more than a rescue now, and our actions will have farther-reaching consequences than any of us can fully realize."

The room was silent. They were awaiting more from their leader, but Dumbledore, deep in thought, just sat stroking his long gray beard.

At last, he continued.

"I think that I need to go the Ministry. Arthur and Alastor, please join me. The more of us, the better, to convince Fudge to co-operate. It's late afternoon already, and we're not likely not accomplish anything until the new day. Time is of the essence, but now is not the time to be foolhardy. We will be back as soon as we reach an agreement with the Minister. I must respectfully request that the rest of you remain here."

With that, Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore, and Moody left Grimwauld Place to go to the Ministry. The rest of the group chatted in the kitchen while Molly prepared a late dinner, with the girls' help.

Viktor slipped out of the kitchen unnoticed. He quietly walked up the stairs to the bedroom that he was staying in. The room was no larger than a broom closet, and a cozy broom closet, at that. In consisted of little more than a bed, and tiny bedside table, and a desk. Right now, though, it was ideal for his purposes. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. He sat down heavily on the bed.

He was thinking about his family. He had been trying to push the thoughts away for the past few days, but they could not be avoided any longer. He hoped that his great grandmother had found a safer place to stay. He realized that he hadn't had any contact with his parents or grandparents in days. While they knew that he was staying at the Order headquarters, he hadn't been able to tell them where he was specifically, for obvious reasons. Fear of not knowing what was happening to his loved ones filled Viktor's mind. He had been so worried about Hermione, had thought of nothing but her safety and well-being, and he felt extraordinarily guilty that his mind had not allowed him to spare a thought for the safety of his family. Hermione meant the world to him, but so did they.

A soft knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. He sighed deeply, already knowing who it was.

"Come in," he said quietly, not looking up.

Hermione stood in the doorway and looked at the saddened face of the man that she loved. It broke her heart to see him like this. She walked up to him and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Viktor was deeply touched by the gesture, and his arms came around her waist of their own volition. He didn't need to say anything; she understood everything already. It was comforting to have her in his arms. Her warmth soothed his aching heart, and her presence filled him with a deep sense of calm.

He had been wrong: he didn't need to be alone. Hermione was all he needed right now.

They sat in silence for several long minutes. Hermione finally spoke.

"You're thinking of your family, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning in closer to her neck, her messy curls falling around his face. He breathed in the scent that reminded him of spring flowers and his great grandmother's baking.

"I haff not contacted them at all..." he trailed off. He sighed and hugged her closer to him.

"You couldn't, Viktor. You shouldn't beat yourself up over that. It is for your safety, and mine. For all of ours, really. I am sure they are safe. You're always the one telling me to have faith," she said teasingly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "They are alright, I just know it." He gave her a weak smile. How ironic it was that just a few days ago, he had been the one telling her that everything would be all right, and yet he couldn't take his own advice.

But the thought, too terrible to voice, had been plaguing him ever since he had first uttered those same words to her. Was it really going to be "all right," or were they simply deluding themselves? While the Order and its members believed in fairness and redemption, the other side had already shown that they would use any means necessary to achieve their ends. How could he defeat an enemy that would exploit the very things that he was fighting for, and use them against him?

Viktor thought of the following days and what they would bring. Dumbledore's words were repeating themselves in his head, filling him with a sense of dread. "This is more than a rescue now..." Did he mean that the final battle was approaching? Viktor was terrified at the thought. It was too soon. They were not ready to face Voldemort yet. In truth, not everyone in the wizarding world even believed that the Dark Lord had returned. There was too much to consider, too many thoughts swirling around in his head. All he could do was hold onto Hermione for dear life, and hope that she could see him through his moment of despair and weakness.

Hermione.

Hermione was the light at the end of the tunnel, the joy in his life, the faith in his heart, the thing that he was fighting for. He was invincible as long as she was by his side, and he was willing to do anything to ensure that she stayed there.

***

They stayed wrapped in one another's arms for what seemed like forever. After Viktor's thoughts had calmed, he had taken the time to enjoy the simple pleasure of holding Hermione, of feeling her body pressed against his. His heart was filled with love for this beautiful, frustrating girl. He smiled into her hair and tightened his arms around her.

Night was fast approaching, and they both knew that their moment would soon be coming to an end. Mrs. Weasley would, in her motherly way, find a way to interrupt their moment. As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Hermione sighed deeply, not wanting to move from Viktor's lap. But whoever was behind that door would probably be even more uncomfortable than they were right now, should they find her in such a compromising position. She shifted to the side of the bed and answered.

"Yes?"

Ginny walked in, her cheeks matching the shade of her hair. Embarrassed, she didn't even look at them, and instead smiled nervously to herself. "Oh boy, I seem to always come in at just the right moment."

Hermione smiled at her friend, while Viktor kept his eyes on the floor.

"It's alright, Ginny. Did something happen?" Hermione asked politely.

"Um, no. It's just that...uh, mom send me up here to see if you guys like some tea or something before you went to sleep. Basically, she wanted me to spy on you." Hermione had known that already. She knew each of the Weasleys and their accompanying personality traits very well. That didn't stop her from rolling her eyes.

Viktor looked down at Hermione.

"You should go vith your friend. I think I vill go to bed now." Ginny took that as a hint to leave, and she walked quickly back out of the door and down the stairs. Hermione scrutinized his face, trying very hard to decipher the emotion she saw swirling in his eyes.

"Are you sure? I mean, are you hungry? I can bring you something..." Hermione felt the discomfort of their first interactions returning, and she hated it. She thought that they were beyond this.

"No, thank you. I vill be fine. Go be with your friends," he replied, standing up and walking toward the open door. Hermione followed him, a bit confused. He leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips.

"Good night, then." He gestured into the hallway.

Hermione really know whether or not to take this sudden change in his demeanor as a sign of ill will. She suspected that Viktor just wanted to end the uncomfortable moment, but she didn't know what had happened to make it uncomfortable in the first place. She returned the kiss, allowing it to ask the question that she could not. He smiled. A melancholy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Good night, Viktor." With one last look, he locked the door behind her, and she walked down to the family room, where Harry and the Weasley children were engaged in a particularly vicious game of wizard's chess.

Hermione made her way to the couch where Ginny was sitting. She grabbed the teapot sitting on the end table and poured herself some of the chamomile tea that Mrs. Weasley had doubtless made with her in mind. Calming tea to finish off a far from calming evening, she decided. That was all she needed. That, and the company of her friends. Ginny reached over and squeezed Hermione's free hand.

"I hope he's not mad at me...or you, for that matter. I really didn't meant to interrupt yet again," she whispered, not wanting the boys to overhear.

"No, don't worry, Ginny. Viktor is just worried about his family, that's all," Hermione reassured her friend. Ginny nodded, then leapt off the couch and walked over to where Harry and Ron were standing, cheering Fred and George on. Hermione was glad that Ginny had left her alone; though she hadn't voiced it, she had her doubts that Viktor was not upset with her.

Perhaps she hadn't been grateful enough for the risk that he had taken this morning. She knew without a doubt that he had done it for her, yet she had hardly paid him any mind once he returned, wanting only to know whether or not Moody had the information that she wanted. Shame washed over her, and she realized that she had been horribly selfish again. Viktor had sacrificed so much for her, continued to sacrifice so much for her, and she had never even paused to think how any of this was affecting him. She needed to set things right.

Viktor, she thought, concentrating very hard on his name. Viktor, I'm sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you. Please forgive me. I love you. She focused very hard on the image of his face, willing the message to get through to him. What if he was asleep? Would her words seem like nothing more than a dream? Her eyes began to fill with frustrated tears.

Suddenly, she felt the barest touch of his mind brush against hers. It was gentle, a loving caress; she almost gasped at the aching tenderness of it. There were no angry recriminations, no accusations. There were no words at all, just the sweet, steady assurance of his love.

She wanted to think of something comforting to send his way, a final message of goodnight, and something to help her work out this new form of communication. She thought of a phrase that she had once seen engraved over the entrance of an art gallery in London. She smiled to herself as she concentrated on the words, wanting them to appear in her mind exactly as she had seen them, so that she could send the image, or even just the thought.

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

She felt that way around Viktor every day that she was with him. Each time he looked at her with burning fire in his eyes, each time her took her into his arms, each time he kissed her. He had come into her life, swept her off her feet, turned her life upside-down, and yet his very presence had somehow made everything make such perfect sense. He truly did take her breath away.

A floor above her, Viktor lay awake in his bed, eyes closed, the faint image of words carved into stone flashing behind his eyes. He marveled at how true those words were, and smiled softly to himself.

She left him breathless, indeed.